Chapter 3
Chapter Three
There were times in a person’s life that felt as if they lasted the span of an eternity. There were others that flashed past in the blink of an eye. Liz experienced both almost simultaneously. And was slapped mercilessly by reality.
She stood frozen, willing herself to wake up from what was surely a nightmare.
Except she couldn’t wake up. Nor could she look away.
Not from the face of the man staring back at her.
The familiar face that was more rugged than the one she’d known.
With a slight scruff of a beard but the same scar cutting through his eyebrow.
The same dirty blond hair, with the same GQ-type tousle he perfected back in high school.
The same chocolate-brown eyes that were once able to see into the deepest corners of her soul but now looked like they were trying to set her on fire.
“Liz!” Arnold Crawford’s voice finally broke through whatever spell she was under. She tore her eyes away from the man she recognized as the updated version of Carson, turning her attention to her client instead.
“I’m sorry. I stopped by to pick up those reports we talked about.” She kept her eyes trained on Arnold, even though she felt Carson’s gaze still raking over her. And not in a pleasant way.
“Oh. Right.” Arnold shook his head. “Sorry. I thought I gave those to Agnes.”
Liz shook her head. She had watched the older woman search her office space for several minutes before coming up empty, although there could be five copies in there. She had no clue how some people thrived in chaos like that.
A frown formed on Arnold’s lips. “Hmm. Well, I know I have another copy back in the filing room. Hang on. Let me find it for you.” Arnold rose from his desk. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll help you look,” Liz said.
“No, no.” Arnold held up a hand. “You stay here. I’m sure the two of you have a lot to catch up on. I’ll be right back.”
Liz pressed her lips together and stepped aside as Arnold left the room, although she considered not letting him leave.
Then she considered making a break for it herself.
Turning tail, running as far away as possible, and coming back later to pick up the damn reports.
But she didn’t. Because she couldn’t. For some reason, aside from shuffling out of Arnold’s way, her feet seemed rooted to the dingy carpet of his office.
But just because she wasn’t able to leave didn’t mean she was defenseless.
Liz set her shoulders and pulled herself up to her full five-foot, seven-inch height, mentally preparing for whatever battle was on the horizon. She had a right to be here, dammit. Hell, Arnold hired her. Why the hell was he here?
Not that she cared, because she didn’t. He was probably rolling through town and decided to drop in and check on his uncle. He’d more than likely be gone before nightfall. No need to get her panties in a bunch.
Not that he got her panties in a bunch anymore. No. Those days were long past. He had zero access to her panties or anything that went on in them.
“Hello, Liz.”
Oh, damn. That voice. Deep and gravelly. A touch lower in register than she remembered yet oh-so-familiar. She hadn’t heard it in years and yet it was like every cell within her woke up when he spoke.
“Carson.” His name was bitter on her lips.
Rising from his chair, he leaned against his uncle’s desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “What brings you to Crawford Manufacturing this fine day?”
Liz’s eyes snagged on the way his button-down shirt outlined his chest for the briefest of moments before snapping back to his face. “Business.”
His eyes narrowed. “What kind of business do you have with my uncle?”
She narrowed her eyes in return. “The consulting kind.”
Carson’s brow furrowed as he frowned. “Consulting?”
“Yes. Consulting.”
“Why?”
Irritation flowed through her like lava.
If she had a nickel for every time someone asked why she was a consultant or what qualified her to do her job, she would be a very rich woman.
Because that was usually the implication—that she, as a woman, was not qualified to do her job.
Even with the most recent business profile write-ups, her gender was by far the thing she worked to overcome the most.
She hated it.
“If you must know, I am a damn good consultant with thousands of hours under my belt, hundreds of happy clients, and your uncle called me because I’m the best.”
Carson pushed himself off the desk and straightened to his full height. “Yeah. I know. But why are you here?”
“Because it’s my job.” Geez. How dense could someone be?
“But he’s my uncle.”
“Yeah, but he hired me.”
“But he asked me to help him out. Take a look at his accounts. Why would he do that if he was going to hire you?” Carson asked, mostly to himself.
