Back Where She Belongs(45)
After the tour, they gathered in a conference room for the meeting.
There were snacks and coffee—Tara’s idea, so the men could see each other as people, not simply obstacles.
Tara called the meeting to order and went over the ground rules she’d written on a newsprint tablet: listen first, assume good intentions, no attacks, no blanket statements, offer solutions, be specific.
Just as she finished, Dylan’s father walked in.
Dylan introduced him to the Wharton team and Tara.
“The prodigal daughter returns,” his father said. “I understand they’ve put you to work over there. Does that mean you plan to stay?”
“For a while, yes,” she said. “I hope to make a contribution.” She didn’t respond to the light mockery in his father’s tone. She was a professional, for sure, and he admired her for that. Her plan for the meeting was solid, too.
His dad sat in the chair Dylan had saved for him, but he seemed edgy, restless. Dylan’s gut tightened. He caught his father’s eye. Don’t screw this up.
As the men began their discussion, Tara did a good job of guiding the conversation, drawing out important points, emphasizing areas of agreement and enforcing the ground rules.
Eventually they reached the crux of the conflict—the failure rate of Ryland’s parts. Jeb claimed the bad units caused power surges, suggesting Ryland’s suppliers had provided shoddy components. Victor pointed out that even if the parts were bad, which they weren’t, it would require an extreme torque or a huge jolt to cause the surge they described. Finally Victor said that they needed to see the Wharton tests performed, period.
Jeb went on his rant about all the proprietary equipment and processes, how a visit wouldn’t be possible.
Then Tara asked about showing the Ryland team selected tests, setting aside the proprietary items.
Trapped by his own objection, Jeb Harris had no choice but to agree. Matt Sutherland’s jaw dropped, clearly surprised by the concession.
Abruptly his father stood. “I can’t believe we are begging to see the tests we supposedly failed. What are you hiding over there, Jeb? Rigged tests? Sabotage?”
“Mr. Ryland,” Tara interrupted firmly, “you missed the discussion of ground rules, but you’ll need to reframe your comments. No accusations. No presumptions or blanket statements.”
“This is my business, my building and my reputation at stake, I’ll make whatever statements I want, blanket or otherwise.”
“We’re working it out,” Dylan said. “Let us finish.”
“Those so-called power surges are bogus,” his father said, brushing off Dylan’s objection. “I’m driving around with one of those so-called duds in my own car. So are you, son, by the way.”
“What?” Dylan said.
“I changed out your battery when you had your car serviced. I put one in Candee’s Prius, too. A couple others.”
Dylan was furious, but he held his tongue.
“Have you had any power surges, son?” his father demanded. “No, you haven’t. No one else has, either. We’re the best vendor you’ve got, Jeb, and we won’t offer our part for less than the dirt-cheap price Abbott extorted from my son, who has this fairy story in his head that Abbott and I could sing kumbaya around the campfire again.” He shot Dylan a glare, his eyes on fire.
“Abbott Wharton was a stubborn, arrogant man who expected the world to bend to his will. In the end, he didn’t get that, did he? No. The world had its way with him and now he’s gone.”
There were gasps, looks were exchanged and dead silence fell over the room.
“Abbott Wharton robbed me once. He won’t rob me again. I promise you that. I’m finished with what I have to say.” His father stalked from the room.
Dylan looked at the stunned faces around the table. His father had just killed the compromise they’d nearly reached.
Victor got up. “We stand by our product,” he said, then turned to leave, Dale and the techs following. Victor had taken the test failures personally. He’d been downing heavy-duty antacids since the troubles began.
“That was unfortunate,” Tara said, red spots on her cheeks. “But we’ll straighten this out and follow up about a visit.”
“I won’t kowtow to those *s,” Jeb said and took his team out of the room, leaving Tara and Dylan staring at each other.
“What the hell was that?” Tara said.
“I’m sorry. I talked to him about being conciliatory, but—”
“Conciliatory? He dropped a bomb and stomped out like a child. He ruined everything. We were this close to an agreement.”
“I know. I’ll straighten it out. I’ll settle our guys down and apologize to Jeb.”
“Your father’s the one who should apologize. That was unforgivable.”
“Abbott’s death has been hard on him. He’s not been himself.”
“I seriously doubt that, Dylan. He basically said my father got what he deserved.”
“That’s not what he meant.” He wanted to throttle his father for saying something so clumsy, but Tara was far too eager to criticize the man.
“I would have asked him to leave, but I was afraid he’d hit me.”
“Come on. He would never do that. I don’t blame you for being angry. Dad blew it. I get that. Why make it worse?”
“I don’t see how it could be any worse. So is this your job? Follow after him and clean up his messes? How can you stand it?”
“Tara, stop.” She was furious. He could see that. She thought his father was still exploiting him, using him, that Dylan was blindly loyal to the man. He was not about to defend himself or his father to her. And he didn’t want to hear more hateful words from her.
They stared at each other for long seconds. Tara seemed to collect herself, set aside her personal feelings and shift into professional mode. “Okay,” she said. “You’re right. That’s water under the bridge. What can we do to salvage this?”
Whew. They were a team again, working together to save the contract between their two companies and, as it turned out, Dylan’s long-held dream. That was the most important thing here.
But things had shifted between them. That brief exchange was a loud and clear reminder of all that stood between them. He’d been right. This morning at dawn, they really had been saying goodbye for good.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LEAVING DYLAN AFTER they’d worked out their plan, Tara paused in the Ryland lobby to calm down. The entire time they’d talked, she’d battled her outrage at Sean Ryland’s stunt, her disappointment that Dylan was still making excuses for the man and the terrible sadness that washed over her when she realized she and Dylan were done.
They both knew it would end. They’d set limits. They’d agreed they had no future. Still, she’d wanted more. She’d had a secret hope.
She was a fool.
She took a final calming breath and was about to leave when she remembered her phone had buzzed with a message. She dialed voice mail, her gaze snagging on the whimsical sculpture in front of her—a fountain of floating circuit boards, each with a splash of orange—the Ryland Engineering logo. The peach-colored walls were a good match.
When the first message started, she jolted. It was the accident expert from L.A. She listened as he rattled off his conclusions.
There was a lot of jargon about vectors and drag and torque, but the key point was “there was a collision of some kind, possibly tangential, but the surge in acceleration in evidence would require another factor...possibly a malfunction in the electrical system.”
Okay, she thought, sorting through what she’d heard. The car had been hit and a part had malfunctioned. Something electrical. There’d been a surge.
Her gaze kept snagging on the sculpture. All those logos. She’d seen them before. On the Ryland tour maybe?
Wait. She remembered. The Tesla. Tony had banged on a box he said he’d need to check. She’d seen the edge of the logo. Thinking harder, she realized the car had had a Wharton Electronics battery, too. The Tesla factory-installed battery had been changed out.
The Wharton test crew claimed the faulty Ryland units caused power surges. The Ryland people maintained that a major jolt or blow would be needed to cause the surge.
Like a collision?
A crash and a malfunction added up to the cause of the crash. It explained all the evidence. Her heart racing, she worked it out in her mind. Had Tony changed out the battery? He hadn’t mentioned it when they’d looked at the crushed engine. Why not?
Calling information for the number for Auto Angels, she had him on the phone in seconds. “I haven’t gotten the okay to tow the Tesla to your place yet,” she said, “but I was wondering if you’d installed the Wharton battery.”