Chapter 7: What Diane Knew
Abby started on Monday.
By Wednesday, she understood three things about the Cross penthouse operation: the vendor contracts were overpriced by roughly forty percent, the previous scheduling system had been built by someone who had never cleaned anything in their life, and Julian Cross's personal assistant — a woman named Diane Forsythe, who had been with the company for nineteen years — did not trust her at all.
Diane was sixty-one, precise, and had the particular stillness of someone who had survived many changes by outlasting them.
She appeared in the penthouse doorway on Wednesday afternoon while Abby was reviewing the vendor list.
"You're going through the contracts," Diane said.
It was not a question.
"Yes," Abby said.
"The linen service alone is billing at twice the market rate."
"I negotiated that contract."
Abby looked up.
"When?"
"Four years ago."
"The market rate has dropped significantly since then.
I can get the same quality for half the cost."
Diane stepped into the room.
She moved to the other side of the table and looked at the open folder.
Her expression did not change.
"Mr.
Cross approved that contract."
"Mr.
Cross asked me to review all vendor contracts as part of my role," Abby said.
"I'm reviewing them."
"You've been here three days."
"Yes."
"And you're already restructuring agreements that have been in place for years."
"I'm flagging overcharges," Abby said.
"That's different from restructuring."
Diane looked at her.
Really looked — the way someone looks when they're deciding whether a threat is real.
"Where did you work before this?"
"Cleaning contractor.
Six years."
Something moved across Diane's face.
Not contempt exactly.
Something more complicated.
"And before that?"
"Before that I was taking care of my mother," Abby said.
"She was ill."
Diane was quiet.
"I know what this looks like," Abby said.
"I know why you don't trust me."
"Do you."
"You've watched people come and go for nineteen years.
You've seen Julian — Mr.
Cross — make decisions that didn't last.
And now someone with no corporate background and no connections has appeared from nowhere and been handed a senior role." Abby closed the folder.
"If I were you, I wouldn't trust me either."
Diane said nothing.
"But I'm going to do this job correctly," Abby said.
"And I'm not going to step on what you've built here.
I just need you to tell me when I'm about to make a mistake I don't know I'm making."
A long silence.
"The linen contract," Diane said finally.
"The vendor is a personal friend of the previous operations manager.
There's a reason it was never renegotiated."
"Who was the previous operations manager?"
Diane's expression shifted.
"His name was Carter Blaine.
He left eight months ago.
Abruptly."
"Why?"
Diane looked at the window.
"That," she said, "is a question you should ask Mr.
Cross."
She turned and walked out.
Abby looked at the closed folder.
Carter Blaine.
May you like
She wrote the name on the corner of her notepad.
Then she circled it.
