Who's on Top? Page 5

  Arianna blinked impatiently and pulled a nail file from her top desk drawer. Using precise slicing movements in one direction only, she smoothed the edge of each nail on her left hand. “How long—” slice, slice “—is all of this going to take?”

  Jane knit her brows as she gazed at the woman. “Well, at least a few weeks. Why? Are you on a timeline of some kind?”

  Arianna transferred the nail file to the other hand and went to work. “Not at all,” she said just a shade too casually. “I just like to know about these things up front.”

  Jane nodded.

  “By the way,” Arianna began, changing the subject. “Have I mentioned that I’d like to see you work with HR at Zantyne on a national level? To orchestrate some company-wide seminars like Breaking New Ground and Morale Boosting?”

  “No, you didn’t mention that,” said Jane, her pulse quickening. “But I’d love to!” What a coup for a new company like Finesse! They would definitely break even, maybe even make a profit in their first year, with just one such client. Jane tried not to salivate openly.

  “Let’s talk about a presentation, then,” Arianna nodded. “Of course you’ll have my full backing…assuming that I’m pleased with the way you handle this current issue.” She laughed a too-melodious laugh. “And I’m sure I will be.”

  Jane nodded and smiled. “Of course. Finesse may be a fledgling company, but we’re aptly named and very professional.”

  “I can see that, Jane. I’m sure this is the beginning of a long and profitable relationship for us both.” Arianna smiled broadly.

  My goodness, her teeth are white. Almost blinding. Jane followed Arianna to her office door and shook her hand as the vice president showed her out. Did the woman gargle with Clorox?

  HER DAD AND GILBEY WEREN’T too talkative at this Sunday dinner, either, even though Jane brought Lilia. Lil brought a beautifully wrapped bouquet of mixed flowers and wore a sapphire-blue silk blouse for the occasion.

  Jane shook her head and grinned. “Miss Manners, honey, this is my dad and the backyard grill, not dinner at the White House.”Her friend raised a brow. “So? Even a picnic table can use some fresh blooms. And I’m not going to show up empty-handed.”

  Jane gave her a fond glance and let her be but had to laugh when her dad just stared at the flowers and then back at Lilia.

  “What, nobody’s ever brought you flowers before?”

  “Uh, thanks, hon.”

  “Dad, you might want to put them in a vase. Or a pitcher. I know we have a pitcher around here somewhere.”

  “Right.” Her father ambled into the kitchen and poked around in a few of the blue-painted cabinets, coming up empty-handed. Finally he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a plastic container with a swallow of orange juice left in it, which he poured down the sink. He rinsed the thing, refilled it with water and plunked the blossoms into it with a small grunt of satisfaction.

  Lilia kissed him on the cheek. “They look lovely. Shall I put them on the picnic table outside?”

  He nodded, and Lil followed Jane out the back door. Gilbey was headed in their direction from the barn on the back of the property. They waved and he waved back.

  “Your dad’s as talkative as ever,” Lil murmured.

  Jane laughed. “He’ll never change. But we love him just the way he is.” It was Gilbey she worried about. Her dad was close to retiring from the tool-and-die shop he managed. Gil had the rest of his life ahead of him. She wanted to see him productive and happy.

  “Hi, Lil. Hey, Jane,” he greeted them. “What’s up?”

  The conversation didn’t get much more sparkling than that, as they all sat at the weathered old picnic table under the elms and consumed their burgers in the cool October air.

  Lil, ever good-mannered and good-natured, tried valiantly to keep the conversation flowing, but Emily Post herself would have been stymied.

  Jane’s dad answered in monosyllables, and Gilbey began to draw Lilia on his napkin. He really was talented artistically.

  “Hey, Gil,” Jane said to him. “That’s wonderful!” He’d perfectly captured Lil’s high cheekbones, dark winged brows and the curve of her mouth.

  Lilia nodded. “You’re very good.”

  “Gilbey, have you thought about working for an advertising agency? Do you want me to help you put together a portfolio?” Jane tried to nudge him as gently as possible.

