Operation Valentine (3 page)

Friday was going to be a big day at the office. Sarah had a meeting with Mr Penwick about the ball and wanted to be fully prepared for it. She didn't know if it was just with her, but Mr Penwick had been crankier than usual lately. It could, of course, be old age. He was sixty-seven and should have retired two years ago but he had one of those annoying personalities that just couldn't let go.

Given he had founded the mining company in his early thirties, she could see why he was so attached to it. But still. Wasn't he tired? She certainly was.

Last night, after The Blue Saloon, she'd sat up in bed till midnight with her laptop on her knees, drafting a press release. She wanted to run that by Mr Penwick too, if they had time.

This morning she'd got up groggy but early, yet still managed to be forty minutes late for work. Because of a train strike, she'd been forced to drive into town along with a million other commuters, one of whom had an accident and completely bottlenecked the freeway.

Wasn't that always the way?

She arrived at the base of the thirty-storey building known as Penwick Tower in the heart of Perth city at 9.40 and frantically stepped into the lift. It seemed to take forever as it chortled to the top, stopping maddeningly at almost every floor.

Come on
.

She glanced nervously at her watch as she tapped her feet. She was forty minutes late for work but now also ten minutes late for her meeting with Mr Penwick.

What a disaster.

The doors burst open at her level, the twenty-eighth floor. She practically shot from the lift, skidding on her heels to make the turn past reception and through the guts of the office towards Mr Penwick's throne room. She saw Lucy Mavis standing by her desk, watching her over the cubicle walls as she scurried past, her handbag flying behind her. A smug smile twisted Lucy's lips.

Lucy was the other half of the Penwick Pty Ltd public relations team. Technically, they were supposed to work together but they rarely did, for one simple reason.

Lucy was a bitch.

And a highly competitive one.

Discussing anything with Mr Penwick while she was in the room was like trying to keep your skirt down in high winds. The woman was always on the lookout for ways to make Sarah appear incompetent. She seemed to think that her success was measured by Sarah's failings and was keen to point these out to Mr Penwick whenever she got the chance. At least today Lucy wasn't invited to the meeting. The ball was Sarah's baby and thankfully she could keep Lucy out of it.

Fighting for breath, she arrived at Mr Penwick's office, the grandest on this floor with its Swan River views and big black desk. She paused on the threshold to compose herself, glancing in at Mr Penwick's high-backed leather chair, which was currently facing the window. He must have sensed her presence, because the chair slowly revolved, revealing its occupant like a clip from a bad movie. His ample chin was buried in the collar of his shirt as he perused the papers she had given him yesterday. He did not look happy.

Uh-oh.

He glanced up, the frown on his face deepening.

‘Sorry I'm late, Mr Penwick. There was a train strike and a car accident and the elevator just kept –'

‘Never mind about that,' he said brusquely. ‘Just come in and shut the door, will you? I need you to explain something to me.'

‘Of course, sir.' She nodded, relieved to be heading straight to business. That, at least, she could handle. She took a seat on the other side of his desk and he tossed one of the pieces of paper across to her.

‘Why is there an empty seat at my table?'

She picked up the paper and immediately ascertained that it was the seating plan for the charity ball.

‘It's a full-house event,' Mr Penwick stated crossly. ‘Ten people to a table and yet my table,
the most important table in the room
, only has nine people on it.'

‘Er. Yes, sir. Sorry about that, sir. That was a change that occurred very recently.'

‘Why? I don't want a spare seat at my table. It makes me look unpopular.'

‘You see, sir,' Sarah tried to explain the problem succinctly, ‘Simon is getting a divorce.'

Mr Penwick blinked. ‘And how is my vice-president's personal life my problem?'

‘He will no longer be bringing his wife to the event, sir. That's why the spare seat appeared.'

‘Well, that doesn't suit me.' Mr Penwick sat back in his chair, his cheeks growing faintly pinker. Sarah knew this look. Stubbornness was setting in.

She cleared her throat and hoped that the calm, rational tone she injected into her voice would allay his agitation. ‘Unfortunately, sir, I can't really force Simon to bring along his estranged wife.'

