Beau: Mavericks of Montana Creek — Book Two Page 3

  I cleared my throat and plastered on a smile that I hoped looked more confident than I felt.

  “Good morning, everyone. I’m so glad you could join me. I’m Grace Sutherland, the interim director of the Great Falls Symphony.” My eyes scanned the room, and when no one reacted, I continued. “I’ve got some exciting things planned and a strong board behind me, and I know that with your support, we will all reach our goal of making the symphony independently profitable once more.”

  I cleared my throat.

  “Along the back wall, you’ll find packets outlining the plan I’ve presented to the board. I look forward to answering any questions and working with you in the months to come.”

  Then I offered a tight smile and hurried to the coffee pot and was surprised to find it had already been made. Spread out next to it were several tasty looking pastry options. At least I’d had the foresight to leave the extra packets for the meeting this morning.

  “Grace?” I turned to find a tiny woman in a gray suit jacket smiling up at me.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Etta.”

  I kept the smile on my face but was sure it looked blank.

  “Your assistant,” she offered.

  “Oh my gosh,” I gushed. “Of course. It’s so nice to meet you, Etta.” I’d gotten an email a few days ago that the previous account manager at the symphony had volunteered her services to me as an assistant.

  Her smile widened, and she offered her hand. “I’m very happy to be here. I’ve loved this symphony since I was a little girl.”

  Judging by the looks of her, that was approximately a hundred and eighty-two years ago. “Same here. I grew up in the symphony. I love nothing more.”

  Her other hand reached up to pat my cheek. “Then we’re going to get along just fine, dear.”

  A warm feeling I was unaccustomed to began to spread in my chest. I gestured to the coffee and pastries. “Did you do this?”

  She gave me a conspiratorial wink. “I find people are more willing to part with their money if their tummies are full.”

  I laughed. “Of course. I should have thought of it.”

  “Now here, help me plate these and start handing them out. I’ll introduce you to anyone you don’t know.”

  One by one, we loaded up donuts, croissants, and heavenly-smelling cinnamon rolls. I delivered each plate with a steaming cup of coffee, a packet, and my most charming smile. I was beginning to think I had redeemed myself for my rushed entrance when I realized Beau Maverick was the last person waiting for a plate.

  My first reaction was to want to spit in his coffee, but then I remembered I needed to play nice. Besides, he’d been kind enough to pay my tab at the bar. The least I could do was pour him a cup of coffee. I picked out a cinnamon roll with extra frosting, filled a cup, grabbed a packet, and made my way over to Beau.

  “Good morning,” I said and offered him the coffee.

  He accepted. “Morning.”

  “I know you got one of these last night, but here’s another in case you need a refresher.” He took the packet wordlessly. “And, uh, you seem like a cinnamon roll type of guy.”

  His mouth quirked at that, and I noticed he had a deep dimple in one cheek. It somehow made me hate him less.

  “As a matter of fact, I am a cinnamon roll type of guy.” He took the plate, sipped his coffee, then looked at me in that steady, unnerving way of his. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  I blinked. “Very well, thank you.”

  His eyes held a glint I couldn’t identify. “You sure about that?”

  My eyes narrowed at him. He knew I was hungover. And he knew it because he’d paid my bill and knew exactly how many drinks I’d had last night. He hadn’t paid my bill to be nice, he’d done it to spy on me. Heat flooded my cheeks in a rush of anger and embarrassment, but I would die before I let him know he’d gotten to me.

  “Quite sure. And thank you for the drinks last night.” Then I turned and walked away from him before I reached out to slap that smug look off of his face. The nerve!

  Dimple or no, I hated him.

  8

  Beau

  I tried not to chuckle, but it couldn’t be stopped. The smooth, icy Grace Sutherland had a weakness, and I’d found it.

  Gin.

  Awesome.

  I’d swung by Murphy’s on my way to the investors meeting to settle my tab and was surprised to find three gin and tonics on the bill. Murphy’s bar wasn’t popular because of his sparkling personality. It was because everyone knows he pours strong drinks.

  My eyes bounced to Grace and took in her long, trim form. There was no way she wasn’t feeling those drinks this morning. It would also explain her rushed entrance and slightly less- than-perfect appearance.

  She’d seemed like such a bulldozer at the meeting yesterday that I wondered if the board would be able to sway her or not. But then she’d shown up at the bar and ordered that drink, which made me wonder if most of her bluster wasn’t just a facade to get her way.

  I felt needlessly pleased with myself for being armed with that knowledge. After about ten more minutes of mind-numbing chatting and ‘networking,’ Grace cleared her throat and captured the attention of the room.

  “I hope you’ve all had a chance to enjoy some coffee and pastries. It’s been a pleasure meeting each of you. I’d ask that you take the strategy packets with you, look them over, and formulate any questions or concerns you may have. My assistant, Etta, or I will be contacting you in the next few weeks to schedule follow-up meetings to discuss how we might partner in the future. Thank you for your time.”

  She clasped her hands in front of her, and I got the impression that she was dismissing us, but I wasn’t quite done.

  “Ms. Sutherland?” I called.