  Her brother sighed and laid down his pencil. “Jane, I’ve had it with meaningless jobs and other people’s orders and their silly products. I can’t be a cog in the wheel. I know you do this out of love, but I wish you’d leave me alone.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, stung. “I’m just trying to help.”

  “Well, quit.” He dropped his burger and ran a hand through his longish hair. “You wanna know what I love? What I want to spend my life doing?” He pushed back abruptly from the table. “Follow me.”

  All three of them trailed after Gil to the old barn. He threw open the door and gestured for them to look.

  A dozen strange but lovely structures met their eyes. Created out of brightly painted scrap metal and “found” objects, Gilbey’s creations were both abstract and animated, half mechanical, half animal. They were full of personality.

  He’d used automobile and bicycle and lawnmower parts, welding them together in odd juxtapositions and incongruous patterns.

  Jane had never seen anything like them before. She wasn’t sure what they were. But she loved them. So, from the look on her face, did Lilia.

  Only her dad rubbed the back of his neck and asked, “What the hell you been smokin’ out here, boy?”

  “Dad!” Jane shot him a warning glance. “They’re fantastic. Gil, these should be in a modern gallery.”

  Her brother shrugged.

  “I’m serious!”

  “Gil, she’s right,” said Lil.

  Jane turned to her, snapping her fingers. “What’s the name of that guy? The friend of yours who’s a professional photographer?”

  “Jim.”

  “Yeah, him. Let’s get him out here to take some slides—”

  “Jane,” said Gilbey.

  “—and we’ll make a list of galleries to send—” she stopped, looking at Gilbey’s expression.

  “You’re doing it again.” He folded his arms.

  “What?”

  “Trying to manage my life.”

  “But—”

  Lilia laid a hand on her arm.

  Jane sighed. “Sorry. But can we at least put you in touch with Jim? Will you let him take the slides? Gil, this work is too good to be hidden away in a Connecticut barn.”

  “I’ll think about it,” her brother said.

  And she had to be satisfied with that.

  ON MONDAY, JANE WALKED THROUGH the front door of Finesse and hung up her raincoat. She stared blankly at the hairy dried rose halves and tried to focus on whatever it was that was bothering her.

  That brief meeting with Arianna DuBose last week? Dom’s sarcasm?Unconsciously she reached for a pen on her desk and began spinning it between her fingers.

  Dominic Sayers’s face wouldn’t get out of her head—his expression sardonic, blasé and…disappointed.

  Disappointed? Yes. She had definitely seen a puzzling disappointment. In her. In the world at large. As if some ideal of Dominic’s had been tarnished.

  But the concept of an idealistic Dominic didn’t fit with her image of a cutthroat man on the make furious that a woman had gotten in the way of his ambition.

  For surely a man with ideals that could be disappointed was a man who was vulnerable. And Sayers didn’t seem vulnerable in any way, shape or form.

  Something else was niggling at her. Whereas she should be ecstatic about the possibility of a fat corporate contract with Zantyne, backed by Arianna, she felt uncomfortable with the idea instead.

  Arianna had been so smooth. So…smug, almost. So sure of Jane’s reaction to the offer and her instinctive response of gratitude. Ari
anna was playing her. She felt like an unwary insect that had just landed on the tongue of a Venus flytrap.

  But that was ridiculous. She’d seen male hostility in this type of situation before. It was nothing new. And she’d seen her own brother blame countless bosses for his problems at work. Nobody liked to take responsibility for their part in a difficult relationship. Human nature is firmly planted in self-interest and often blind to personal failings.

  Shannon strolled to Jane’s office door and stuck her head in. “Hiya. So how’d it go the other day?”

  Jane realized that she was now tapping on her nose with the pen. She tossed it down. Hadn’t she learned? “Hey, Shan. It went okay. Actually you could say it went really well.” So why couldn’t she say that? “I talked with that female VP, the DuBose woman, and she’d like to see a presentation from us on some employee development training seminars. For the entire company—and it’s big. International.”

