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“Change,” she went on, jolting him from his mental detour, “that is not necessarily as least disruptive as possible, becauseoften disruption is exactly what a company needs, but change that is ashumaneas possible. I would say that’s the best possible outcome. I think of my job as having three stages. The first, which is complete, was learning about you on paper.”
How complete could that stage be if she only found out she was coming a week ago, Matteo wondered as he translated.
“The second is me learning about younoton paper, and learning about the context in which you do your work. That’s where we are now, and this stage is scheduled to continue for the next month. And this is the part where I truly believe that transparency is essential. That’s why I’m not going to stand up here and spout platitudes. I’m not going to promise your jobs are secure, because Ican’tpromise that. We all know that if nothing changes, none of your jobs are secure, not in the long term. So my pledge today is that I’m not going to lie to you. I can also tell you that I haven’t been hired to come in and close down this factory or the company generally. I have had jobs like that, but this is not one of them. The leadership of Morneau wants it to succeed. We are all on the same team here, which I realize sounds like one of those platitudes I just said I wasn’t going to spout, but it’s true. So my time here will be spent learning about you, getting to know you, poking around, perhaps testing a few ideas and systems.”
“And what’s the third stage?” shouted the steward from Riems, interrupting both Ms. Delaney and Matteo, who had really gotten a flow going. It irritated Matteo how the man wasyellingat Ms. Delaney. He was sympathetic to his point of view, but there was no need to interrupt so vociferously. When a person giving a speech said she was going to discuss three stages, you could safely assume she was eventually going to get to all those stages.
Ms. Delaney was, as ever, unruffled by the disruption. “The third stage is a report. I will present it to the board, and I understand that they have committed to making it public.”
And then what? She would swan off to New York, leaving them to clean up the mess she’d left in her wake—which really meant leaving Matteo to do it. People out of jobs, people who were too old or set in their ways to start over, the factory being retooled to churn out some sort of flash-in-the-pan “smart” watch, throwing away a tradition of workmanship that was literally—to use her word, and to use itcorrectly—centuries old.
“I know you probably have lots more questions. I’m here for them. I will be around in the coming days and weeks. I’ll be having meetings with many of you, or with representatives of groups you’re part of, but I want to invite any of you to talk to me at any time. I’m going to give you my phone number.”
Well. He hadn’t seenthatcoming. There was a murmuring through the crowd as she rattled off her number. He stumbled over his translation and had to ask her to repeat the number.
“Anyone can call or text at any time,” she added. “I will ask, though, that you give me a week’s head start. I can’t tell you much now, so we’d only be wasting both of our time. And obviously, I’m not crazy. I don’twantto be flooded with phone calls. I’d like you to believe me when I say I’m committed to transparency, so if you can trust the process, I would greatly appreciate it. But if you have something you feel is urgent, I respect that, and I’m here for it.”
The crowd quieted after he’d finished translating that last bit. She’d surprised, and, he dared say, impressed them. Though for all he knew this was merely part of her show, and she had a separate phone for calls from the masses—and perhaps even a person back in New York to answer it.
He couldn’t get away from her fast enough after she was done. The impromptu translation duties had thrown him off-kilter, and he needed to regain his command of the situation. The board was meeting with Ms. Delaney next, so he’d go see that all was in order in the conference room. He started through the crowd, nodding at and murmuring greetings to people he knew until he was halted by a hand on his arm. It was Mrs. Ulmer, the widow.
“Mr. Benz, we’ve had the most wonderful news.”
“Have you?” He kept his eye on the king, who was on the move with Ms. Delaney.
“My Erika has been accepted to the University of Geneva. She’s waiting to hear from several other schools, including some in the United States, but who wouldn’t want her?”
“That’s wonderful news.” He wasn’t surprised, though, except perhaps that enough time had passed for Mrs. Ulmer’s daughter to be university-bound. When he’d met the Ulmers, Erika had struck Matteo as an exceptionally bright and inquisitive young teenager, but she’d fallen into a depression and her marks had suffered. He’d arranged for some short-term tutoring both to supplement her education and to give her something to focus on besides the tragedy of having lost her father. He was glad things had worked out so well for the family. “Congratulations.”
“Oh, it’s not my doing. She’s worked so hard.”
“Well, you are her mother, are you not? So it must be at least a little your doing.”
She smiled again, this one a little teary, but he thought theywere happy tears. “I suppose you’re right, but you helped us when we were in a bad spot. Things could have gone very differently.”
He smiled at Mrs. Ulmer, made his excuses, and made for the meeting room. He surveyed the space, checking that everything was in order. Each of the five spots at the board table was laid with a notebook and pen. A coffee and tea service and a breakfast buffet had been set up on a console at the far end of the room. Although he usually wouldn’t concern himself with such details, he had personally made sure that the buffet would contain not only the usual breads, cheeses, fruit, and muesli, but things he’d thought a visiting American might like: bacon, egg wraps, and even disgusting little donuts coated with altogether too much icing sugar. He hadn’t known, when he’d arranged for the food, that the king was going to summon Ms. Delaney to breakfast at the palace. She hadn’t eaten earlier, though, so perhaps his work here had not been in vain. But it was not to be. When she and the king entered, they parted ways. She helped herself to a coffee but did not appear to be interested in any of his food.
Thefood. Nothisfood. It didn’t belong to him, and it didn’t matter to him at all whether she ate it.
Lucille Müller sat next to Ms. Delaney and started gushing about how she’d handled herself earlier. Matteo refrained from rolling his eyes but only just. They should let her deliver her blasted report before they started pronouncing her their savior.
“Mr. Benz.”
It was Max von Hansburg, the Duke of Aquilla—and the brother of Torkel’s boyfriend, Sebastien. “Your Grace.” Matteo mentally switched gears for a moment. Perhaps he could glean something of use for Torkel’s proposal.
“Any idea how long this meeting is going to last?”
“None whatsoever.”
The duke huffed a resigned sigh. He was new to the board—because he was new to the dukedom. His father had died unexpectedly a year ago, thrusting Max into the title he had never wanted. Though Matteo had to admit he was doing a surprisingly fine job of it. Better than the late duke, though that wasn’t saying much. “Will you and Ms. Martinez be attending the Cocoa Ball this year?” Matteo asked. He had seen a preliminary seating plan the other day, and he didn’t remember seeing their names.
“No, we’re spending the holidays in New York with her family.”
“But your brother will attend, I trust?”
“Oh, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. Yes, he’ll be there. But have you invited Torkel?”
“I assume so. Certainly Mr. von Hansburg is welcome to bring a guest.”
