Crossroads

by Belva Plain

  The final blow had come when they had finally moved into the nightmare of a house she had designed and loved so much— the house that humiliated him. Because it reminded him of what a fool he’d been. That was when he started noticing how irritating she was. And how noisy. It wasn’t just her incessant, mindless chatter; it was the bracelets clanking on her arms, her high-heeled shoes that clicked and clacked down the hallways of her large vulgar home, the sweet voice that now grated on his ears, and her laugh, which had once seemed so warm and free to him, now sounded like a strident bid for attention. It was no wonder that Gwen Wright, who was so quiet, and so intelligent, attracted him.

  Jeff picked up the neatly typed report on his desk and began to read—but then he put it down. The stapled sheaf of papers was the result of the research he’d asked his staff to do on Stanley Girard. The business decision he had to make concerned the husband of the woman he wanted. But in what way did he want her?

  He knew Gwen enjoyed his company, and he was pretty sure that he could push their relationship further. After all, could Stanley Girard really give him a run for his money? He didn’t think so. Gwen’s husband was probably one of those inarticulate, salt-of-the-earth men who bought his wife a blender for her birthday and took her on vacation every year to a place where he could kill small animals and fish.

  So why hadn’t Jeff pushed the relationship? Because Gwen Wright wasn’t the kind of woman who would have a little fling with a man. She would have to be desperately, passionately in love—and he knew with every fiber of his being that she was capable of it—before she would betray her salt-of-the-earth husband. And then she would probably insist on ending her marriage. Cheating, lying, and sexual encounters on the sly would not do for her. And while Jeff would have loved to be the one to ignite that desperate passionate love he was sure was in her, he wasn’t sure he was ready to throw over everything for it.

  The trouble was, when you looked at it logically, there were elements of his arrangement with Jewel that worked. She still looked fabulous on his arm, and as long as the conversation was light social chatter, she could be charming. She had never expressed any interest in having the children he very much didn’t want, and as he’d already noted, she was not likely to curtail his freedom in the matter of other women as long as he continued to pay the bills. But if he were to try to divorce her there would be hell to pay. Jewel might not be in love with him, but she wasn’t going to give up being Mrs. Jeff Henry without a battle. And at the moment there were reasons—serious business reasons—why he could not afford that.

  Jeff rubbed his temples where a headache seemed to be starting. The deal for the water utility concession in Brazil had gone through about a year ago and at first it had seemed like another one of his golden-boy moves, but lately there had been some disturbing rumblings coming out of São Paulo. The sharp young man Jeff had hired as his second in command—his name was Mark Scotto, and Jeff had stolen him at huge expense from a German conglomerate—had brought on a new accounting firm from New York to help handle the growing concerns. The pencil pushers at D. E. Alexander had assured Jeff that the solution was to create a separate corporation for the water concession. “To leverage the investment,” they said. That was a polite way of saying they were trying to spread the risk around. The new corporation would then be part-floated on the New York Stock Exchange. Of course some creative accounting would be required to pump up the value of the stock for the market, but this was not an unusual practice. They would be skating fairly close to the edge with a few FTC regulations but what the hell, Jeff had done that before. Perhaps, Mark and the accountants suggested, as a way of boosting the company’s standing on the stock exchange, Jeff should invest more of his own money in JeffSon. The unspoken understanding was that should the worst happen—and it wouldn’t, everyone agreed on that—but just in case it did, Jeff would have plenty of time to pull his funds out. It all sounded logical and there was nothing about it that everyone else wasn’t doing, so there was no reason in the world for Jeff to suddenly remember his father saying Beware of Faustean bargains, Jeffie. At the same time he didn’t want Jewel’s divorce lawyers going through his books right now, as they would be sure to do if he were stupid enough to rock the boat.