  “Fabulous! I smell actual salaries in the air if we get a contract like that.” Shannon threw her arms into the air and spun around on one foot.

  “You know,” Jane told her, “if I did that, I’d look like a possessed flamingo. But you make it look hip.”

  “That’s ’cause I am so hip, it hurts.” Shannon shimmied her pelvis while managing to snake her bust around, too.

  “What are you, part python?”

  Shannon stopped and peered at her. “What the hell is that on your face, sweet cheeks? You got varicose veins on your nose?”

  Jane ducked her head and muttered, “Go away.”

  Shannon plucked the pen from Jane’s blotter and examined the color. “Honey, you want to draw on your face, think Aveda, Trish McEvoy, even Cover Girl! Not Bic. And blue is definitely not your color.”

  “I thought it was kinda retro chic,” Jane joked.

  “No. No, no, no, and I repeat, no. Not on you.”

  “We cannot all be goddesses of style, okay?”

  Shannon sidled one of her perfect buns onto Jane’s desk and leaned her weight on it. “There’s nothing wrong with your style, Jane. I’m just teasing you—and, of course, suggesting that you use pencils for a while, until you break this nervous habit of scribbling on your face.”

  “I’ve got a lot of habits I need to break,” muttered Jane. “But I’m better at helping other people break theirs.”

  “Oh, I hear you. Now what’s bothering you? Your appearance, the fact that Sayers is hot or the horrible news that we might make tons of money off Zantyne?”

  “What’s bothering me,” said Jane slowly, “is my instincts. This Sayers guy is difficult, no doubt. But he’s sort of an honest difficult, if you know what I mean.”

  “Okaaaay.” Shannon pursed her lips.

  “And there’s something a little off about the VP—the one hinting about all the business she can give us. I don’t like it…and I’m not sure I like her.”

  “But you don’t seem to like him, either.”

  Jane hesitated. “True.”

  “And it’s not a requirement that we like all the clients we work with. It’s a little unrealistic to expect to adore every person we deal with professionally.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re right.”

  “So just do the job, fill out the evaluation on him. After all, you’re not being asked to evaluate her. She’s beside the point.”

  “Not totally. Since she’s sort of offering a bribe if she gets the results she wants from me.”

  Shannon scooted off the desk and walked to the window, folding her arms across her chest. “Janey, I hate to say it, but that’s the way the world works. You scratch her back, she’ll scratch yours.” She let out a hard, cynical laugh. “That’s the way the entire city of L.A. operates.”

  Jane frowned. “God, you’re so jaded.”

  Shannon spun on her heel and stared her down. “I have reason to be, and you know it.”

  “Well, first, this is not L.A., it’s New England, hub of plainspoken Yankees. Second, I refuse to compromise my integrity—”

  “Whoa, Jane. Step carefully, okay?”

  Jane looked down at her hands, picked at her short, practical nails. “Shan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. And we both know that you didn’t sleep with that director just to get the role. You were in love with the guy.”

  “Was I? Or did I just convince myself of that because it was convenient? I’m not sure any longer, Jane. That’s how bad L.A. can screw you up. That’s why I left. I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

  Shannon hunched her shoulders and blew out a breath while Jane observed her in silence. Shan had returned from California after six years of trying to make it as an actress. She’d come back a different woman, sad and burned out.

  Jane stood up and hugged Shannon, refused to let go even when she stood there, rigid, not hugging back. It was classic body language: Shan didn’t feel she deserved the hug, didn’t feel worthy of it, couldn’t accept it.

  “Listen to me, you stubborn wench,” Jane said. “I don’t believe that for a second. And if you’ll stop flogging yourself for one moment, you won’t believe it, either. Even if you were tempted, you had the moxie to walk away from the role once you found out about him. So stop tormenting yourself and pretending that you have no heart. I know better.”

  “Huh.” But Shannon actually leaned into her for a moment, patted her back before pulling away.

  Jane knew it was a very small step but a step nonetheless. And she would help Shannon take others. Because her friend was far too beautiful and talented and loving to have such low self-esteem. The only thing she was right about was that L.A. had screwed her up.