  Her dark eyes moved to mine, and though her smile stayed plastered on her face, I could feel her mood shift.

  “Yes, Mr. Maverick?”

  I wanted to laugh. She knew exactly what she was doing. “Actually, it’s Dr. Maverick.”

  Her face changed to look contrite, but I knew better. “Forgive me, Dr. Maverick.”

  “Not at all,” I said, waving away her apology. “I just had a few questions about your strategy and hoped we could run through them right now. I have to assume that I’m not the only one with preliminary questions.”

  Her jaw moved as she ground her teeth, but her smile never faltered. “Of course. How can I help?”

  “I’m curious how you developed the strategy you outlined.”

  “It’s based on a similar strategy I activated at the Manchester Philharmonic in New Hampshire.”

  “So, you’ve seen success with it in the past.” I made it sound like a statement rather than a question, though we both knew better.

  “While unconventional, I do believe the implementation of this strategy in Great Falls could garner great success for the symphony.”

  Didn’t answer my question. “Could we take a look at the reports from Manchester? Get a feel for what we could expect if the board votes to approve and you find the funding to back it?”

  If looks could kill, I’d have been dead on the spot.

  “It’s still in the implementation phase in Manchester, but I could try to round up some preliminary numbers for you.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I incorrectly assumed that when you said the plan had been activated, it had been successful.”

  “It’s not that it’s unsuccessful, it’s just that it’s too early to tell.”

  “And what was your role at the Manchester Philharmonic, Ms. Sutherland?”

  “My title was-is-Executive Director.”

  I whistled low through my teeth. “Impressive. You must have things running very smoothly for them to feel as though they can afford to let their executive director head to Montana for the foreseeable future.”

  Her cheeks were aflame, but she held her ground. “The Foundation is dedicated to fostering the arts in areas where they may not be as support
ed as they are in other parts of the country. We’re very lucky to have the following and support system we do in New Hampshire. I took it as a great compliment that the board would ask me to step into this role.” Her eyes flashed. “And I know that with the support of everyone in this room, we will rise to the challenge and restore the Great Falls Symphony to what it once was.”

  I smiled at her before dropping my proverbial hammer. “I look forward to seeing the reports from Manchester. If you can show me that your strategy can bring the numbers we need better than what my board has already outlined for the year, then I will gladly offer my support. But until then, I feel it most prudent to put a hold on my donations.”

  There was a shift in the room, and I wonder if Grace felt it and understood what it meant. If so, she didn’t show it. Rather, she smiled sweetly at me and said, “I certainly understand, Dr. Maverick. I’ll generate those reports and have them added to your packets as soon as possible.”

  9

  Grace

  “I mean, who does he think he is?” I asked Etta and shoved another bite of donut into my mouth. “Taking over my meeting like that? Threatening to pull funds?” I scoffed, and little bits of donut flew into the air. “Like it even matters. I don’t need him.”

  Then it was Etta’s turn to scoff. “Don’t need him? Grace, he’s a Maverick.”

  I stopped pacing long enough to spin and face her. “So? Should that mean something to me?”

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. The look on her face told me she thought I was stupid. “Did you even look at the financials I sent you?”

  I rifled through my briefcase and pulled out the copied papers of her handwritten bookkeeping notes. “These?”

  “Yes, those,” she cried.

  I scanned them for the twentieth time. “I don’t see any Mavericks on this list,” I told her.

  She closed her eyes and blew a breath out of her nose. “Read the very first entry,” she said.

  “Looks like ‘M’ Enterprises?” I asked and glanced at her.

  She nodded with wide eyes.

  “Should that mean something to me?” I asked again, this time with more volume.

  “Maverick Enterprises,” she all but shouted at me.

  “What is Maverick Enterprises?” I yelled back.

  “The Mavericks are only one of the most powerful and influential families in all of Montana,” she told me. “They have more money than God, and when Caroline died, Beau stepped into her philanthropic roles which is why he’s on our board yet doesn’t give one flying phooey about the symphony.”

  All the fight left me in a rush, and I collapsed into the chair nearest me. “So, I’ve managed to piss off not only the board chair but our biggest donor?”

  “It would certainly appear that way,” Etta replied.

  I cursed and looked at the number listed on the donations line next to the Maverick name and cursed again. Etta was right, I couldn’t afford to lose this guy. So where did that leave me? I could think of only two options at the time.

  Grovel… which, no.

  Or listen to what the board has to say and see if I could live with any of their ideas. Maybe we could find a compromise. Maybe I could throw them a few bones, make them feel like I’d heard them, and then plow through with my plan that I knew I could make work.

  “Etta? Do you have a copy of the board’s plan for the year?”

  “I’m sure I do in the office.”

  “Let’s go look.”

  I followed Etta through the empty theater noting the dated décor, worn floors, and fraying seats. My goal was not only to make the symphony a thriving success in the community but to redesign and update the theater so that it was a beautiful place people wanted to come to and could rent for other events like parties and weddings, therefore bringing in more money.

  It was going to take a lot of fundraising and work, but I was confident I could get us there.

