26
By that afternoon, the frontage road leading to Larimar Springs swarmed with reporters, television camera crews, and satellite trucks, forcing Juliet to take a calculated shortcut through the neighboring facility belonging to a restaurant supply distributorship.
After maneuvering carefully past a loading dock, she drove alongside several large blue dumpsters and cut into the back parking area where the warehouse workers normally left their pickup trucks, some with jacked-up wheel bases and others showing off mud flaps featuring chrome-silhouetted women.
Tavina’s warning played in her head, the one where she cautioned never to wander the plant alone at night. The thought triggered a fresh ache in Juliet’s heart. Who warned her assistant that drinking bottled water could make her baby sick?
Juliet wound her car to the front parking area, only to find her spot was taken. A cerulean blue Lexus sedan. Local plates.
She pulled into one of the many empty spots and exited the car with a file folder held up to block any shot some ambitious cameraman with an amped-up lens could capture.
The lobby was empty, as expected on a weekend. Music pumped from the speakers in the ceiling, and voices drifted from the hall leading to the executive suite. Juliet braced herself and headed in the direction of the open conference room door.
As she neared, she could hear Greer’s voice. “Look, Alexa, I’m telling you. We need to hire legal counsel ASAP.” He sounded frustrated.
Alexa cleared her throat. “What do you recommend, Ellen?”
A woman’s voice responded. “I strongly urge you to wait,” she said. “At least until after the press conference this afternoon. If the first thing this company does is protect themselves legally, it’ll look bad.”
Juliet paused at the open door, trying to renew her will to move inside.
Greer paced at the windows shrouded with closed blinds. “Ha—guarantee it’ll be a lot worse if we start saying things that will come back to bite us legally.”
Alexa looked up. “Come on in. You’re late.”
Juliet nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.” She glanced at the empty seats around the table littered with empty Styrofoam cups and sugar packets. “Where is everybody?”
Greer smirked. “Probably hiding out from the media.”
“Sit.” Alexa motioned to a chair. “We have a lot to go over before the press conference.” She pointed to the woman. “This is Ellen.”
Alexa returned her attention to her laptop, banging on the keyboard with hard, eager strokes.
The woman—Ellen—wore cream-colored slacks with a cashmere sweater of the same shade, accented with thick gold jewelry that appeared to be the real stuff. She wore bright red lipstick and an air of confidence Juliet wished she felt.
Juliet fought a jolt of irrational nerves. She held out her hand. “Hello, Ellen.”
The woman smiled. “You don’t recognize me?”
Juliet stared at the dark-haired lady. “No,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry, I—”
“I’m Ellen Shaffer.” She paused, waiting for the information to register, then added, “We went to school together. You and your father did a science experiment on Career Day. Elephant toothpaste, if I recall correctly.”
Juliet’s eyes widened. “Oh—of course. I’m sorry.”
Ellen shook her head. “No, don’t be. That was a long time ago.”
Juliet pulled the file folder tightly against her chest. “And—your father brought the teleprompter.” Ellen must work for her father’s public relations firm, which should have brought Juliet some level of comfort. Instead, she felt humiliated.
The woman standing before her was a force, driven and focused. Juliet used to be one of those women. She couldn’t explain how it had happened, but now, of course, she’d turned back into that girl sitting at the back desk—punished for something that wasn’t her fault.
But this time everything was her fault.
Although no one in the room said so.
Ellen clapped her hands together. “Well, let’s get started. We have a lot to cover.” Her phone buzzed. She picked up, her face drawing into a scowl while she listened. When she clicked off, she turned to Alexa. “Two more toddlers have been admitted.”
Alexa buried her forehead into the palms of her hands. “They pulled all the product. When does all this stop?”
Juliet swallowed. “Incubation is usually one to four days. Often a diagnosis isn’t made until several days after that.”
Ellen made a tsking sound. “Look, I don’t want to burst anyone’s bubble . . .”
Greer glared in her direction. “Believe me, there is no bubble.”
Looking frustrated, Alexa held up her hands. “Let’s focus.”
Like a woman who knew her way around trouble, Ellen Shaffer moved to her place at the table and lifted a newspaper. She opened it and spread the pages on the conference table. “We have to get in front of this, and quick. I know the news director at KENS-5, and he’s agreed to hold any major story until after the press conference, provided I give him first access to any developments. But I’m afraid this San Antonio Express-News article isn’t very flattering. And no doubt the entire story will go national.”
Juliet leaned over the table and read where Ellen pointed.
She was identified. By name. And the account quoted her remarks made at the North American Food Safety Symposium in Chicago.
Consumer health and safety are at the very core of what we do every day, and because of the collective efforts of dedicated food scientists and quality assurance directors in companies across America, outbreaks are now rare, with fewer reported each year than ever before.
Kids across the metroplex were falling ill. Some were dying. The article made it clear—everyone in San Antonio blamed Juliet.
This came as a shock, that she was in the center of a scandal. While she’d once been known as brilliant and talented, her rising star’s light had dimmed and was plummeting, soon to hit the ground and implode.
At least that was what her smoldering gut told her.