Page 5 of Third Time’s a Charm

I have to do what I’ve become so fucking good at and, despite the gurgling in my belly and the pounding in my head, compartmentalise. I need to focus on the job I was sent here to do.

So I swig down some paracetamol with the lemonade, munch on a dry cracker, open my laptop and bring up the presentation I was too distracted to wholly take in.

It’s a case study in creative thinking and has the potential to be highly profitable. Of course, as with any new initiative, there will be up-front costs, but her projections don’t shy away from the initial downside. She’s covered every base from manufacturing to distribution to marketing to finance. I have questions, but I can’t find a single fault.

Except for one.

The reason I’m here.

What nobody in the Australian office appears to have realised is that I’m not here to strengthen the business, or update our image, or expand our revenue streams. My presence is not a stamp of approval or a signal that this arm of the business is becoming a focus.

I’m not here to implement new business opportunities.

I’m here to shut it down.

Chapter Three

Louise

Ant roars laughing, which earns him a swat from his new wife, Lil.

“Oh, come on, Sparky. You’ve got to admit it’s pretty funny.” He tops up the bubbles in my glass. Just because we’re not celebrating doesn’t mean we can’t take advantage of the exceptional Australian sparkling wine he and Lil brought with them to our favourite BYO restaurant.

And if I’ve ever needed a drink, or a laugh, more, I can’t think of when.

“What did your boss say?” Lil asks.

“He tried to put a positive spin on it. Said maybe the numbers would be enough to impress.”

I can’t shake the mental image of the look on Jasper Spencer-Jones’s face when I suspect he realised who I was. Nor the way he stalked out of the meeting room before I’d even finished.

“Well, it sounds like maybe there’s hope.” Lil tries to comfort me while Ant continues to chuckle.

“Except the managing director looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe and suggested in future I make more of an effort to be on time and look professional.”

There’s another visual I can’t shake. The pointed look at my bare legs and bird’s nest hair.

“Sexist jerk,” Lil spits. She’s heard many stories about John Mackelden. None of them flattering. Although even Lil doesn’t know the worst of it. If she did, it’s unlikely he’d still be in possession of his favourite body part.

“So what happened then?” Ant redirects before Lil has a chance to get up a head of steam on the subject of misogyny.

“I went back to my office and emailed him the presentation.” I don’t tell Lil and Ant I also closed the door on my poky hole of an office and gave myself permission to cry for a minute or two.

“You’ll be fine,” encourages Ant.

“I don’t think so.” I gaze mournfully into my glass of bubbles. “After I sent the email, I may or may not have opened an incognito tab and searched job sites.”

“Oh, Louie,” sighs Lil, leaning over and hugging me. “I know it took a lot of courage for you to put yourself out there with this thing. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you think.”

“You know, Lou, there’s always a job with your name on it at North of the Bridge Beans if you want it.” Ant slides his dessert plate over to his wife, who, having finished her own, hoovers it up in a few giant spoonfuls.

This isn’t the first time Ant has offered me a job at his growing chain of cafés, and it probably won’t be the last. But it’s not what I want to do with my life.

“Thanks, Ant. I appreciate that. But you know the wine industry is where I want to be working. And I really thought my ideas for marketing partnerships and distribution pairing were good.”

“They are good. Don’t doubt yourself. If this stuck-up Brit can’t see that, take your ideas and your passions somewhere else. I’d bet there are plenty of distributors who’d love to take you on.”

It’s kind of him to say so, but the pool of potential employers for my ideas is pretty limited.