“Morning, Sula. Looks like it will be a gorgeous spring day.”
“Sure does. Have a good one.”
She picked up her bag and clicked across the tile foyer. Sunlight through the narrow floor-to-ceiling-windows cast bright stripes on the floor. In celebration of spring, Sula had worn a short sleeve blouse and skirt for the first time since last October, but it failed to cheer her up.
Even though she was only a public relations flack, up until now she’d felt good about working for Prolabs. The company had its problems, sure, but she had always believed it had a good soul because it developed therapies that were meant to help people. Now she didn’t want to be here.
Sula stepped into the elevator and checked her watch: 7:53. She was three minutes off her usual time. Apparently, she was moving a little slow. She got off on the second floor and headed for the employee lounge, where she made herself a cup of coffee from the fresh ground stuff she kept in the fridge. The room was empty except for a guy in a suit whom she had never seen before. He was reading a report of some kind and didn’t look up. Sula remembered that most of the sales and marketing staff had gone to a training session in Seattle.
Coffee in hand, she crossed the hallway into her office, a seven by ten room with a window, a desk, and a wall of filing cabinets. She turned on her computer and settled in to open e-mails. A few minutes later, an e-mail request from a PR person at JB Pharma reminded her to go see Dr. Warner. Sula zipped through the rest of the mail, deleting at least half without opening them, then headed back out to the elevator.
The R amp;D staff was in a separate building across a small courtyard. Sula took a moment to stand in the sun, sip her dark coffee, and appreciate that she worked on the outskirts of town with a tree-covered hillside for a view. The Prolabs complex spread out over ten acres and had three main structures: the corporate office where she worked, the R amp;D building, similar in design but with only one floor, and the manufacturing plant, lower down the hill. Beyond that were wetlands, owned by Prolabs and soon to be bulldozed to make way for a new manufacturing plant. The company had applied for all the necessary permits and most had been granted. Only a city council vote and an environmental study were holding up the construction. In Eugene, environmental concerns could be a serious delay. Or complete shut down. The thought reminded her that she needed to craft a memo to the city council.
She headed for the R amp;D lab. It was only her third time in the building but she knew Dr. Warner had the big office in the corner. The doctor didn’t answer her knock. Sula thought she might be in a meeting, so she checked the small conference room. It was empty. She heard voices in the hall so she quickly stepped out.
“Excuse me.” Two middle-aged guys in lab coats turned around. She had met both before, but despite rapid brain racking, she could not remember either of their names. The one guy had a Christopher Lloyd, mad scientist look, but that didn’t help her come up with his real name. Sula strode toward them. “Have you seen Dr. Warner this morning?”
“No. In fact, we were just looking for her.” The guy with the wild hair eyed her strangely. “She was supposed to meet us at eight.”
Sula checked her watch: 8:23. “If she wasn’t coming in, who would she call?”
“That would be me.” The other man, shorter and older, spoke up. Sula recalled that his name was Steve Peterson and that he worked on the Nexapra project. Now he looked at her curiously too. “Why do you ask?”
“I was supposed to meet with her yesterday for a briefing but that didn’t work out, so I thought I’d see her this morning.”
They shrugged in unison. The three of them stood for an awkward moment. Then Peterson said, “If she comes in, we’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”
“Thanks.” Sula forced a smile and moved on. It struck her as odd that Warner would miss a meeting with her colleagues. Especially, the day after a blowout with Rudker. Maybe Warner planned to quit. Sula wouldn’t blame her. Still, as the head of R amp;D, Warner was probably making $250,000 a year. People in that pay bracket didn’t miss much work. Even if they were upset.
Sula spent the rest of the day fielding calls from real journalists asking about the merger. She envied them, writing for Business Week and the Wall Street Journal. Someday she would have a real reporting job, she promised herself. For now, she had to promote Prolabs, to cushion its announcements, good and bad, in a cotton candy spin. She tried to craft a memo to the city council but had trouble concentrating. She kept thinking about Diane Warner.
Late in the afternoon she called Steve Peterson and asked him if his boss had ever showed up. He hadn’t seen Warner. Sula scanned the personnel database and found Warner’s home phone number. She copied it to a yellow sticky note and pressed the note to the top of her computer. She would give it a day. Warner might be offended if Sula invaded her privacy at home without good reason. The doctor might not want to talk about Nexapra either.
At 4:15, Marcy Jacobson, the head of human resources, stepped into her office. Sula’s heart sank. She knew the woman had come to fire her.
Chapter 5
Marcy closed the door behind her, and Sula braced herself. She would plead for her job if she had to. If she explained about the custody hearing, maybe-
“Hi Sula.” Marcy smiled as she took a seat in the visitor’s chair. “How have you been? I feel like we’ve been out of touch lately.” Marcy was in her early sixties, but only her sun-weathered face betrayed her age. The rest of her was still working hard at looking forty-something.
Sula mind raced. What was this about? It didn’t sound like a dismissal, but Marcy was known for being evasive. “I’m good.” She tried to smile. “How about you?”
“Also good.” Marcy paused. “I’ve got a delicate situation I need to talk to you about.”
Sula’s heart pounded. Just say it!
Marcy launched in. “An employee has filed a sexual harassment complaint about Sergio. I know for a while there he was rather flirtatious with you. Did he ever cross the line?”
Sula wanted to laugh with relief. Sergio, the creep from marketing, had finally gone too far. “Not really. He bugged me to go out with him, but he never touched me.”
“Sexual harassment doesn’t have to be physical.”
“I realize that.”
Some of Sergio’s comments had been offensive, but he was so annoying and so over the top that she had laughed at him most of the time. He had lost interest rather quickly. Sula couldn’t afford to be involved in the situation. “He was irritating, but not inappropriate. I believe he’s capable of sexual harassment, so whoever has complained, you should take her seriously.”
“We are.” Marcy unexpectedly reached over and patted Sula’s hand. Sula fought the urge to pull away. Marcy asked, “Are you happy with the company?”
“Sure.” Even small white lies made her uncomfortable.
“Good.” Marcy stood to leave. “It will be different when JB takes over, but I’m trying to stay optimistic.”
“Will you have to lay people off?”
“Most likely.”
“What about my position?”
“I think you’re safe. Thanks for being upfront with me.”
“Sure.”
Marcy gave her a small wave and left the room. Sula heaved a sigh of relief, shut down her computer, and followed her out.
Rudker pulled his short-trip suitcase from the walk-in closet and set it on the bed. Packing had become a precise operation, no more complicated than preparing a familiar meal. Two white, long-sleeved shirts, a light-blue short sleeved one, the charcoal Brooks Brothers suit, casual black slacks, underclothes, and the bathroom kit that he never unpacked. Cell phone, laptop, and financial reports were already in his shoulder bag. Traveling suited his restless personality, but the timing of this trip annoyed him. He wanted to tie up the loose ends of the Nexapra data as quickly as possible, but he couldn’t miss this board meeting. Talking with the other scientists on the Nexapra
