But what the hell. She was the boss. She could dress however she pleased.
“Yeah. Who cares?”
She laughed, then walked up the steps. She was a little amused at her nervousness. She had nothing to lose here today. Because if anybody pissed her off, she’d just sell the damn thing and be on her way. She simply didn’t need—or want—the headaches.
“Yes, may I help you?”
Jacqueline arched an eyebrow. It was the same woman who’d taken her to Greg the other day. She obviously had a short memory.
“No, thank you.”
Jacqueline walked past, only to be grabbed by the arm.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t just go back there. Do you have an appointment?”
Jacqueline decided to take pity on the woman. She obviously didn’t have a clue as to who Jacqueline was. And why would she? They hadn’t been introduced. So, Jacqueline held out her hand.
“I’m Jacqueline Keys. I don’t believe I need an appointment,” she said as pleasantly as she could.
The woman blushed crimson. “I’m so sorry.”
Jacqueline gave a firm handshake, then dropped her hand. “Nothing to apologize for. We had not been formally introduced.” Jacqueline pointed to the stairs. “Mr. Lawrence is in?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. And the managers are gathered for a staff meeting. I guess I know why now.”
Jacqueline smiled slightly. “So, it’s okay if I go up?”
“Oh, yes! I’m sorry. Would you like me to take you up?”
Jacqueline shook her head. “No, thanks. I can find my way.”
She paused at Greg’s door. Three monitors were filled with data, and he was running his finger across one of them, studying the figures. She knocked lightly.
“Come on in,” he murmured without turning around.
“It’s me.”
He swung around then. “Jackie!” He looked at his watch. “Is it that time already?”
“Going up to see John first.” She moved farther into the office, her voice low. “You still okay with everything?”
He nodded. “If you are.”
She gave a relieved smile. “Absolutely.” She watched as his eyes traveled over her body. “What?”
He grinned. “I like casual.”
Jacqueline felt a slight blush creep across her face. “I didn’t exactly come packed for boardroom meetings.”
Greg straightened his own tie. “Your father had a dress code,” he stated.
“Ties for the men, dresses for the women.”
Jacqueline’s eyes widened. “You’re joking?
Dresses?
Always?”
“Yes.”
“How many women work here?”
“Besides Arlene out front and Mrs. Willis upstairs, Ms. Scott is director of personnel, and there are two women in accounting. And then each of the managers has a secretary.”
“I see.” Jacqueline smiled sheepishly. “Well, the first executive decision I’m making is to do away with the damn dress code.”
“It’s been that way forever, they tell me.”
Jacqueline was still shaking her head when she opened the door to the third floor. Mrs. Willis greeted her immediately.
“Welcome back, Miss Keys.” If she was surprised by Jacqueline’s attire, she made no mention. “They’ve all been whispering among themselves,”
she said with a smile.
“Got them thinking, do we?”
“I’d say.” She pulled Jacqueline toward her father’s office. “You want some coffee before you meet with Mr. Lawrence?”
“What flavor?”
“Flavor?”
“Of coffee?”
“Well . . . coffee flavor. What do you mean?”
Jacqueline placed her laptop and briefcase on her father’s desk. “Bottled water?”
“We have some, yes.”
“Perfect.”
“Shall I bring it to you in Mr. Lawrence’s office?”
Jacqueline raised her eyebrows, then looked around. “Actually, I thought we could meet in here.”
Mrs. Willis grinned. “Excellent idea. I’ll call him.”
Jacqueline was admittedly snooping in the drawers of her father’s desk when John Lawrence walked in. She quickly closed the drawer she had been nosing into and rested her arms on the desk.
“Good morning, John. I hope you don’t mind meeting in here.”
“Of course not. It’ll be more private. I can’t remember the last time all of the managers have been here at once.” He sat down, placing a stack of folders on the desk. “I put together some information on the four managers,” he said. “I assumed you’d want to discuss them before you decided who to place in charge.”
Jacqueline took the folders, then leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms. “Who would you place in charge, John?”
“Well, based on seniority, Ron Peterson.”
Jacqueline nodded. “Okay. If not based on seniority, who?”
