Читать книгу I Hate Walt - Vicki Andree - Страница 3

Chapter One

Monday, December 24, 2012

Denver, Colorado

Mary Lou Stots tapped her fingers on the handle of the heaped shopping cart. She resisted the urge to scream and stood on her toes to check. Sixth in line from checkout. When she had stepped into line half an hour ago, she had counted twelve in front of her. The sounds of “White Christmas” blared through the intercom for the tenth time, making it hard for her to think. She leaned on the cart and sucked in a long breath. Once again, she mentally checked the list in her head. Slippers for Mom, another tie for Dad, that beautiful scarf for Eileen... Oh, why do I always put this off until Christmas Eve?

Shoppers squeezed in front of her to get through the line to the rest of the store. Oh, please. You people are all procrastinators, just like me. Let’s see now… A scarf for Eileen, a pair of gloves for Aunt Louise, a Thighmaster for Larry. Ha! That’s my best gag gift. He will hate it, but that’s what he gets for teasing me all the time about being so skinny, not to mention all the “short” jokes. It’s the least a girl could do for her big brother.

For crying out loud, it’s Christmas Eve. I’m so not ready. Uncle Peter gets the Broncos key chain. She checked the cart for wrapping paper and ribbons. The line shrank until she could see the cash register. Only four to go. Did I get the tape? Oh, there it is, under the Legos and darts for Larry’s kids. My sweet nephews will love those, along with the drum set.

Come on, people—get this line moving, it’s almost four o’clock. I have gifts to wrap!

Mary Lou felt the phone in her pocket vibrate. She dug it out to find a text message from the scrooge who owned the company she worked for. Get to the office. Meeting at 5:00. DO NOT BE LATE!

Her heart dropped to her toes. What could possibly be wrong? What am I going to do? It’s an hour to the office on a good day. I can’t possibly check out and get through the parking lot in less than half an hour. I have to leave now. I have to leave my cart.

She stepped out of line.

Later the same day

Denver, Colorado

Mary Lou Stots steamed across the International Enterprises lobby. “I swear, I am going to kill Walt Pederson.”

The two security guards gave her a look.

“Oh.” Mary Lou reddened. “Did I say that out loud?”

Both men studied security screens in front of them.

She kept her pace and commented over her shoulder, “I’m sure you know what I mean. Merry Christmas.”

Neither man responded.

Joe Gillespie caught up to her. “That was some text I got. Do you know what’s up?”

She quickened her pace. “You’re my boss. How would I know?”

“I haven’t a clue. It looks like I’ll be late for our traditional Christmas Eve fried fish feast. Problem is… I’m the cook. “

“I left my shopping cart full of gifts to get here on time. I don’t how I’m going to get my Christmas shopping done. And I have a date with Bobby tonight.”

They entered the glass-enclosed conference room.

Walt Pederson, owner and CEO of International Enterprises, sat at the head of a long conference table. He glanced up from reading what looked like a legal document. Six other employees sat on one side of the table.

He growled. “It’s about time you got here.”

Mary Lou bit her lip to keep from lashing out at him.

Joe pulled out a chair.

Walt stared daggers through Mary Lou. “Well, sit down. We have work to do.”

Joe leaned forward. “I got here as soon as I could. What’s the emergency?”

Walt shouted, “We’re short. If we don’t get this contract in here by the end of the year, our numbers will be less than the previous year. I can’t allow that to happen.”

Joe raised his hand to stop the drama. “Walt, I’m here to do whatever it takes. Just tell me what you want me to do. The sales team is here. We can figure it out. Now, what’s the problem?”

Walt stood. “It’s not what. It’s who. It’s Feldman. Feldman in Zedlav didn’t close on his rotten contract. If he had signed the contract, I’d be sitting pretty. But he didn’t, and now I’m not going to make the projected numbers. I need that contract, and I need it by the end of the year. One of you is flying out of here to Zedlav, Alaska, tomorrow morning. I’ve set up a meeting with Feldman on Wednesday morning, and you’re going to get that contract signed. Now, who is it going to be?”

Joe held up his pencil. “Hold on, Walt. This is an emergency, but you didn’t need to call the entire sales team in.” He waved the pencil toward Mary Lou and the agents on the other side of the table. “You can go. Walt and I will take care of this.”

The six men across from them scrambled out of the room.

Mary Lou didn’t move. Zedlav is Jackson’s account. Jackson is in Florida with his parents for Christmas. “I’m not leaving.”

Walt shouted at her, “Get out of here, girlie! Your boss and I have arrangements to make.”

Mary Lou felt heat rise from somewhere deep inside. She struggled to speak in a calming voice. “I am your top salesperson. I can handle it. Mr. Pederson, you do know it’s Christmas Eve?”

Walt motioned to the door with his thumb. “Christmas doesn’t pay your check, girlie.”

She looked at Joe. “You have a family. Your wife and kids need you to be there on Christmas Day. I think it would be better if I go. I’m single, and my family will understand. But your kids...”

Joe smiled. “That’s very generous of you, but I can’t let you do it. I don’t send my employees to Alaska on Christmas Day—”

Walt jumped in. “You two work it out. I don’t care who goes. Just get that contract signed.” With that, Walt Pederson turned on his heel and left.

Silence draped the room.

Mary Lou brushed a strand of blonde hair from her eyes. “If he calls me ‘girlie’ one more time....” She turned to Joe. “Please let me go. I’ve never been to Alaska in December. I’m sure Jackson won’t mind, since he’s in Florida.”

Joe started to smile, and then they both broke out in laughter.

He wiped a tear from his eye. “Mary Lou, this is a very kind thing to do for me and my family.”

