Executive Affair (6 page)

‘Not really, just something urgent from work that I need to review,' he answered absently.

‘Work?' She sat up in the bed. ‘Why did you tell them where we were staying?'

‘Don't be silly, Julia. Of course they have to be able to contact me … now go back to sleep for another few hours and when you wake up I'll be finished.' His tone did not encourage any argument.

She lay with her eyes squeezed shut, seething. She wanted to get up now, go for a walk, breathe in the country air, not in a few hours when it suited him.

They bumped into a business contact of Robert's at breakfast. Rick Hudson and his wife were also spending a few days at the resort. He invited them to join him and his wife at their table. It wasn't easy to refuse the loud, red-faced Texan, just as it wasn't easy to refuse when he suggested a round of golf with Robert. Julia tried hard to be good-humoured as she drove the buggy around the course and chatted with Rick's obnoxious wife for three hours.

The argument they had when they finally got back to their room was inevitable. Julia couldn't believe they had fought in such an ugly way on their honeymoon. When he stormed out, she poured herself a large bourbon from the minibar. She was shaking all over and the bourbon calmed her a little, but not enough. She didn't want to have another but still found herself pouring a second glass. When he came back she was passed out.

For the rest of their stay she ignored the phone calls to work and didn't comment on the two sets of documents that arrived by courier. She was determinedly cheerful and affectionate. She didn't drink, deeply ashamed of her lapse. Robert was as
pleasant as she was but his eyes were suspicious and watchful and things were never the same again.

They had been married for a few months when Lisa, Donald Skates' wife, invited Julia out for lunch. Julia hadn't seen Lisa since the night Robert proposed. Lisa chose a quiet café in Palo Alto. Once more, Julia was forced to brave the suburb that held so many happy and painful memories of Josh.

‘Julia, I don't know how to say this … and you'll think I'm an interfering so-and-so …' Lisa fidgeted with her napkin before plunging in. ‘Is everything okay with you and Robert?'

‘What do you mean?' Julia was immediately defensive and Lisa became more flustered.

‘Donald says that Robert is not himself … he's not happy …'

‘How would Donald know if my husband is happy or not?' Julia demanded.

Lisa put a kind hand on Julia's arm in an attempt to calm her.

Julia shrugged it off. ‘I can assure you that Robert is perfectly happy with me – tell Donald he needn't worry.' She snatched her bag from the floor and marched out, leaving an embarrassed Lisa to deal with the curious stares of the other patrons.

She went to a bar across the street. She needed something strong to calm down. A double vodka.

Robert can't be unhappy. We're only just married. We're having a few teething problems, that's all.

Her hands shook and it took a few attempts to light her cigarette. She had a flashback of Josh, lying in bed, telling her it was finished. That he wasn't happy and she wasn't what he wanted. She ordered another double.

She was sick the next morning and was angry with herself
again. There had been no need to get drunk; she knew Donald and Lisa had got it wrong. She was glad Robert was away on business and wouldn't see her in this state. She wondered if she should have an eye-opener, a small vodka to stop her hands from shaking. He was going to be home in a few hours and she needed to look as if nothing had happened.

Alan Harris declined his first meeting with Claire, claiming he didn't have any free time all week. She rescheduled to Monday of the following week. She was furious when he cancelled the second meeting by sending a cowardly email only ten minutes before it was due to start. He obviously believed his schedule took priority over her plans for the day. She stared at his message, trying to decide the best way to handle the situation. If she let him get away with such behaviour now, she would have no hope of managing him in the future. She gave herself five minutes to calm down before striding determinedly to his cubicle.

‘Alan, you can't keep cancelling our meeting. This is my second week and I still haven't reviewed credit.'

‘You obviously don't know that I manage my own area and report directly to Harry,' he said, not moving his eyes from his screen, his tone blatantly patronising.

‘That's odd. On the organisation chart that Harry gave me,
you report to the finance manager, not the finance director,' she said, giving him a cold stare.

‘That's just on paper … it doesn't reflect the way things really work,' he answered, his voice loaded with hostility.

‘Well then, I'll clarify the situation with Harry, just in case there has been a misunderstanding.'

