Never Forgotten: Second Chances (6 page)

"I don't think I've ever seen you in the office this early," Megan said, stalling for time as she set her briefcase on her desk and switched on her cappuccino machine. The idea of a meeting before she'd had her second cup of the day seemed distressing. The look on Lenora's face suggested it would be inevitable.

"I'm sure I've never been in this early."

"Would you care for some coffee?"

She made a face that should she found the suggestion unpleasant. "I don't drink it. Coffee upsets my stomach. Thanks, though."

Megan turned her attention to the machine and her back to Lenora, refusing to make things easier for her by asking the obvious question.

Lenora coughed. "I needed to talk to you in private." That Lenora didn't drink coffee went some way to reinforcing Megan's long-held notion that many of the world's problems could be solved if everyone was required to drink coffee. Sharing the addiction, the blessing of the brew, would smooth over a vast divide in the species that transcended religion, and prevented true global communication. After all, you couldn't expect non coffee drinkers to ever understand why their concerns were never as important as a cup of coffee, how whatever they wanted could be better appreciated after the coffee was savored. Megan was certain that mandatory coffee addiction would do wonders for civilization. Sure, tea was soothing, but coffee was essential to life as she knew it.

Now she turned to grin at Lenora, and pointed at a sign she'd posted on her wall. As far as she was concerned it said all that needed saying at this time of day: "Rule #1: Death before dishonor; nothing before coffee."

She faced the machine again. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed Lenora squirming visibly in her chair. The sight pleased her. Once the machine delivered a cup of black heaven and Megan was seated at her desk, she stared at Lenora, noting the determined set to her jaw and decided she was in for a confrontation. She took a long and deliberate sip of her coffee, her gaze measuring Lenora's determination. "Now then."

Like a shot from a starter's pistol her words provided a cue that launched Lenora into a clearly rehearsed spiel. "I'm concerned. About the future, my future. I was made promises when I joined the company, but the situation is changing fast. The way things are, that we don't know what sort of financing you're going to be able to acquire, leaves things open-ended. Craig is certain you'll come up with something, and that's wonderful, but I'm worried that the solution you come up with might leave me out in the cold. The way things are I don't have a stake in the company. If the organization changes before my first year is up, I could lose the stock options I was promised. And those options were supposed to be an incentive to take the job."

Megan considered her words and noted the tension in her voice. She was honestly concerned, but Megan didn't quite believe she was suddenly worrying about stock, and she was curious to see what she was really after. "I suppose that's quite true. If the financing required a restructuring, or if we happened to be absorbed by a larger company, a minnow swallowed by a whale, your option might be worthless."

"I took this job with the understanding that I would be in line for a small ownership position based on my performance."

"That was our intent, but the vagaries of business are like that, I'm afraid."

"But you and Craig are secure."

"We are?"

"I mean you have stock. You could choose to sell the company and get a nice payout. You might even be able to convert your stock into a piece of a new company. In that kind of shuffle, I could just be out on my ear with a minimal severance package, if that."

"That's probably quite true. Or we could get adequate financing and have some other problems that meant at the end of your year the options wasn't worth exercising. Or at the time your options become viable, we will be launching the program, and you could see their value shoot sky high. Stock options are a gamble for both parties. In your case, we all assumed that your efforts would contribute to growth, and at the end of the year, you'd be rewarded well beyond what we'd be willing to pay you out of pocket. It's a merit bonus of sorts; a carrot to encourage performance, not a promise of earnings."

The surprise on Lenora's face pleased her. "I think I've done a good job."

"So far, yes. I've been pleased with your work."

It seemed that Lenora expected disagreement, as she hesitated before continuing. "I was just hoping that you would see the problem and maybe let me exercise my option early, just in case things go to hell fast."

"The idea wasn't to give you a share if we failed, but if we succeeded."

"I'd be happy with just part of it now. I'm really looking for a show of good faith, a sign that I'm appreciated. That's really what it comes down to. I put together a damn good marketing plan, and I have a clear vision of how to implement it." She paused, seeing herself doing exactly that. "If you had to bring in someone new to do it, that person would take time to get up to speed, and that's time you don't have. The plan wouldn't be nearly as effective, and that assumes you got someone really good."

"Why would we bring in someone new?"

"If I don't feel appreciated, I can't see any reason to hang around. This is a turning point for this company. You've made that clear to everyone, and I'm one of the key players. I know you don't like me, but even you said my work was good."

"Because it is."

"Then I should be rewarded. I want to be in a position to benefit if you pull this off."

"Rewarded? I think you've been paid very well for your work."

"Perhaps, but there is a big upside potential to this project and without stock I won't see any of that. Why should I stick around, busting my ass to make the plan work when it just helps you get rich while I draw a salary? And there is a downside for me too. I'm taking a gamble by staying here. If this fails, that won't look good on my resume. If the company folds, I get tarred as a loser. If I left and you failed, I'd look a lot smarter--like I had the sense to get out. Even if you manage to pull it off, I can claim my part in the success."

"So what exactly do you want?"

"I want an incentive to stay and make it happen. I do believe in the product, in Craig's work, but I need to feel like I'm a significant part of the team and that I'll benefit financially if we pull this off. I want an ownership position."

Megan sat back and took in her determination. Although Lenora was definitely being presumptuous, it wasn't a totally unreasonable request even if it came along with a threat. This was the kind of play that top people made all the time. Megan could understand why she was applying pressure, threatening to quit just when she was needed and her usefulness the most obvious. Hoping to cash in while she had value and leverage was reasonable. But Megan's hackles were up. She sensed some unstated agenda beyond the obvious that lay behind the request. Even though she didn't care for Lenora working with unpleasant people wasn't a problem, but now there was some other factor at work that bothered her. Eventually, she'd understand it. If it was a minor thing, or something unrelated to work, such as pressure from a boyfriend, then it wasn't important. But she wanted to know. "Let me think about it. And then I'll need to get Craig and Thom to approve anything like that. You understand that giving away part of the company isn't something I can do on my own."