Mr Penwick snorted. ‘I can't have a vacant seat at my table either. Do you know how important this dinner is, Sarah? Do you?'

‘Of course, Mr Penwick. Raising money for cancer is an extremely worthy cause.'

‘Cancer my arse,' Mr Penwick spat and threw the rest of her papers onto his desk. ‘Do you honestly think I'm just doing this for charity?'

She didn't. But if there was one thing a degree in public relations had taught her it was, if you're unsure of the most diplomatic response
say nothing
.

‘The truth is,' Mr Penwick continued sheepishly, ‘I'm trying to cultivate a business relationship with Andrew Whenam.'

Andrew Whenam was the new up-and-coming mining magnate who had just finished establishing a rail network that ran all the way through the Pilbara. Sarah knew well that Mr Penwick wanted to use that railway to move his own cars across the country. This dinner, she realised, was his first step towards a joint venture.

‘Don't worry, Mr Penwick, I'm sure this ball will really impress Andrew Whenam. Isn't he also a big humanitarian?'

‘He's a bloody philanthropic family man with all the anal tendencies of a goody-two-shoes,' Mr Penwick groaned, as though the knowledge were a great trial to him.

Sarah bit down hard on her trembling lower lip as she waited for him to continue.

‘It is therefore imperative,' Mr Penwick stabbed his thick hairy finger at her, ‘that we show him that I am also a good man because,' he added quickly, ‘
I am
.'

‘Of course, Mr Penwick.' Sarah nodded. ‘What would you like me to do?'

‘Fill that seat.'

She blinked. ‘Er, all right. How about Lesley Hartworth? She's the minister for –'

‘I don't want a politician at my table!' Mr Penwick snapped. ‘Think, Sarah, think. We want Andrew to trust me.'

She swallowed. ‘Right.' Who else? ‘Did you have a particular person in mind, Mr Penwick?'

‘No, I don't. And that reminds me, who the hell is Eric Crown? And why is he at my table?'

She glanced down at the seating plan again. ‘Ah yes, Mr Eric Crown. He's the President of the Cancer Foundation.'

‘Oh.' Mr Penwick's face fell. ‘I guess we can't really put him anywhere else then, can we?'

‘No, sir,' she agreed, but added reassuringly with a finger to the page, ‘As you can see, though, I've taken the liberty of placing myself at the seat beside him and his girlfriend. I am quite happy to keep them both occupied while you woo Mr Whenam, who is seated to your left.'

Mr Penwick immediately brightened. ‘Good idea, Sarah.' He nodded approvingly. ‘Very good idea.'

She smiled, moving her finger over the page. ‘On the other side of Mr Whenam we have Chris Cooper, the retired Eagles player, and his model girlfriend. And next to her is Ian Hawke, that journalist who just came back from the Middle East. Then there is Simon Fairmount and your wonderful wife. So as you can see, even with an empty seat, Mr Penwick, you have a very well-balanced table.'

‘You're right,' he mused. ‘There is no need for another big personality. Better to fill that seat with someone more down to earth.'

‘Er, can you be more specific, Mr Penwick?'

‘Why don't you just bring a date, Sarah?'

She choked on her own spit. ‘I beg your pardon, sir? Did you just say I should bring a date?'

‘Yes. It's the perfect solution.'

‘Er … no it's not, sir.'

‘Yes it is.' He waved his hand. ‘Just bring that husband of yours.'

‘I'm not married, sir.'

‘A boyfriend then.'

‘I don't have one of those either, Mr Penwick.'

‘Really, Sarah. I didn't think you would have such a complete lack of foresight.'

She stalled the ready retort on her lips and said with studied politeness, ‘I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you, Mr Penwick.'

‘Not to worry,' he grudgingly excused her. ‘It's not too late for you to make up for it, you're a very resourceful young lady.'

‘Thank you, sir, but –'

‘Find a man to pander to Andrew's high moral standards and family values and bring him along for me.'

How on earth am I supposed to do that?

‘What if I can't find that sort of man, sir?'

