don’t want to pay what we’re worth. They think since their son has a Mac, why should they pay you to design a brochure when he can do it for free? Or their daughter can spell so why should they pay a professional copywriter?”
“The insane asylum where I used to work had started squeezing vendors that way.”
“And what’s worse is that these kids, fresh out of college and in many cases untrained, accept this pocket change as their wages instead of researching the industry pay standard.” Cathy’s voice tightened. “It’s insulting.”
Iris frowned at her turkey wrap. “Yes, it is. Have you considered your sister’s suggestion that you apply to be an adjunct graphic arts professor with her university? It could supplement your business income.”
“I’m considering it.” Cathy huffed another breath. “I’m not getting any younger, Iris. I’ve got to—”
“Afternoon, ladies. Mind if we join you?” The male voice interrupted their conversation.
Iris’s heart sank at Peter Kimball’s request that he and his associate sit at their table. She gritted a smile and lied through her teeth. “Not at all.”
The seasoned marketing professional and owner of Kimball & Associates sat beside her. His young sidekick, a man Iris didn’t recognize, took the chair to Peter’s left.
Iris sucked in her breath as Peter extended his hand across her chest to Cathy.
“Pete Kimball.” The marketing executive gave the designer a toothy smile that didn’t reach his pale blue eyes.
“We’ve met. Cathy Yee.” Her friend barely acknowledged him before returning to her veggie wrap.
Peter withdrew his hand, smoothing it over his salt-and-pepper, salon-styled hair. “Oh, yes. You look different. So, Iris, how have you been?”
“Fine, thank you.” The waves of irritation Cathy generated distracted Iris.
“I heard you left RGB.” Peter dug into his pasta salad.
“Yes, four months ago.” She toyed with her chicken-noodle soup.
“I’ve always admired your talent. I’m sure I can find a place for you on my team.”
“Thank you but I’m not looking.” Iris suppressed a shudder as she took in his smarmy smile. She considered his deep, golden skin. Was he using a tanning bed? Perhaps that tint came from a can.
Iris glanced at Peter’s associate. The young man was methodically making his way across his plate.
“What are you doing, then?” Peter’s smile faded as his gaze sharpened.
“I’ve opened my own marketing and public relations consulting firm, The Beharie Agency.”
“Really?” Laughter burst from Peter’s throat. “Starting your own business is a lot of hard work. You don’t have the exp—”
“I’m ready for more coffee.” Cathy nudged her. “Want some?”
Iris looked at her still full cup. “Yes.”
She joined Cathy, leaving the table without excusing herself.
“What a jackass,” Cathy hissed. “He introduces himself to me every time he comes to this thing. How many Chinese women does he know in Columbus, Ohio, that he can’t remember me?”
“Consider the source.” Iris was offended on her friend’s behalf. Peter’s laughing in her face when she announced she’d started her own firm didn’t seem so bad in comparison. “I can’t go back to that table with him.”
“We’ll find another table.”
“But I left my lunch at that one.” And she was starting to get hungry.
“Fix yourself another plate.” Cathy led them back to the buffet line. “Now we have even more incentive to succeed. You know what they say.”
“Living well is the best revenge.”
Iris looked forward to proving to Kimball & Associates, as well as Anderson Adventures, that they’d underestimated her. She just needed a chance.
* * *
Wednesday was a long day that included participating in a client conference call and drafting another project proposal, which Iris hoped to submit by the end of the week. But tonight she set those thoughts aside as she pulled her canary-yellow Camry into the driveway of her family home. She parked beside her sister Rose’s cobalt-blue BMW. Iris was a few minutes early for their weekly family dinner. But as usual, her older sister was already here.
Their dinner was a family tradition Iris and her sisters had continued even after their parents had died. Lily, the middle sister, had moved back into the large suburban home.
Iris grabbed the cake box from the passenger seat. Juggling the box and her purse, she slammed the driver’s-side door shut with a hip and pressed the automatic lock button on her key chain. She hurried up the walkway and stairs, then let herself in through the front door.
“Something smells wonderful.” Iris followed the scent of seasoned chicken and vegetables down the hallway and into the kitchen.
Rose and Lily stopped talking when she appeared in the doorway. Paranoid much?
“You brought dessert.” Lily broke the short silence.
“Chocolate cake.” Iris sauntered into the kitchen and put the box on the counter beside the stove. She turned to her sisters with her hands on the hips of her powder-blue jeans. “Okay. Let’s have it.”
“Let’s not.” Lily continued stirring the pot of chicken stew. Her curvy five-foot-three-inch frame was clothed in faded blue jeans and a bright orange sweatshirt featuring the logo of the Cincinnati’s NFL team. Her dark brown hair was a riot of curls that fell past her shoulders.
“Why not?” Rose crossed her arms over her bloodred sweater. With her sleek dark brown hair swinging above her narrow shoulders and her honey-brown features subtly made up, Iris’s thirty-four-year-old sister looked more like a runway model than an attorney.
“Because I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to cook this dinner and I don’t want it ruined with an argument.” Lily’s attention remained on her stew.
Iris arched a brow at Rose. “Does it have to be an argument?”
Lily answered. “No, it doesn’t. But lately the two of you can’t even agree on the weather.”
“That’s not a recent development.” Iris’s tone was dry. “Rose and I have never agreed on anything, especially since she thinks she knows everything.”
“Here we go.” Lily shook her head as she turned off the burner under the stew.
Rose uncrossed her arms and straightened from the counter. The two-inch heels of her black boots added to her five-foot-eight-inch height. “Maybe if you stopped to consider my advice instead of ignoring it to charge
