Perfect Partners

Copeland Marine and started reading.
    An hour and a half later, she acknowledged she needed an expert to interpret some of the intricacies of Keith’s plan, but she was convinced he deserved a full hearing. It was abundantly clear that Keith was sure he could put Copeland Marine back on its feet if he was given the freedom and the time to do it.
    Letty toyed with a pen as she gazed across the room and wondered how to approach Joel on the delicate subject. He was going to come unglued if she ordered him to give the plan a fair examination.
    Arthur’s voice on the intercom interrupted Letty’s thoughts. He sounded more anxious than usual.
    “Ms. Thornquist? There are some people here to see you.”
    “People?”
    “They say they’re a delegation from Echo Cove. They want to talk to you.”
    Letty stared at the intercom. Her first thought was that Joel was going to be furious. But she could hardly send them home without listening to what they had to say. “Send them in, Arthur.”
    The door opened a few seconds later and Arthur ushered three men into the room. One of them was Stan, the bartender at the Anchor.
    “Mr. Stan McBride, Mr. Ed Hartley, and Mr. Ben Jackson,” Arthur said, consulting his notes.
    “Thank you, Arthur.” Letty rose to shake hands with the three men.
    Arthur blinked rapidly. “Uh, should I notify Mr. Blackstone’s office, Ms. Thornquist?”
    Stan spoke up quickly. “We came to see you, ma’am. If you don’t mind.”
    “That’s right,” Ben Jackson, thin and balding, put in eagerly. “We wanted to talk to you, ma’am. You’re the president of this company.”
    Ed Hartley, a gloomy, long-faced individual, nodded sadly. “That’s right, Miss Thornquist. We just wanted to have a few minutes of your time, if you don’t mind. This is awful important to us.”
    Letty looked at Arthur. “I’ll notify you if I need Mr. Blackstone’s assistance.”
    “Yes, Ms. Thornquist.” Arthur backed out of the room, looking distinctly skeptical.
    It occurred to Letty that her secretary might go right ahead and call Joel’s office anyway. Arthur’s loyalties were definitely divided, and there was no denying it was Joel who had put him into this exalted new position. At Thornquist Gear, everyone aimed to please Joel.
    “Excuse me a minute, gentlemen.” Letty walked to the door and stepped into the outer office. She closed the door behind her.
    “Arthur,” she said quietly, “I want it understood that I meant what I said in there. Do not call Mr. Blackstone’s office unless I specifically request you to do so. Is that quite clear?”
    Arthur jumped and hastily tried to replace the receiver, which he had just picked up. The instrument missed the cradle and crashed on the desk top. “Yes, Ms. Thornquist.”
    “Good.” Letty smiled coolly. “I want you to understand that, while it’s true Mr. Blackstone promoted you into this position, I am the only one who can make certain you get to keep it. I would not be at all pleased to find out that you felt you owed your first loyalties to another executive down the hall.”
    Arthur blinked in obvious horror at the situation in which he found himself. “But Mr. Blackstone said I was to keep him completely informed of everyone who comes and goes in this office.”
    “I will see that Mr. Blackstone is kept informed of whatever he needs to know.” Letty walked back into her office and closed the door. She smiled at the three determined-looking men from Echo Cove. “Now, then, gentlemen, why don’t you tell me why you’ve made this trip to see me?”
    They all started to talk at once, stumbling over each other’s words. Ed Hartley, the glum one, finally took the lead. He passed a hand over his head in a gesture he had no doubt developed years earlier when he had hair.
    “The thing is, Miss Thornquist,” Ed said stiffly, “we’ve all realized just what’s going on between Thornquist Gear and Copeland Marine. Now, none of us works for Copeland directly, but there’s no doubt we’re all going to get hurt if Copeland Marine is closed down. I run the main grocery store in town, and I can tell you up front that most of the people who buy food in my store get their paychecks from Copeland.”
    Stan McBride grimaced. “And like I told Blackstone that night he got into it with Mr. Escott, I’m in the same boat as Ed here. I’ll be plumb out of business if Copeland goes under, and that’s a fact. Ninety percent of the guys who come into