Page 19 of Joy to Noel
Beau says, “I forgot he’s staying at the cabins with you, Madison. Put a pin in that—I’m circling back to you after Clark’s question. When Clark speaks, we must listen.”
Clark grunts annoyance but continues his question. “This Liam guy isn’t talking about firing people, though, right? Or pulling the plug on the factory?” Clearly, Clark still has some PTSD from the meat-packing plant shutting down and his town nearly dying out as a result.
All eyes are on Beau, now, who shakes his head. “I really don’t think so. Even though I don’t doubt that Mr. Park is the type to do whatever needs to be done—including firing people—he’s gone out of his way to assure employees that cutting jobs isn’t his priority. He’s trying to identify where things are going wrong so he can optimize processes to make the plant more profitable, instead of just blindly cutting positions. At least, that’s what he’s said.”
Relief is palpable around the table. Beau points at me. “He’s living right across from you. Have you talked to him much?”
“Yep,” I state, then take a drink of water.
Clara waves a hand and says, “What was it you said about him, Mads? Confident but not an arrogant piece of work?”
Nodding, I say, “Can confirm. I mean, I don’t see Liam at the plant, obviously, but that’s my impression from our casual conversations the past few days.” I don’t bother to explain that “casual” may not be quite the right descriptor for our repartees.
“I have a hard time picturing a casual version of Mr. Park, what with his power suits and full-throttle approach to everything,” Beau says.
Unable to explain exactly why, I bristle on Liam’s behalf. “A full-throttle approach isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Maybe the lack of full throttle is what got the factory into this mess in the first place. From what I’ve seen, Liam seems to be working awfully hard to fix aproblem he didn’t create. His efforts could save Noel from a second brush with death.”
Everyone eyes me with varying levels of shock and confusion. I’m not usually one to explain myself, but I see a glimmer in Clara’s romance-filtered eyes, and I need to shut that right down. “Liam and I have a friendly competition going over who can accomplish more on our missions each day—me with my new business and him with fixing the factory. I’ve seen how early he leaves and how late he comes back—only to spend evenmorehours each night reviewing the pages of notes he took during the day. I really do think he has good intentions of whipping things into shape with as little collateral damage as possible.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Abby quietly interjects. She seems the shyest, and I don’t know her as well as the other women here, since she and Beau moved away from Noel when the meat-packing plant shut down. I got to know Syd and Becky much better during past trips to visit Clara. Abby looks up at Beau and says, “The last thing we need is to uproot our family again. I hope he gets things running so smoothly that Pure Fur All would never dream of cutting jobs or shutting things down.”
“I’ll toast to that,” James says, raising his glass.
“To Liam Park’s master improvement plan,” I chime in, raising mine.
“Here, here.”
It’s late when I arrive home to my cozy little cabin. I’m torn between feeling satisfied from a good time with friends versus chastising myself for the wasted hours that could have been spent moving the needle on my new business.
Liam is sure to win the competition today. Again.
Light glows from the windows of his cabin, but it’s a faint light—more like the warmth of a bedside lamp than the full overhead light. Even though Liam stopped by my cabin yesterday, it’s latetonight, and I feel hesitant to randomly knock on his door. Especially if he’s in bed reviewing notes. Based on the ridiculous hitch in my chest seeing him with his tie undone last night, I don’t think I’m at all ready to see dressed-for-bed Liam. So I lock my car and walk the few steps to my cabin with mild disappointment blooming in my chest.
Until I see a piece of paper taped to my front door. I step inside and flip on a light so I can read the note.
Madison
Coffee hour is at 7:00 a.m. sharp. Text me at 713-555-6184 if you’ll be sleeping in and won’t make it.
Liam
I reread the short note, examining the neat print.He does have impressively legible handwriting. Smiling, I pull out my phone and save his number.
ME
Please. There’s no sleep for the determined.
This is Madison, by the way.
I don’t have to wait long for the conversation dots to begin bouncing.
MR. EXEC
Noted.
I roll my eyes at his succinct response.Ever the efficient communicator.
ME
