Chapter 8: The Short Phone Call
Walter took the coffee with both hands, the way a man holds something he intends to keep warm a little longer than necessary.
"Thank you, Maya," he said. "This is kind of you."
"You said black," Maya said. "I guessed strong."
"You did," Walter said. He took a sip and nodded. "Good guess." "Tell me something. Do you like selling these cars?"
"I love the cars," Maya said. "The Sovereign especially. It drives like it was built by people who cared. The selling part, I am still learning."
"You listened to me," Walter said. "That is the whole job."
Maya glanced toward the center of the showroom, where Chad stood polishing nothing on a display stand, watching them. "Some people here think the job is different," she said quietly.
"I noticed," Walter said.
Across the floor, Chad leaned toward one of the junior salesmen and said something that made them both smirk. Maya's fingers tightened around her business card case.
"Don't let it bother you," Walter said.
"Are you sure you don't want the spec sheet?" Maya asked. "The hybrid system, the sound insulation. All of it."
Walter finished the coffee, set the empty cup on the floor beside his boot, and stood. "Another time, Maya. I have one short call to make. You go take care of your customers."
"I will," Maya said. "It was really nice meeting you, Walter. I hope you come back and see the Sovereign again."
"It was nice meeting you too," Walter said, and he meant it.
He walked out through the glass doors into the white October light of the parking lot. The heat was already building. He found a quiet spot beside a row of freshly washed trade-ins and dialed the number he knew by heart.
Carla Mendez answered on the second ring. "Walter? Everything all right?"
"Carla," Walter said. "I'm at the Scottsdale store. Tell Elena to come to the floor. Now."
There was a pause. "The flagship store," Carla said. "You're there."
"That's right."
"Oh no," Carla said. "Oh, Walter. What happened?"
"Nothing happened," Walter said. "Not yet. Just tell her."
"Walter, talk to me. Did somebody do something? Do I need to call legal?"
"Carla," Walter said, and his voice dropped half a notch. "Tell Elena Vargas to walk out onto the showroom floor right now."
"Yes," Carla said. The word came out clipped, professional, the way it always did when she was moving fast. "Yes, of course. Right now."
Walter ended the call and looked through the glass at the showroom, where the midnight-blue Sovereign turned slowly on its platform and Maya had already moved on to a young couple by the entrance, listening with her whole face.
Inside group headquarters six miles away, Carla Mendez was already dialing. "Clear his morning," she told her assistant. "All of it."
She pressed the phone to her ear and waited through three rings before Elena Vargas picked up.
"Carla," Elena said. "Is this about the Perrin renewal?"
"Elena, listen to me," Carla said. "Walter is at your store. Right now. He is standing outside your showroom, and he just called me himself."
Elena went silent.
"Elena?"
"I am here," Elena said. "He's there. Unannounced."
"That's what I said. His word. Now."
"What happened?" Elena asked. "Did Chad do something?"
"He didn't say anything else," Carla said. "But Elena, I have worked for that man for eleven years. He does not make short phone calls. He makes long ones, after lunch, with jokes in them. When he calls and says one sentence, something is happening."
Elena's chair scraped back. "Give me his exact words."
"'Tell Elena to come to the floor. Now.'"
"Okay. Thank you, Carla."
"Elena," Carla said, "he sounded calm. I would rather have him furious. Furious I can handle."
Elena hung up and stood for a moment with her hand flat on her desk. She straightened her blazer, smoothed her hair, and walked out of her office without another glance at the paperwork she had been reviewing.
Denise Park looked up from the reception desk as Elena passed. "Elena?"
"Hold my calls," Elena said, not slowing down. "All of them."
"Everything okay?"
Elena didn't answer. She crossed the service corridor and pushed through the double doors into the showroom. She scanned the floor, past Chad, past the sales desks, past the turntable, and out through the glass doors to the parking lot, where an old man in a flannel shirt stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the cars go by on the street.
Her heart was beating faster than it had any right to beat. Twenty years at this company, and she had never once seen Walter Sterling show up without warning.
She walked toward the doors, and the whole showroom seemed to turn with her.