  “Shannon, it’s L.A. that has no heart, not you. You’re amazing and creative and you have a sense of style most women would kill for.”

  “Stop it, you’re embarrassing me.”

  “Well, it’s true, sweetie. And you’re packing in executive clients who pay you to dress them and make them over. You’re in demand.” Jane checked her watch. “I’ve got to go—I have a client, Mrs. Collins, coming now.”

  “Okay.” Shannon got halfway to her office before turning around. “Hey, Jane?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Thanks.”

  THAT JANE’S CLIENT, LISA Collins, had no self-esteem was an understatement. Shoulders bowed, head down, she shuffled into the office and waited to be asked before sitting down. “Thanks for seeing me,” she mumbled.

  “Of course. How can I help you?”“Well, it’s my, um, boss. She acts as if she’s the queen of the universe and I’m her slave.”

  “I see. Well, let me ask the most obvious question first. Have you thought about changing jobs?”

  Lisa crossed her legs, then tugged at her skirt. Then she uncrossed and recrossed them. “Well, yeah. I’ve done that three times now. But this situation keeps happening. It’s like I have a Kick Me sign on my back. I’m a good employee, I do exactly what I’m told, I’m never late, I work extra without complaining. I don’t know why I get treated so poorly. Like I have no life of my own and have nothing better to do than serve. And now she wants me to work through the vacation I’ve had planned for a year!”

  Jane made a sympathetic noise. “Have you tried saying no?”

  Lisa swallowed. “I’m afraid I’ll get fired.”

  Jane leaned forward. “But, Lisa, you’ve found three jobs—easily, right?”

  The girl nodded.

  “So you’ve found yourself positions with no problem. If for some reason you did get fired, would it really be the end of the world?”

  Lisa looked shocked. “But I’d get a bad reference!”

  “You’ve got other ones, right? You wouldn’t even have to use her. Besides, are you so sure your boss is that unreasonable?”

  Lisa hesitated, then shook her head. “I think she just forgot about me being gone for those two weeks.”

  “And when you reminded her?”

  “She got irritated and said she really needed me then. She’s pre
paring for a big sales pitch. But I have plane tickets! And cruise tickets. And a friend’s going with me—it’ll ruin her vacation, too, if I don’t go.”

  “Okay. You’re going to have to stand up for yourself,” Jane said.

  “I was afraid you were going to say that. How?”

  “I’d suggest that you tell her firmly that you have long-standing plans. If she still resists or tries to make you feel guilty, then offer to call a temporary agency to get her some help while you’re away. Do not give in.”

  Lisa still looked uncertain.

  “You’re assuming you have no power in this situation, and you do,” Jane told her.

  “I do?”

  “Yes. Good, hardworking, intelligent assistants are hard to find these days. You’re a precious resource, not a slave.”

  “I never thought about it that way,” said the girl.

  Jane nodded. “That’s why she has all the power. She doesn’t want to fire you, Lisa. She’d have to interview, decide on and train someone else. Most people dislike change.”

  “You’re right….”

  “I think you’d benefit from the assertiveness seminar I teach,” Jane said. “It’s inexpensive and will teach you how to communicate your needs and not get pushed around. Are you interested?”

  “You bet,” said Lisa. “I’ll sign up today.”

  JANE’S NEXT APPOINTMENT WAS with a middle-aged man named Barry Stall who wanted to take radical steps to improve his health but kept sabotaging himself.

  The problem, she explained, was he tried to tackle too much at once. He couldn’t quit smoking, lose forty pounds and become a triathlete in one day.“It takes twenty-one days—and some studies say sixty—to make or break a habit, Barry. I’d advise cutting out the cigarettes first, maybe with a prescription to help you with the cravings.” She advised very small, realistic goals.

  She also asked him to look at some of the underlying reasons in his life that caused him to treat his body so badly. By the time Barry left, he was feeling a lot more optimistic and had scheduled several more sessions.