this,” Dylan said, leaving before he blew up, which would only make it worse. His jaw ached from being clenched. Tara’s words played in his head: Does your father realize you saved him? Does he appreciate what you gave up for him?
Not enough, no. But Dylan had made the right choice. He’d helped build a remarkable company. He’d pushed hard to get here. It had been a risk, letting income drop for the next quarter, but the payoff would be huge. When he faced a tough decision, Dylan found himself thinking, What would Abbott Wharton do?
Out in the factory, Dylan went straight to Victor’s glassed-in office. “It’s a go on overtime.”
“Good,” Victor said, holding out stapled pages. “Dale put together the figures.” Dale was the Quality Assurance manager. “We doubled our tests on this lot. If Wharton fails them, maybe Sean’s right. Maybe they are sabotaging us for a price break.” He offered a grim smile. Victor and Dylan had shaken their heads more than once over his father’s suspicion of all things Wharton. Dylan had advised Victor on the best approach to working with his father. He hoped to hell it would be enough.
“I’ll give them the data and explain our system. If they adjust the specs like we’ve suggested, we should be fine.”
“If Jeb Harris would let us over there to see what equipment they’re using and how they’re using it, we could clear this up quick.”
“He says it’s proprietary,” Dylan reminded him. Victor thought the Wharton testing manager was a bit high and mighty. “The test results should be enough.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Victor said, fire in his eyes. “I stand by my people and my people stand by their work.”
“I appreciate how you’ve handled it, top to bottom, Victor.” For all his flaws, his father’s scrappy, underdog tenacity and grit had inspired fierce loyalty in the employees all the way down to the warehouse guys. Ryland Engineering was a good company with heart and spirit and Dylan was proud of what they’d built. He would see this through if it was the last thing he did.
* * *
AT 10:00 A.M., TARA STEPPED into the lobby of Wharton Electronics for the first time since she was a kid, awed by the machinery and lights on the factory floor. Her father had been so proud of the place. He came alive within these walls. His voice went lighter and his eyes sparkled. That gave her a stab of grief.
The lobby was impressive, with a high ceiling, huge windows and tons of light. Her steps on the granite floor echoed as if she were in a luxury-car showroom. Photos of Wharton batteries jutted from the wall on 3-D rectangles, so bright and pretty they looked like edible jewels.
The waiting area held low, modern furniture in neon green and yellow, a sleek table and a spiky palm in a tall vase. From the table she picked up a copy of the annual report to read over, then watched a few seconds of the promotional video running on a huge flat-screen TV.
She headed for the front desk. The receptionist was on the phone. Waiting for her to finish, Tara took in the two huge oil portraits on the wall behind her. The first was of Tara’s grandfather. The brass nameplate at the bottom identified him as the company’s first CEO and gave his birth and death dates. Next to him was her father, who’d taken over the plant in 1985 at age forty-five, having worked his way up from the factory floor—Whartons earn their place in this world, he’d always said.
His father’s nameplate was missing. With a jolt, she realized they’d sent it to be engraved with his death date.
Tara leaned against the counter to steady herself. She was never ready for these jolts when they hit.
She sighed. Whose painting would appear beside her father’s? Who would take over as CEO? Faye, if she recovered. Please recover. Please. Certainly not Joseph. He didn’t strike her as a leader. One of the other VPs, she guessed. Offering recommendations on the new CEO might well be one of her tasks as a consultant. The idea was hard to consider, with Faye’s life hanging in the balance.
Her plan was to look around in Faye’s office and her father’s if possible, then drop in on the meeting an hour before lunch to ask about her tour. Sitting through some of the meeting she’d get a feel for the power players. If a tour wasn’t possible