to think about his new brewmaster’s parting shot. It was, however, difficult not to think about her.
He’d known full well there would be pushback against the memo. He hadn’t lied when he’d told her he wanted to see who could follow directions—but he also wanted to see who wouldn’t and why. Because the fact was, having the entire company divert work hours to producing résumés was not an efficient use of time. And the workers who already had up-to-date résumés ready to go—well, that was because they were a flight risk.
He couldn’t say he was surprised when the brewmaster was the first person to call him on it.
But he still couldn’t believe the brewmaster was a young woman with fire in her eyes and a fierce instinct to protect her employees. A woman who didn’t look at him like he was ripe for the picking. A woman who took one look at him—okay, maybe more than one—and saw the truth.
A young woman with a hell of a mouth on her.
Zeb pushed Casey Johnson from his mind and picked up his phone. He started scrolling through his contacts until he came to one name in particular—Daniel Lee. He dialed and waited.
“Hello?”
“Daniel—it’s Zeb. Are you still in?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Daniel Lee was a former political operative who’d worked behind the scenes to get several incumbents defeated. He could manipulate public perception and he could drill down into data. But that wasn’t why Zeb called him.
Daniel—much like Zeb—was one of them. Beaumont’s bastards.
“Where are you?” Daniel asked, and Zeb didn’t miss the way he neatly avoided the question.
“Sitting in the CEO’s office of the Beaumont Brewery. I scheduled a press conference for Friday—I’d like you to be there. I want to show the whole world that they can’t ignore us anymore.”
There was another pause. On one level, Zeb appreciated that Daniel was methodical. Everything he did was well thought-out and carefully researched, with the data to back it up.
But on the other hand, Zeb didn’t want his relationship with his brother to be one based solely on how the numbers played out. He didn’t know Daniel very well—they’d met only two months ago, after Zeb had spent almost a year and thousands upon thousands of dollars tracking down two of his half brothers. But he and Daniel were family all the same and when Zeb announced to the world that he was a Beaumont and this was his brewery, he wanted his brothers by his side.
“What about CJ?” Daniel asked.
Zeb exhaled. “He’s out.” Zeb had tracked down two illegitimate brothers; all three of them had been born within five years of each other. Daniel was three years younger than Zeb and half-Korean.
The other brother he’d found was Carlos Julián Santino—although he now went by CJ Wesley. Unlike Zeb and Daniel, CJ was a rancher. He didn’t seem to have inherited the Beaumont drive for business.
Two months ago, when the men had all met for the first time over dinner and Zeb had laid out his plan for taking control of the brewery and finally taking what was rightfully theirs, Daniel politely agreed to look at the numbers and weigh the outcomes. But CJ had said he wasn’t interested. Unlike Zeb’s mother, CJ’s mother had married and he’d been adopted by her husband. CJ did not consider Hardwick Beaumont to be his father. He’d made his position clear—he wanted nothing to do with the Beaumonts or the brewery.
He wanted nothing to do with his brothers.
“That’s unfortunate,” Daniel said. “I had hoped...”
Yeah, Zeb had hoped, too. But he wasn’t going to dwell on his failures. Not when success was within his grasp. “I need you by my side, Daniel. This is our time. I won’t be swept under the rug any longer. We are both Beaumonts. It’s not enough that I’ve taken their company away from them—I need it to do better than it did under them. And that means I need you. This is the dawn of a new era.”
Daniel chuckled. “You can stop with the hard sell—I’m in. But I get to be the chief marketing officer, right?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
There was another long pause. “This had better work,” Daniel said in a menacing voice.
Which made Zeb grin. “It already has.”
* * *
It was late afternoon before Zeb was able to get a tour of the facilities. Delores, tablet in hand, alternated between leading the way and falling behind him. Zeb couldn’t tell if she was humoring him or if she really was that intimidated.
The tour moved slowly because in every department, Zeb stopped and talked with the staff. He was pleased when several managers asked to speak to him privately and then questioned the need to have a résumé for every single person on staff—wouldn’t it be better if they just turned in a report on head count? It was heartening, really. Those managers were willing to risk their necks to protect their people—while they still looked for a way to do what Zeb told them.
However, Zeb didn’t want to be seen as a weak leader who changed his mind. He allowed the managers to submit a report by the deadline, but he still wanted to see résumés. He informed everyone that the hiring freeze was over but he needed to know what he had before he began to fill the empty cubicles.
As he’d anticipated after his conversation with Casey, the news that the hiring freeze was over—coupled with the announcement that he would prefer not to see his staff working ten-to twelve-hour days—bought him a considerable amount of goodwill. That was not to say people weren’t still wary—they were—but the overwhelming emotion was relief. It was obvious Casey wasn’t the only one doing the job of two or three people.
The brewhouse was the last stop on their tour. Zeb wasn’t sure if that was because it was the logical conclusion or because Delores was trying to delay another confrontation with Casey.
Unsurprisingly, the brewhouse was warm, and emptier than he expected. He saw now what Casey had meant when she said most of the process was automated. The few men he did see wore white lab coats and hairnets, along with safety goggles. They held tablets and when Zeb and Delores passed them, they paused and looked up.
“The staffing levels two years ago?” Zeb asked again.
He’d asked that question at least five times already. Two years ago, the company had been in the capable hands of Chadwick Beaumont. They’d been turning a consistent profit and their market share was stable. That hadn’t been enough for some of their board members, though. Leon Harper had agitated for the company’s sale, which made him hundreds of millions of dollars. From everything Zeb had read about Harper, the man was a foul piece of humanity. But there was no way Zeb ever could’ve gotten control of the company without him.
Delores tapped her tablet as they walked along. The room was oddly silent—there was the low hum of machinery, but it wasn’t enough to dampen the echoes from their footfalls. The noise bounced off the huge tanks that reached at least twenty feet high. The only other noise was a regular hammering that got louder the farther they went into the room.
“Forty-two,” she said after several minutes. “That was when we were at peak capacity. Ah, here we are.”