She felt several pairs of curious eyes watch her as she walked away. She resisted the temptation to go straight to Harry. She wanted Alan and the others to think she had more important things to attend to.

She finally caught up with Harry after lunch.

‘Of course he reports to you. He reported to your predecessor as well. He never seemed to have a problem with that. Maybe he doesn't like having a female boss,' he said with a small smile.

‘That must be it,' she smiled back.

‘Do you want me to intervene?'

‘No, thanks. I'll have to get used to dealing with him.'

‘All of the senior managers are back on board,' he said, changing the subject. ‘I want you to come round and meet them before you go home today.'

‘Okay,' she nodded.

Alan was going somewhere when she got to his desk. She stood firmly in the way of his exit, raising her voice so the others could hear.

‘I've talked to Harry and he has confirmed that you do indeed report to me. So, let's have the review first thing on Friday. That should give you enough time to get some information together. I want to see a list of the top twenty accounts over ninety days, details of what the issues are and who has been assigned to fix them.' Without giving him time to reply, she swung around and returned to her office. Her hands were trembling. It was only
her second week, very early to have a confrontation with one of her staff.

There was a man she didn't recognise waiting outside her office.

‘Claire?'

‘Yes.'

‘Hello, I'm David Di Gregario, human resources manager.'

David looked to be in his early forties. His brown hair was cut in a short back and sides, and he had an open, friendly face.

‘Hello.' She offered him her hand.

‘I missed you when you started last week. I was in Asia with some of the other managers. How was your first week?'

‘It's been my second one that's proving the problem,' she said with a wry smile.

‘I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with Alan,' he said, giving her a supportive smile in return. ‘I think you handled the situation well.'

‘Thank you. I'll regard it as a learning experience.'

He took a seat in her office. ‘Harry said I should see you about these headcount reports. The staff numbers don't look right to me.' He frowned as he looked at the reports in his hand.

‘Okay. I'll have a chat with Stacey to see how she extracted them. We should be able to sort out what's wrong pretty quick.'

‘Great,' he said, handing her a printed document. ‘Now, I also wanted to give you this to sign. It's a confidentiality declaration. It's a standard document that all new employees sign.'

‘I had to sign one of these a few years ago when I started in Dublin. You know, Finance and Sales were regarded as the two groups that had access to the most confidential, and potentially dangerous, information.'

‘We're considering the possibility of asking staff to sign fresh declarations on an annual basis to remind them of the importance of confidentiality,' David said as she scribbled her signature on the page.

He left after a few more minutes of idle chat.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly enough and Claire locked up her office before going over to Harry's.

‘Time for you to meet the heavy-hitters,' he joked when she got there.

She followed Harry into the office next to his own. The nameplate declared the occupant to be
Steve Ryan, General Manager.
The plush navy carpet and large teak desk were impressive against the backdrop of the city view. Steve looked haggard and grey in the colour-rich room. He shook Claire's hand briskly.

‘Good to have you on board, Claire. We've been without a finance manager for longer than Harry and I would have liked.' His face was serious and unsmiling. ‘I was about to treat myself to a drink after a hard day. Would you both care to join me?'

He opened a plain teak door to reveal a well-stocked drinks cabinet and small refrigerator. He took out three crystal glasses without waiting for their consent. Claire didn't want a drink but didn't know how to say that as he poured a casual measure of bourbon into each glass before adding some ice cubes. His movements were smooth and efficient; he was obviously used to the routine of fixing drinks in his office. He handed the glasses to them and they had an undefined toast. He took a generous drink from his glass before setting it down by his phone so he could dial a number.

‘Samantha, tell Frank and Brian we're having drinks in here if they want to join us.'

They came within minutes, their eyes immediately questioning her presence.

‘Claire, this is Frank Williams, sales and marketing director,' Steve said, stepping back to make the introductions. ‘And this is Brian Brooker, services director.'

Frank was large, he towered over the others. His height helped disguise the weight he carried. He was obviously a man used to eating and drinking well. He nodded in her direction before going to the cabinet to fix two extra drinks. Brian Brooker was of a smaller and slighter build, his face a rounded boyish shape but with deep age and laughter lines.

‘Very pleased to meet you,' he said, thrusting out his hand. ‘I've heard really good things about the services organisation in Amtech Ireland. Were you involved with that group when you worked there?'