“Because,” Arnold said, waving a couple of files in his hand as he came back in through the door, “I thought two heads would be better than one. Especially when they’re your two heads.” He chuckled, but it sounded like the laugh of someone who knew they’d done something wrong.
Liz was instantly suspicious. “Do you expect us to work together?” The words jumped out of her mouth before she fully vetted them. Hearing them out loud, she was horrified. Here she thought Arnold Crawford was simply a nice man looking for some advice. Not some evil entity trying to ruin her life.
“What? No.” Arnold’s eyes pinballed between the two of them, his shoulders finally slumping. “Look. I don’t know everything that happened between you two, but I know something did. It’s just…the two of you are the smartest business people I know, and I can use all the help I can get.”
Ugh. It was the sincerity that got to Liz.
She couldn’t leave a family business in jeopardy.
Especially a local one. But that didn’t mean she had to put up with the jackass family member that came with it.
Tamping down her irritation, she offered Arnold her most soothing smile.
“Of course. I completely understand. I see no reason that we both can’t work on this.
Separately, of course.” Because she was damn sure that if they were required to work on this together, one of them wasn’t making it out alive.
Carson gave Liz another narrow-eyed stare then turned to his uncle and nodded. “Fine by me. Shouldn’t take me long to do my evaluations.”
“Don’t hurry on my account,” Liz said, infusing her voice with faux sweetness. “That’s how things get missed, in my experience.”
“Well, in my experience, it doesn’t take that long to figure out what’s going on.”
“Found the rest of ‘em!” Agnes burst into the office, effectively cutting the tension in the room with the folders in her hands.
“Oh. Good.” Arnold’s shoulders sagged, and relief relaxed his features. “Thought I was gonna have to put you two in time out.”
Liz flinched. Was she really going to let Jerkface put her livelihood in jeopardy? Come on, Liz. You’re better than that. Just because he knows how to push your buttons doesn’t mean you have to let him.
Taking a calming breath, she offered Arnold the tiniest head dip in apology. “You’re right, Mr. Crawford. I’m sorry. I promise that I will do my best for you.”
Arnold beamed back at her. “I know you will.”
“May I?” Liz asked, taking the files from Arnold and Agnes and giving the contents a brief perusal.
“Perfect. Thank you. This is enough to get me started. I’ll touch base in a couple of days, but feel free to call if you need anything.
” She turned on her heel, satisfied with the professionalism she was able to muster under such extenuating circumstances.
Someone should start giving out awards for that kind of stuff.
Out in the hallway, she let out a slow, deliberate breath. Okay. Not exactly how you saw this project going, but it’ll be fine. He’ll stay in his lane, and I’ll stay in mine. It’ll be fine.
“Liz! Are you here for the tour, too?”
Liz blinked as her brain tried to switch gears. “Oh. Mel. Hi.” Tour? What tour?
Melvin Tooks, aka Mullet Mel, moved around Liz and into the conference room doorway. “Hey, Boss. I’m ready whenever they are.”
Arnold nodded. “Mel, this is my nephew, Carson. Carson, this is my foreman, Mel Tooks. Of course, you know Liz.”
The two men shook hands, and Arnold added, “Mel has agreed to show you both around. You can see how things have changed,” he said to Carson, “and you can get that firsthand look you were asking about,” he said to Liz.
Crap. Her and her big mouth.
Part of Liz wanted to get far away from Carson and whatever BS he was bringing back to town, but this was just as integral to her job as obtaining the necessary reports.
She should probably suck it up and get it over with.
If Gwen’s comment yesterday was any indication, there was already speculation about Crawford’s brewing.
Giving one tour, especially one with the owner’s nephew, was a lot less suspicious than giving several.
Besides, she liked Mel. He was an interesting egg.
“How’s next year’s calendar coming?” she asked.
Mel tossed his well-groomed mullet over his shoulder as a grin spread across his face. “Great. Got everyone lined up, and the shoots are completed through March. If things stay on schedule, we should have it out by October—just in time for all of your holiday gift-giving needs.”
“Calendar?” Carson echoed.
