Page 21 of If You Could Only Imagine
Sarah shook her head. “Not in detail,” she answered. “Maxine just said something about some confusion with Mr. Samson’s personal spending versus company.” She shrugged her shoulder and handed me the file she had on Sam-Martin.
“But Mr. Martin’s spending is accurate?”
“I believe so. Maxine was on her way to a meeting and just kind of did a drive by,” she replied. “But she said she’d call you later to speak with you more about it.”
I nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Sarah.” I smiled at her and made my way to my office.
Once I made it through the door, I took off my coat, hung it up on the coat rack, along with my purse, and sat my sore ass down on my chair.
Aiden Buchanan was definitely a workout.
I opened the Sam-Martin file and started reading through it, trying to decipher some of it before talking with Maxine. I was confused by Sarah’s comment about personal spending. In all the years that I’ve headed this account, there have never been any personal purchases finding their way into the business portion of things.
About half an hour later, there was a knock on my doorframe, and I looked up to see Maxine standing at my door. I smiled. “Good Morning, Lady.”
She smiled back as she walked in and sat down in front of my desk. “Is it?” she quipped.
My eyes darted towards the papers on my desk. “I was just looking over some of your notes.”
Maxine winced. “Something’s off, Denise,” she muttered. Maxine was one of my three account specialists and she was damn good with numbers. Her work ethic was above reproach, so if she said something was off, then I believed her.
“Such as?”
Her pretty brown eyes shifted quickly before returning to mine. “May I be frank?” I extended my arm in a gesture for her to continue. “We’ve been handling this account for a while now, and it hasn’t been until you got promoted and put in charge of this account, that Mr. Samson has suddenly taken a great interest in the small details.” I did my best to don a perfect poker face. I knew where this was headed, but I wanted to be sure first. “This…this account is handled perfectly, Denise,” she stated. “I…I think Mr. Samson is making ridiculous purchases so he can…meet with you.”
I let out a sigh. She was right, of course. When I was first promoted, I reviewed every client under my responsibility and made sure each one was being handled at the standard to which Buchanan Industries insists upon.
I had met every client and had done my best to create a confident and professional relationship with each one of them. This level of expectation made it almost unnecessary to interact with a lot of the clients unless it was their annual review or something was wrong.
Well, it wasn’t Sam-Martin’s annual review yet.
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my lap. “Thanks, Maxine. I know you’re just trying to be helpful, and I agree,” I told her. “It’s odd for a company like Sam-Martin to suddenly go into confusion. And, yes, I’m very aware of Mr. Sampson’s interest in me.” I wasn’t going to treat her like she was stupid. “But, it’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, concerned. “Maybe you should talk with Mr. Buchanan about it?”
I sat up straight and placed my arms on my desk. “Maxine, I am not going to bother Mason Buchanan with…some number discrepancies, due to…a personal interest of one of our clients.”
Like hell I would go to Mason Buchanan for any damn thing.
The man was frightening as fuck.
“No. I meant Aiden Buchanan,” she said, correcting me.
I almost rolled my eyes.
At this stage of the game, I think I’d rather bother Mason Buchanan with this than go to Aiden and tell him a client is manipulating data so he can meet with me.
Dibtab.
Yeah. Mason was the better bet at this point.
I didn’t want Maxine to worry, though. “Yes, you’re right, Maxine. I had forgotten about Aiden Buchanan.”Uh…not.“I’ll schedule something with him for later this week.”
Maxine stood up. “Oh, good,” she breathed out. “It’s just…I don’t think Mr. Sampson is dangerous or anything like that. I just…well, his tactics are…well, tacky.”
I started chewing on my bottom lip. “Maybe,” I conceded, “But he’s still a client and we will treat him with the upmost respect unless or until he does something overly inappropriate.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said right before she gave me a bright smile and walked out of my office.
