Hotwire (Maggie O'Dell #9)

“She seemed genuine last night. Give her a chance to do the right thing.”


“I am. But she has less than forty-eight hours.”





CHAPTER 45





Mary Ellen hated leaving her husband and son fast asleep. She had barely gotten to see the two of them last night before bedtime. And now, on a Saturday morning, she was back outside the conference room, all props sorted and collated, coffee and Danish laid out. Everyone was here, except for Irene Baldwin. Once again, she was keeping them all waiting for an emergency meeting she had called.

Mary Ellen felt on edge. It didn’t help matters that she had allowed herself three coffees already this morning. Her stomach burned and her nerves were stripped raw. She wanted to be angry at Benjamin Platt and yet all she could think about was how good the bastard looked. She should, at least, take pleasure in his obvious misery when he discovered that she was married and had moved on.

Last night, lying in bed she told herself that she was the luckiest woman in the world. She had been given a second chance at having a family. When she closed her eyes she was shocked that all she could think about was Benjamin Platt and remember so vividly what it felt like to have him make love to her. She rolled over and cuddled into her husband’s back, pressed her cheek against his shoulders, and begged for sleep.

“Wychulis.”

Baldwin’s heels clicked up the hallway. She looked like a woman who had slept eight hours and, unlike Mary Ellen, didn’t need three cups of coffee this morning to get her moving. But on closer inspection Mary Ellen saw that her boss’s attempt at concealing the bags under her eyes had not been totally successful.

“Have you heard from the secretary?”

“No.”

“Of course not. He makes a ridiculous statement, and we’re supposed to deal with the fallout.”

Mary Ellen remained quiet. She knew her old boss must have had the necessary evidence before releasing his statement to the press.

“Are we ready here?”

“Yes.”

Baldwin opened the door to the conference room and stopped. She stayed in the doorway and Mary Ellen almost bumped into her.

“Good morning, everyone. Thanks for coming. We’ll be right with you.”

Then Baldwin closed the door again and waved for Mary Ellen to follow her down the hallway.

“Who the hell are all those people?” she whispered.

“You asked to convene the Recall Committee. These are all standing members.”

“There must be a dozen people in that room.”

“Actually fourteen. Joseph Murray brought two of his techs and Karena McFerris has her deputy field inspection manager with her. What exactly are we going to talk about recalling?”

“Ground beef that the USDA bought specifically for the school lunch program.”

“You do understand we won’t be able to actually order it. All meat recalls are voluntary. We negotiate with the supplier.”

Obviously Baldwin did not know because the look she gave Mary Ellen was one of disbelief.

“You’re telling me the FDA can order a recall on a defective toy that might hurt children but the USDA cannot order a recall on contaminated meat that could kill children?”

Mary Ellen controlled her frustration.

“Our agency is to assist producers as well as protect consumers.” She shouldn’t need to remind Irene Baldwin that the reason she was hired over more qualified candidates—including Mary Ellen—was for her ability to bridge that gap.

“Is Undersecretary Eisler at least here?” Baldwin finally asked.

“He sent Deputy Administrator Jerold from Marketing Service. Jerold is actually the person directly responsible for overseeing the National School Lunch Program.”

Mary Ellen had never seen Baldwin like this. Since day one, the woman had appeared infallible. Mary Ellen wondered what her old boss, who hired Baldwin, would say if he could see the ex-CEO now.





CHAPTER 45





Mary Ellen hated leaving her husband and son fast asleep. She had barely gotten to see the two of them last night before bedtime. And now, on a Saturday morning, she was back outside the conference room, all props sorted and collated, coffee and Danish laid out. Everyone was here, except for Irene Baldwin. Once again, she was keeping them all waiting for an emergency meeting she had called.