Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Madison
“What can I say? It was the straw that finally broke my back,” I conclude.
Syd is wiping tears from the corners of her eyes after laughing so hard, and Becky takes a sip of water to calm the flush in her cheeks.
Clara has already heard the story of Ivy’s durian catastrophe—albeit the emotional breakdown version as opposed to the polished comedy sketch.
Davis pats Syd’s back as he says, “Don’t die laughing there, beautiful. I love you too much.”
Clark rolls his eyes at Davis, as though he’s not constantly being just as lovey-dovey with Clara. Now that Becky has her laughter under control, she says, “Well, I’m sorry that you were forced to move, but it’s our gain. We’re glad to have you in Noel, Mads, for however long you can stay.”
I give an appreciative wave in her and James’ direction. “Thanks to you two for giving me an affordable place to stay for now.”
Conversation is interrupted by the delivery of three large pizzas.
Every Tuesday night, Clark and Clara have dinner with Davis and Sydney, James and Becky, and Beau and Abby.
All the grandparents watch their respective grandkids so the parents can have a weekly get together—a tradition they were kind enough to include me in this week.
With an open invitation in the future, although I’ll have to feel out how much of an intrusion I am tonight.
“Abby texted to go ahead and start eating. They’ll be here in five minutes.
Beau was late getting home from the factory today,” Syd says, putting her phone down.
My ears perk up at her mention of Beau and the factory.
How could I casually pull information out of Beau about what Liam is like at work?
Strictly in the name of our competition.
Today was technically a very productive day for me—I opened a business bank account, which took far longer than I’d anticipated.
I also enrolled in an online course to brush up on the Chicago Manual of Style guidelines, since we followed the Associated Press Style rules at WritInc.
If I’m going to get hired to proofread books—both nonfiction and fiction—I’ll need to switch my brain to Chicago Manual mode.
I also emailed the friend who’s working on designs for me, plus revamped my résumé to be ready for use on my website. But while those were all crucial tasks, I’m worried that Liam will come home today waving a smoking gun of productivity.
Not being around tonight to compare notes with him is the one downside to saying yes to this group dinner. But maybe an inside scoop from Beau will counterbalance that downside.
We begin the process of serving pizza slices onto plates. Syd makes a big show of waving her olive-laden pizza in front of Clark and Clara, who both dramatically crinkle their noses in disgust. Abby and Beau join the table with a flurry of greetings and grab their own slices of pizza.
I don’t even have to lead the way in prying information out of Beau—Davis is on the ball with questions to satisfy my curiosity. Davis asks Beau, “How’s it going with the new corporate guy? What’s he like?”
Yes, Beau. What is Liam like at work?
Beau swallows a bite before answering. “To be determined, I guess. He’s very direct and gets straight to the point with his questions and observations.”
Syd chuckles and says, “Well, that’s not very Southern of him, is it? Someone needs to tell him to beat around the bush and politely back his way into pointed questions.”
Everyone laughs in response, and Beau says, “Yeah, it’s a bit of a culture mismatch, for sure.
Then again, every time he asks a pointed question or makes a critical observation, it makes me realize how screwed up things are.
I thought everyone would seamlessly pick up their new roles at this facility after working at the meat-packing plant in the past, but it’s a totally different operation. ”
There’s a collective murmur of understanding and support from the group. I’m somewhat shocked when Clark is the next person to voluntarily speak up. “But he—what’s his name again?”
“Liam Park,” I interject. Eight pairs of eyes look my way.
Beau says, “I forgot he’s staying at the cabins with you, Madison. Put a pin in that—I’m circling back to you after Clark’s question. When Clark speaks, we must listen.”
Clark grunts annoyance but continues his question. “This Liam guy isn’t talking about firing people, though, right? Or pulling the plug on the factory?” Clearly, Clark still has some PTSD from the meat-packing plant shutting down and his town nearly dying out as a result.
All eyes are on Beau, now, who shakes his head.
“I really don’t think so. Even though I don’t doubt that Mr. Park is the type to do whatever needs to be done—including firing people—he’s gone out of his way to assure employees that cutting jobs isn’t his priority.
He’s trying to identify where things are going wrong so he can optimize processes to make the plant more profitable, instead of just blindly cutting positions. At least, that’s what he’s said.”
Relief is palpable around the table. Beau points at me. “He’s living right across from you. Have you talked to him much?”
“Yep,” I state, then take a drink of water.
Clara waves a hand and says, “What was it you said about him, Mads? Confident but not an arrogant piece of work?”
Nodding, I say, “Can confirm. I mean, I don’t see Liam at the plant, obviously, but that’s my impression from our casual conversations the past few days.” I don’t bother to explain that “casual” may not be quite the right descriptor for our repartees.
“I have a hard time picturing a casual version of Mr. Park, what with his power suits and full-throttle approach to everything,” Beau says.
Unable to explain exactly why, I bristle on Liam’s behalf.
“A full-throttle approach isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Maybe the lack of full throttle is what got the factory into this mess in the first place.
From what I’ve seen, Liam seems to be working awfully hard to fix a problem he didn’t create.