‘Yes, I did all the project accounting,' she answered as she sipped the bourbon cautiously. ‘Our projects weren't very big, though. Largest one we ever had was a prime contract for a local council. It was about two million Irish pounds.'

‘That's very interesting – we've just signed up a project that sounds quite similar,' he said thoughtfully. ‘It's quite a complex deal – I'd like to meet up with you to go through it as soon as you're settled in.'

‘No problem,' she said with a smile.

Frank Williams joined them, handing Brian his drink.

‘Of course, something has to be done about the sales commission that our reps earn for those projects,' he said, his black eyes assessing her. ‘At the moment it's calculated on margin. All the other IT companies in the industry pay commission on revenue.'

‘That can't be changed,' Claire answered honestly. ‘Human Resources in San Jose set the commission plans and the same
rules apply worldwide. You must admit that it doesn't make sense to pay commission if a project is losing money.'

He didn't seem to like her answer, his eyes narrowing to black slits in his olive face. He terminated the conversation by turning abruptly to speak to Steve Ryan.

Brian Brooker looked as if he was trying to disguise a smile by sipping his drink. ‘Don't take Frank to heart,' he murmured. ‘He gets upset when he can't manipulate people. So, where are you staying in Sydney, Claire?'

‘Bondi,' she answered, embarrassed by Frank's behaviour. She hoped that Harry and Steve hadn't noticed.

She liked Brian and she stayed for a while chatting to him. When she finally escaped into the fresh evening air, she felt flushed from the bourbon. It had gone straight to her head and it took her a few seconds to remember the direction of the train station.

Claire's next meeting with Frank Williams didn't go any better than her first. Later in the week, when she was signing a big stack of sales orders, she came across a problem. Though it related to Frank, she phoned Alan Harris first because he should have seen and dealt with the problem even before it got as far as her desk.

‘Alan, can I see you for a minute?'

‘OK.'

She watched him from her office as he continued to type for a few moments before rising from his seat, making a pathetic attempt to tuck his errant shirt into his trousers.

‘There's a letter to this customer from Frank Williams offering ninety days' credit. Were you aware of it?' she asked, handing him the letter.

‘Yeah, I am. What's the problem?' he answered, glancing at the incriminating document but not taking it from her outstretched hand.

‘The problem is that neither you nor Frank have the authority to make such an offer,' she informed him, annoyed that she had to spell out the obvious departure from policy. ‘It needs to be cleared by the treasury department in the US.'

‘I really don't know what you're fussing about. The customer is a low risk. There's no issue.' His tone was insolent.

‘Alan, you know very well that anything over ninety days needs corporate approval,' she said, making an effort to keep her voice level. ‘It doesn't matter how safe the customer is, you still have to document your case.'

‘Well, you'd better tell Frank then. He won't be pleased,' he said smugly.

Claire dialled Frank's extension. She told him a problem had come up and asked him to come around to her office.

‘What's all the drama about?' Frank asked when he arrived a few minutes later.

‘This letter. I can't authorise shipment to the customer until treasury clears the terms,' she said bluntly.

‘You can't be serious. The customer needs the shipment urgently.' Frank's voice was raised with instant aggression.

‘Sorry, but you both know the rules. You shouldn't have made the commitment without getting the proper approvals,' she stated, trying not to waver under his wrath.

‘That's the problem with people like you!' Frank's face was an intimidating few inches from hers. ‘You waste my time on red tape. You hinder the sale process rather than help it!'

He slammed the door viciously in his wake, leaving her to deal with a smirking Alan.

‘You should have known better,' she said harshly. ‘Don't ever let something like that through again.'

Alan backed down in the face of her anger. ‘Sorry,' he muttered, though he didn't sound as if he really meant it.

When he'd gone back to his desk, Claire took a few deep breaths and wondered what she had taken on with this job. Alan was obviously going to need to be closely managed to keep in line. All of the senior managers, Frank and Brian and Steve and David, had twenty to thirty years experience on her and she would need to be as tough as them if she was to earn their respect. Yes, she had Harry to fall back on. But she wanted to show him, to show all of them, that she could play at their level.