Speak Now (23 page)

“And this guy is better?”

“I prefer his, yes. I was prepared not to, but I do. I’ll get him to leave his presentation here, and I’ll make a quick mockup of what Carletti showed me. We can go over them after your lunch meeting and make a decision this afternoon?”

To her relief, Derek agreed. Cara raced back to her office and pulled out a side arm of the desk she used when she and Tina had to work together on a project. Grabbing a few plates and utensils from a cabinet, she brought them back and retrieved two water bottles. Todd arrived with their bags of food and an eager expression in his eyes.

“Well?”

“Derek will go over both proposals this afternoon. I can’t make any promises, but…”

A huge grin spread across Todd’s face. “You want mine?”

“I want yours.”

“Because it’s the best or because it’s not Della’s?” The question seemed more inspired by curiosity than insecurity.

“Both. I would choose it regardless of whose proposal it was, but the fact that it is yours is a huge bonus for me.”

He took his plate from her and grabbed a pair of chopsticks. “I may have just gotten my first big account.”

“I think you did. I can’t promise,” she added. She hated to remind him but felt obligated. “After all, it’s going to create some huge waves, but if Jonathan recommended it, I have to assume it isn’t insurmountable.”

“If Mr. Farley chooses my presentation, can I take both of you out to dinner? Any night, anywhere. I just want to celebrate.”

“I doubt Derek will have time, Todd, but I’ll be happy to go.” She pointed to her plate. “This egg roll is the best I’ve ever had. I’m so glad you suggested them. I usually don’t bother.”

“I assumed you’d go for Ming Ling’s since they’re so close. They have the best in the city.” Todd took a bite of his egg roll, chewing slowly. His eyes met hers. “Why do I feel like I just got the account?”

“Because you and I both know, you probably did.” Cara grinned, lifted her
water bottle, and toasted his success. “To a long and happy relationship.”

“Cheers.”

~*~*~*~

“Okay, so what I decided was to give you both proposals and have you compare them without knowing who did what. That way, if anyone makes unjust accusations, you’ll be able to honestly say you didn’t know whose was which.”

“And, you don’t think I’ll be able to tell the difference between a mock up and a professional presentation?” Derek cocked a sardonic eyebrow.

“Well, if I’d actually made a mock-up, of course. However, I ran over to Delta and requested Carletti’s storyboards for the afternoon. Her boss was very accommodating. Why do they put up with her?”

“Because she’s good. Let’s see them.”

Cara led Derek into the conference room where she had both presentations lined up on opposite sides of the room and stood back, giving no indication to her preference. He wandered through the storyboards, asked questions, made observations, and then pointed to the right side of the room. “I want that one. The other might be good for later, but this is a better transition to Internet marketing.”

“I’ll let Todd know he can have the account.”

“That’s not Carletti’s? She didn’t show any demographics? No research? I assumed the one without was Todd’s and showed his lack of experience.”

“It shows Carletti’s arrogance that she thinks she doesn’t need to show us basic information. We should just trust that she knows her markets and has done her homework.”

Derek sat down at the end of the long conference table and pointed to the seat next to him. “I’ve never seen you so prejudiced. You’re always so gracious. The nastier someone gets, the gentler you become. What is up with this woman?”

“I don’t know. I tried gracious. She tried to walk all over me. I can’t afford to mess this up for us.”

“You sure it isn’t because a certain man is out of the picture?” Derek rarely crossed the line from business to personal, but when he did, Cara recognized it as concern.

“Who says he’s out of the picture?”

“Go call Tom and Della. Have Jonathan Lyman ready to play diplomat if the need arises. I want this in production ASAP.”

“What do I wear? Is this business as in ‘daywear,’ or casual as in ‘date wear but not on a date?’” Cara stood before her open closet, phone in one hand, frowning at the dress in the other.

“Wear your black dress. It fits both.” Jonathan laughed as if he found an uncertain Cara charming.

“Good thought. I’ll wear my key with it. It’ll be perfect.”

He chuckled. “Excellent choice. The white gold against the black will be stunning. Wear your hair up.”

“White gold. I assumed platinum. You seemed to prefer it.”

“They didn’t have it in platinum.”

“Hair up? Really? That’s odd coming from you.” Even as she spoke, Cara twisted her hair into a simple knot at the nape of her neck.

“It’ll look appropriately business-like and set off the key perfectly. I wish I could see you.” Jonathan didn’t add that keeping her appropriately dressed but not looking
too
good when going out with another man would always be a desirable goal, but Cara deduced his meaning.

“Just a minute. I’ll get a picture of me in front of the mirror.”

Cara snapped the picture, sent it, dug through the closet for shoes, all while listening to Jonathan tell her about how Bryson punched a boy for teasing Riley after Sunday school. “Well, I shouldn’t be, but I’m cheering for him.”

“I told him that if there hadn’t been adults nearby who could have helped, I wouldn’t have rebuked him, but with a dozen people able to hear if he called, jumping in wasn’t the appropriate response. Let authority handle it.” He sighed. “I’m such a hypocrite.”

“Just because you would do the same thing in the same situation doesn’t make teaching your son to do better hypocritical. It means you’re wise. And I’d have pummeled the kid too if it makes you feel any better.”

“Liar.”

She smiled. “I tried.”

“You’d hug the little terror, tell him how sad it makes you to see him so unkind, and he’d be lapping at your heels inside five minutes.”

“Hey, am I supposed to meet Todd there? I just assumed, but now I’m panicking. What if he shows up here and I’m gone?”

After a moment he said, “I’m not used to you being nervous. You’re always so fully at ease in situations.”

“Right? This is so weird.”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yep.” She tidied the lipstick from the corners of her mouth.

