Page 1 of Just for the Summer

Chapter 1

Whitley

“…and that’s why I’m recommending we change the policy from commission-based to a flat hourly rate with two annual bonuses. Or, if the team prefers, transitioning the sales positions to salaried roles.” I left the slide projecting cost savings and increased consumer satisfaction on the conference room screen for the board members of Woods & Crais to ponder while I congratulated myself on a job well done.

“If we eliminate commissions, we’re going to lose our top performers.” Hailey XXX, one of the managers in Human Resources, directed a silky smile at the board while cutting me out of the conversation by angling her body away from me. “I think our current compensation structure works just fine.”

Of course, she would say that. Hailey’s husband, Arnie, was one of the top earners yet had the lowest satisfaction rate. Client feedback included comments such as “felt pressured into making a decision” and “additional expenses not revealed prior to closing.” In other words, he oversold and underdelivered, but as long as he collected six figures in commission, what did client trust matter?

“Last year the Hendricks Employment Research Agency reported compelling advantages for salaried positions: increased stability and security for employees, greater emphasis on relationship building and customer service, and improved employee recruitment and retention.”

“Yes,” Hailey allowed, “but the Cummings report, which just released last week, reported the down side to salaried sales roles, such as lack of motivation and difficulty attracting the top sales reps.”

Resisting the urge to clench every muscles in my body, I directed my closing comment to the founder of Woods & Crais, one of the leading luxury real estate developers in New York City.

“Mr. Woods, at the close of Q3 last year, you stated your top priority was humanizing the corporate brand before stepping down from the board. Right now, our sales force is internally motivated, which means clients’ needs and preferences are secondary, maybe even tertiary. Everyone knows W & C delivers the highest-quality, most innovative high-rise living options, but the market is saturated with competitors who also offer top-level options. What is going to differentiate Woods & Crais? What is going to convince buyers to chose doing business with us versus a competitor?”

From outside the glass-enclosed conference room, Divine, my executive assistant was gesturing for my attention. Mimicking a phone with his thumb and pinkie extended, he signaled I had a phone call.

“Call back,” I mouthed, waiting for Mr. Woods’ response.

“Emergency,” Divine mouthed back.

“I really think you should consider–” Hailey began only to be cut-off by the company founder.

“My great-grandfather started this company with his best friend sixty years ago.” Hawley Woods spoke slowly as if considering every word. “They started with one property and sold more than half of the units to friends and family who trusted them enough to invest. W & C is now a multi-billion-dollar business with landmark buildings in cities around the world. When we hit our first million-dollar year, my daddy reminded me never to get too big for my britches. Make it about the people, both inside and out, and the company will survive anything. I agree with Miss Pierce. Salaried positions mean every sales rep has a good month. We can keep things competitive by making the bi-annual bonuses based on performance.”

He stood and shook my hand, offering congratulations. I smiled and muttered thanks as Divine’s gestures became more frantic.

“I have to take a call,” I apologized, backing out of the conference room but not without one more glare from Hailey.

“It’s your grandfather,” Divine whispered as we hurried down the carpeted hall, the tap of my stilettos and her kitten heels muffled by the plush material.

“What happened?” I asked in a low voice.

“He didn’t say. Just that it was urgent. And that it involved Adam.” She slid behind her workstation as I passed through to my office, closing the door before rounding the desk to take the call.

“Grandpa?” I was surprised to realize my voice was shaking. Tightening my fingers around the handpiece, I pulled in a deep breath.

“Hey, gal.” He was three thousand miles away, on the other side of the country, but distance couldn’t mask his relief. “I’m sorry to bother you at work, but…well…”

“Is Adam in the hospital again?” I asked.

“Worse.” My grandfather inhaled a grounding breath for himself. “He’s in jail.”

Damn. Although I’d been waiting for this day to arrive, it still hit like a sucker punch.

“Details,” I commanded, dropping into my leather desk chair.

“He took off while I was working in the garden.” I could picture my grandfather shaking his head in self-recrimination. “I should have locked the front door, but he’s been doing so good since Doc Hastings changed his medication. Didn’t know he was gone until the patrol officer called to say he was down on the Prom, screaming obscenities at the tourists. Scared a bunch of elementary school kids so bad some of the little girls started crying.”

“They should have taken him to the inpatient unit at the hospital.” Fatigue, the kind that weighs down your heart, washed over me. I knew what was coming next.

“Sergeant German handled it. He knows Adam. And the requirements. Your brother wasn’t a risk to himself or others, so the hospital wouldn’t admit him. He wouldn’t calm down, so Benny didn’t have a choice. He had to take him in.” Grandpa paused. “I hate to ask, Whit, honey, but can you come home?”

“I’ll check how much vacation time I have.” Anger chopped the sentence into abrupt chunks. “I can probably manage a long weekend.”

Grandpa cleared his throat, and I looked up, anticipating the other shoe dropping.

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