“I’d probably still recommend Ron. He’s been with your father for over twenty years, long before Keys Industries was created. He would have the most experience, for one thing.”
“How do you think everyone else feels about it?”
“I think they probably all anticipate Ron getting the nod.”
Jacqueline leaned forward again. “Particleboard?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Particleboard plant. That’s his area?” If John was surprised that she knew this, he didn’t show it.
“Yes. At the beginning, there was only plywood and particle-board being produced, both in the same plant. Ron managed the plant while your father continued with his aspirations to build more. The demand was more than the one plant could produce, so your father built another plant, one specifically for particleboard, leaving the original for plywood.”
“So, all these years, he’s been in particleboard?”
John nodded. “Yes. As each new plant was operational, your father hired a new manager. Ron felt comfortable in particleboard. Obviously, he knew it well.”
“I understand each manager was responsible for setting the salary for their staff, from their assistants on down the line to the workers in the plants.”
“That’s correct.”
Jacqueline was about to mention Greg’s name when something told her not to. As she suspected, John Lawrence was all set to hand over the control of Keys Industries to Ron Peterson. And Jacqueline had no intention of ever letting that happen. So, let John be as surprised as everyone else when she named Greg.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road,” she said as she stood. It was only then that he stared at her, much like Greg had done. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, I did away with that silly dress code.”
He smiled slightly. “It was Madeline’s idea.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Jacqueline waited patiently in the conference room for the managers and their assistants to file in. She sipped nervously from the water bottle Mrs. Willis supplied, then smiled gently at the other woman. Mrs.
Willis was perched next to her, pad and pen ready to take notes as Jacqueline had instructed. She booted up her laptop, glad there was wireless network access.
She had not physically met everyone, but Greg had given her a password, allowing her to log onto the network. She had no restrictions, so she was able to get into everything, including personnel files. Some of the photos were obviously outdated, but she had no problem naming the faces that walked into the room now. She watched as Ron Peterson and his assistant, David Jimenez, walked in. She nodded slightly at Greg as he sat across the room from her.
She leaned over and whispered to Mrs. Willis. “Is everyone here?”
“There are only two from accounting. Were you expecting the whole staff?”
“No.” Jacqueline looked at John. When the attorney would have spoken, Jacqueline stood. “Thank you all for coming.” She looked around the room, meeting the curious stares from the others. “My name is Jacqueline Keys. As I’m sure you’ve all heard by now, upon my father’s death, I am now sole owner of Keys Industries.” A few people nodded, but the others simply stared without emotion.
She walked slowly behind the chairs, wondering how to begin this.
Blurting out that Greg was in charge would hardly be appropriate.
Easier, but not appropriate. No, she needed to prove a point.
“Obviously, I have no experience with a lumber company.” She nervously shoved her hands in her pockets. “And I’m told that my father made all of the decisions concerning the company. Therefore, we’re going to need—”
“Excuse me, Miss Keys. Allow me to perhaps save some time here. I’m Ron Peterson, senior manager.”
Jacqueline was pleased with herself for managing to keep the smile off her face, but it had been too easy. She nodded at him, silently giving him the floor.
“We’ve been discussing the situation among ourselves, and I’ve already met with John about this.”
Jacqueline glanced quickly at John Lawrence, wondering why he had not shared this with her.
“I’ve been with your father for over twenty years. Why, I remember you when you were barely a teenager,” he said with a chuckle. “I think we all feel that I’m the only one here qualified to take over the management of the company.”
“Is that right?” She paced again behind the chairs. “You’re over particleboard, is that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. Have been since the beginning.”
“But you feel like you’re qualified to manage
all
the plants?”
“Well, obviously being here twenty years, you pick up some knowledge of them all.”
“I see. So, for example, if I ask you how many contracts we have pending for creosote posts, you’d know that?”
He looked at Mark Edwards. “Well, I’d have to check with Mark.”
“Greg? How many contracts are pending?”
“Two.”
“They are?”
“The regional phone headquarters in Dallas is taking bids for creosote poles, and we’ve put a bid in to Home Warehouse for posts to supply a six-state area.”
