6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Gigi stared at Harris across the boardroom table, wishing she had lasers in her eyes. Tightening her grip on her pen, she imagined burning Harris with her thoughts, searing zigzags in his expensive suit and possibly torching the ends of his perfectly mussed hair.
Instead, she sighed, composing herself so the words she really wanted to say didn’t leave her mouth. She glanced around the long table occupied by the other members of the SheTime team. Then she focused on Harris. “So, you think the best decision is to cut costs wherever possible?”
“Not wherever possible.” Harris leaned on the table, linking his hands together. “Just where it makes sense. And I think it makes sense to cut cost out of the packaging and ingredients. Also, to reassess our spend on marketing and events.”
“Interesting.” Gigi eased back in her chair, steepling her hands. She tapped her fingertips together in silence, long enough to feel the energy in the room shift. One of the sales reps coughed, and then awkwardly apologized for doing so. Jeremiah, from finance, looked back and forth between Harris and Gigi as though a fire had started and someone better put it out. The others munched on snacks, tentatively chewing as they waited to see where this was going.
The team had been in the boardroom all morning, analyzing products and marketing, reviewing spend and results. Gigi was on the verge of losing her mind, but Harris seemed unfazed. Every time she challenged him, he came back with a confident and solid answer. Even though he was wrong.
“You think we’ll grow sales and market share by reducing the quality of the product we make?” She stilled her fingers.
“You think we should manufacture products that don’t meet internal profit requirements? Or support marketing that doesn’t grow our bottom line?” he countered.
She narrowed her eyes, not appreciating how he’d answered her question with more questions. “There’s a difference between cutting corners and finding smarter, more sustainable solutions. We can’t compromise the quality of our products. That’s what sets SheTime apart in the beauty space.”
“We’re not compromising quality. We’re optimizing. Besides, consumers want value.”
She shook her head. “Value, yes. But not at the expense of quality. Our consumers want eco-friendly, cruelty-free, top-quality products that give them a luxurious experience. And I have the research that says so.”
“Look, Gigi, I commend your passion, but we need to be realistic. The market is tough, and we need to make strategic decisions.”
“All the more reason not to compromise,” she replied. They locked gazes, a silent battle of wills fighting across the table until Jeremiah cleared his throat.
“Are we going to break for lunch?” Jeremiah asked, like he was starving.
Gigi leaned forward, ignoring Jeremiah. “You know what else gives us an edge, Harris?” He raised a brow, urging her on. “SheTime isn’t about selling quantity. We provide quality. We build community. Consumers want a brand they can connect with, not just something off a drugstore shelf. We make premium beauty products, and our marketing and events build a community around our brand.”
Harris sighed and sat back in his chair, seemingly unimpressed. “Gigi, I’ve seen the success of the events, but they’re resource intensive, and I’m not convinced they’re the most efficient way to allocate our budget. We need to explore other, more cost effective, and measurable avenues.”
Gigi quietly huffed. What did this man not understand about their products and market? They’d officially talked in circles, landing right back where they started this morning. After Merry-oke, Gigi thought she’d convinced Harris to back off. He’d obviously been uncomfortable at the event and onstage, like he’d desperately wanted to be anywhere else. Then, he’d emailed her afterward, letting her know that Dean and his daughter would fill in for him at the event on Sunday. She thought she’d won after belting out Mariah Carey in a Christmas sweater, but this morning, Harris entered the boardroom like he’d spent the past twenty-four hours figuring out how he could change the business.
But Gigi was determined to stand her ground. She’d run circles forever if she had to.
Gigi sat up, making her chair roll closer to the table. “The Gal’s Gift Guide is measurable. We sold out of all the holiday gift sets featured at Merry-oke. Plus, the video of us singing went viral, with SheTime’s logo and banner in the background. We sold out of product and got over a million impressions in one day. That sounds measurable to me.”
Harris looked slightly sickened. It wasn’t the reaction she’d been going for, but at least it was some kind of reaction other than stubbornness and mansplaining.
“So, about lunch?” Jeremiah interrupted their stare-off, glancing at his watch. “If I don’t eat soon, I’m going to gnaw on a pencil.”