Megan saw a smile flutter on Lenora's lips. "You can make it conditional."

"On what? What do you mean?"

A thin smile crossed her lips, telling Megan they'd finally gotten to the sales pitch. "Make giving me stock conditional on the company getting the investment. Then you won't have to restructure the package. You can tack on an amendment that says I can execute my option when the deal goes through."

"That would mean I don't have to redo all the paperwork, I suppose."

"Look, I know agreeing would be a pain in the ass and a complication for you, but if you are willing to do it, I'd be happy to help you woo investors. And I'd be extremely motivated."

The way she phrased the proposal now made Megan realize that she'd talked to a financial person and that most likely it was Thom. The idea of an amendment allowing her to execute her option was exactly the kind of thing he'd come up with. It did what she wanted without making Thom's shares less attractive or worth any less. It was far too clever and showed more knowledge of investing than Lenora had demonstrated. "If we agreed, what exactly would you do to help find an investor that we aren't doing already?"

"I can't find them, but I could and would help convince them. Negotiation depends a lot on personal contact. If they like you, they tend to want to do business, and that can offset other things." She licked her lips. "I could help wine and dine them and convince them of what a great deal this would be."

Now that sounded more like a Lenora idea, using her sexual appeal to get what she wanted. Well, people used whatever assets they had to reach their goals, and Lenora definitely appealed to men. "I'll have to think about it. I have a big meeting this afternoon, and I'll have to get back to you."

As Lenora stood up to leave Megan reached for her coffee cup. The coffee was cold. Megan hated cold coffee. Now she'd need to make another cup to drink while she restarted her morning and planned her day. Not that planning was necessary. She'd spend the morning going down her prospect list, making calls and arranging meetings. She didn't look forward to any of it, but every call created new possibilities. After all, you had to ask for the sale if you expected to get it. Then, after lunch, she had to meet Riley.

* * * *

After a day of painful rejections and the even more agonizing hell of unreturned calls that often characterizes a day of cold calling, after dealing with Lenora's grasping ploy, meeting Riley Carson in his office seemed like some monumental achievement.

She tried to keep her expectations in check. Even though she was meeting with a real player, the first meeting was likely to produce nothing more than setting a baseline for something to happen. The two of them dancing around each other, like birds in a courtship ritual as they discovered if they would or could even do business together. If they found a common ground, then they'd agree to see what was possible. Investment might be based on analysis, but it was foolhardy to ignore the human element. Who the major players were and how they operated was an important factor. Carson had all the numbers, all the data about the company he could ever need. Now, he wanted to see a face, make human contact. She had Thom's recommendation, which was golden, but she wanted to see his face and take her own measure of the man before she put her trust in him. She needed to hear what he thought he could do for them. If anything.

One of the best.
Thom had called him that, and it had set expectations in her head. He surprised her from the first, starting with his office. She couldn't say exactly what she expected, but assumed it would be a beehive of activity. There should be dozens of junior executives in cubicles working telephones like some high-end boiler room call center. What she saw made her think of an old time law office. The first impression was of a cramped reception area where an ancient secretary stood guard and glared at her with suspicion from behind a plaque that said her name was Ivy.

Feeling oddly compelled to justify her existence to this secretary, who reminded her of a third-grade teacher, Megan walked up to her. "I'm Megan Cross. I have an appointment." She half expected the woman to demand to see photo id. Instead, she stood, nodded and silently escorted her through a mahogany paneled door into a spacious office that came straight out of a London men's club where Riley Carson sat behind a giant and clean wooden desk. Riley himself was a stocky man in a perfectly tailored suit that showed he was fit. She guessed him to be around forty. She would call him handsome but in a rugged way.

She definitely liked the cut of him, and when she sat on his leather couch and crossed her legs, she noted a flicker of interest. That spark pleased her, activating a small trembler running through her. He welcomed her with enthusiasm, and she found the sound of his voice, that rich, masculine baritone, even more pleasant in person than over the phone. They sat facing each other in soft leather chairs with a coffee table between them, exchanging pleasantries while the secretary made coffee and brought it to them and then, assured that the amenities were taken care of, left them alone.

The papers she'd had sent over sat on the table between them, the thick stack a visible reminder of the complexity of the task ahead of them. She liked that too. Hers was the only visible paperwork. He gave her attention and had told the secretary he wasn't taking calls. These small touches, along with the voice, his look, were tools of his trade. Someone who did business based on building confidence needed to look and sound the part and to make you feel special. She liked being around him, and although she found herself responding to him, she was certain he was as at ease with men and made them comfortable as well. He was confident without being threatening. It was a manner that men would respond to, make them want to be friends, an ally of this competent man. Before he'd even outlined his ideas she knew that he could do the job that needed doing.

"I asked you about limits," he said.

She recalled him asking, remembered her own reaction. "Yes. That confused me. I assumed that any reasonable offer should be on the table. Of course, as you explained, there are things that might make a deal unacceptable and you need to know about them."

"And there is another factor we haven't broached yet." She tilted her head, waiting for him to finish the thought. "I need clarification as to who my client actually is."

She laughed. "Isn't that obvious?"

He turned in his seat, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "Not at all. You've come here looking for a good deal, correct?"

"Of course."

"The question is, good for whom? Good for Megan Cross, or Diamond, only one that benefits all stockholders equally? Because they aren't equal you know. The three of you will want different things."