  But still, there was Gwen and the way he felt when he listened to her talk. Sometimes she’d tell him funny stories about her cooking classes, which were not going well, or the sweater she had tried to knit and abandoned in disgust. And every once in a while she would talk about her old home and the hill behind the house where she used to sit and watch the squirrels and the chipmunks. Her voice was so soft, and her intelligent eyes were so full of curiosity and excitement.

  Jeff looked down at his desk and the report on Stan Girard. He already knew what was in it; the young Turk who had investigated Gwen’s husband had given him a verbal summary and said that Stanley Girard was a talented guy who was parlaying his little shop into an operation that specialized in the installation, maintenance, and repair of some very sophisticated electrical systems for major corporate clients. He was not a wheeler-dealer, but he was growing his business steadily and surely. He was a good candidate for what Jeff had in mind.

  Jeff walked back to the window and looked down at the street where Gwen had stood a few minutes earlier waiting for the light to change. She had looked unhappy today. He thought for a moment—wasn’t it about this time last year that he had heard she’d lost her baby? Yes, he was sure it was. Suddenly, he wanted to give her something, something that would make the sad look go away.

  The report on Stanley Girard was on his desk. If he were to make his offer to the man, Gwen could have her house. And—be honest, now—Gwen would be indebted to him; she would feel the full power of Jeff Henry, the man behind JeffSon. Power was an aphrodisiac. For that matter, gratitude—of a certain kind—could be too. And while there might be repercussions—what the hell, Jeff was a gambler, wasn’t he? That was how he lived his life. He picked up the phone on his desk and buzzed his secretary. “Set up a meeting for me with Stanley Girard,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  You want to buy Stan’s Electronics?” Stan looked at the man sitting across the desk from him in disbelief. He’d seen pictures of Jeff Henry in the newspaper and in the kind of magazines that ran articles about people who were celebrities in the worlds of business and philanthropy, and he’d caught sight of him at a distance because his offices were across the street from Stan’s apartment building. But they’d never actually been face to face. Now he was sitting in a huge office that was decorated in shades of gray with lots of glass and chrome, and Jeff Henry had just offered to buy him out.

  “What could you possibly want with my operation?” Stan asked. “I’m strictly small potatoes.”

  “Good question,” Jeff Henry said. “You must know the JeffSon Corporation has been expanding all over the country. We purchased that twenty-five-hundred-megawatt plant in upstate New York last year, and connected it to the local grid; and we’re looking at buying several other plants in the area, which we will connect in a similar way. We’ll need centrally located stations from which to install, operate, and maintain these new plants. Your shop is in an ideal location because it’s in the center of Wrightstown.”

  Things were starting to make a little sense. “And I own the building and the land under it.”

  Jeff Henry nodded. His attitude seemed rather brusque, Stan thought. The man was supposed to be such a great negotiator, and so loaded with charm. But it was almost as if he was deliberately being rude.

  * * *

  Jeff was a little thrown. Stan Girard was not the fool he’d thought—no, all right, admit it—Stan was not the fool Jeff had hoped he’d be. Jeff assessed the man in front of him with the shrewdness for which he was famous. Stanley Girard had the kind of looks that could definitely be attractive to women, with his shock of untamed black hair that fell into his eyes, and his craggy features. He had a straightforward way of speaking that a woman
might find appealing, and there were lines around his eyes that said he laughed often, so presumably he had a sense of humor. But Jeff couldn’t imagine him ever following the intricacies of a mind like Gwen’s. The whimsy of which she was capable would escape him completely. I’m staring at him, Jeff realized and turned away.

  * * *

  Stan was aware of being scrutinized as he had seldom been before. And he didn’t like it much. “So what you want, essentially, is to buy my real estate,” he said.

  “Not only that,” came the answer. “When we purchase a small business, like yours, it isn’t a total cash transaction. A piece of your compensation will be in JeffSon stock.” The brusque voice now took on a condescending tone. “You’ll be a shareholder in one of the biggest and most important new companies in the world. And—”

  “If I wanted to do that, I could just go to my local broker and buy your stock,” Stan broke in. He was being rude himself now, but the guy was really annoying him. “I wouldn’t have to sell my business.”