“We should break for lunch,” Harris agreed, tapping a hand on the table. “Actually, let’s take the afternoon to process our discussions and we’ll reconvene in the morning. I’d like everyone to come back with one idea within your own job function that will increase margins.”
Margins, margins, margins. That’s all Harris seemed to care about.
Gigi closed her notebook, grabbed her pen, and shoved both into her briefcase, frustrated that she’d spent an entire morning justifying everything she’d worked tirelessly to implement. She was going to need a sweet treat to counterbalance all the bullpucky she’d just consumed. Maybe Paige and Alice could meet for an emergency lunch at their favorite ice cream shop?
Harris interrupted her daydreams of white chocolate ice cream covered in gummy bears. “Gigi, can you send me all the details for tonight’s event? Including attire.” He looked a little salty about the last part, and Gigi internally smirked, remembering his disdain for the reindeer sweater.
“Of course,” she replied, wishing Dean would just take Harris’s place for the rest of the events. Dean was happy-go-lucky. He was fun and supportive. He was everything Harris was not.
Over lunch, she vented to her friends about the morning’s developments.
“Keep at it,” Paige encouraged through a mouthful of blue moon ice cream. “Keep showing him you mean business. He’ll back off, eventually. You’re the bomb. Just keep proving that.”
“You are totally the bomb,” Alice agreed, licking her lips before digging her spoon back into her frozen yogurt. “What’s tonight’s event? We need to brainstorm more ideas to make him wish he’d stayed home.”
By the time Gigi returned to her desk, she had committed to her plan: make Harris squirm while excelling at her job. And since he disliked dressing up, she doubled down on that aspect.
Clicking her mouse, she opened an email and addressed it to Harris.
To: harrison.ryan@ryan&ryan.com
From: gianna.ricci@ryan&ryan.com
Re: Monday event details–Gals’ Gift Guide
Good afternoon, Harris,
Please see below for details concerning tonight’s Gals’ Gift Guide event. The main sponsor of tonight’s event is Christmas Village, Inc. We’ll be competing in a gingerbread house-making competition, using the Christmas Village baking kits. I thought we could create a gingerbread spa. Please dress casually. I will bring matching company attire for us to wear. We have logoed pink silk robes, fluffy slippers, and sleep masks that will be perfect for this event.
Please meet me at the Four Seasons on Delaware Place at 6:00 p.m. sharp.
Sincerely,
Gigi
Gigi chuckled quietly as she wrapped up the email, but before she sent it, she played around with her signature. She erased “Sincerely,” and replaced it with:
If you have any questions, please ask someone else,
Gigi
This made her laugh out loud. Sometimes, when she was frustrated, she would type up an email expressing what she really wanted to say. She never sent it. It just made her feel better to get a little snark off her chest. But before she could correct her signature, Jeremiah walked up behind her.
“Have you seen the new Netflix documentary where the kidnapper lures his victims into his van with the promise of free margaritas, chips, and guac?”
Gigi moved her mouse, intending to minimize her email so Jeremiah didn’t read her snarky signature over her shoulder. He was the biggest office gossip. Though Jeremiah had great taste in murder mysteries, and that sounded like something Gigi needed to watch.
“I haven’t, but I—” She clicked her mouse and the whoosh sound that followed knocked her stomach to the floor. “I did not just do that.” But she had. She’d accidentally emailed Harris before correcting her signature. “No, no, no, no, no!”
“Well, you should watch it,” Jeremiah continued, unaware of the colossal mistake Gigi had just made. “It’s amazing what people will do for a free margarita and guac. Plus, the twist at the end will throw you for a loop. I didn’t see it coming at all.”
Panic rising, Gigi stood, pushing her chair out from under her. “Hold that thought.” She left Jeremiah and ran for the elevator, not sure what she should do. Harris didn’t seem to have a funny bone in his body. He would not read her email and then chuckle at her signature like she’d made a hilarious knock-knock joke. This morning confirmed they didn’t see eye to eye, and Gigi was getting the feeling he was searching for reasons to call her out. This would definitely give him a reason.
It was one thing to make Harris uncomfortable while still elevating sales and social reach. But blatantly disrespecting her new boss in writing? That wouldn’t go over well. As she impatiently waited for the elevator to reach the tenth floor, Gigi pictured Harris scowling at his computer before forwarding the email straight to HR.
