The Ties That Bind

from San Jose and thus a safe distance from the occasionally subtle, often blatant warfare that defined business between Sherilectronics and its competitors in the Silicon jungle. Shannon was too gentle and too unsophisticated to live in his world, Garth decided. Her artistic nature needed protection. He would protect her from his world and in the process he would create a refuge for himself. He might be capable of surviving here, but for the past several months Garth knew he had been questioning the effort it took. A weekend escape to Shannon's softness and warmth sounded more inviting than he could have imagined.
    The door opened just as he was sneaking another glance at the clock. His secretary, Bonnie Garnett, smiled her standard professional smile. Bonnie always smiled when she was supposed to smile. Occasionally Garth wondered what she was really thinking behind that cover-girl perfection. She was about the same age as Shannon, but the two women couldn't have been more different. In the five years she had worked for him, Garth had never seen Bonnie when she didn't look as if she could have stepped in front of a fashion photographer's camera. Garth realized how much he liked Shannon's jeans and windblown hair.
    "Mr. McIntyre is here to see you, sir. He has the next section of the Carstairs proposal ready for you."
    "Fine. Send him in, Bonnie." Reluctantly Garth let the image of the coming weekend slide once again to the back of his mind. "Oh, and Bonnie, I'll be leaving early this afternoon. Was there anything crucial on the agenda?"
    "No, sir. I got another call from Mr. Hutchinson's secretary, however, reminding you to keep the twentieth open for the party the Hutchinsons are giving."
    Garth impatiently flicked the tip of his pencil on the black glass surface of his desk. He glared at his calendar. "The twentieth is a Saturday."
    "That's right. One week from tomorrow."
    Garth swore softly. He didn't want to go to the damn party. He rarely attended parties of any kind. But Hutchinson was a longtime business acquaintance, and Garth knew he owed Steve a couple of minor favors. Steve Hutchinson and his wife had both made it clear he could get out of the social debt by attending their one major business party of the year.
    The party was going to kick a big hole in a weekend he'd had every intention of sharing with Shannon. Well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. Garth tossed the pencil down on the desk. "Send Wes in, Bonnie,"
    Bonnie's smile didn't waver a fraction in spite of the grim tone in her boss's voice, and Garth knew it was because she was accustomed to the tone. Garth was frequently rather grim. He also paid his secretaries very well. Money, he knew, could buy a great deal of tolerance for grimness.
    Wes McIntyre sauntered into the sleekly designed president's office, his own smile casually in place. McIntyre was vice president of corporate strategy, and he'd earned the hard way the position that made him Garth's closest adviser. He was in his early thirties and was the living embodiment of the sun-drenched California look. Blond-haired, blue-eyed and ruggedly handsome, McIntyre was also very sharp when it came to corporate planning. He had a Machiavellian turn of mind that almost matched Garth's. Because he knew how McIntyre's mind worked, Garth trusted his vice president as much as he trusted anyone in the business world. But to be on the safe side, he paid McIntyre very well, too.
    "I've finished the scheduling section of the proposal, Garth." Wes took a chrome-and-black-leather chair without being invited. He was sure of his importance in this office. "I don't see any problem telling Carstairs we can have the stuff to them by early spring. It'll mean running some of the assembly lines on an overtime basis, but we can manage."
    Garth nodded, satisfied. "Good. Time is as important to Carstairs as price. If we can guarantee delivery by spring, they'll pay for the privilege. Anything else?"
    Wes shook his head. "I think that about wraps it up from my end. With the figures you came back with on Monday we should be able to beat any other bid out there. A little fine tuning and the proposal will be ready for Bonnie to type."
    "I don't want her doing the job on the word processor. Tell her to use the regular typewriter for the final version of the report, just as she's been doing for the preliminary work. No carbons and no photocopies. And she's to do the whole job herself. No need to drag in any