Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Liam
As I drive the seven minutes to the factory, I do my best to wipe Madison’s face from my mind’s eye. I have a long list of questions that need answers, and that’s what I should be focusing on.
Not the scent of tea tree and eucalyptus that emanated from Madison’s damp hair.
The fragrance knocked me off-kilter when she bent closer to me trying to pet Hamlet, reminding me of the stash of essential oils that Halmeoni kept as remedies.
I was always drawn to those particular smells that were so bright and fresh—the pure aroma waking up your brain.
I was almost grateful for Hamlet swatting Madison’s hand, since it snapped my brain out of the enchantment. When she stepped so close to my shoulder to watch the coffee brewing process, I had to breathe through my mouth just to keep myself from being spellbound again.
Hana has it all wrong—I’m not in love with Madison, nor will I ever be. It would be stupid to fall for someone who’s destined to only ever be a temporary acquaintance.
But I can acknowledge that Madison is slightly hypnotizing.
Which is not what I need right now. Or ever.
What I need is to figure out how this factory has managed to deviate so far from standard operating procedures in a matter of a few months. Pure Fur All is a newer pet food company, but its other two production plants seem to be running light-years better than this one, at least on paper.
When I walk inside the facility, I drop my bag off in my office before heading to view the production line.
I’m hoping to catch a glimpse of everyone in action when they don’t expect my presence there.
I stay up on the stairs out of the way, happy to see that the production floor is efficiently humming along.
Turning to leave, I notice something new on the giant whiteboard hanging on the wall of the production floor.
Target production goal: 60,000 pounds per day.
Assuming that this was Beau’s work, I make a mental note to commend him on the initiative. And then I make another mental note to get a TV screen where hourly updates of numbers can be displayed so that employees know if they’re on pace or falling behind.
After interrogating the sanitation specialists and engineers about their processes, I head to meet with Mark, who’s in charge of HR and finance.
I’m a little surprised that one person is covering both departments, but at this point, I should stop being surprised by any level of mismanagement at this facility.
I purposely arrive fifteen minutes ahead of our scheduled meeting, so Mark is surprised when I walk into his office. And catch him playing a game on his phone in the midst of chaotic piles of folders and papers spread across every flat surface.
My eyes narrow in proportion to the way Mark’s widen. He abruptly stands and stammers, “Mr. Park, I, uh, I wasn’t expecting you for a few more minutes. I had just finished up some . . . things and was waiting for you before I moved on.”
I’m confident that my face is broadcasting the irritation I feel because I make no attempt to cover it up. Mark’s face reddens in response.
“How long have you worked here, Mark?” I ask.
He swallows hard. “Mr. Wilson hired me in December. We met through an acquaintance in Bentonville, and he offered me the job shortly after.”
An hour later, I have all the information I need to draw a proverbial red line through Mark’s name on the employment list. For some reason, Mr. Wilson had fired the original employees assigned to finance and HR, replacing the two of them with Mark.
According to Mark, he was promised an easy job because Mr. Wilson would be carrying much of the workload in order to “save the company money.”
I smell a rat.
After having Mark sign in to his accounts, I essentially take over his mess of a desk and email myself all of the finance and human resources reports that I want. On the way back to my office, I stop at Amanda’s desk.
“I need you to let the quality control team know that I won’t be shadowing them this afternoon. And block off my schedule from any other meetings today,” I say. As soon as Amanda nods in acknowledgment, I turn away and stalk to my office.
I have some reports to review with a fine-tooth comb. Several reports.
“What exactly are you saying?” Cal asks. I have him on speaker, my phone sitting on my desk in the midst of several marked-up reports. It’s after eight in the evening, and a headache is blooming behind my exhausted eyes.
“I can’t tell you exactly what’s happening yet.
I’m on the verge of figuring that out, I think.
But in general, I’m telling you that the plant manager was up to some shady practices.
I don’t think we’re looking at a casual breakdown in procedures or accidental lack of efficiency here,” I say, leaning both hands on the desk.
“Don’t let Pure Fur All make any moves filling the manager position here until I figure out exactly what Mr. Wilson was up to and who else knew about it. ”
“You know that means you staying there longer to keep things running. In podunk Arkansas,” Cal states, as if I didn’t already know that.
My natural instinct would be to sigh in frustration at the reminder, but a series of images flashes through my mind—Madison’s smug smile when she asked about my suits this morning.
The look of pleasure she tried to hide when she took a sip of the coffee I made for her.
Her small fingers clenched around my arm. Suddenly, the frustration evaporates.
“Yeah, I know. It’s what needs to happen, though,” I say. “I’ll keep you updated on everything I find out.”
“I expect that update soon,” Cal says before ending the call.
I straighten up my desk, organizing the papers into folders and storing everything in my satchel. I power down my laptop and add it to the bag along with my tablet. Looping the bag over my shoulder, I head out for the day.
The second shift employees are working hard on the production line, but all of the office staff are long gone for the day. As I walk through the abandoned lobby, my phone lights up with a text.
MJ
No amount of overtime hours from you could defeat my accomplishments today.
I can’t help but grin at my phone. Even though I need to curb this smiling reaction to Madison.
ME
Is that so? I’m just walking to my car. Are there any good places we could eat dinner while comparing notes?
MJ
That depends on your definition of “good.” Your big city snobbery has me hesitant to offer suggestions.
ME
Didn’t you come here from Kansas City? That’s not exactly a small town.
MJ
Yes, but we’ve already established that I’m Noel-resident adjacent thanks to my bff.
ME
I think you’re just avoiding a negative answer to my question.
MJ
I just made dinner and have plenty. Why don’t you come over here?
ME
Ok, but I’m not awarding pity points for productivity because you took time to cook food.
MJ
I don’t need the pity points. I have an ace. Prepare my congratulatory flowers, please.
I practically jog to my car, happy that Hana isn’t here to see the smile on my face.