Krista Aquilon parked close to the entrance of the Heymyer Home Appliances Company. The shiny red compact sedan was the first new auto sheâd ever owned, and she was rather proud of the birthday present sheâd bought for herself.
That thought usually cheered her, but not today. She unlocked the door and went into the silent building.
It was Sunday, the second day of April. The day after her birthday. Sometimes she wondered if the Fates had been laughing when they planned her birth date. Sheâd been an April Foolâs baby, a fact that had gotten her a lot of teasing while growing up.
At any rate, she tried to keep Sundays free of work in order to maintain the illusion of a personal life, but today was an exception. The health of the company rather than her own well-being was foremost in her mind. As chief financial officer, she had a lot to worry about.
The place wasnât doing well. And all her suggestions for reviving it had been ignored, for the most part.
Pausing in the act of locking the entrance door behind her, she realized there was a red sports car under the portico at the side of the building, a space strictly reserved for James M. Heymyer, her eighty-year-old boss and a stickler for protocol.
His concept of protocol, she thought. She was more egalitarian in her views.
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips as she pictured the stunned outrage on his face at the audacity of anyone parking in his place. Not even Mason, Heymyerâs son and heir, would be that bold. However, since it was Sunday, the boss wouldnât be in, so it probably didnât matter.
Returning to the original concerns that had brought her into the office, she sighed as she crossed the atrium-type lobby and went up the steps to the second floor.
All the executive offices were located on this level. âVIP Row,â the other employees called it, as if the initials were a word. Sheâd gone from the plant production lines as a student on a work/study program during her college years to a âVIPâ three years ago. After getting a business degree, sheâd been promoted to accounts supervisor, then manager of the accounting department. Sheâd landed the head financial position last fall after earning her MBA.
At twenty-five, that could be considered quite a feat, but she was pretty sure the old man hadnât been able to get anyone else to fill the slot, which had been empty since the former CFO retired eighteen months ago.
One look at the books and anyone with a grain of sense would have run the other way, she grimly reminded her conscience, or whatever it was that wouldnât let her give the place up as a lost cause.
However, unless someone came up with a solutionâand fastâHeymyer Home Appliances was gasping its last.
While the company marketed products under its own name, it also manufactured appliances for other brands. In fact, that was the bulk of their income. They had lost a major contract last week. Without it, they wouldnât have the cash flow to meet the payroll by the end of July.
In a town the size of Grand Junction, Colorado, population fifty thousand, a business failure leaving a thousand employees out of work would have a serious impact on the community. The city would lose one of its important revenue sources. The many mom-and-pop stores in town would struggle. Some might have to close. Even professionalsâdoctors, lawyers, bankersâwould be affected.
Worst of all, families would suffer. Fear and tension caused quarrels and broken marriages. Children would be hurt. And that bothered Krista most of all. She knew how it felt to be frightened and helpless in a world that didnât seem to care.
She stopped at the top of the stairs. A light was on in the end office, the one belonging to the president and CEO. Some instinct warned her this wasnât good.
Or perhaps the boss was taking her warnings about bankruptcy seriously and had come in to study her idea to take a bold new tack.
But James Heymyer driving a red roadster? No way.
So who was in his office?
As she walked down the carpeted hallway, she heard voices. Male voices. One she recognized as belonging to the boss. The low, rich timbre of the other wasnât familiar to her.
She paused at her door, listening to the tone. The depth and resonance of the voice were almost like a caress.
Krista had barely sat down and pulled up the latest balance sheet on her computer when Heymyer appeared at the door.
âJames, good morning,â she said warmly.
As soon as she was made a department head, sheâd started calling the owner by his given name. A mental image of his eyebrows nearly flying off his forehead the first time sheâd done so came to her.