Chapter 5 - The Unseen Inventory
Two months passed. December's snow turned into the gray, slushy thaw of late February.
At the headquarters of Weller Fulfillment Services in downtown Chicago, the quarterly board meeting was underway in the glass-walled executive conference room on the forty-second floor.
Malcolm Weller sat at the head of the long mahogany table, listening to a presentation by his Chief Financial Officer regarding corporate social responsibility expenditures and regional tax write-offs.
"Our community outreach allocations for Q4 were three percent over budget," the CFO explained, clicking a laser pointer against a pie chart on the screen. "Primarily due to secondary dispatch costs and unallocated inventory adjustments during the December holiday drive."
A junior board member—a sharp-suited man in his thirties named Richard Sterling—cleared his throat. "Mr. Chairman, if I may. We spent nearly half a million dollars on the tri-county drive. While the press coverage was favorable, our internal audit shows several irregular line-item dispatches. Specifically, a high-value precision optical asset that was written off under 'system correction' rather than promotional inventory."
The room went quiet. Several board members looked nervously at Malcolm.
Malcolm set his pen down on his notepad. He looked at Sterling with a look of calm, terrifying indifference.
"Mr. Sterling," Malcolm said smoothly. "What is the primary function of Weller Fulfillment Services?"
Sterling blinked, confident in his answer. "Logistics and distribution, sir. Moving goods from origin to destination with maximum margin efficiency."
"Wrong," Malcolm said flatly.
The board members shifted in their leather chairs.
"Our function," Malcolm continued, his voice echoing off the glass walls, "is ensuring that what is promised arrives where it belongs. If a package is missing from a child's hands because an administrative checklist was mislaid, that is not an 'inventory adjustment.' That is a failure of our core mission."
He leaned forward, placing his hands flat on the table.
"I personally authorized the dispatch of that optical asset. And if you would like to audit my personal capital accounts to verify that I reimbursed the firm three times its wholesale value before the fiscal close, my accountants have the receipts outside."
Sterling's face turned red. "Mr. Chairman... I didn't mean to imply—"
"I know what you meant to imply, Richard," Malcolm said. "You think logistics is numbers on a spreadsheet. You think efficiency means ignoring the one package that fell behind the shelf."
He stood up, buttoning his jacket. "Meeting adjourned. Howard, step into my office."
Ten minutes later, Howard Vance walked into Malcolm's private office overlooking Lake Michigan.
"That was quite a performance with Sterling," Howard said, sitting in an armchair. "He's been trying to build a coalition to trim our community outreach budget for six months."
"Sterling is an accountant who has never looked at the moon," Malcolm said dryly, walking over to his desk. "How is the St. Jude administrative triage transition going?"
Howard smiled slightly. "Taryn Ellison officially assumed the role of Night Operations Coordinator three weeks ago. Intake error rates at the clinic are down fourteen percent, and patient wait times in the emergency room have dropped by twenty minutes."
Malcolm nodded approvingly. "And June?"
Howard pulled a small, thick envelope from his jacket pocket and set it on Malcolm's desk. "This arrived in the mail yesterday. Addressed to you personally."
Malcolm picked up the envelope. Inside was a hand-drawn card on heavy construction paper. On the front was a surprisingly detailed sketch of a refractor telescope pointing at a crescent moon.
Inside, written in careful, precise cursive, were the words:
Dear Mr. Weller,I found Mare Crisium last night. It looks like a dark drop of ink. Thank you for fixing the list.Sincerely,June Ellison
P.S. I counted forty-two stars inside the Big Dipper's bowl. Mr. Abernathy said most people only see seven. The lens is very clear.
Malcolm read the note twice. He opened his top desk drawer—a drawer that contained three multi-million-dollar land acquisition deeds, a personal commendation from the Governor, and a rare 1920 gold pocket watch—and placed June's card right on top of the deeds.
"Howard," Malcolm said.
"Yes, Malcolm?"
"Establish a permanent, endowed educational trust under the Weller Foundation umbrella. Call it the Serenity Fund. It will provide full university scholarships in observational astrophysics and physical sciences for students in low-income school districts throughout Wisconsin."
May you like
Howard looked at his old friend. "Starting with Briar Glen?"
"Starting with Briar Glen," Malcolm said.