“Where are you going?”

“Ascot. Derek could still show. He didn’t turn it down completely. I think he wants to meet Todd, but he has a late meeting with the board so…”

“Do you need to leave soon to get there on time?” Jonathan sounded discouraged at the thought of her leaving.

“Yep. Five minutes—tops.”

“Call. Confirm time and place and that you’ll meet him there. Think about it. Why are you so nervous about this, Cara?”

Several seconds passed before she answered. “I don’t know! You’re right, I am nervous. Why am I nervous? It doesn’t make sense. I’m never nervous.”

Jonathan’s voice came through the phone, soothing and assuring her. “You’re accustomed to doing a very specific job. You are the assistant CFO—right hand man to one of the top guys in your corporation, but you had to step out and do something totally foreign. Perhaps it’s after-hand jitters. It’s not about the dinner but what it signifies. You just made a very expensive deal.”

“Oh, right. Like that just helped. Thanks, Jonathan.”

“I had to choose that; there was only one alternative and I didn’t like it.”

Cara locked the door behind her and hurried to her car. “What alternative?”

“That you’re nervous about having dinner with an attractive man due to some undefined interest.”

“Jealous?”

His sigh answered her before he said, “You have
no
idea.”

~*~*~*~

Suitably impressed, Cara glanced around her. “I’ve never eaten here. What do you recommend?” While not the understated elegance of The Oakes, The Ascot was definitely one of the more posh restaurants in the greater Rockland area.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d been here. I was going to ask you.” Todd’s embarrassment turned his face nearly the same shade as his hair.

“Well, the server will have a recommendation if we don’t find something that sounds tempting.”

“Can I offer you wine?” As if on cue, the server appeared at her elbow.

“I’d prefer water, thank you. Todd?”

“Same. We were wondering if you had a recommendation or two?”

“The chef’s specialty tonight is a lemon herb salmon with our chef’s signature rice and grilled vegetables. It’s truly superb.”

Cara gave the server a curious glance. “Superb because you are told it is, or because you’ve had it?”

“We’re allowed to arrive early and taste all of the new dishes any night we like. Anytime there is anything new, I taste it so I can recommend, or not on the rare occasion I don’t care for something.”

“And what haven’t you liked?” Todd couldn’t resist asking.”

“The escargot in cherry sauce did nothing for me. I don’t mind them in garlic sauce but the cherry just wasn’t um…” The man shrugged. “Some guests rave about it though.”

“I think our taste buds must be in agreement.” Cara grimaced. “Thank you for your honesty.”

Over the best salmon either of them had ever eaten, Todd and Cara discussed their respective companies, the current economy, the RMC’s latest symphony season, and their differences in religious upbringing. Todd’s parents had been conservative Mennonites, but Todd said he struggled with reconciling his past and his current understanding of Scripture.

“It’s not that I’m anti-Christian. I’m not! I just don’t know where I fit since I know I don’t agree with pacifism
, and I’m not interested in the agrarian life of the plain people.”

“I thought plain referred to the Amish?”

Todd laughed. “There aren’t as many differences between the Amish and Mennonite as you’d think. Not the conservative groups. Mennonites are more mission minded, but other than that…”

“Electricity?”

“Not my family. Not for frivolous reasons. A generator for different things but otherwise…”

It was none of her business, but she couldn’t help asking, “Wow. How did a plain farmer end up in Rockland advertising?”

“Went to college, took an aptitude test after my first semester, was told I would be good in sales but that I needed a creative outlet…and here I am.”

“When did you meet Jonathan?”

“He hired me just before he went to Atlanta. I showed up, didn’t know how to interview, was a mess really, and then Jonathan said, ‘I sell plungers. You have an hour to tell me how you’re going to get consumers to buy them. I’ll be back.’ Then, in an hour, I showed him my ideas and Jonathan hired me as an assistant to Curtis Brighton. I worked up to small accounts three years ago.”

“Well, you’ve skipped medium and landed large. Derek loved your idea. He liked powering up and integrity. He also said that he liked Della’s ideas but that they were too similar to that popular donut commercial. He doesn’t want us to be a copycat.”

“You know, once the ad airs, I’m likely to get a promotion. You guys were great for giving me a chance.”

“Thank Jonathan. I asked for the best at the Rockland office, and in minutes, I had your number in my hands.”

“How do you know Jonathan?” Todd had obviously wanted to ask the question all evening.

“We met at a wedding a couple of weeks ago.” Cara didn’t feel like talking about her relationship with Jonathan.

“He’s a good man. We’re expecting he’ll be back sometime in the next five years.”

“Back? To do what?”

“Take over the company. His uncle, Weston Lyman has been grooming him since childhood. He plans to step down sometime in the next five years. Once Jonathan decides he’s earned the position.”

“How did you learn this?” Cara danced on the fine line between information and gossip, praying her steps stayed on the straight and narrow.

“He told me. I guess Mr. Lyman wanted to retire five years ago, but Jonathan refused to take the helm until he’d worked his way up the ladder.” Todd laughed. “Of course, as Jonathan says, he got an expedited trip, but still, he could have had the company practically handed to him.”

“Why not take it then?”

“He thought the employees would respect him more if they could look at a track record of time invested learning what they do, how they do it, and why their ideas are good, bad, or indifferent.” Todd’s admiration almost oozed from every word.

An almond-peach chiffon cake arrived, interrupting their discussion. Todd’s eyes questioned Cara, who shook her head. “Um, we didn’t order this…”

“No, it was phoned in with a message.”

“And who sent the message?” Cara thought she had a good idea.

“The caller didn’t leave a name for you, but they said to tell you that the dessert is excellent, you’ll enjoy it, and congratulations on forming an excellent alliance.”