How was she going to explain this?
Getting off the elevator and nearing his office, Gigi wondered if she could blame her signature on dictation. At least, that was somewhat believable. She could say she was dictating the email and her computer picked up on a conversation in the next cubicle. She didn’t realize the mistake until she hit send. Then she could laugh about it, even if Harris didn’t crack a smile.
You need to be extra careful when speaking your truth in an email, she scolded herself.
Harris’s door was halfway open. She knocked and stepped in. “Harris? Can I talk to you for a second?”
He was at his desk, though he wasn’t looking at his computer. Instead, his chair was rotated and tipped back. He had one leg crossed over the other and was staring blankly out the floor-to-ceiling windows into the abyss of Chicago. He slowly turned his head toward her, but didn’t offer a greeting.
Had he read her email? Was he stewing over ways to reprimand her?
“I just wanted to explain the email I just sent,” she said, nerves prickling her insides. “I didn’t mean the signature I put at the bottom. I—”
He put one finger to his mouth and shushed her.
Gigi stood there, bewildered. She blinked at him, her mouth going slightly agape, trying to process what had just happened. Was this some new power move? Had he seriously just shushed her?
Harris slowly rotated toward her, his expression shifting from stern to conspiratorial. Without saying a word, he crooked a finger, gesturing for Gigi to come close. Suspiciously, she approached his desk. As she neared, Harris’s stern exterior softened.
“I was just going to call you,” he spoke softly. “I was hoping you could help me with something.” Tugging on the lapel of his sport coat, he eased it away from his chest. Gigi’s confusion deepened. What was he doing? Was he going to yank a pink slip out of a hidden pocket?
But Gigi stilled when she saw what was hidden under his jacket. She tilted her head to get a better look and make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Curled up on Harris’s chest was a tiny, fluffy, orange . . . sleeping kitten.
Gigi sucked in a breath. “You have a kitten?” Her eyes widened in surprise.
Harris kept his gaze on the fluffball. “He’s not mine. I found him on the way to lunch. He was in a bush next to the Thai place, screaming his lungs out. I wasn’t sure what to do with him, but I couldn’t leave him out there in the cold, so I brought him back to the office. Just cleaned him up and got him to eat a little something. I wasn’t sure what to get, but grabbed a can of tuna at the corner market.”
“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered, shocked. Gigi had nearly tripped over her own feet getting to Harris’s office, and this was the last thing she expected to find.
Harris nodded toward the edge of his desk. A dirty hand towel was folded up next to a small paper plate with a lump of canned tuna. “I put him in my jacket to warm him up and he fell asleep. I was trying not to wake him. Wanted to let him sleep.”
Harris’s gaze connected with hers, evaporating Gigi’s panic and all thoughts of the email.
“You shushed me for a kitten,” she said, confirming the fact for herself.
“I figured the poor thing needs some rest.” He quirked a smile and Gigi’s disdain for Harris melted—a little. He was harboring a stray kitten in his jacket. How could her heart not soften for him? At least this showed a bit of humanity. He wasn’t one hundred percent a grump. Maybe just ninety-eight percent? She straightened her face, not wanting Harris to catch her train of thought.
“You said you really like cats. I was hoping you could help me get supplies for him?” Harris asked, throwing Gigi for another loop.
“Supplies?”
“Yeah, I’m going to call some local rescues, but I was thinking he could stay with me until he gets a permanent home. I don’t want him to have to stay in a shelter. I’ll need supplies for home and for the office. I don’t want to leave him at home all day by himself.”
Gigi’s knees went weak at his admission. She wobbled on her heels. One ankle gave way, and she shuffled forward, steading herself with a hand on the edge of Harris’s desk.
“You okay?” Alarm captured Harris’s features.
“Yeah, yeah. Totally.” She stood up straight, bracing her traitorous legs. “That’s . . . that’s really nice of you.”
He shrugged a shoulder, brushing off her compliment. “I just want him to be safe and find a good home.”
She smiled at Harris, and he returned it. It was probably the first genuine smile she’d shared with him since their introduction in the elevator.
“You wouldn’t be interested in another cat, would you?” he asked.