His efforts could save Noel from a second brush with death. ”
Everyone eyes me with varying levels of shock and confusion.
I’m not usually one to explain myself, but I see a glimmer in Clara’s romance-filtered eyes, and I need to shut that right down.
“Liam and I have a friendly competition going over who can accomplish more on our missions each day—me with my new business and him with fixing the factory. I’ve seen how early he leaves and how late he comes back—only to spend even more hours each night reviewing the pages of notes he took during the day.
I really do think he has good intentions of whipping things into shape with as little collateral damage as possible. ”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Abby quietly interjects.
She seems the shyest, and I don’t know her as well as the other women here, since she and Beau moved away from Noel when the meat-packing plant shut down.
I got to know Syd and Becky much better during past trips to visit Clara.
Abby looks up at Beau and says, “The last thing we need is to uproot our family again. I hope he gets things running so smoothly that Pure Fur All would never dream of cutting jobs or shutting things down.”
“I’ll toast to that,” James says, raising his glass.
“To Liam Park’s master improvement plan,” I chime in, raising mine.
“Here, here.”
It’s late when I arrive home to my cozy little cabin. I’m torn between feeling satisfied from a good time with friends versus chastising myself for the wasted hours that could have been spent moving the needle on my new business.
Liam is sure to win the competition today. Again.
Light glows from the windows of his cabin, but it’s a faint light—more like the warmth of a bedside lamp than the full overhead light.
Even though Liam stopped by my cabin yesterday, it’s late tonight, and I feel hesitant to randomly knock on his door.
Especially if he’s in bed reviewing notes.
Based on the ridiculous hitch in my chest seeing him with his tie undone last night, I don’t think I’m at all ready to see dressed-for-bed Liam.
So I lock my car and walk the few steps to my cabin with mild disappointment blooming in my chest.
Until I see a piece of paper taped to my front door. I step inside and flip on a light so I can read the note.
Madison
Coffee hour is at 7:00 a.m. sharp. Text me at 713-555-6184 if you’ll be sleeping in and won’t make it.
Liam
I reread the short note, examining the neat print. He does have impressively legible handwriting. Smiling, I pull out my phone and save his number.
ME
Please. There’s no sleep for the determined.
This is Madison, by the way.
I don’t have to wait long for the conversation dots to begin bouncing.
MR. EXEC
Noted.
I roll my eyes at his succinct response. Ever the efficient communicator.
ME
I’ll take the L for today. Tasks took way longer than expected, so I didn’t check off my entire to-do list today.
MR. EXEC
What took a long time?
ME
Opening a business bank account effectively wiped out half of my day.
MR. EXEC
Banks are the worst. I’ll give this one to you out of sympathy.
ME
No, no, no. I earn my wins. I assume you have 78 pages of notes today?
MR. EXEC
Not quite 78, but plenty to keep me busy. Been reviewing notes since I got home a couple of hours ago.
There’s a pause in the conversation as I try to decide what to say next. But Liam’s bouncing dots eventually halt my debate.
MR. EXEC
Had big plans tonight? Or burning the midnight oil working at some tea shop I don’t know exists?
I snort a laugh.
ME
Zero tea shops in Noel, sadly. Becky’s Brews coffee shop is open most of the year, but she’s taking a break between busy seasons.
And neither. No big plans or midnight oil. Just a casual dinner with my best friend, Clara, and her husband, plus some of their other friends. One of them you know. Beau Olson.
MR. EXEC
Ah, yes. Beau seems like a solid employee.
I decide to poke the bear. Just a little.
ME
Curious to know what he thinks of you?
MR. EXEC
I don’t care what he thinks about me.
ME
Careful. You might veer from confident to arrogant territory.
MR. EXEC
It’s not arrogant to not care what people think. I’m here to do my job. A job I happen to be very good at, which will benefit your friends when the factory doesn’t shut down. I’ll do my job and then leave. I don’t need people to like me in the process.
My stomach ties itself in knots at the matter-of-fact statement regarding his temporary presence in Noel. Which is nonsense because my life will continue on just fine without Liam’s presence. Not to mention I’m also a temporary resident of Noel.
I tap my thumb on the side of my phone as I debate whether to continue the conversation.
Liam made it pretty clear that he’s not here to make friends—which logically means he doesn’t see me as a friend.
Maybe what I thought was a mutual enjoyment of our back-and-forth was actually him humoring me, and now he’s tired of it.
Tired of me. I should stop annoying him.
I’ve just set my phone down on the table when it pings again. I pick it back up with embarrassing speed.
MR. EXEC
But you can tell me if I ever cross the confident/arrogant line with you, MJ. As my neighbor, I do care a little what you think about me.
I purse my lips, clamping down a smile.
ME
You forgot fierce competitor in addition to neighbor.
MR. EXEC
You’d better get on the ball tomorrow if you expect me to attach the term “fierce” to your competitor title.
ME
Good thing I have an extra-strong cup of caffeine scheduled to start the day.
MR. EXEC
7:00 sharp. See you then.