Home on the Ranch: Colorado. Julie Benson
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I say, don’t even think it. Think positive, because I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be on the unemployment line.”
“You think Devlin’s that close to pulling his business?”
“He made it quite clear when I talked to him yesterday that his patience has run out. He’s given me to the end of the week to find a spokesman, so we’re doing whatever we have to in order to get this done. We’ve got to finalize this campaign fast or we’ll all be out of a job.”
* * *
ELIZABETH STARED AT Rory’s face displayed on her computer monitor. No doubt about it, he was a natural. Despite the amateur photos, the camera loved him. His maleness oozed through the screen. He would be the perfect spokesman.
Women would take one look at Rory in Devlin’s designer jeans and buy a pair for their guy. Men would wear the jeans hoping they’d look like Rory, and have women falling at their feet. Exactly what the client wanted. Their jeans sold well in New York and Los Angeles, but hadn’t broken into other major markets. Devlin wanted to get the guys who wore Levi’s and Wranglers to spend their hard-earned cash on his expensive product. Rory could pry open those wallets.
She spun around in her desk chair, giddy over how things were coming together. She couldn’t wait to show Devlin the mock-up. If he didn’t like Rory and the campaign, then fine, let him take his business elsewhere, because nothing would please the man.
She considered sending Devlin Rory’s photos, but her practical nature balked at the idea. Instinct told her to wait until she had the campaign completely outlined and professional photographs of Rory. God forbid she sold Devlin on the cowboy, and then discovered Rory froze in front of a camera.
Needing to stretch her legs and energize her mind, Elizabeth decided to take a quick bathroom break and then grab a fresh cup of coffee before she dived into the details for Rory’s photo session.
She weaved her way through the maze of offices and cubicles until she reached the woman’s restroom, where quiet sobs floated toward her from the middle stall. She knocked gently on the door. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” More sobs contradicted the words.
“Nancy? What’s wrong?”
The door latch clicked free, and Nancy, a friend and fellow management supervisor, exited the stall. The middle-aged woman clutched a wad of toilet paper in each hand, and her eyes were red and swollen.
“Everything’s not fine. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Racking sobs consumed her. Not sure of what else to do, Elizabeth enveloped the woman in an embrace.
“I found out yesterday that I have breast cancer,” Nancy choked out, once her crying subsided.
You have breast cancer. One of the most feared phrases a woman could hear. Tears pooled in Elizabeth’s own eyes for this woman, and what she was facing. “I’m so sorry, Nancy.” She tightened her hold on her friend. “If you want to go home, I’ll say you weren’t feeling well.”
Nancy stepped out of Elizabeth’s embrace and dabbed at her eyes with the toilet paper. “Let me think about it. I’m not sure I want to go home. It’s so lonely there. I kept saying there was time for me to have a family. I said I’d focus on that once I felt secure in my career.” Her voice cracked. “Now I’ve got nothing but my career, and because of the cancer, I may never have the chance to get married.”
“They’ve made great strides in breast cancer treatment. It’s not the death sentence it once was.” Elizabeth’s words sounded so hollow, when women still died of breast cancer every day.
“From your mouth to God’s ears. They want me to have surgery next week and start chemo soon after that.”
“Do you need someone to go with you?”
“I’ll let you know. Right now I’m in shock.” She sighed deeply. “I think I will take the day off. I’ll call my best friend and see if she wants to go out for lunch. Then we can do some shopping therapy.”
As Elizabeth returned to her office, she heard her blaring phone from halfway down the hall. Once seated at her desk, she glanced at caller ID. Micah Devlin. So much for having everything in order before she talked to him. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her phone.
“I’m glad you called, Micah.” She tried not to wince over her white lie. “I’ve found the perfect man for your campaign, but I won’t have photos for you until after the shoot tomorrow.”
“Send me what you have.”
“They’re family pictures. I’d prefer to wait for the professional shots.”
“Send them. I want to see this guy to make sure we’re on the right track this time.”
Elizabeth winced at Devlin’s reminder of her previous suggestions for a spokesperson. Ones he had immediately, and not so politely, shot down. Some clients were dreams to work with. She had plenty of those, and they kept her sane and confident. Micah Devlin could benefit from a class on how to tactfully get his point across without incinerating those who worked for him.
“I have every confidence you’ll be as pleased with this choice as I am.”
She retrieved Rory’s message from her email, hit Forward and typed Devlin’s name. After saying a quick prayer, she hit Send.
Here goes everything.
“I’m emailing his photos to you right now. Keep in mind these aren’t professionally done, but I believe his essence, his personality, comes through nonetheless.”
She heard Devlin’s computer keys clicking as he retrieved her message. She couldn’t breathe. Thoughts bounced around in her brain. She hadn’t updated her résumé in years. How would she tell her parents if she lost her job? She had mortgage payments….
“Now that’s what I’m talking about. He’s somebody the average man can relate to. He’s not one of those pretty boy models. Before I sign him, I want to see how he comes off in a professional shoot.”
Air rushed into Elizabeth’s lungs, and she smiled over passing the first hurdle. “Rory will be in town tomorrow, and by Friday’s meeting we’ll have photos for you.”
“I’ve contacted Harms and Finn.”
Devlin’s little tact problem reared its ugly head again. So that’s why he’d called—to drop that bomb. Her firm, Rayzor Sharp Media, had lost an account to them six months ago. The agency was top-notch and hungry. “They’re good.”
“I meet with them tomorrow.”
“Then I look forward to showing you what we’ve got on Friday.”
She could pull this campaign together. If she didn’t sleep until after the meeting, lived on Starbucks with double shots, and the rest of her team did the same, they’d be fine.
No problem.
Except that they were working with a cowboy, not a professional model. A total unknown who’d never modeled before. The unknown made Elizabeth nervous. It was always so unpredictable.
* * *
RORY SAT IN HIS office waiting for his brother. Things were moving much faster than he’d expected. When he’d called Elizabeth he’d never dreamed she would expect him to be on the first flight to New York. She was probably one of those people who stayed attached to the office via her iPhone so she never missed a message, even when she was supposed to be on vacation. Life was way too short to spend it that attached to anything but family.
He smiled. At least he wouldn’t be the only one miserable. Having to manage the ranch would severely cramp Griff’s style. The life of the party, his kid brother never turned down an invitation, but would soon discover he couldn’t be out all night and sleep until noon while running the ranch.
Rory