“Yep,” Mel continued. “Motivational Mullets. Each month not only features a fabulous mullet located within one hundred miles of Cloverfield, but it’s paired with a little pick-me-up to help get you through the month.”
“This month is Bobby McKitcheon’s multi-colored mohawk mullet with the saying, ‘Be the change you want to see in the world.’” It never ceased to amaze Liz the words that came out of her mouth when it came to her town.
“Wow.” Carson looked like he wasn’t sure if his chain was being yanked or not.
Arnold clapped Mel on the shoulder. “Couldn’t ask for a better foreman.
Not only because he keeps things running here, but because of what he does in the community.
All the proceeds from the calendar, not to the mention the award money he wins from the County Fair Mullet Competition, goes to helping fix up the town. ”
Mel dipped his head, a faint flush darkening his already ruddy cheeks.
“Last year he bought the ball fields new bleachers, and this year he’s hoping to make enough to pave the walking path out there,” Arnold said.
“The ruts are nearly as big as Rufus,” Mel explained.
“My bull dog,” he added, at Carson’s questioning look.
“Not that he doesn’t love a good puddle, but the middle of the walking path is not where they should be.
” Mel nodded at Arnold, then looked at Liz and Carson in turn and swept his arm down the hallway. “Shall we?”
Mel led them further into the building, the faint clangs and whooshing of machinery rising in decibel as they neared the heart of Crawford’s Manufacturing.
Mel handed out hard hats, goggles, and ear plugs.
“We’re not mandated by OSHA to use all of these in all areas,” he said while Liz and Carson donned their gear, “but I’d rather have happy employees who can see, hear, and think than take any chances. ”
He ushered them up a short set of metal steps and stopped them halfway along the walkway that overlooked the floor.
From there, Mel pointed out the various areas.
Where the silicone rubber was poured into molds and compressed into shape.
Where the Digit Defenders were cooled and removed from the mold.
Then where they went through quality control before getting packaged and sent to the warehouse to await shipping.
“Over there,” Mel pointed to a blonde who was seated in the quality control area, his voice raised to project over the noise and through their headphones, “is Suze Juarez. She and her husband Rocco, who works in the warehouse, are one of four couples we have working for us. And we’ve got one family who has three generations working here. ”
“Wow. A true family business,” Carson yelled over the din.
“In more ways than one,” Liz added.
“Yep. Arnold’s got a good thing going here.
” Mel grinned at them both and placed a hand over his heart.
“And I know I speak for the rest of the employees when I say that man is a treasure. Not only is Crawford’s Manufacturing a cornerstone of this town, but Arnold is one heck of a boss.
The benefits here are top-notch, the pay and bonuses are competitive, and he’s worked hard to make us all feel like a giant family. ”
“Families are dysfunctional.” Carson’s hands clenched the railing as his gaze swept the manufacturing floor.
“They don’t have to be,” Liz said. It was clear to her that either Mel was putting on an air of innocence or he truly didn’t know how bad things at Crawford’s might actually be. If it was the latter, she had no desire to burst Mel’s bubble.
Carson lifted his scar-bisected eyebrow. “Regardless…seems like there should be some ways to make this whole thing more efficient. Have you thought about outsourcing any of these processes?”
Mel pursed his lips. “I know the idea’s come up a few times through the years, but only as a very brief conversation. Arnold’s always been quick to say everything stays here.” His brow furrowed as he studied Carson. “Why do you ask?”
Liz gave Mel her best smile of assurance. “I’m sure it’s just Mr. Big City Finance Guy thinking his big-city finance thoughts.” So help me, that’s all he’d better be doing. Because if Carson thinks he can come back here and sell off Arnold’s company for parts…
Liz took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, all while keeping her assuring smile in place. Something she’d perfected through her years of dealing with difficult jobs.
“Ah.” Mel nodded in understanding. “Well, we can’t all be big-city dwellers. It’s the small-town businesses like this that are the backbone of the country.”
“Amen.” Liz intended to make sure Crawford’s remained one of the backbones of this particular part of the country for many years to come. If Carson got in her way, she would make sure it was the last thing he ever did.