Chapter Three
JAKE
"Ben, we’re not losing this client. You understand? It's an order."
Ben nodded, his eyes darting toward the door. He might be my second-in-command, but even he knew better than to lose this account.
"I'm on it. We'll update the presentation and the numbers."
"Good. You know what to do, so do it. I want it on my desk in one hour."
"You got it." He left the next second. Ben was good, great even, but he was still soft on negotiations, and he needed a push every now and then. I, on the other hand, was tenacious. He would eventually learn how to do this, but it would take time.
I got up from behind my desk, stretching my legs and glancing out the window.
From up here, I couldn't even see Wall Street properly.
I was on the fortieth floor and could literally see over the tops of other buildings.
The skyline of New York was lighting up.
It was six o'clock in the evening. Most people would prepare to leave work for the day, but Wall Street didn't tick like that.
Burning the midnight oil wasn't just necessary, it was expected.
I heard my phone vibrate on my desk and went to pick it up. Thinking this might be the client calling to complain about the proposal we sent, I was surprised when Grandmother's name flashed on the screen.
"Grandmother," I said quickly, curious as to what this call could be about. The CEO search was in motion, though I hadn’t had any time to fill in my grandparents on the latest details.
"Jake, how are you?"
"Just fine. Working as usual. You know me."
"At this time of day? Wait, it's practically morning for you, isn't it?" she asked sarcastically.
"No, I'd say dinner counts as lunch break around here."
"Oh, my boy,” she tsked. “I was calling to ask how the CEO search is going."
"We have three leads now. I only like one of them. The rest were not a good fit.” I'd taken one look at their résumés and called the recruiting firm back, berating them for even wasting my time by sending them.
"Oh yes, it's the one who can only start in six months, right?"
"Correct."
"Hmm."
I knew that tone of voice. Grandmother was preparing to emotionally blackmail me again. Ever since I came back from Boston two weeks ago, I’d been searching high and low for a CEO, putting out feelers everywhere. This wasn't going to be an easy process, or a quick one.
"Have you given our question more thought?"
I put a hand on top of my leather armchair, looking out the window.
"I have. There is no possibility of me being able to put things on hold here to come to Boston."
"You can't or you won't?"
Straight to the point as always.
“Both,” I admitted. No sense in lying. She’d figure it out anyway.
"Mm-hmm, I thought as much. Well, that was too much to ask, I suppose."
I straightened up, suspicious of her tone. It sounded resigned, and that was not my grandmother's modus operandi.
"Now, I know we've talked about my ninetieth birthday," she continued.
"Yes, ma'am."
“The lovely event planner I've hired had a wonderful idea. She suggested a destination party."
A destination party for a ninety-year-old? That was the most insane thing I'd heard.
"Okay," I said, trying to sound neutral. "Where would the destination be?"
"That depends on you."
"Meaning?"
"Just how much do you love your dear old grandmother?"
I could see what she was doing. First she asked me about moving to Boston, knowing full well I’d say no. She also knew I’d feel guilty as hell. And now she would make a second request, knowing I wouldn’t deny her again.
"That house you have in Martha's Vineyard is gorgeous. I've always loved it," she commented.
"Yes, I know. It's one of your favorite places."
I bought it because I needed a place to retreat. Everyone was on my case all the time for working like a madman, so I made time for a getaway once a month, a whole weekend just for myself at Martha's Vineyard. My grandmother and the rest of the family used it when I wasn’t there.
"I'd like to have the party there."
"How big is the party?" I hadn't paid attention when she’d told me how many guests she’d have. That was a crucial detail because although my home was large and could accommodate a lot of people, it wasn’t able to house hundreds.
"I don't know. About thirty, give or take."
"Thirty people?"
"Yes, and I sent Natalie pictures of your house. She thinks it would be a lovely place to host it." I already disliked this Natalie. "I agree with her. The spot is lovely. You have that beautiful yard."
I couldn't tell my grandmother no. I'd already disappointed her by not playing interim CEO to Whitley Advertising, but I could do this for her.
"You have the green light from me."
"Excellent. You're such a darling. I want Natalie to fly out there to see the property. If I'm not mistaken, your retreat is coming up in a week?"
"Yes," I said in a measured tone, moving away from the desk and stretching my legs. "But the whole point of a retreat is for me to be alone and relax."
"You won't even notice her. She'll be discreet, and you can just show her around so she can begin planning."
I didn't point out that my showing her around implied that I wouldn't have time to myself.
"I can arrange for Natalie to go on her own," I said.
"But do you really want her to stumble around alone on that huge property?"
"I have Mrs. Winters taking care of everything." She was a property caretaker and managed day-to-day business for transient homeowners.
"I still think you’d be a better guide." My grandmother knew my one weakness: I couldn't tell her no twice in a row.
"Fine. I'll make arrangements for her to join me next weekend. She can stay there for one night."