He looked at her so sternly she wished she were a tortoise so that she could retract her head into her shell. ‘You can't let me down, Sarah. This joint venture is imperative now that China has pulled out of its investments.'

Even though her mind was currently spinning like a merry-go-round, she managed to stop the horses long enough to gasp.

‘
Sorry, sir
. Did you just say China has pulled out of its investments?'

‘Yes, didn't Lucy tell you?' He shook his head. ‘You girls really need to communicate better.'

If China had pulled their investment, that meant three Penwick Pilbara projects were on hold.

Three hundred jobs or more stood in the balance, possibly hers as well.

He shook his finger at her. ‘Don't let this company downsizing get to you, Sarah. I need your best work right now. You and Lucy. You need to focus.'

His phone rang then and he picked it up without hesitation, swinging his chair around to take the call. She could only presume that she was required to let herself out. On shaky legs, she rose and left the room.

Why had Lucy kept this from her?

Which jobs were being cut?

And where the hell was she supposed to find a man with high moral standards to bring to the ball on Valentine's Day?

Pursing her lips, she made a beeline for Lucy's desk. The hard-nosed blonde, dressed in funeral-black, was sitting there writing a press release. Sarah picked up the draft that was by Lucy's elbow and scanned it in horror. She read to halfway down the page, where one shocking line jumped out at her: ‘Unfortunately, Penwick will be forced to cut half its workforce across all departments due to the decreased demand for iron ore.'

Half its workforce!

Lucy only now seemed to sense someone standing beside her and turned her head crossly. ‘What do you want?'

Sarah shook the piece of paper at her. ‘Why didn't you tell me about this?'

A shuttered look crossed Lucy's face and even as Sarah stared at her, awaiting a response, the answer dawned on her.
Half the workforce.

‘Oh crap, which one of us is being fired?'

Lucy's eyes flickered but she didn't immediately answer.

‘Tell me,' Sarah implored, placing the draft release back on the desk.

‘He hasn't decided yet,' Lucy finally admitted gruffly. ‘Announcements won't be made till mid-March.'

Sarah's eyes widened. No wonder Lucy hadn't told her. They were in a competition to win their boss's favour. She had just over two months to prove to Mr Penwick that she was a better public relations manager than Lucy – who would be trying to do exactly the same thing to her.

What a nightmare. She pinched her arm. ‘Ouch.'
Nope, not dreaming.

Her gaze returned to Lucy, who was now leaning back in her chair, hands laced together.

‘Why not just quit now and save yourself the pain, Dubert? We both know I'm going to get this job.'

‘How do you figure that?' Sarah folded her arms across the tightness in her chest.

Lucy shrugged too nonchalantly. ‘I have more experience.'

Sarah rolled her eyes. ‘By six months. I wouldn't get too comfortable.'

Lucy glared at her. ‘You were forty minutes late this morning.'

‘But I had a very successful meeting.' Sarah glared right back.

Okay, that was only half true. But good enough.

Lucy's eyes narrowed. ‘Mr Penwick has asked me to handle the press on a major company restructure. You're doing a charity ball. Come on, Sarah, wake up and smell the roses.'

She couldn't think of a good comeback for that one. So with pursed lips she backed out of Lucy's cubicle and retreated to her own.

Unfortunately the woman was right. Lucy had been given the big responsibility of smoothing the way for mass job termination. By contrast, she was publicising a social function.

But it's a very important function
, a small voice said in her head.

It could be the beginning of a joint venture – a partnership that could generate more jobs and save the company. Hadn't Mr Penwick said that this ball was imperative to his success with Mr Whenam?

What he said was that it was imperative I have a date for it.

Sarah sank dejectedly into her chair.

She could
not
lose her job. Certainly not in this economic climate. Besides, she loved her position here at Penwick Pty Ltd. She didn't want to say goodbye to it yet.

She turned on her computer, biting her fingernails as it loaded up. There was no escaping it now.

She needed that date for Valentine's Day.

And not just with someone she could fall in love with.

But someone Mr Penwick could fall in love with too.

Someone Andrew Whenam could fall in love with.