Gigi’s heart squeezed. “I wish I could take him.” She stood up straight, tugging at the edge of her sweater, which was purple with green polka dots. No embroidered cats today. “My apartment building doesn’t allow pets.”
“Oh,” Harris replied. “I just assumed you had a cat or two.”
She grinned. “I’ll gladly be a crazy cat lady someday.”
Harris raised his brow, like he should stuff a foot in his mouth. “I didn’t mean that offensively.”
“I didn’t take offense. I can’t wait until I can have cats. But right now, I don’t spend enough time at home. It wouldn’t be fair to any animal. But I spoil my friend Alice’s cat, Tux.”
The sharp angles of Harris’s expression eased. “That’s nice.” He looked at her with something that resembled adoration. It wasn’t the typical response she received when she told men about her love of cats. “I was never allowed any pets growing up.”
“Ever?”
Harris shook his head. “My dad liked the house to stay spotless. Having a pet was never an option.”
Gigi’s curiosity piqued at this break in Harris’s all-business demeanor. She wanted to know more, and started to ask him if he had any pets now, but the little orange fluff woke. The kitten raised his head and let out a pitiful meow.
“Oh, my.” Gigi pressed her hand to her chest, her heart expanding for the little stray. “Can I hold him?”
“Sure.” Harris carefully gathered the little guy. “How do you know it’s a ‘him’?”
“Over eighty percent of orange cats are male.” Gigi swept around the side of his desk, beyond excited for the little ball of sunshine that was brightening her day.
“Interesting,” Harris said, offering up the kitten.
“Look at your little face,” she said between tight lips, bending toward the adorable furball, not able to contain her excitement. The kitten squeaked again.
Harris chuckled and gently handed the bundle of fur to Gigi. She held the kitten up before her, staring into his sweet, pleading blue eyes. “You’re okay now. We’re going to find you a wonderful home. No more cold nights on the street. Your life will be filled with so many treats, plush cat beds set in warm sunshine, and endless snuggles.” The kitten meowed at her, a little less pathetic this time, and she pulled him to her chest. He clung to her sweater, clawing up to nestle next to her neck. She pressed him close, and he purred. Gigi gasped at the sweetness of it all, catching Harris’s gaze to share the moment.
“He likes you,” he said, with a tenderness that gave her pause.
Gigi scratched behind the kitten’s ears, and the purring increased. “I like him too.”
Harris smiled at her. Something lighter replaced the tension that had lingered between them in the boardroom. Gigi felt a shift, a truce of sorts. Maybe they weren’t destined to be at each other’s throats all the time?
“I should probably get him some supplies.” Harris broke the momentary silence.
“Right,” Gigi agreed, her mind still catching up with the unexpected turn of events.
“Can you help me with that? I’m not sure what he all needs.”
“Sure. I know a great pet store nearby. I could run over there now, if you’d like.”
“You don’t have to go shopping for me. I don’t want you to feel like you’re my assistant.”
“It’s not a problem,” she replied, appreciating his awareness with the ask. “I’d be happy to help. Actually, the shopping part sounds fun. And I know the pet store delivers. I can have the supplies sent to your house and here to the office.”
“That’d be great,” Harris replied. “I’d really appreciate that.”
They exchanged a look, a shared understanding that extended beyond the immediate task. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to discover beneath the surface of Harris’s prickly presence.
“It’s not a problem,” Gigi said, giving the kitten a kiss on his head before handing him back to Harris. “Plus, it’ll be great to have an office kitten until we can find him a home. Maybe someone in the office will adopt him?”
She smiled at the thought, and Harris nodded. But as she turned to leave his office, Gigi stopped, remembering what she’d come here for. She swallowed, the truth bubbling inside her, ready to spill out. “I sent you an email with a sarcastic signature. I’m sorry about that. I don’t want to be disrespectful. Sometimes I type snarky signatures on emails just to make myself laugh, but I always delete them and write something professional. I just wanted you to know that before you read it. Please ignore my ill-placed sarcasm.”
Harris looked perplexed for a moment. Then he nodded, rolling his big hand over the tiny kitten’s head. The kitten closed his eyes in appreciation. “Consider it ignored.”