Back Where She Belongs(28)

As she handed out the last packet, her phone vibrated. Seeing the insurance agency’s name, she ducked out to take the call.

It was a secretary telling her the adjuster would not be available that day and, no, she didn’t know where the car might be. Another damn delay. Fuming, Tara returned to the meeting just as Dylan asked if there were questions.

“Yeah, I’ve got one,” Carl Goodman said. The factory manager wore a suit that he didn’t seem comfortable in. He’d dressed up for the meeting, which meant corporate offices had more prestige than the factory. Interesting. “What are you going to do about the backup on production?”

Dylan responded calmly, explaining that Ryland employees were working overtime to boost output. That seemed to appease Goodman.

Dylan took more questions, sounding knowledgeable and trustworthy, making eye contact all around the table. He was good, a natural leader, and Tara was reminded again how impressive he’d been in high school. She felt a surge of attraction. He’d probably do wonders for Wharton once he could give the town his full attention.

After he’d finished speaking, he thanked everyone and turned for the door, giving Tara a wink as he left. She went hot all over. From a wink, for God’s sake. She felt like she had some girlish crush on a rock star.

Mentally shaking that off, she tuned in to the dynamics of the meeting. It wasn’t going well. Joseph was clearly uncomfortable being in charge. He allowed the same point to be made repeatedly, cut off productive discussions and managed to annoy nearly everyone. There were simple techniques she could teach him for fixing that. She was champing at the bit to try.

The informal leader seemed to be Davis Mann, the VP of Manufacturing. When a question came up, they all looked to him. He oversaw the factory operations and was Carl Goodman’s boss. She needed to touch base with him for sure before she left Wharton today.

At noon, catering brought in a sandwich buffet. As people got their food, Tara moved from person to person, asking questions and listening closely to the answers as well as the interpersonal dynamics. She caught Davis Mann alone in the hall and arranged to stop by his office to talk after her tour.

At the end of the break, Miriam Zeller approached her. “Ready for that tour?”

“I don’t want to keep you from the meeting.” Women managers in a mostly male workplace had to work hard to stay in the loop.

“They’ll tread water from here on out. To tell you the truth, I’m happy to escape the tedium.”

As they headed for the elevator, she asked Miriam how she felt about being the only woman on the management team, mentioning the experiences of women she’d worked with. That started them off with a nice rapport and gave Tara a chance to explain what she did for a living.

Getting off at the second floor, they moved toward the back stairs to the factory, passing offices as they went. As they passed the bookkeeping department, a woman rushed out, stopping just before she plowed into Tara. It was Candee, Dylan’s ex-wife.

“Oh. Hi,” Candee said. “You’re Tara.”

It took her a second to respond. Why hadn’t Dylan mentioned Candee worked for Wharton? “I am.”

“Candee Ryland,” Candee said sharply, evidently assuming Tara’s delayed response meant Tara didn’t know her name.

“Yes. I know. Dylan told me...” What? She flipped through what she knew about Dylan’s ex-wife...they’d slept together since the divorce...she’d left him because she thought he still loved Tara...she’d sold him cookware he didn’t use...given him a recipe for beer-butt chicken... None of that seemed appropriate. “Who you are,” she finished lamely.

“Yeah?” Her voice spiked. “Well, he told me who you are, too, so we’re even.” She seemed to reconsider her tone. “What I mean is—”

“I know what you mean,” Tara said, cutting her off in an effort to smooth the moment. Instead she’d sounded rude.

“Perfect,” Candee snapped. “If you’ll excuse me.” She stalked away.

Miriam politely didn’t ask what that was about. Tara had stepped in it again, her people skills in tatters in this town.

Miriam led Tara along a catwalk overlooking the factory floor, which seemed to sparkle with cleanliness. Fluorescent lights made the white cement floor gleam. Ventilators roared, pulling the highly flammable aluminum dust from the air, according to Miriam.

