The Checklist by Addie Woolridge (color ebook reader TXT) 📗

the same. With the clear understanding that the full and considerable weight of my company will bear down on you and the Examiner should you violate our good faith agreement.” She wasn’t entirely sure what good faith meant in legalese, but Nicolas used it as a threat all the time.

Taylor had the decency to look momentarily crestfallen at the realization that her big break was probably not going to come today. “Of course.”

“Thank you. I don’t mean to sound abrupt, but we have a lot to do here, and I need to have a chat with Tim, so if you will excuse me. Please, make yourself comfortable,” Dylan said, gesturing toward the sole metal chair by the door, which Taylor promptly ignored, turning instead to wander along the gift-bag tables.

Hauling as quickly as she could through the door Tim had slipped behind, she called out, “May I have a moment?”

Tim jumped two inches off the ground, looking left and right, before realizing the voice was coming from directly behind him. Turning, he adopted a hangdog expression. “I know what you are going to say.”

“Do you? Let’s hear it,” Dylan said, fighting the urge to cross her arms and scowl. It was too close to Bernice, and she wasn’t ready to turn into her mother this early in the day.

“You are going to tell me we need to work on addressing the deeper employee concerns, let the staff committee handle everything, and that this is not the two-hour warehouse task you were promised.”

He’s oddly spot on, Dylan thought. Taking a slow sip of coffee to gather her composure, she smoothed the front pleat of her wide-legged slacks before speaking. “If you knew this lecture was coming, why do this?”

“Because I know you are going to make me do those things, and frankly, I don’t mind doing them.” Tim added the second clause hastily before continuing, “But I wanted to try things my way first.”

“I thought we came to an understanding about being a CEO your way and next steps during what is a volatile time for everyone.” Tim eyed the floor, giving Dylan room to build up steam. “You recognize that you are putting me in a tight spot here. I mean, the press? Again?”

“Don’t worry; she won’t submit the story until tomorrow morning,” Tim interjected, the guilt still scrawled on his face. “It’ll probably go in the Sunday edition.”

Tim’s eyes stayed fixed on the shiny concrete, his shoulders slumping. His self-reproach pressed on Dylan’s anger, thawing her slightly. Sighing, she filled the expanding silence. “I need you to sit here and send a memo to the staff regarding our next steps from the retreat while I sort this out. I sent you a draft to review last night, so it shouldn’t take long. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Now, head to the security desk up front and get started.” Dylan was surprised by the softness in her tone, given how much she still needed to do for Kaplan. As soon as Tim began walking toward the door, Dylan felt the bile in her stomach make its way toward her throat, forcing her to take another deep breath. It was unlikely Jared would view a warehouse intervention as a good reason for her to be tardy with his outlandish request.

“You are a smart girl. You can fix this.” She repeated her new mantra under her breath. Taking out her phone, she clenched her teeth. She hated to do this, but she had to tell Mike that he would be taking the meeting with Steve alone. Ditto for dinner. There was simply no way she would be out of this warehouse anytime before six thirty today. A least she’d managed to set up the meeting before becoming a total flake. And really, helping Mike get a meeting was more important than her being there anyway. When it came down to it, it wasn’t like he needed her to hold his hand through the meeting.

She’d just finished proofreading the world’s most insufficient apology text when a voice startled her. “Hey, Dylan, got a second?”

Tearing her attention away from the phone, she looked up to see Lois jogging toward her, a gaggle of people walking a few paces behind her. As Lois introduced her to the individuals in charge of certificates, mugs, and bag stuffing, Dylan’s eyes began to cross from exhaustion. She listened to the heads of each component, trying to understand where they were in the timeline and what challenges they were facing. While each person explained their needs, she did her best to get a list going. Eventually, she gave up thinking about anything other than the train wreck in front of her and got down to the brass tacks of managing multiple assembly lines.

She was busy orchestrating a cleanup of the boxed dinners the gift-bag-packing crew had demolished when Tim appeared by her side, a cheeky look on his face. In one hand he had a sandwich box and in the other a gift bag. Glancing down at her watch, Dylan winced; it was already past ten thirty at night.

“Tim, I know you said the deadline was twelve midnight, but there is still an astronomical amount of packing to be done, not to mention delivery.”

“I have it under control. This is for you,” he said, extending the package and the boxed dinner toward her.

As if reminding her she was running exclusively on coffee and optimism, her stomach rumbled. It was so aggressive that Tim looked over his shoulder before recognizing the sound came from her. “You should take this and head home. Thank you for your help today.”

“Who is going to make sure this all gets quality checked, packed, and delivered?” Dylan asked, startled by the abrupt end of her tenure as floor manager.

“Me. You have done way more than your fair share.” Tim shook the gift bag at her.

“Well, thank you,” Dylan said, processing the return of her time. Taking the bag and to-go box, she added, “And thank you for making sure I