  Etta showed me the offices and pointed to the one the last general manager had used. I flipped on the light and was met with heavy furniture, mauve carpet, and red drapes. Meh. Could always be worse. I dropped my laptop on the desk and took a seat while Etta rifled around in the adjacent area which was set up like a reception lobby.

  While I waited, I pulled up my email and was happy to see I’d gotten a few from friends back home. It was nice to know I hadn’t been completely abandoned out here in no-man’s-land. However, I did have to admit it stung a little to see the pictures of their trips to the beach, the bonfires, the late-night drinks. I had never been the type to feel lonely, but at that moment, I wished I had someone to talk to.

  “Here we go,” Etta announced as she walked in the room. “The current plan, though it doesn’t look as though it’s been voted on for approval yet.”

  I took the paperwork and scanned it. They were mostly planning to focus on small community events as fundraisers. It would most likely bring enough funds to squeak by as they have been doing. If they were serious about improving, they needed to listen to me.

  Still, I could admit that I should have taken a gentler approach. Maybe it had been less about my plan and more that I hadn’t included them in the process? Sounded familiar. Ugh.

  Okay. Time to regroup and formulate a new approach. I pulled up a blank Word document and did what I did best—got to work.

  10

  Beau

  I almost felt guilty.

  Almost.

  But really, I’d given her plenty of opportunities to step up and do the right thing. All I’d asked is that she at least listen to the board and their ideas. They were all volunteering their time to be there, and it irked me that she could so easily dismiss their hard work.

  Granted, I hadn’t exactly played a leadership role up until this point, but I was here now, and I would be damned if I was going to let this bossy city girl come in here and tell us how to do our business.

  Yip!

  I looked down and Chip, our office mascot, was staring up at me with his big, brown, begging eyes. Chip, a corgi, had come to us as an owner surrender once his health issues had become more than they felt they could handle. I did my best to explain that most of his issues stemmed from the fact that he was morbidly obese. For reasons beyond my comprehension, they had eschewed my initial recommendation that they put him on heart healthy, weight- controlling dog food and instead fed him a steady diet of hot dogs. He continued to gain weight which exacerbated his other health issues, and one day they had come in and tearfully asked that we put poor Chip down.

  Obviously, that wasn’t happening.

  So, I offered to keep him at the clinic until we could find a new home for him to which they agreed. Trouble is, most people don’t see the value in an older gentleman such as Chip. Especially not when it’s compounded by the fact that he comes with medication, a strict diet, and exercise regimen. Eventually, I stopped trying to rehome him and decided he could stay with us at the clinic. It had been one of my better decisions around here. Staff and clients alike loved and doted on him, and since we were able to monitor his diet and activity, he was steadily getting better.

  I reached down and scruffed his graying muzzle. “Sorry buddy, I don’t have any hot dogs. How about a nice strip of dried sweet potato leather?”

  He growled deep in his throat.

  “Oh, come on. Just try it. You might like it.” I opened the package of treats the animal supply rep had dropped off earlier in the week and offered him one. He sniffed at it, took it in his tiny front teeth, then dropped it on the floor and looked up at me again.

  “That doesn’t count. You didn’t even try it!”

  I picked it up and waggled it in front of his nose.

  He looked away.

  I sighed. Such a brat…

  “All right, come on. I don’t suppose it’ll hurt anything if you have your dinner a little early today. But you listen here, mister.” I held up a finger. “We’re walking a whole mile tonight. No more of that laying down in th
e middle of the sidewalk and making me carry you back to the house business. Got it?”

  He gave me a big, goofy puppy dog smile that told me he most certainly did not get it, and I would, indeed, be carrying his big lardy butt home.

  I dropped him off with one of my vet techs and went to the reception area to see if my next appointment had arrived yet. I picked up the chart and flipped it open. Great Dane, diarrhea issues.

  Awesome.

  I sighed and tried to remind myself why I’d wanted to be a vet. I’d always had an innate need to care for the creatures around me. From a young age, I recognized that if something near me was hurting, so was I. So, I applied to vet school, double majored in large and small animals because honestly, how do you choose? After my residency, I considered opening my own practice, but when the opportunity arose to buy the clinic my mentor had built, I had chosen to go that direction.

  Now I spent my days caring for sick and hurting animals and the people who loved them. It was a hard job, but a great job too.

  “Dr. Maverick?” Nancy called.

  “Beau.”

  “You’ve got a call on line three.”

  “Can it wait? I’m just about to see a giant dog with terrible diarrhea.”

  “She says it’s urgent.”

  I looked up. “She?”

  “Says her name is Grace Sutherland and that you’d know what it’s about.”

  Huh… I glanced at the clock. I hated to keep clients waiting, but I had a few minutes. I picked up the phone and hit the blinking light.

  “Dr. Maverick,” I said, just to bug her.

  “Hi, Dr. Maverick, it’s Grace Sutherland.”

  “Hello, Grace.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I’ve been thinking a lot about our meeting this morning. I’ve worked on a new approach I’d like to present to the board and was hoping I could run it by you first.”

  Whatever I’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.

  “I’d be happy to take a look,” I said.