Mary Lou shrugged. “Just so you know I’m not doing it for Walt Pederson.”

She left the conference room and made her way down the hall to her office. She sighed. It’s six o’clock. I have all my Christmas shopping to do. My feet are killing me. I need to get gifts, get them wrapped and delivered. I need to let my parents know I won’t be here for Mom’s Christmas dinner. Remind me again why I wanted to get into the oil business?

What do you wear to the office in Zedlav? Wait until I tell Eileen. Perhaps she can explain to our parents. I don’t have an hour to listen to Mom tonight.

And Bobby asked me out tonight. I think he just might be ready to propose. We’ve only been dating for a few months, but I’m pretty sure I could marry him. He’s the best-looking cop on the force. I’m such a sucker for a uniform. Her heart skipped a beat. Now I have to break our date. Ugh! I hate you, Walt Pederson.

I’m pretty sure Walt’s trying to kill me. I’ll probably freeze to death in Alaska in December.

Tuesday, December 25

Denver International Airport

Mary Lou boarded Alaska Airlines for her eight forty-five a.m. flight—which would take eleven hours, including layovers. The plane was as crowded as expected. She found her seat and struggled to reach the overhead bin. She was a few inches too short to reach. Finally, the man behind her took her bag and placed it in the bin for her.

She thanked him and took her aisle seat next to a young man returning to Zedlav to see his parents for Christmas. He said a few words and opened his book. Obviously he didn’t want to talk.

She opened her laptop and looked through the contract for the sale of heavy equipment to the corporation in Zedlav. Heavy construction trucks, loaders, and diggers, adding up to more than a hundred million dollars, had been contracted. All she needed was the signed document.

The Alaska Airlines flight left on time. She yawned and put away her laptop. At least I can sleep all the way to Seattle. Let’s see… She rechecked her itinerary. I get into Seattle at a quarter to eleven, then have a two-hour layover there and in Anchorage before I finally get into Zedlav at seven fifty p.m., my time. At least I should get a good night’s sleep when I get there.

This is so Walt. Here I am on Christmas, flying to the most remote place on earth.

The flight to Seattle took forever. Instead of sleeping, she found herself rehearsing her pitch and her plea to get the contract signed immediately. I just want to get home as soon as possible.

The meeting starts at nine o’clock. With any luck at all, I could make my presentation and get the signature by lunch. After all, they already have the quotes and estimates. It’s not like I’m going in cold. They fully expect to sign that contract tomorrow.

After two layovers and the switch to a smaller aircraft, her plane finally landed. She walked out of the terminal to board the freezing-cold hotel shuttle. I thought this was the land of the midnight sun. It’s pitch black out there. She peered out the shuttle’s frosted windows and hugged her purse to her chest. It’s so cold.

Half an hour later, she checked into the Moose Run Hotel.

It was almost seven o’clock Alaska time, but it seemed like midnight. Traveling had drained her; three flights in one day were more than enough. She stopped at the hotel coffee shop to order hot chocolate and a bowl of clam chowder. The warm liquid chased the shivers away, but she kept her coat on.

Her mind raced from one corner to another. I tell you, Walt Pederson hates me. He’s trying to kill me. She pictured Larry with his family, Eileen, and her parents enjoying a warm Christmas dinner in front of the fire back in Denver. She thought of Bobby being alone when they could have been together. I hate Walt Pederson. Yet here I am trying to save his bacon for year-end numbers. Well, better me than Joe. I hope his wife and kids appreciate what I’m doing.

She tilted the soup bowl to get the last spoonful of chowder. Then she wiped her mouth with the heavy cloth napkin. She gathered her purse and bag and took the stairs to her room.

The frigid room greeted her, and she immediately flopped on the bed. She was glad she’d remembered to pack her large heating pad. She quickly got ready for bed and got under the covers. Her body shivered on ice-cold sheets. I am so glad I brought the heating pad.

Mary Lou retrieved the heating pad from her suitcase. She searched the room for an outlet. She could unplug either the lamp or the clock. She was desperate to get some sleep, but she could not afford to oversleep. She pulled the plug for the lamp out of the socket. Then she struggled in the darkness to fit the plug from the heating pad. Her shoulder touched something, and she heard the lamp hit the floor.

She felt the plug go into the outlet. I’ll deal with the lamp in the morning. I can’t do this now. She fumbled with the switch on the heating pad and turned it on high. She slipped back into bed with the heating pad across her body.

Two hours later, she tripped over the lamp on her way to the bathroom. She fell, crushing the lampshade and hurting her knee. That’s going to bruise. She rubbed the knee and then felt around the lamp for the light bulb. She whispered, “Thank Heaven the bulb didn’t break,” and placed the lamp back on the nightstand. Will this night ever end? She found the bathroom and felt her way along the wall for a light switch. Finally she felt the switch, and the white room lit up, blinding her at first. After she finished in the bathroom, she left the light on and cracked the door a little to let light into the bedroom.

Once she had stumbled back to bed and settled in, with the heating pad on her sore knee, she closed her eyes. It took a few minutes to get into a comfortable position. She took a deep breath and relaxed. Only then did she realize the thin shaft of light from the cracked bathroom door fell across her eyes. Not wanting to get back up into the cold room, she attempted to find another comfortable position. She fought the heating pad, the heavy blankets, and that bathroom light all night.

A shrill ring woke her the next morning, and she pulled herself toward the red flashing light on the nightstand and answered the phone. “Hullo?”

An automated voice returned, “This is your requested wake-up call. It is six o’clock.”

Mary Lou dropped the receiver into its cradle. She groaned as the alarm went off.