The protests began a few weeks after several Black and Latinx applicants filed an EEOC charge alleging they were denied employment at Houghton despite their qualifications. A few weeks after, several Black employees in Operations joined and alleged they were denied management promotions. The company was bracing for a lawsuit. Over the weeks leading up to the holidays, the protesting crowds had grown smaller. There weren’t more than a handful now. But Hardy made a good point. Racial discrimination allegations and an executive officer’s suicide could be a recipe for a PR nightmare.
“You don’t think the two are connected?” I asked.
Hardy shrugged. “It won’t matter if the news guys can spin it the right way. Either way, this is not a good time for Houghton.”
Chapter 3
A few hours later, I stepped off the elevator onto the twentieth floor, again, this time tightly gripping a notepad and pen. I had been summoned to Nate Ashe’s executive suite. I’d never been to the CEO’s office—until now. Michael had made a string of broken promises to give me executive exposure, opportunities to “stretch my wings” and get me promoted into a business role in the company. Lately, whenever I complained of not attending meetings with the executives or getting on the agenda for executive presentations, he told me he was protecting me, and I should thank him.
Our little “friends with benefits” situation had run its course and still had left me empty-handed.
It was here, on the twentieth floor, that Houghton’s executives decided the career fates of director-level employees like me, hungry for the next rung of the corporate ladder. Here, we were relegated to HR folders of résumés and performance reviews that were scrutinized and picked apart by the Executive Committee. And when things didn’t work out, this was where decisions were made about who got fired. Had they found out about me and Michael? Would this be a repeat of what happened at the law firm?
Whatever the reason for my being here, it couldn’t be good.
After my tight gray quarters, a couple floors below, I stepped inside Nate’s office like Dorothy wandering into the Technicolor sparkle of Oz. The CEO sat behind a massive custom-leather-wrapped desk without a scrap of paper on it. His plush high-back wing chairs gave the stiff guest chairs in my office a run for their money. Two entire walls of floor-to-ceiling windows offered a mesmerizing view of Ansley and Piedmont Parks, with the skyscrapers of Buckhead’s financial district off in the distance. Modern art with whip splashes of bright color adorned the remaining walls, giving the entire room an air of New York’s Museum of Modern Art.
“Hi. You wanted to see me?” I asked.
“Hey, Ellice! C’mon in. You want a water, a Coke-Cola?” Nate asked in his easy southern drawl.
“No, thank you.”
“Let’s sit over there where we’ll be more comfortable.” Nate pointed toward the vintage Egg chair and leather sofa on the other side of the room. Everything about him was warm and friendly. His soothing southern tone, the froth of silver-white hair and neatly trimmed mustache, the Armani suit, and the slightest hint of a paunch made him very statesmanlike. He could have easily been groomed to be a senator from the great state of Georgia, kindly yielding the floor to his congressional colleagues. Instead, he reigned as the CEO, a wise paternal figure, guiding his family-owned company.
I stood for a moment admiring a picture hanging over the sofa. The painting, a striking depiction of an African elephant charging through trees and foliage, stood out from the other art in his office.
“You like that painting, huh?” Nate said.
“I do.”
“It was a gift from a friend. He had it commissioned by an artist in Mexico. Did you know that Indians, Persians, and Carthaginians used elephants as tanks in ancient war battles?”
“I didn’t.”
Nate walked around his desk and stood beside me. “Elephants are some of the most intelligent creatures on Earth.” He cocked his head and folded his arms across his chest, admiring the picture as if he had painted it himself. “They’re powerful, too, not just because of their size, but because they have a commitment to family, the ability to stick together that is unlike any other animal species aside from humans. They even grieve the loss of their kin just like humans. Reminds me of us here at Houghton . . . charging forward, sticking together, taking care of our own. There’s power in that.”
The family thing again.
“Have you ever been on safari?” I asked, trying to edge him off the topic of family.