Chapter Two
CADE
"Boss, you don't have to go there. I'm handling it," my assistant, John, said to me on Monday morning.
"No problem, John. I want to be on top of everything." I'd arrived at our office on Boylston Street at eight o’clock. I wasn't leaving anything to chance when it came to the competition.
The booths in Harvard Square were opening at nine o’clock sharp. That gave me enough time to give my team a pep talk before heading over.
"Okay, understood. Want me to come with you?" he asked.
"No, I'll call with any instructions I have."
John looked like he was about to pee his pants. Good, he should. I wasn't going to accept anything less than perfection.
We both stepped into the big meeting room, looking around. My top management was sitting around the oval table. John took one of the two empty seats.
"Morning, team," I said, unbuttoning my suit jacket, taking it off, and draping it around the back of the chair at the head of the table.
"I'm going to make this brief. These next few weeks will be crucial for us.
As you know, winning the competition will go a long way in restoring the company's reputation.
Now let's go through everything once to make sure everyone has their responsibilities covered.
Mark, you can begin. The floor is yours. " I took my seat as Mark stood.
Mark was the VP of marketing. He was in charge of coordinating everything. I sat up straight in my chair, my focus razor-sharp on his presentation. I didn't have anything to add, which was a good sign. He was as prepared as he could be.
"Good," I said at the end, and he looked relieved. I wasn't an asshole, but I didn't give praise too often. It had to be earned.
"You're still going to Harvard Square?" he double-checked.
I nodded. "Yes. We can regroup here in the afternoon. John will let you know when I’m back and send everyone a calendar invite. Now let’s all get to work."
Although everyone smiled, I could see the apprehension on their faces as I got up from my chair. John was on my heels as I left the room.
"Why is everyone so tense?" I asked him.
"You're joking, right? You've been riding our asses for months about the competition."
"No, I’m just making sure everything is running smoothly."
He held up his hands. "I'm just saying. You're usually more easygoing, but with this event, you’ve become a little heavy-handed."
I swallowed hard. Noticing a cuff link had come undone, I fixed it.
"It's important" was all I said.
My dad had all but ruined the Whitley name while financially hurting our businesses. This was personal. Family meant everything to me and winning meant everything to my family. I’d been working on restoring the company’s reputation since I took over. Winning would cement that reputation.
I Ubered to Harvard Square in Cambridge. Driving and having to find a parking spot was a waste of time. My brother Jake used a driver, and the idea had its merits, but in the age of Uber, I didn't see the need to have someone at my beck and call when I could just order a car with a few clicks.
When I stepped out of the vehicle, I took in my surroundings.
Competitors were milling around the square, setting up the booths, but no visitors were allowed in yet.
The day was cold, even for October. After the hellishly hot summer we'd had, everyone expected a mild fall and winter, but that was not the case.
It didn't matter. Cold weather was great for business, as consumption of hot beverages went up considerably.
I headed straight to our booth. Monica and Darren, two people we’d picked from our sales team, were tending it.
They were junior interns who we hired last year, and I was certain they were the best people we could have here.
They were energetic and passionate about our products.
Some of our more senior members on the team were too formal and not as outgoing.
They weren't people-people, but Monica and Darren were.
"Good morning, boss," Monica greeted me as I walked over.
"We didn't expect to see you here this early," Darren added.
I looked at our booth, glad our newest coffee blends were front and center. Each one of them had a handwritten note under it explaining its history.
There were several aspects to the competition.
The first step was the taste, and the public decided the winners.
They could come by all week and give points to every company.
The sustainability part—the one that was more important to me—was awarded by a professional committee.
They judged based on the coffee origins and how ethically it was sourced, as well as the sustainability of the packaging.
"We've prepped everything so we can walk people through every blend we have, and we’re also going to give them shots of espresso to taste. For those who don't like that, we'll mix whatever drink they’d enjoy, of course,” Monica said.
"Sounds great. I appreciate you two doing this. I know it goes way beyond the job description."
Darren shrugged. "I worked as a barista, so I know my way around a coffee machine and difficult customers."
“That’s exactly the attitude I’m looking for,” I replied honestly. As I said, praise had to be earned, and he’d more than done that.
Darren and Monica both had a bright future in the company. I had a knack for people, and I especially liked those who didn't mind going that extra step beyond what was required of them. They didn't mind getting their hands dirty, and that went a long way in my book.
"I'm going to take a look at the competition," I informed them.
"We already did," Monica said proudly. "Check out Sonya's Blends, especially."
"Really?" I racked my mind. "That's a very small player."
"Yes, but they did a fabulous job setting their booth up. I think they're kind of pushing the rules a bit. They took up more space than they're allowed, but it looks good."
"Thanks for the tip." Interesting. Usually everyone followed the rules in competition. The fact that this vendor wasn’t made me curious. Plus, it gave me the upper hand if it was grounds for disqualification. Fair was fair, after all.
