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Authors: Chautona Havig

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BOOK: Speak Now
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“If I know Jonathan, this was very expensive.”

Without another word, Diane took the key
and the box and stepped into the office. The sound of her mother’s fingers clacking away on the keyboard told Cara what she’d surmised. Diane had gone online to the store’s website. A low whistle preceded her mother as Diane returned to the living room.

“Well, you’re right about that. It was expensive.”

“I have to give it back then—it’s too much.”

“Did you read this tag?”
Diane rolled her eyes at Cara’s look of incredulity. “What an asinine question, yes. Still, I have to ask because of what that means. Did. You. Read. The. Tag?”

“A dozen times before I handed it to you.”

“Are you telling me you’re willing to say, ‘Sorry, Jonathan, I don’t want the key to your heart?’”

“Of course not! You know how I feel, Mom; it’s not like I could hide that from you if I wanted to.”

“Well,” Diane said, sliding the key across the coffee table. “Jonathan is the kind of man who will take rejection of his gift, well, one with a tag like that attached, as a rejection of him. Accept it graciously and if your relationship goes nowhere or worse, south indefinitely, then return it.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice a little. “But as long as you want his heart, I think you have to keep the key to it, even if it’s just an expensive symbol.”

Cara started to argue, “But, Mom—”

“The last time I asked, you said things were too electrical to kiss him or—”

“Mother!”

“Well, I’m just asking if it’s still that way.”

Reluctantly, Cara nodded. “It’s just not smart. If you could see—”

“Oh, I saw.” With a look that had taught Cara to silence herself years ago, Diane continued. “This is the only way he can try to demonstrate his affection. Give the guy a break. He’s about to explode as it is.”

She blushed. “Do you think so?”

“Your father asked me if I’d be crushed if you guys eloped. When I said I’d be disappointed but not crushed, he said, ‘So can I encourage it before they both go insane?’”

~*~*~*~

A single red rose stood in a silver vase on her desk. Tina stuck her head in the door and announced, “It arrived an hour ago.”

The card stuck to the florist’s fork read simply, “email.” She flipped open her laptop,
typed the password, waited impatiently for the screen to announce she’d connected to the network, and then punched her trusty email icon. Amid several dozen offers for everything from dating services that promised to provide her with a soul mate, to office memos, one innocuous looking email from “Jonathan Lyman—CCD Delta Advertising” nearly hid among the others clamoring for her attention.

To:
Cara Laas

From:
Jonathan Lyman

Subject:
What’s for lunch?

Cara mia,

I’ve typed the opening to this email a dozen times. First, I informed you that I am gone—on my way to Atlanta. Bet you couldn’t have guessed that to save your life. Then, I gave you exciting information about how my children were looking for crayons, toothbrushes, and other similarly fascinating objects.

Now, I told you that I am not a better written communicator than I am a spoken one and I know you believed me even though it was right after the last time I spilled thoughts onto paper. I can tell that this is going to be a very long email, furthering your doubt in my veracity, but I assure you, I am not a natural speaker or writer. Sometimes, I just want to talk, and if I can’t talk, I’ll write instead, but I don’t overflow with words on paper just because the paper is there.

So much for that helpful information. Have you dug through your purse yet? Have you found anything there? If you haven’t, please do now. I’ll wait. Did you like it? Do you know how hard it was not to give that to you yesterday? I bought it Friday and waited for the perfect moment, but yesterday’s perfect moment seemed too manipulative. So, I chose to play the coward and slip it into your purse this morning. I wonder if you caught me.

I’ll be back in Rockland in six weeks. Uncle Weston wants me to attend the Cancer Society B
enefit to represent the company. I hope you’ll attend with me. Would that be enough time for your mother to make something appropriate? Is that something she’d enjoy? If not, I can get Mother’s favorite boutique names for you. She’d probably love to take you shopping. Please say you’ll go. It won’t be miserable if you’re there.

Bryson asked me why I didn’t ask you to marry me. The question wasn’t odd, but the fact that I couldn’t answer it
bothered me. How do you say, “Well, I love her, I want to marry her, I want to have her close, but I can’t ask her to marry me yet”? That’s just weird.

I am told the car is loaded and my
children, in their car seats, wait for me to drive to the station. In order to prove myself a thoughtful man and not a neglectful and irresponsible parent, I must send this email now and finish what I had to say the next time I am struck with a desire to unburden myself.

Jonafan

Without further consideration, she closed the email, deleted the SPAM from her folder, answered a few pressing messages, and closed her laptop. Several reports awaited her perusal, Huan Chan’s corrected presentation looked flawless, and a list of post-it notes filled the length of her desk pad. Before she could pick up the first one, Tina arrived with four more.

“Which of these are urgent, Tina?”

The woman flipped through the papers and then moved six to the right side. “These. The others can wait indefinitely for all I care, but these six are either important or think they are and they’ll drive me nuts until you tell them otherwise.”

“Call in that order?”

Tina gave the list a second look, reading upside down across Cara’s narrow desk. She pulled the fourth one down and stuck it to the middle of the desk pad. “Call that one first, even if you call no others.”

“Delta Advertising. You’re kidding right?”

“Why kid about that? Derek said he set up a meeting with Della Carletti from Delta and then we rescheduled. She’s calling to reschedule, and apparently she’s a busy woman, so if we don’t have time for her, she wants to know it so she can move along to greener pastures.”

“The ad agency wants to know if
we
are worth
their
trouble? Arrogant.”

“She’s the best in Rockland. She’ll pass it onto a junior staff member if we stand her up again, and Derek wants
her
.”


Who set this up and when?” Cara thought the timing much too coincidental.

