Bait by Karen Robards Page B

her in front of the pull-down screen on which the proposed ads had been projected. Maddie was thankful to no longer be the focus of attention. She needed a moment to thrust the memory of last night and the spurt of burgeoning panic that had accompanied it back into the “I’ll think about it later” compartment.
    An instant later, she caught herself nervously fingering the scarf around her neck, and dropped her hand.
    â€œAnd, of course, tradition is one of Brehmer’s strong points.” Jon was in full flow now. “Actually, we think you should emphasize the fact that your business has been family owned and operated for fifty-seven years.” Jon moved toward the blowup of the bag. “Besides the fresh new packaging”—he tapped the company’s B-in-a-gold-circle logo dramatically—“we suggest giving Brehmer’s Pet Food a more human face: yours, in fact, Mrs. Brehmer. Right here, in a gold frame, on every bag of pet food your company produces.”
    For a moment there was dead silence. Maddie held her breath. She and Jon between them had decided to table that idea, but since nothing else was working she agreed with his reasoning: There was no reason not to try one more shot in the dark. Mrs. Brehmer’s eyes widened, and her brows twitched ever so slightly.
    What did that mean? Did she like the idea?
    Vacillating wildly between despair and hope, Maddie did a quick visual sweep of the table. The men’s eyes were now fastened on their boss. Their expressions were frozen, as if they weren’t sure how they were supposed to react. They would, Maddie realized, take their cue from Mrs. Brehmer.
    â€œBrown-nosing is not a quality I admire, young man,” Mrs. Brehmer snapped. It was all Maddie could do not to sag. Frowning, placing her bony hands with their plethora of rings flat on the table, Mrs. Brehmer seemed prepared to end the meeting. The men shifted in their seats in response, and Maddie feared they were all about to rise.
    â€œNow, hear me out. I’m serious.” Exhibiting the kind of never-say-die valor that in Maddie’s opinion merited a raise if only she’d had the funds to fund one, which she didn’t, Jon held up a hand in protest and somehow kept them in their seats. “Putting his face on his product worked for Dave Thomas with Wendy’s. It worked for Harlan Sanders with Kentucky Fried Chicken. You are the soul and spirit of Brehmer’s Pet Food, Mrs. Brehmer. Why shouldn’t you be the face of it, too?”
    Momentarily speechless in the face of such heroic eloquence, Maddie barely managed to stop herself from applauding as she waited with clasped hands and a thudding heart for Mrs. Brehmer’s reply.
    â€œBecause nobody wants to look at an ugly old woman,” Mrs. Brehmer said tartly. “Don’t waste your time bullshit-ting a bullshitter. I may be old, but I’m not stupid.” She looked around the table. “Well, gentlemen ...”
    The door opened, and Susan appeared with a glass of water.
    â€œLinda’s brought ...” she began as everyone glanced around, and then chaos erupted behind her. Shrill barks and the scrabble of clawed feet on slick floors were drowned out by a woman’s shriek.
    â€œOuch! No! Stop! You come back here! Zelda!” The yell came from somewhere down the hall.
    â€œZelda!” Mrs. Brehmer called, coming to her feet as a foot-tall mop of golden brown hair shot past Susan, who flattened herself against the open door with a gasp and dropped the glass of water. The resulting crash and sound of glass shattering was as loud as an explosion. Maddie jumped. The suits leaped up.
    â€œWhat the—”
    â€œLook out!”
    â€œThere she blows!”
    â€œIt’s that damned mu—uh, darned dog!”
    â€œYou idiot! She’ll cut her feet!” bellowed Mrs. Brehmer at Susan, her voice a full-throated roar that all but drowned out the