Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Okay.” Thatcher gave a firm nod.
“It might even be fun.” Layla shook him lightly. “Just like the good old days.”
Thatcher huffed out a laugh. “You might be overselling it a bit, but we’ll make it work. It won’t be the first time I’ve worked from the bus.”
The bus?
My confusion must have shown because Nataly leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Thatcher doesn’t fly. That’s his thing.” She shrugged. “He only travels a few times a year, and when he does, he travels in a tour bus like a rock star. Apparently, it’s super luxurious.”
Oh.
I chanced another glance at Thatcher, who was engrossed in a discussion of his itinerary with Layla. He didn’t fly? Since when? And why? How was I just learning this?
I’d always assumed the Penningtons had taken a helicopter to visit my family in Maine like most of my parents’ friends. Had Thatcher really been driving hours roundtrip to New York each time? Was it possible that someone as steadfast and calm and dominant as Thatcher was… scared? How many other details about him had I missed? And why did this only make him more fascinating—?
I wrenched my gaze away and focused firmly on my tablet. Not fascinating. He was a jerk this morning, and we don’t waste our fascination on jerks.
Layla coughed again before continuing. “Alright, then, people. We’re going to need all of our sales, marketing, and communications folks to pull together and assist PR with this…”
As she droned on, I stifled a groan of frustration. Layla was strong on corporate-speak and weak on details. One thing I did note was the decided lack of any social media component to their “multipronged” strategy, which still seemed like a total oversight.
I hesitated but decided I couldn’t stay silent any longer. This time, instead of interrupting, I raised my hand like I was in elementary school and waited for Layla to acknowledge me, which didn’t happen until several people had already begun collecting their belongings and preparing to leave.
“Reagan?” she said at last.
“Who’s responsible for creating the social media response?” I asked. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to take the lead on that—”
Layla inhaled as if gathering her patience. “Once again, Reagan, I appreciate your… enthusiasm. But as I believe we’ve discussed, the textile industry is old-school, and none of the major players are active on social media. That’s not where our partners will be expecting to hear from us, so putting our energy there would be unproductive.”
“I hear you, but athleisure-wear consumers are talking about Nova Davidson on social media, so I thought…” I glanced up and down the table, but every face seemed carefully blank. No one met my eyes. No one spoke.
Thatcher watched me, too, and though I couldn’t read his expression, I imagined him waiting for me to argue and whine like the entitled kid he’d probably heard about from my father. My confidence shrank like a deflated balloon.
Layla was wrong, but I was not going to tank my future prospects over this.
Not even if I was tired.
Not even if I was in the throes of a highly inappropriate reaction to my boss.
Not even if Layla’s hand lingering on Thatcher’s arm like it belonged there was driving me demented.
“Never mind,” I said shortly. I even made myself smile. “I can see you’ve already got the plan laid out.”
Fortunately, the meeting broke up a few minutes later. I escaped to my cubicle, where I sprawled in my chair, defeated.
So much for proving myself.
The moment I sat down, Nataly’s head popped over the wall. “Hey,” she whispered. “I just want you to know you’re on the right track. The rest of us agree with you about social media, and I think you’re doing an amazing job.”
Then why didn’t anyone say so? I wanted to ask.
“And you probably got some credit for suggesting a new take in front of Mr. Pennington,” she went on. “He was really focused on you when you were talking, and he looked intrigued… at least until Layla said no and you backed off. You’re too nice sometimes, you know?”
In a lifetime of criticisms, this was one I’d never heard… which only went to show how hard I’d been trying to turn over a new leaf.
I forced a smile. “You’re sweet. But if Mr. Pennington thought there was anything compelling in my idea, he’d have spoken up. He kept quiet… just like everyone else,” I couldn’t help adding. “How’s it possible the marketing team doesn’t believe in social media? Or the sales people? Am I that far off base here? Has PennCo tried it and failed? I don’t understand.”
Nataly sighed and tapped a chipped fingernail against the metal frame at the top of the cubicle. “You’re definitely not the first person who’s brought this up. Remember Terrance, the marketing guy who left right around the time you got here?”