  Jeff Henry finally seemed to realize that he’d been handling this badly. He smiled for the first time. And it was true, when he smiled he was charming. “I was about to say that the stock in the company is just a start. You will also have the same kind of deal on stock options that every other JeffSon exec does.”

  “A JeffSon exec? But I’m not—”

  This time it was Jeff Henry’s turn to interrupt. “We would want you to work for us. Overseeing the crews and managing the installation and maintenance of our various operations in this part of the country.” He shrugged and smiled. “It’s an executive position, although of course what we’re buying is your expertise in the field.”

  “And you are sure I have this expertise?”

  The smile got even wider and more charming. “We do our research. We know you’re the best around here.”

  “That’s very flattering.” But why do I feel that there’s something you’re not telling me?

  * * *

  Why the hell isn’t he jumping at this? Jeff thought angrily. Doesn’t he realize what I’m offering him? Poor Gwen, she really did marry an idiot. But there was nothing idiotic about Stanley Girard’s eyes. Or the thoughtful way he was studying Jeff.

  “Look, Stan . . . may I call you Stan?” There was a nod of assent on the other side of his desk. “I think you know the situation as well as I do. JeffSon is going to be taking over more and more small companies all over the state. And to say it plainly, those we don’t buy, we’ll put out of business. As the whole field of energy distribution consolidates, your customers will start coming to us for the same kind of service you now provide because with all our resources, we can bundle it into a much more efficient and economical package.

  “Your choice is to continue with a small business that will eventually be obsolete, or to sign on now with us and be a part of a growing and expanding organization that will be around for the rest of your working life. Your salary will be commensurate with that of all our top management, and I think you’ll find, when you add in your benefits, your JeffSon stock, and stock options, that you’ll be doing much better than you could ever hope to do on your own.”

  “I see.” For whatever his reasons Stanley Girard was handing him the classic noncommittal response.

  You should be on your knees thanking me for this, you jerk!

  “Well, that’s our offer in a nutshell,” Jeff said. “Think it over and let us know. I have to go out of town for a few days, so you’ll be dealing with Jon Kaiser. He handles hiring on the management level. I must admit that normally I don’t involve myself with that, but since you are a local businessman and I live here in the area, I wanted to talk to you myself.”

  And the other reason you’re getting such preferential treatment is, I have coffee with your wife.

  “Thank you. I’ll be in touch,” said Stan.

  * * *

  When Stan left The Amber and was back out on First Street, he knew he should have been thanking his lucky stars. The offer from Jeff Henry was an amazing opportunity. But for some reason, the uneasy feeling Stan had had in the man’s office was even stronger. More than anything he wanted to talk to Gwen about it. This was her decision as much as it was his. And that wasn’t just paying lip service. Stan knew that he and Gwen saw certain things very differently and he’d learned the hard way that he shouldn’t take her reactions for granted. He had made mistakes in the past when he’d assumed that she would feel as he did about things, and she’d been hurt and angry. This time he meant to be guided by her.

  * * *

  “How did you hear about the offer JeffSon made to Stan?” Gwen demanded.

  She and her mother were sitting in the food court at the Algonquin Mall. It was not a usual haunt for Cassie, but when she’d called Gwen and issued what was almost a royal summons, she’d claimed she wanted some of the admittedly terrific pizza sold in the mall pizza stall. Since Cassie never ate junk food, Gwen had found this sudden desire a little suspicious, and she’d been right. What Cassie had wanted was anonymity, a place where no one would see Cassandra Wright and her daughter sitting and talking together in the middle of a workday. Normally Cassie took her forty-five minute lunch in the executive dining room at the glassworks, but there were too many opportunities for the curious to eavesdrop there.

