Chapter 16 Liam
Chapter sixteen
Liam
It’s been two weeks since I discovered Mr. Wilson’s embezzlement scheme. Two weeks of slowly whipping the factory into shape, despite the fact that no new hires have been authorized yet. Two weeks of realizing that the expiration date to my time in Noel is nowhere in immediate sight.
Two weeks of trying to keep my interactions with Madison short enough to not become a distraction, while long enough to not cross over into jerk territory again.
My enjoyment of our conversations and time together creates an uncomfortable tension, considering nothing good could come from growing too accustomed to her company.
I’m in the middle of a conversation with Beau about one of the ovens that’s been acting up when my phone rings with a call from Cal.
“I need to take this,” I say, gesturing my phone in the air. Beau nods, and I walk away. “Cal, give me just a second to walk off the floor to my office where it will be quieter.”
Once I make it to my office, I shut the door. “Okay, what do you need?” I ask Cal.
“I need you to make a short trip to Houston to meet with our lawyers and investigators. I want you to personally walk them through all the discoveries you’ve made so that they can present their case for criminal charges against Wilson.
Can you be here tomorrow night ready to present the next morning? ” Cal asks.
“Um, yeah, I can figure that out,” I say.
“Good, I’ll have Angie book a flight for you from Bentonville to Houston. We just need you here for one day of meetings, unless you want to stay an extra day as a break from small-town hell,” Cal says.
“No, if I’m gone too long, my cat will tear apart the cabin. I’ll just stay the one night,” I say. Cal confirms and ends the call.
I sit down to review my notes, not wanting to risk appearing unprepared when I talk with the legal team. As I look through the reports and papers, I debate whether to get an extra layer of certainty about my findings.
Thus far, I haven’t clued in Beau or any of the other employees to the fact that Wilson was embezzling funds.
I didn’t want to risk jeopardizing the legal team’s actions if rumors started spinning out of control to the wrong ears.
But in the weeks that I’ve been here, Beau has proved to be not only a reliable employee but a competent leader as well.
He also had more interaction with Wilson than most other people here at the plant.
Confirming some facts with him may not be such a bad idea.
Making up my mind, I page him to come to my office. When he arrives, I invite him to close the door and take a seat. Standing up from my chair, I walk around to the front of the desk, leaning against it and crossing my legs at the ankles.
“Beau, I need your help to answer some questions, but I have to ask for your absolute silence about the things I’m going to share with you.
You’ve proved to be an honest, reliable leader here, which is why I decided to bring you up to speed on some information.
But I need your word that you won’t repeat anything we talk about,” I begin.
Beau sits up straighter in his seat. “Yes, sir, you have my word. I’m glad to help with any questions I know the answers to.”
Nodding, I add, “One more thing. If I loop you in and get your eyewitness confirmation on some things, this could mean that you’ll be contacted by the Holden Inc. legal team in the future. Is that something you’re okay with?”
A flash of concern crosses Beau’s face. “I’m not in any trouble, am I?”
“No, not at all,” I reassure him. “This is all regarding some of Mr. Wilson’s actions while he was here running the plant.”
Relief crosses Beau’s face, followed by a hardened expression.
“If I can do anything to set right what Mr. Wilson mismanaged, I’m happy to do so.
I care about the success of this factory because I care about the success of this town and the families here.
Plus the surrounding towns that rely on Pure Fur All for employment—a lot of people have a lot to lose if this plant goes under. Please let me help.”
So I do. I fill him in on the general details of my discoveries about Wilson’s embezzlement, and I watch the quiet fury on his face grow less and less quiet with each new detail.
“That low-life excuse for a man,” Beau growls when I finish my explanation. “He jeopardized the jobs and futures of so many good people here. He made us all think we were inept and unqualified, when he was the one stealing from our labor.”
For the first time, it hits me how this whole ordeal must feel to the employees here.
How confusing and frustrating it must have been for them to be doing honest work but never quite hitting their marks—because no one told them what marks they should be hitting.
How unnerving it must have been, thinking they’re failing and fearing for the future of their employment.
People like Beau and Amanda who are genuine, hardworking humans.
Suddenly, what was once simply another broken puzzle to fix feels personal. Wilson wasn’t just stealing money from Pure Fur All or Holden Incorporated—he was stealing from these people. Stealing their money, their security, their peace of mind.
“Beau, I’m going to shoot you straight—the Pure Fur All executive suite has kind of been a mess in all of this.
Their people should have caught what was going on a long time ago,” I say.
Beau’s eyes flicker with fear. So I give him the only reassurance that I can.
“I can’t promise that the Pure Fur All brand is going to come through this unscathed.
But I can promise that I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure this factory keeps running and your jobs are secure.
I’ll stay as long as it takes to ensure that the Noel production facility is an irreplaceable component of Pure Fur All’s success, okay? ”
Beau clenches his jaw and nods in appreciation.
He thanks me and then says, “On that note, I had an idea to run by you. I know this may not be the best time to bring this up when you’re still trying to fix what’s already here, but I’ve been thinking about something that could benefit both the plant and the brand in the long run. ”
Leaning one hand on my desk, I motion for him to go on with the other. “Hit me with it. I always like to hear proactive ideas, not just reactive moves.”
“Well, I’ve been seeing some commercials for freeze-dried pet food recently.
It has all the benefits of the fancy, fresh pet foods, but it’s more cost effective because it doesn’t have to be refrigerated to ship to consumers,” Beau explains.
“I looked up some of the machinery on a supplier’s website, and the specs look like a production line could fit in the empty warehouse space that we have.
Being located in Arkansas, we’re really close to a nationwide retailer.
