What Maxi Needs (Leave Your Shoes On 3)
“Ben.” Maxi shifted in her chair, feeling slightly uncomfortable.
She wasn’t sure if it was because Ben was singing her praises in front of Ryan. Or because she had never made a bold move for an executive position. Had been thrust into it, instead.
She didn’t lack ambition. There’d been other factors at play. A major one only Staci knew about.
“I’m just saying,” Ben asserted, a tinge of awe in his voice, “that you’ve proven to be the lifeblood of this company as much as Staci has.”
“I had to get my feet beneath me, Ben. I was still in school when Staci launched corporate operations. I couldn’t even decide on a major, much less what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.”
She was supposed to have another calling, according to her parents…but their choice of career hadn’t exactly called to her.
Ben pulled a document from his folder and slid it across the table to Ryan. “She proposed more progressive distribution methods three years ago, when I was director of Shipping. I ran with her ideas, and we were successful in the implementation. I was promoted to VP. I gave full credit to Maxi, but…” He shrugged. Turned his gaze on Maxi. “She didn’t take ownership of the concept. I had to prove to Staci that Maxi was the mastermind behind our streamlined process.”
Maxi gave a slight shake of her head. “Shipping’s not my forte. I just had a wayward thought and shared it with Ben.”
Ryan scanned the sheet of paper and nodded encouragingly. Then he glanced up, his eyes locking with Maxi’s. “Another brilliant conjecture. One that apparently panned out in reality.”
“In spades,” Ben agreed with him. “And I’ve always been grateful for the help. Under the current circumstances, I believe we’ll find some of the progressive tactics useful once again.”
“I think we should focus on Ryan’s earlier presentation,” she told them, diverting the attention from herself.
The three launched into a discussion of how Ryan’s projections would positively alter the back-stock depletion. Ben’s director and manager joined the group, both apologizing for their tardiness and explaining that they’d spent all morning and lunch running some new game plans based on Ryan’s data, which had apparently spawned numerous ideas.
The meeting ran over by half an hour but yielded excellent results. Maxi ushered Ryan off to another of her meetings, this time with Facilities. The rest of her afternoon was filled, and she took Ryan around the building to all of the powwows. She successfully led each one, and her top brass dedicated themselves to action items and forward movement.
She found it encouraging that rather than acting as though her new director had stepped on everyone’s toes, all of the executives had found something inspirational within his stats and documentation—and Maxi’s new leadership—that motivated them to dig deeper in their respective departments for solutions to the global problem.
The last meeting was held in Maxi’s office, and when it concluded at six thirty, she was exhausted. Avril had ordered in dinner for the small group before she’d departed for the evening. Ryan had strategically made amends with the execs from Production, and that had lifted a bit of weight from Maxi’s shoulders.
Ryan’s fingers skated over his keyboard, logging in every bit of information from this last session while Maxi stood and stretched. She cleared away the remnants of Chinese food, then collapsed onto her sofa and slipped off her heels while Ryan mumbled under his breath about conditional probability, random variables, and the need for more up-to-date scatter plots, which didn’t correlate in her mind with what had previously been discussed, but somehow worked out successfully for him. Because he finally sat back in his chair and breathed a sigh of relief.
Maxi sipped from a bottle of water, then asked, “Shall I break out the celebratory hooch? Sounds as though you just came up with an astounding theory to solve world peace.”
His gaze slid her way. A smoldering look. “Not exactly. That’s my next project.”
A smile tickled the corners of her mouth as exhilaration raced through her. “Seriously, does your brain ever slow to normal speed?”
“Not that I’m aware of. You see, with these new ideas presented—which I was hoping would come forth over the next several days, but everyone jumped on my data and went to work on improvement strategies straight-away—I have a new continuum to focus on that will result in—”
“Ryan.”
He closed the cover on his iPad. “Yes, Maxi?”
“How about a glass of fifty-year-old scotch my grandfather gave me to share on special occasions? Like when I’ve been promoted to vice president and my new director has opened the floodgates to operational tactics with charts and algebraic equations that go so far over my head, they’re dripping off the wall behind me.”
He grinned. “I thought you were following along quite nicely.”
“Only when you speak in layman’s terms from time to time. I can piece together a word or two out of each paragraph that is your speech pattern to form an overall concept.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “How?”
“My brothers epitomized the dumb-jock stereotype. Unstoppable on the field when growing up and absolutely loveable guys, but literally…rocks inside the head. I’ve spent an entire lifetime sorting through the minutiae to grab one shining, coherent thought. It’s second nature.”
He stood and crossed to the white sofa where she sat. “You realize you speak in paragraphs, too?”
“I’m a girl who has a lot to say.”
“Couldn’t get a word in edgewise with five siblings?”