  They had purchased their slices of pizza and taken them to a secluded part of the food court next to the coffee stand. Then Cassandra had delivered her bombshell.

  “You must keep Stanley from accepting Jeff Henry’s offer,”she’d said.

  The offer had only been made three days ago, and Gwen herself had known about it for less than seventy-two hours, so she repeated her question, “Mother, how did you know about this?”

  “There is very little that goes on in the business community in this town that I don’t know. Besides, this was predictable. JeffSon’s gobbling up small companies like Stanley’s all over the place. Add to that the fact that Stanley owns his building free and clear, and it’s in a great location on a busy avenue that’s going to be even busier in a few more years. Stanley probably doesn’t even realize how much that real estate is worth.”

  “Oh, he does, believe me. Stan knows to the penny. But it’s not just the shop they want. They want Stan to work for them too. In a management position. Or didn’t your spies tell you that?”

  Instead of looking chastened, Cassandra sighed. “No, I didn’t know that. It’s even worse than I thought.”

  “Worse? What do you mean? I think this is a great opportunity for Stan. That a man like Jeff Henry sees his worth and . . .”

  “Gwen, listen to me,” Cassie broke in urgently. “Stanley is doing well with his shop, and I’m very happy for you. He works hard and he deserves as much success as he can handle. But for him to get himself involved with a company like JeffSon . . .”

  “What’s wrong with JeffSon?”

  “Maybe nothing. But there are things that bother me. They’re buying and selling way too much for my taste, creating offshore corporations that are hard to monitor, and just a couple of months ago, they hired a new accounting firm that has a reputation for skating very close to the line. . . .”

  “Somehow I think Jeff Henry knows what he’s doing.”

  “Jeff Henry is a Johnny-come-lately who appeared out of nowhere and has made an enormous amount of money very quickly. One has to wonder about that, Gwen. One has to wonder.”

  “Why?”

  “I just explained.”

  “No, you didn’t. You said that it was impossible for someone like Jeff Henry who came out of nowhere to outearn a member of the almighty Wright family. Maybe he’s just brilliant. Maybe he’s a genius.”

  “Good Lord, why are you defending the man?”

  It was a good question. Too damn good. The answer was, Gwen had been pleased that Jeff had offered her husband a big job because it meant that she and Jewel were closer to being equals. Because, childish as it was, when she thought about Jewel, i
t bothered her that Stan hadn’t set the world on fire, and accumulated a pile of money. But that’s crazy. I don’t give a hoot about any of that. Stan and I are getting along just fine. He’s the dearest man in the world to me. And the kindest. Oh God, how long am I going to carry this old baggage around with me?

  But she couldn’t seem to stop defending Jeff. “None of what you’re saying means that Jeff Henry is doing anything wrong.”

  “Not necessarily, but it can be a red flag.” Cassie drew in a deep breath and then she said, “The truth is, the people at JeffSon are big-stakes players—highfliers, if you will. And with all due respect to your husband, I don’t think he’s . . . well, sophisticated enough for that kind of environment.”

  Gwen tried to fight the anger that was rising inside her. “Do you have any idea how insulting you’re being?” she cried. “You’re talking as if Stan were an idiot.”

  “I never said anything like that. But I do know something about the Jeff Henrys of the world, more than you or Stanley do, and I’m giving you some advice I think you need. Tell Stanley to stay with his honest business and a decent profit.”

  And then it burst out. It was the last thing Gwen wanted to say, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You’re just saying all of this because Jeff is Jewel’s husband!”

  “What?”

  “You’ve never forgiven her. We’re supposed to forgive and forget; you brought me up that way, remember?”

  “I was not—”

  “But you haven’t forgiven Jewel, and you don’t like Jeff Henry because he’s married to her, and—”

  “For heaven’s sake, it’s not that way at all. It would be sick to harp on that old stuff, and I don’t think I’m sick, Gwen. The thought never crossed my mind, although obviously, it did cross yours, and I must say . . .”