Page 70 of Designed for Disaster

How about I wear nothing but the apron?

Holy shit. This woman was too damn much, and I wanted this meeting to be over now. Maybe I’d skip coffee and invite Natasha up to my office for a quickie. I adjusted my pants subtly.

Are you almost done?

Just wrapping up,I typed.

Please stop by my office when you’re done, Mr. Saunders. There’s a new chaise lounge design I need your thoughts on.She followed that up with a little winky emoji.

Fuck yes, I liked where this was heading. I tucked my phone away as Alice started confirming the date and time for the next board meeting.

“Sounds like we’re just about done here,” I said. “Unless anyone has any action items that we missed?” I looked around the table. I didn’t expect there to be any follow-up when things were going this well. Sales were clearly coasting along, there hadn’t been any major supply chain issues, we had exciting new marketing plans in the works, and everything was on track for the trade show. Heads shook as people started packing up, then to my utter horror, my mother stood and cleared her throat.

“I’d like to launch a challenge for leadership.”

“Excuse me?” I said, certain I’d heard her wrong. What the absolute fuck was she thinking? The board members glancedside to side, shocked. Even my father had a hard time hiding his surprise.

“I am putting forth a motion to remove Trent Saunders as CEO,” she repeated, looking around at the table.

“Is this a joke?” I asked.

“No.” She looked at me, shaking her head with that look of martyred disapproval she’d honed on my father for so many years, like I was the screwup that only she was saintly enough to forgive. “It has come to my attention recently that Trent is ill-suited to the role of CEO at this time.”

“What are you talking about?” I snarled.

Alice gaped, her fingers flying across her keyboard. I couldn’t wait to relive these minutes at the next meeting.

“Trent is currently under an enormous amount of stress. His grandmother, Deana Saunders, is very ill. The prognosis is poor, and, understandably, Trent’s priorities have shifted away from the company to focus on her care.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I growled, a white-hot rage flashing inside me. She had no business talking about Dee or her diagnosis. What the hell did she know about how I was handling that?

“Further to that,” my mother continued, “he continues to experience personal stresses with his younger brother, Jimmy.”

Now she’d crossed a line. Fuck her for talking about Jimmy like he wasn’t her son.

“Not to mention the sourcing and supply chain issues the new line has been experiencing,” she said, consulting the papers shehad brought with her before giving very specific information about minor issues we’d had with switching over to new, more sustainable suppliers. “We all know sustainable practices don’t come cheap, and perhaps Trent has bitten off more than he can chew.”

How did she know about the supply chain issues? They were small enough that they hadn’t even made a blip on the CFO’s report. Only a handful of people even knew they’d been a problem at all. I shook my head, completely blind-sided as she continued to rhyme off the reasons I should be forced to step down. How the hell had she gotten all of this information? Had she been spying on me?

“As you can see,” she concluded, addressing the board. “All the issues compounded are distracting him from the company and from getting the job done. None of this is a personal reflection on you, of course, Trent. Anyone would struggle.”

I looked around at the board, their faces like stone. I had no idea what they were thinking, but the whole conversation made me sick to my stomach. Who the fuck did my mother think she was?

I cleared my throat, taking command of the floor. If she thought she could steal my company away from me with this fake sympathy she was spewing like she was doing me a favor, she had another thing coming.

“As many of you already know,” I said, rising to my feet, “I took command of Saunders Furniture five years ago at a time when we were in a headlong crisis. Sales had cratered, customer satisfaction was at an all-time low, and internal morale was so poor that our turnover rate was three times our usual target. I don’t believe there has ever been a time in our company’s history when it was more stressful to be CEO. Given our performancein the years since then, undermyleadership, I believe it’s clear that stress doesn’t keep me from doing my job, and doing it well. Even in the face of the more recent stressors, we’ve continued to thrive with our established lines while growing in new and exciting directions.” I stared both my parents down, just in case my father had any ridiculous ideas of his own. “So, clearly, I’m up for the job in a way you weren’t.”

My mother’s face soured at my words.

“Maybe you’ve already forgotten,” I said, tasting bile on my tongue. “But when you had personal problems, you almost imploded this company. I’m better than that. Saunders Furniture will not fail with me in charge.”

“It was your father that almost imploded the company!” my mother snapped.

My father chuckled like he was embarrassed for her. “Leave me out of this, Lara.”

“Shut up, Conrad!”

“Here we go,” one of the board members muttered. I sighed. My mother’s temper had turned her into a loose cannon ever since the divorce. I couldn’t really blame her for having a short fuse after all my father put her through, but by losing her temper here, in this moment, she also lost any credibility she had when it came to swaying the board.

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