“Solar, now that the price of panels has dropped. Some of our farther flung customers are adding them and dropping off the grid.”
“Hmmm.” The incomplete answer was telling. Solar generation and buy back could be a way to stabilize business and reduce staff at the main site. He’d file the idea away for later. “Marketing has a huge budget relatively speaking, to have just one point of competition.” The crinkles around Walter’s eyes froze as he nodded. The guy was like a bobble head souvenir. “You know what troubles me about that, Walter?”
“No, Ja— “
James’ arched eyebrow stopped Walter in his tracks. The hours spent perfecting that look were worth it. His dad had taught him that one had to earn the right to use a first name. Names personalized business too much, leveled the playing field. The man across the desk seemed to shrink down small enough to ride one of those dumb trains.
“N-no, Mr. Fordham.” Good. Walter finally retrieved the proper answer.
“See, Walter, when I signed my rental home agreement, I had a choice of internet and TV providers, but I wasn’t offered a choice of electric companies. So why does Adena spend so much money on marketing? Unless a customer goes off the grid with solar, Adena’s customer base is fixed. As near as I can tell, the only way Adena gets new customers is by adding new homes in new neighborhoods and new businesses, and last I looked, which was on my drive in today, Belkin had more businesses that were boarded up and not using electricity and more buildings available for lease than new construction.”
“We cover more territory than Belkin, there are other communi”—
“Are they growing?”
Walter looked at the floor. James could have told him the answer was no. The folder in front of him contained this information.
“So, Walter, what is the target ROI of Adena’s marketing?”
“R. O. I?”
“Return on investment. It’s pretty standard to have a goal, say earning a dollar and six cents for every dollar spent. What is your departmental goal?”
“Well, most of our budget is directed toward community investment.”
“Explain.” James fought the urge to shift in the chair. He didn’t want to look weak in front of this guy, but the longer this conversation went on, the more he regretted not holding it in his office with the comfortable chair and drawer full of Tums. He should not be the one squirming during this conversation.
“Well, Mr. Fordham, you’ve glanced at that wall over there numerous times.”
“There is much to see.” He hadn’t found the intriguing diner woman in any more pictures. She hadn’t worn a ring, so chances of her being Walter’s chair-obsessed daughter-in-law seemed small, especially since he’d spotted what appeared to be another family photo with Walter and a baby in engineer hats.
“That’s a sample of what we do. Adena sponsors local youth athletics, the Fourth of July parade, and the Christmas—I mean Holiday—I’m still not used to that P.C. crap—train display. It’s a huge deal in these parts. People come from miles away to see the trains.”
“Riiiiight. You know what I don’t see? Photos of anyone working.”
“We are.” Walter’s voice was a low growl. “The train—” He gestured toward the wall.
James made a show of opening the binder in front of him and flipped to the budget.
“That’s listed as Holiday?” The department’s second largest item—no largest, ahead of payroll.
Bobble-head Walter was at it again. So was his gut. He shouldn’t have drunk the fifth cup of coffee on the way in.
“I see that generates zero income. You don’t charge admission?”
“Yes, and no. There’s a suggested donation of $5.00 but the money collected all goes to charity. For the last several years, we’ve partnered with Children’s Hospital. It’s a tax write-off, I guess. Accounting does all that. We just make the posters.”
“And play with the trains.”
Walter blushed and shrugged.
“Is this Children’s Hospital an Adena customer?”
“Nope. They’re up in Columbus.”
“Interesting. You give the money to another utility company rather than offset the expenses generated.” James stood. His stomach felt better all stretched out rather than being in that chair. “Why don’t you introduce me to your staff. I can afford a few more minutes.”
By Friday noon, he’d eliminate some projects, heads would roll, and his numbers would look better. Marketing departments always worked better as a lean mean machine. “You never did explain to me Walter, how the train display expands the customer base. Think you can answer that by the time I’ve finished meeting your staff?”
When Walter ignored his question and introduced him to the closest employee, some of the stiffness in James’ spine melted away, but his stomach still rumbled a plea for Mylanta. He could get through this. All he had to do was make the cuts, get out of town, become partner, and focus on what was real in this world.
THE HOUSE SHE’D GROWN up in wasn’t home. It was too empty. The daybed in the converted detached garage-turned-studio suited her better. Need pushed Claire Evans’s feet across the flat stone path. Her ankle wobbled. She lurched toward the grass. “Stupid blue stone.”
That wasn’t right. She stared at the offending rock, flecks of Prussian blue, midnight and cerulean rested in the slate. “Sorry.” She crouched and ran her fingers across the layered surface. “You’ve always been my favorite. I’ll add you to the repair list.”
With skill that came from years of practice, she did the push, turn, jiggle maneuver to unlock the back door. New locks were also on the list.
“Anyone home?” Her words bounced back as a faint echo disrupting the silence. The lack of reply was a relief and sorrow. She hadn’t ventured past the kitchen even after getting back from Chicago and then Dayton. Her carriage house turned studio apartment mini fridge was out