"Oh, that's excellent. Thanks so much, darling. This means a lot to me. I can't wait to celebrate with all of you. My friend Marlow might bring her niece, by the way."
"I don't know who Marlow is." Why would she tell me this?
"It doesn't matter who she is. Her niece, on the other hand, is a darling. She's in her late twenties, gorgeous, and smart, and sometimes she talks a lot."
"Grandmother, what are you doing?" I asked.
"Why, I'm trying to set you up, of course."
I burst out laughing.
"This is not funny," she said, sounding a bit affronted.
"It really is," I replied. I hadn't laughed like that in a while. "What makes you think I need your assistance?" I phrased it politely.
"You haven’t brought a girl home since you were in college. I think that's a pretty big sign that you need help in that department."
"I don't. Do me a favor. If that's the only reason you want your friend Marlow to bring her niece, tell her not to."
"Too late. I've already invited them."
I groaned.
"Be civil when you're there," she ordered.
"I’m not making any promises."
"Jake!" She was using her sternest voice. It never worked.
"I've got to go, Grandmother. I'm going to keep you updated on the search for the CEO."
"Yes, please do. And I’ll send your assistant Natalie's details."
"Yes, do that as well."
I set my jaw. I couldn't see a way out of this without hurting my grandmother's feelings. I had one weekend a month to myself, and it looked like it wasn't going to happen this time around.
I sat behind my desk, checking my emails. The recruitment company sent me another profile to look at. I scanned it quickly. The guy had previously held the position of director in a financial institution. Why the hell would they bother sending him to me?
Instead of replying to the email, I called Danielle, the person who had signed off on it.
"Mr. Whitley," she said, sounding stunned.
"Danielle, do me a favor. If you can’t find any suitable candidates, don't send me any. I don’t have time to waste."
"Yes, Mr. Whitley. I’ll be honest with you. We’re grasping at straws."
"Then don’t send me anything until you come up with something better. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Perfect. You have all my requirements, and if you need to adjust the offering, I’m willing to negotiate. Would that help you improve your search?”
“It might. To be honest, Mr. Whitley, there just aren’t a lot of experienced advertising CEOs looking for employment. Knowing we can offer more will help with the search. In fact, I’ll begin contacting existing companies’ CEOs to see if we can draw them away.”
“Now we’re talking, Danielle. Let me know how that goes.”
I hung up the phone quickly. If there was one thing I hated, it was people wasting my time.
I understood the job market was difficult; veterans were either happy with their jobs or starting their own companies.
The newer, less-experienced candidates weren’t even an option.
I wanted to be understanding with Danielle, but she needed to know what my expectations were.
If their company couldn’t do the job, I’d find someone else.
As I was about to open the email Ben just sent me, I saw another message come in. My grandmother had copied me on the information she sent to my assistant.
Hi, Betty. Hi, Jake.
Attached is Ms. Natalie's phone number. You can contact her for anything you need to make any travel arrangements. She’ll go with Jake to Martha's Vineyard this month.
Betty burst through my door a minute later.
"Yes?" I said curtly. Betty was not a gossip. I wouldn’t tolerate that. But I was sure this correspondence got her interest up.
"Did you see the email from your grandmother?"
"Yes."
She seemed positively panicked. "And who is going to tell her that she's made a mistake?"
I groaned. "It's not a mistake."
"Oh, so Ms. Natalie is your…"
"She's my nothing," I replied. “She's my grandmother's event planner. Her ninetieth birthday will take place on the property."
"Okay, got it. And she's going to stay there the whole weekend?"
"No. Just one night."
Betty grinned. "You really can't say no to your grandmother, can you?"
I groaned again. "I wouldn't be in this position if I could. Why do you look so happy about it?"
"Because sometimes there are rumors going on around the office"—she lowered her voice theatrically—"that you’re a robot. This proves that you are human after all."
"Betty, you know how I feel about gossip. And I have my hands full."
"Oh, I know. Because when your hands are full, mine are too. And guess what? That happens all the time.” She threw up her hands. “Fine, I'll make the arrangements. I wonder if Ms. Natalie is attractive."
"It doesn't matter," I said.
"I beg to differ. I should probably warn her that she should have thick skin," Betty said, talking more to herself.
"Betty!"
"I'm going, I'm going. Oh, I can't wait to see how this will play out," I heard her say as she left my office.
I opened Ben’s email, shaking my head. Betty was taking her humor a step too far, but I had a soft spot for her.
I met her when I saw her son get into a biking accident.
I stopped the car to check if he was okay and ended up going with them to the ER.
It turned out she was in need of a job, and I was an assistant short, so I'd hired her.
That was five years ago, and I was still very happy with my choice. Betty reminded me of my mother in some ways. In others, she was a pain in my ass.
A few seconds later, I received an alert that my calendar had been updated.
Flight to Martha's Vineyard was now Flight with Natalie to Martha's Vineyard.
Game on, Grandmother.