“Six weeks ago after Meyers & Sons botched the internet ad with that stupid spider ‘crawling the web’ looking for the best insurance deals before spinning for joy on ‘The Mayflower’. Oh, that boat was nasty, and Miles Standish… shouldn’t he have been cute at least?”

“One would think. Okay. I’ll call.”

Cara knew of the plan to switch to Delta or Promoters Inc., but she didn’t remember having an appointment with anyone from Delta. She picked up the phone, dialed the number, and pulled up a Word document on her laptop. At the top left she put the date, the time, the phone number called and noted that she was returning the call left the morning of the 22
nd
of May. Discordant New Age music jarred her senses while she waited the four and a half minutes on hold before Della Carletti came on the line.
Note to self: Beg Jonathan to pick better hold music.

“Ms. Laas. I’m so pleased you returned my call so promptly. Since our previous appointment was rescheduled, I opted to discuss this with you in person rather than leave it to assistants. I know how they often inadvertently double book meetings, and I wanted to spare both of us that frustration.”

“Oh, I’m sorry you’ve had that kind of trouble. I’ll have to remember how fortunate I’ve been with such a reliable assistant as Tina.”
Two can play at this kind of verbal duel.
There is no chance in—
well; she refused to allow this Carletti woman to blame her assistant for whatever had canceled the previous appointment. “I can’t imagine being double booked! That’d be terrible.”

“Well, I haven’t had that problem, no, but I do know how common it is, and with previous cancellations, one assumes…”

Cara didn’t like ‘the Carletti woman,’ as she’d mentally begun to call her. “I’m looking at my calendar now and see that Derek handed the responsibility of viewing your presentation to me two days before the appointment.” She scratched her head, trying to remember why he’d handed it to her at all. “Oh, yes, I remember. He was in Minneapolis and got snowed in for four days. I couldn’t possibly be prepared to view something as important as this presentation in less than forty-eight hours, so I had Tina reschedule.”

“I see.” Della Carletti’s tone clearly implied that she saw nothing of the kind.

“I’ve viewed a few other presentations in the meantime, but no one has given me what I’m looking for.” She had to toss the woman some kind of bone. “I look forward to seeing if you can wow me.”

“I’m sure,” Ms. Carletti said almost coldly, “you’ll find that what I’ve prepared is exactly what your company needs to take Mayflower Trust into a serious position in the internet insurance market.”

“I hope so. I can view your presentation any afternoon this week, or next week on Tuesday or Wednesday mornings.”

“Tomorrow afternoon would be best, I think,” Carletti insisted. “This gives us room for rescheduling, and after your last ad, it is clear that you need new direction and quickly.”

“I see that Tina has just placed a slip on my desk making me busy tomorrow afternoon. I think Thursday morning would be best for me.”

Della sighed sharply. “I’ll see you Thursday at the Delta offices on Waterbrook
at ten-thirty, perhaps?”

Oh, she’d give anything to skip this thing all together. “That will be fine. Thank you.”

“I am really very busy, so I’ll say goodbye.”

Frustrated by Ms. Carletti’s air of superiority, Cara dashed off a quick email to Jonathan.

To:
Jonathan Lyman

From:
Cara Laas

Subject:
Local recommendation             

Jonathan,

I’ll respond to your previous email separately. However, I wanted to know whom you recommend in the Delta office here in Rockland. Is there someone up and coming that you think has the necessary vision to put Mayflower’s internet division on the map? We have an appointment with a Ms. Carletti, but I’ve often found that going with the current ‘favorite’ is a safe move that often lacks the kind of innovation needed for a campaign like this.

Thank you for any assistance you can offer,

Cara Laas

Assistant Chief Financial Officer- Mayflower Trust

“Paper” trail accomplished, she sent him a text. DO NOT WANT TO DEAL WITH CARLETTI. THAT WOMAN HAS A LOT OF NERVE. SAVE ME FROM HER.

Less than a minute later, her phone buzzed with a very short text. “TODD GRAHAM. 555-1292 CELL.”

She smiled and dialed. A quiet, friendly voice came on the line within seconds. “Delta Advertising, Todd Graham, how may I help you?”

“Hello, Todd. I’m Cara from Mayflower Trust. I’d love to see you upstage the company pet. How can you wow me?”

Chapter Fifteen

“Gramby! We’re home!”

Verna Brumby waddled downstairs and into the entryway. “Oh, you’re home, you darlin’s. What do you think you’re doing shoutin’ at me like that? Get in here so I can smother you!” The beloved housekeeper-nanny hugged her little charges and pushed them toward the stairs, chattering all the way. Jonathan entered the house and immediately the calm and quiet relieved his nerves after the long train ride. For the first time since he’d felt the train pull away from Rockland station, he felt at peace.
For now.

He stepped into his home office and closed the door against the delighted squeals that drifted downstairs. Verna would put a stop to it soon enough, but for now, he wanted quiet and he would get it. He pulled out his laptop and flipped through the mail while it booted. The moment he opened his email, the message from Cara caught his attention.

Picking up his phone, Jonathan dialed Todd Graham’s number. “Todd. Jonathan Lyman.” He nodded at something Todd said and then continued. “Listen, I gave a friend your number, did she call? Good. Now listen, this requires a little discretion, but I think you’ll manage to climb up on top if you pull this off.”

For the next five minutes, Jonathan explained his opinion of Cara’s company’s needs, what they’d disliked about their last presentation, and Cara’s immediate dislike of Della Carletti. “Look, they’ve never seriously pursued the internet aspect of their business in their advertising, but they’re ready to take that step forward. You need to come up with something that is new, innovative, and yet rock solid with the company’s reputation. Get ideas flowing now, and when you call to arrange your presentation, give her a sample of what you’re going to serve. Don’t give the full plate, just a bite. You can do this, man.”

BOOK: Speak Now
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