“Thank you.” She walked back to her chair and sat down. “Mrs. Willis tells me that my father was planning to bring a new plant into production. Mr. Peterson, you want to fill everyone in on it?”
He cleared his throat and glanced nervously at the others. “Well, Miss Keys, none of us were aware . . . we didn’t know of a new plant.”
“You mean he didn’t share this with you?”
“No.”
“You’ve been here twenty years, and you want to take over the management of the company, yet you know nothing of these future plans?”
“I’m sure, if only Mrs. Willis knew, then it must have been in the preliminary stages.”
“Greg, why don’t you share with everyone the idea that my father had for the new plant?”
“He wanted to produce cattle feed,” Greg said as laughter erupted around the table.
“Cattle feed? Come on, Greg. We’re a lumber company,” Peterson said.
“I’m sure Nicolas wasn’t planning to diversify the company that much.”
“Well, Ron, we already sell to a company in Canada that makes cattle feed,” David Jimenez, his assistant, said.
“Sell what?”
“Sawdust. Woodchips,” Greg supplied.
Jacqueline was pleasantly surprised that David Jimenez not only knew they sold it, but was willing to contradict his boss.
“Since when do cows eat woodchips?” Peterson asked, again eliciting chuckles from those around him.
Greg and Jacqueline exchanged glances, and Jacqueline nodded.
“Ron, they make molasses out of it,” Greg said.
Jacqueline raised her hand. “Let’s table the cattle feed for a bit, shall we?” She stared at the monitor of her laptop, wondering which item to bring up first. Might as well start with the most sensitive one.
“I’d like to talk about budgets. It’s my understanding that each plant is given an operating budget and each manager controls it. Right down to salaries. Is that correct?”
She looked up, seeing several nods, but little else.
“Mr. Peterson, since you have emerged as the spokesman for the group, explain to me how salaries are set.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is there a sliding scale, based on seniority? Is there a merit system in place? I guess what I’m really asking is how are raises determined?”
“Well, there’s not really a sliding scale. Each shift has supervisors. In my area, I rely on my supervisors’ input to determine any raises. I assume the other areas are the same.”
“Particleboard, plywood, fiberboard, creosote and the sawmill. Five plants. Walter’s area, the sawmill, has the highest salaries. Particleboard, Mr. Peterson, has the lowest. When I say lowest, I’m not talking management, only your hourly shifts.” She pulled out one of Greg’s reports. “For example, Jesus Hernandez. He’s been with the company nearly ten years. He’s had exactly three raises in that time. Yet, in checking his personnel file, there are no complaints, and he’s never been written up for anything. In fact, in ten years, he’s missed only six days of work.” She locked glances with Ron Peterson. “Mr. Peterson, can you tell me why this employee is still making below ten dollars an hour?”
“No, not without checking his file, and checking with his shift supervisor. Maybe he’s just never been recommended for a raise.”
“You have another employee under you, Steven Yates. He’s been here four years. He’s had three raises. He’s also been promoted to day shift. I see in the file here that Mr. Hernandez has requested the day shift for the past five years, yet he still works nights. Can you explain that?”
“Again, Miss Keys, without speaking with the supervisors, I couldn’t say.”
“So, are you telling me that the supervisors set the salaries and not you?”
“No, of course not. I set the salaries.”
“David Jimenez, your assistant? Yo u also set his salary?”
“Of course.”
Jacqueline took a deep breath, then shrugged. “Perhaps this is not the place to bring this up, but since I have no management skills, what the hell.” She looked at John before continuing. “My problem here, Mr.
Peterson, is that this company is very top heavy. You, for example, approach two hundred thousand, with your salary and perks. Whereas your assistant makes below forty.” She looked across the room. “Mr.
Edwards, by comparison, makes half what you do. His assistant makes over fifty.”
“I’ve been with the company twenty years. Mark’s only been here ten or so.”
“Twelve, Mr. Peterson.” She pulled out another report. “I hope you don’t think I’m singling you out, Mr. Peterson—I’m just using you as an example—but I have a problem with your time.”