I took a quick walk around the perimeter.
Most booths had a similar setup to The Boston Coffee Expert.
Then again, this wasn't rocket science. You just had to make sure your top products were in the front.
There was no point in displaying everything in your catalog because that would risk overwhelming the customer. It was a marketing best practice.
Unless you were Sonya's Blends.
I stopped in front of their booth, taking in everything with a critical eye.
They’d displayed eight blends, and I could instantly see what Monica meant.
Most of us only showcased four, which, in my opinion, gave the most visual impact.
This looked like it was all over the place, making it hard for the customer to focus on the brand.
One of their guys came up to me. "Hey, I didn't know they were letting in customers already. Welcome!"
"They're not," I said, maybe a little coolly. So what? "I'm from The Boston Coffee Expert. You've spaced out these racks far more than you're allowed to according to committee rules."
“Our VP of marketing measured it.” His demeanor abruptly changed. He was smiling before; now he looked dead serious.
Game on.
"Why are you displaying more than four blends, anyway?" Curiosity had gotten the best of me. Is there a new marketing strategy our team isn't privy to?
"Our new VP felt it was a better look. 'More is better' sort of thinking."
I snorted. "You've got a new hire now? My guess is they’re just trying to prove their worth by coming up with an outlandish decision to stick out from the crowd."
"Are you talking from experience, Cade? I see you haven't changed. Still trying to boss everyone into doing what you want."
I turned around at the familiar voice and couldn’t believe my eyes.
Meredith. I didn’t realize she still lived in Boston.
"I wondered if I’d see you around here," she said, her smile tentative.
Wait, no, that was a smirk.
For a few seconds, I was too bewildered to reply. "You work for Sonya's Blends?"
"Yes, I'm the new VP you seem to know so much about."
I waved my hand. "I was talking in general."
"I doubt that."
"There's a reason best practices are called that."
She flashed me a sardonic smile, running a hand through her hair. It was light blonde, much lighter than in high school. It reached her waist, and I was kind of surprised by my reaction to her. Meredith looked great. "I don't really care about best practices. I make my own rules, Cade."
I seemed to have pissed her off. "That was different in high school." I took a step closer. Her eyes flashed. She set her mouth in a thin line and propped her hands on her hips like she was ready for a fight.
"I thought I might see you at the gala but not here," she said. “What are you doing down in the trenches?”
"I always double-check the important things. I don't mind getting my hands dirty."
She dropped her hands from her hips, rearranging the belt of her thick black coat. "That hasn't changed about you, at least."
"Since when do you work in the coffee industry?" I couldn’t believe our paths had never crossed.
"Since I started working for Sonya."
"So she's letting someone brand-new be in charge of her booth?" There had to be more to it.
"What do you know? She trusts my skills, and since I caught the eye of the famous Cade Whitley, I must be doing something right."
She'd caught my eye all right, but not in the way she thought. It was taking all my self-restraint not to check her out. I liked what I saw so far.
“And you’re completely off base," she continued. "I’ve worked for her for six years. She just recently promoted me to VP of marketing.”
"Meredith, come on. We've known each other since high school. Clearly we've started on the wrong foot."
"You can say that again. So far, you've insulted my work experience and my marketing decisions."
"I'm a hard-ass. I admit it."
"Cade, I’m busy. We can continue this fascinating conversation another time." She undid her belt, taking off her coat. "The customers will come in soon, and I don't want you to scare them away. So by all means, go check out the rest of the competition."
She was kicking me to the curb. Granted, I did come on strong.
"Unless, of course, you want to apologize, and then we can call a truce." She raised an eyebrow, and that pouty bottom lip of hers called to me.
"I still stand by what I said about the number of blends. I'm right, and you know it."
She put her coat on a small stool behind the case displaying a variety of their coffee blends. Fuck me, she looked delicious. She wore a sweaterdress that fit her like a glove.
The guy I first spoke with handed her a cup of coffee, and she brought it under her nose, closing her eyes briefly before inhaling the aroma.
I had a flashback to school. She used to do exactly that before taking her first sip.
I didn't know anyone else who did the same.
We were two of the few kids in high school who enjoyed a good cup of coffee.
"In that case, Cade, I’ll see you around. I don't want you messing up my Zen when the customers come in."
Zen? What is she talking about?
"Have a great day, Meredith."
As the customers arrived, I made a quick trip around the perimeter. Monica was right. None of the booths stood out except Meredith’s.
"So what did you think?" Monica asked when I came back to our booth.
"Yes, they certainly have an interesting setup. You both have my phone number. Send me updates throughout the day, okay?" It made no sense for me to stay here; I’d just be in their way, and I'd only intended to come here before they kicked things off anyway.
On the other hand, I hadn’t planned to attend the gala, but now that I knew Meredith was going, I was rethinking that.