The section of the factory where the battery cells were built contained glassed-in machines like giant tollbooths lined in rows, control panels flashing colored lights. Workers there wore white suits, hairnets, paper slippers and gloves to keep down static.

In the assembly area, robotic arms and hydraulic lifts made rhythmic whoosh and clunk sounds as they put together cells, then loaded boxes of batteries onto a conveyor belt to be prepared for distribution. Workers here wore golf shirts and jeans or khakis, and she spotted Carl Goodman, minus coat and tie, talking to a technician. He’d abandoned the meeting for more important duties, she assumed.

Miriam rattled off stats on the size of the operation, units produced, the specifics of the new Wharton battery, which used nanotechnology and complicated chemicals to make lighter, faster-charging and more powerful batteries.

After that, they looked in on the R&D lab, the cafeteria and the loading dock, ending up on the tarmac waiting for a technician from the testing area—the last stop on the tour—to pick them up in an electric cart.

“I’m very impressed,” Tara said.

“I know. So am I. At our price point, we’re poised to sweep the market. If everything comes together as we hope.” There was tension in her voice.

“I’m sure losing my father and Faye has made people uneasy. The managers seemed pretty wired.”

“That was Joseph’s first time running the meeting,” she said diplomatically. “I’m sure that’s what you picked up.”

“It was more than that, I think,” she said. “I understand there have been rumors of another layoff. I was told you lost a few engineers, too.”

Miriam gave her a wary look. “There are always personnel shifts during a transition.”

“You don’t have to hold back, Miriam. I’m on your side. I want Wharton Electronics to succeed.” Tara liked her and hoped she’d be an ally. “The truth is that Faye contacted me a few weeks ago about doing some consulting here.”

“She did?” Miriam blew out a breath. “That’s great. Joseph means well, but I’m afraid he’s a bit over his head.”

“That was my impression. I need him to hire me, so I wanted to lay some groundwork, if I could, with key people, especially those whose opinion he respects. I wondered about Davis Mann...?”

“Davis is great, very big picture in his thinking. Managers pay attention to what he says. The trouble is he intimidates Joseph.”

“I see.”

“Joseph listens to Evan Moore. You met him. He’s the Research & Development VP. You might want to spend some time with him. Squeeze in some observations between his lectures on the projects they’re working on. Just caring enough to listen will make him love you.”

“I’ll do that. Anyone else?”

“Our general counsel, Marvin Levy. His office is next to Faye’s. Legal stuff scares Joseph, so he listens to Marvin with both ears. Marvin’s smart, practical and thoughtful.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“I sound like I’m scheming against Joseph, but I’m not. He’s good at his job. He’s just not equipped to run Wharton. This is a good company. I don’t want to see it fail.”

“Neither do I, believe me.”

Miriam studied Tara, then seemed to make a decision. “If Faye wanted you to work for us, then so do I. I’ll talk to the other managers on your behalf.”

“I appreciate that.” Assuming she made good impressions on the attorney and the research VP, Miriam’s help could set her up well for turning Joseph around. That filled her with energy and hope, something she’d been missing since she arrived.

A cart pulled up and Miriam introduced her to the driver—Matt Sutherland, assistant testing manager—a handsome man in his early thirties who colored when Tara smiled at him.

As they drove toward the testing area, which looked like a cross between an airplane hangar and a giant auto shop, Matt rattled off the kinds of testing they did—current consumption, output voltage levels, electrical noise, response time and more she didn’t quite understand.

He parked outside the steel door and led her inside. To the left was a glassed-in office, followed by units of equipment with dials, meters and flashing lights. Across the space she saw cars with their hoods up, some hooked up to hoses and wires. A car’s engine roared as its wheels spun against steel rollers. The air smelled of rubber and hot metal.

Matt explained they used various stimulus inputs—acceleration, temperature, wheel rotation—to ensure the battery module behaved as it should. “Very impressive,” she told him, making him blush again.