We could get our foot in the door with retail stores as well as selling online. ”
The visionary gears of my mind pick up speed as Beau explains his idea. It’s brilliant, actually. If we could pull it off from an operations standpoint, it could be the next big leap in Pure Fur All’s brand. Not to mention solid job security for everyone at this plant.
“What about personnel? Do you think there are enough potential employees in the town to man a whole new production line?” I ask.
Beau nods enthusiastically. “Yes, sir. We’re constantly turning away applications from people from all the surrounding towns.
This plant is a stable income opportunity for a lot of people.
It would take some training, of course, for a different type of production.
But we could have the manpower if there was the demand. ”
I can’t contain the full smile that escapes as I nod at Beau. “This is an excellent idea. I’m heading to Houston to meet with the legal team about Wilson’s case, but I’m also going to pitch this idea to the powers that be—pitch your idea.”
He smiles back at me. “Thank you, Mr. Park. Thanks for everything you’re doing.”
Beau stands when I do, and I hold out my hand to shake his. “Beau, call me Liam.”
When I pull up to my cabin, I notice Madison sitting outside with her laptop balanced precariously on the arm of the Adirondack chair.
We’re currently experiencing those final few weeks of spring in the South when the weather is perfect, just before we plummet into the miserable summer heat.
A breeze picks up strands of Madison’s long hair, blowing them across her face.
She reaches up a hand to tuck the strands behind her ear, and I notice the ear bud that must have drowned out the sounds of my arrival.
I take advantage of the moment to watch her for an extra few seconds while she’s oblivious to my presence.
From what she’s told me, she’s landed two clients in the past week on top of working a few shifts at the coffee shop.
I haven’t visited her there, mostly because of work, but also because the menu sounds entirely like frou-frou drinks as opposed to real coffee.
If I’m honest, I hope she doesn’t work at the coffee shop for very long. Because I hope Madison Joy Editorial starts taking up all of her time as soon as possible.
Bending down, I scoop a few pieces of gravel into my hand.
As I walk toward her, I toss a small rock close to her chair, hoping to get her attention without startling her by suddenly hovering over her.
The second pebble I throw successfully interrupts her focus, and she looks up at me with those dagger eyes that I like so much.
“What’s with the stone throwing?” she chastens.
My lips quirk in a half-smile. “Just wanted to snap you out of that laser focus before I dared approach.”
Madison drops her head back with a sigh. “Puh-lease. I’m not that scary. I wouldn’t have ripped your head off too much if you’d startled me. I’m perfectly level-headed.”
“Hmmm, ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks,’” I tease.
Her eyes narrow. “You still owe me an explanation of why you know so much Shakespeare.”
“Puh-lease,” I mimic. “Practically everyone knows that line. Hey, I need to ask you a favor.”
She sits up in the chair, closing her laptop. “I’m listening.”
“I have to fly to Houston tomorrow for one night. Could you check in on Hamlet for me a few times? Fill up his food and water dishes tomorrow night and then the following morning and evening? Make sure he hasn’t destroyed anything?”
“That’s not a very good selling point, you know,” she counters. “‘Could you make sure my devil feline hasn’t destroyed the world?’ Super appealing request.”
“He’s not that bad,” I say. “He’s just . . . distrusting. But I swear he won’t hurt you. Please?”
Madison pauses to pull her hair into a ponytail, and the devilish gleam in her eye concerns me. “I’ll do it. On one condition,” she says. I motion for her to continue. “Explain Shakespeare. You’re quoting obscure lines. Your cat is named Hamlet. Explain yourself.”
“I think you’re going to be disappointed by the non-sensational reality of my answer,” I say, although I’m inwardly panicking with my knee-jerk aversion to sharing personal information.
“My mom is a professor of early modern English literature with an emphasis in Shakespearean study. We heard a lot of Shakespeare growing up.”
Madison’s jaw drops open, and it’s kind of adorable. I purse my lips to stop a smile.
“All right, I didn’t expect that answer,” she says. “Also, you said, ‘we.’ That means you must have at least one sibling.”
Shoot. How does she keep luring me into sharing personal details?
I shrug. “I answered your question already.”
“Ah, but that question just got your first Hamlet feeding secured,” Madison quips. “Siblings?”
I growl. “One younger sister.”
Madison holds up two fingers. “There’s your second feeding. Now, what shall I ask for the third?” She taps a finger on her chin with mischievous delight, and I decide to disrupt her little power play.
Placing a hand on either arm of the Adirondack chair, I lean in close. Her sharp intake of breath and stiffened posture assure me that I successfully stole back the upper hand. “Choose your final question wisely, MJ. Because you won’t be trapping me in personal questions again.”
Her eyebrow arches, and I have a sinking feeling in my gut that I’m in for it with this one. Her voice is steady when she asks, “Why don’t you like small-town Arkansas, Suits?”
I mentally scramble for some version of the truth that wouldn’t admit the truth. But, my value of honesty trumps my self-preservation instinct, and I tell her, “Because I grew up in small-town Arkansas, and I hated it.”
Her eyes widen, and I see a thousand newly-hatched questions forming on her tongue.
“That’s it. Three answers for three times checking on Hamlet. I’ll drop the key off tomorrow before I leave,” I say, rising to my full height. Motioning toward her laptop, I ask, “How’s the editing going?”
She can’t stifle her smile as she responds. “Good. I landed another new client today, so I’m up to three. The new one today won’t need me to start for another couple of weeks, but it’s still another contract.”
“Keep it up. Madison Joy Editorial is ready to skyrocket,” I say as I take a few steps backward. “See you tomorrow, MJ.”