17. The Brass Tax
17 THE brASS TAX
Daphne
“Welcome here, Daphne,” Davey said. “Can we all say hello to my dear sister who has decided to stick around on her return from London?”
The faces around the conference table nodded politely. I was a guest—he made that clear.
“So, the first matter on the agenda is our partnership with Levoy Brands,” Bernie Crow, the president said.
I recrossed my legs and peered out the window. If I paid too much attention to his feeble attempts and dilution of our brand, I might explode. What I wanted to do was call him out, assert my ownership stake, and correct this trajectory, but doing so would badly undermine my brother. I moved chess pieces gently and kept the peace.
“We think value drives customers,” Bernie said.
I looked to Davey to call any of this out, knowing we were losing money hand over fist in this segment.
“So, I have plans to expand these capsule collections in quarter three.”
I interrupted. “And that proposal with the influencers Davey thought up? Is there any plan to use them to market the new products?”
Davey looked deer-in-the-headlights. It was his proposal, but clearly, he didn’t want to talk about it. He shifted in his chair.
“I… uh… we talked about it, but Bernie thinks legacy media is the way to go.”
“We’ll target more middle-aged customers that way, though,” I said. “It’s a segment we already have. I thought the goal with these capsule collections was to target a younger demographic?”
“Influencers are hard to manage,” Bernie said. “We expect that working with some cable providers?—”
“None of the millennials you want are on cable.” I looked to Davey.
He knew better. Why wasn’t he speaking? He was beyond help. My brother knew better. He cared, didn’t he? Why wasn’t he fighting for what he wanted?
“Maybe you can talk to me more about that strategy,” Davey said. “Later, Daphne.”
“Or, I could speak with Bernie? I have plans?—”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Walker, you don’t know anything about U.S. retail,” Bernie nearly scoffed.
I shut my laptop with a definite clap and stared at Davey.
“Bernie, Daphne has been on the acquisition side of retail for years. She has worked for several major firms in London. She’s also in our target demographic. It might help to explore what she is thinking.”
Might help . It was so passive!
“I could try to understand, I suppose,” Bernie said. “Let’s connect another time.”
I nodded, trying not to let on I felt humiliated. I knew this company. I knew what it had been and could be, but Davey let this new, ineffective president walk all over him. After the meeting—boring and pointless—ended, I followed Davey back to our father’s office.
“Sit, please,” Davey gestured to sit before the desk my father used to call home.
I looked at the sports memorabilia that replaced my father’s family photos on his bookshelf. My stomach churned.
“Thank you for coming,” Davey noted. “I realize things have been… tense.”
Because you made them that way .
“And I just wanted to say that my reaction to your… windfall… was inappropriate and unlike me.”
I set my jaw. “It wounded me. And I know Mum told you off about it, so let’s leave it there. She’s apologized—in her way—and I will chock it up to heightened emotions, this once. But if you’re about to ask me if ‘we’re all good’, I will say fuck no.”
“Daphne, I brought you here to bury the hatchet, not start a fucking war!” Davey paced, annoyed.
“I want to make the company better, Davey. That is why I am here.”
“Fine, let’s get to brass tax, then. You should respect my judgment in meetings. Daphne, I am in charge. Like it or not, you chose Chandler over the family and your career.”
“I tried to run away the week before my wedding, and Mum drug me back kicking and screaming, Davey! You were there! You told me to run!”
The week before my wedding, I fled my family’s home in London with the help of my brothers. A teenaged Derrick got wildly drunk as a distraction while Davey helped flee. Unfortunately, my parents found me at our aunt’s Paris house and convinced me to return.
“Then why did you come back? Why? I helped you leave, and you fucking came back.”
I grabbed a tissue from his desk. “Because I was scared. Because I knew if I didn’t go through with it, I would embarrass all of us. I owe you immensely for trying to help, David. I will always be so grateful to you. It just… you have taken it out on me since then. Do you think I liked feeling subordinate to Chandler’s whims all this time?”
“You want me to believe that a woman with an Oxford education felt powerless to leave her stupid oaf of a husband?”
“Have you ever faced that sort of thing, Davey?” I asked. “Because you get so beaten down and hurt that it doesn’t matter anymore. Fighting only hurts worse.”
“And I was your big brother trying to save you,” he nearly whispered. “I tried.”
I sighed, sensing he really felt remorse and worry all this time. Davey’s anger always came first, then remorse.
He sat across from me and palmed his head, “You’re right, I took it out on you. I should have understood. I should have asked.”
“Then stop blaming me. Let that go. I’m here now, Davey. I may have made poor choices in my personal life, but I am excellent at my job. I was a star. And I want to be again.”
“I was going to offer you the head of Organizational Development. It’s open and?—”
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s in HR. They lead the training team and?—”
I stood up. “Davey, that’s fucking nuts! I don’t know anything about any of that. I am an attorney?—”
“Not in the U.S.”
“Well, I have serious experience with acquisitions?—”
“We are focusing on our core operations. There’s not much to play with in that space.”
I walked to the corner bookshelf and found the one remaining family photo Davey kept. I stared at my father’s broad smile and my mother’s more subdued grin. I looked at all of us as we proudly stood before our Michigan house, happy and together. I missed those days.
“What do you want, Daphne?” Davey groaned. “I am trying to give you something. I don’t have much on offer.”
I turned, and chuckled. “Make me president.”
“Daphne, Bernie knows what he is doing.”
Picking up the photograph, I turned. “No. He is running this place like a fucking discount store—which is where he came from?—”
“He plans to bring in a wide variety of customers and make the place accessible, Daph.”
“No. He will continue to dilute the brand. Our sales floor is a disaster. We are hemorrhaging money in kidswear. Our overperforming divisions are jewelry, formalwear, beauty, and personal shopping. We have more interest in our concierge services than we can accommodate. I have a plan?—”
“Yes, I am sure you do, and I am open to hearing it.”
“Bernie isn’t. He wants to take this down. I want a job where I can do something.”
“This team is good. They are on autopilot?—”
“That isn’t what I want, Davey. I want a job that will challenge me. I don’t want that. Tell me I wouldn’t be good at the job. I know this store—its history, what it can be, and… I can do that if you let me try.”
Davey rubbed his temples and groaned. “Daphne, give me time to think, okay? Yes. There are changes we must make. I am working on them, but I need to know you will be a team player.”
“I’m always a team player. I’m on Team Delphine. I want to see this beautiful place survive?—”
“Well, that’s the offer. Please take it, Daphne. You need the money.”
I shook my head. “I don’t. I do not need money. I will figure it out. What I do need is the respect of the people around me. You’re putting me in a ridiculous role so I can fail rather than shine. Dad would never?—”
“Dad may have loved you most of all, Daph, but that’s not my fucking problem,” Davey’s voice vibrated through the room. “This is for your own good. I am protecting you?—”
“You know what? I’m sick of people telling me what is good for me, David!”
“Where are you going?”
I turned to leave, the picture in my hand. Shaking, I opened the door, my body halfway in the hallway.
“Home,” I said. “Because you can take your job and shove it up your ass.”
I said it loud enough for accounting to hear it. I wanted it to sting. I wanted to embarrass our precious CEO as much as he’d embarrassed me.