Every drop of blood drained from her face. Her dream. The nightmare. The one where she was in Greg's arms and Tony and Reed were a dark shadow. The one where they were looking down on her and Reed was saying, "See, I told you she was a woman."
She had to clear her throat. "Um...Greg, I'll talk to you Sunday." Her hands were trembling as she hung up. "Okay, where were we?"
Tony stood up slowly. "Pretty much at a standstill. I'll watch again tonight."
Lydia nodded. She didn't want to continue with this anyway. She wanted out of there, and in what seemed like just a second, she and Reed were alone and walking toward the door.
"Did you want to go out for some dinner?" he asked.
Lydia looked up at him. "Um...no, not tonight. But thanks. I need to go by and see how my dad's doing."
Reed gazed at her compassionately. "Are you all right? Was it something with the phone call?"
Lydia forced a smile, shaking her head. "No, not really. I'm just tired."
Reed wanted to put his arms around her. She looked so sad. "Are you sure?"
Lydia smiled, but looked even sadder. "I'm sure." He was being so kind. "I'll see you tomorrow."
It wasn't that the dream was all that bad. Nor was it the end of the world to have a small part of it come true. But what about the other dreams? The ones she couldn't bear to even think about, let alone rationalize. The ones that started about a month ago. The ones she couldn't help thinking about now.
Her father's house looked sinister. She parked and got out quickly. Maybe if she walked fast and swung her arms, she'd be able to chase the images away. Sometimes it worked. Not today. She could see her mother dying, gasping for breath. She could feel her hand. A hand that could no longer feel hers. She could see her eyes...
She walked faster, taking the steps two at a time, but now saw her father. He was clutching his chest. Then he was in a coffin with her mother, a coffin as wide as a bed.
Betty opened the door. “'Well, if it ain't Miss Lydia! What a surprise! I was hopin' that was you!"
"Um...I thought I'd visit with Dad awhile."
"Come in! Come in!" Betty's voice filled the foyer. "Let me go get him."
Lydia walked in, feeling like a stranger, and as Betty closed the door, tears filled her eyes.
Betty looked at her. "Why, Miss Lydia, what's wrong?"
Lydia's bottom lip quivered. "Everything, Betty. Just everything."
Betty pulled her close and held her tight, smoothing her hair off her face as she rocked her back and forth. "Oh...Miss Lydia, don't cry." Her voice cracked. "You's got to be strong for you Daddy. You's got be a big girl. Hush now. Don't cry..."
Chapter Eleven
Considering how Lydia had put herself to sleep, wrapped in her robe, curled up on a chaise by the pool with a bottle of Scotch, the morning could have been worse. At least she'd slept through the night, and apparently without nightmares, thus being spared their revelations. Nevertheless, the house was spinning, so she had to be careful how fast she moved, and it was after ten before she arrived at the plant.
The stairs to the conference room were an agonizing chore. One. ..two...she counted each and every step. Nine...ten... eleven... finally. She lowered herself into a chair, moaning, and took the phone off the hook, as if that would stop it and all six lines from ringing. She propped her elbows on the table and braced her head in her hands.
She stared blankly for a moment, a moment where she made a promise to never drink on an empty stomach again for as long as she lived, if she lived. Then, fearing the day would go on without her if she didn't get a grip, she drew as deep a breath as her nauseated stomach would allow, picked up the phone, and dialed Jan.
"Yes, Miss Lydia?"
"Uh...what's the bank manager's name?"
"Richard Robert."
Lydia steadied her head. "Are you being funny?"
"No, that's his name."
And a dumb name at that, Lydia thought. Who the hell would name their kid Richard Robert? Switching lines to call him, she left Jan holding the phone, thinking she'd said something to irritate her again.
Richard Robert couldn't have been more cordial. "Yes, it's all taken care of. I had it in the computer before nine."
Lydia reached for a pen. "What about the balances?"
"Here, let me see. In account number..."
"Uh, just call it payroll and whatever. Please."
"All right. In your payroll account, you have, after the transfer of funds, thirty-eight thousand five hundred twenty‑three dollars and fifty-three cents." He paused, rustling some
papers. "And in the other one, you have forty-two thousand five hundred ninety-four dollars, even. Even. Isn't that odd?"
Odder than he knew. Lydia swallowed. "Are you sure you don't mean one hundred thousand something in that one?"
"No, the figure I gave you is correct."
Lydia leaned back and stared, wide eyed. "Um, I'm gonna need statements on those accounts right away."
"But they're not due to be cut until…"
"I don't care when they're due. I thought if we were close, it could wait, but..."
"There'll be an additional charge."
"Oh really?" Lydia almost told him what he could do with his additional charge, but wasn't up to it. "Look, I wouldn't be asking for them if I didn't need them. So please, just get them to me as soon as you can."
Richard Robert started to object further, but fell silent when she added, "Need I remind you about the aerobic checks?" And that was that. She'd have them the first part of
the week.
She phoned Reed next. "Can you come down here a minute? I think I'm about to have a full-fledged anxiety attack. "
Reed chuckled. "Shall I bring a tranquilizer?"
"No, just the checkbooks from my dad's office and your wallet."
"I don't like the sound of this."
"It gets worse. Don't be late."
Pacing back and forth when he got there, she pointed to the table. "There are the correct balances. Payroll's fine. It's the other one."
Reed grew pale. "Forty-two thousand five hundred and ninety-four dollars?"
"Yeah, and no goddamned pennies, either."
Reed sat down, shaking his head. "This can't be."
Lydia gave him a look that emphasized the contrary and reached for a cigarette.
Reed studied her as she lit it. She looked more than shaken. She looked hung over. "Do you honestly drink that much?"
Lydia glanced at her hands, thinking they were what probably gave her away. "Only as much as it takes," she said. But her eyes were the culprit. They were bloodshot and glassy.
"You know, you really shouldn't..."
Lydia stopped him with a glare. "I have one father, Reed. I don't need two. All right?"
Reed shook his head, looking more hurt than anything by that, and with a sigh, Lydia apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."
Reed wasn't so quick to forgive though. "As much as it takes for what? You're shivering, for God's sake."
Lydia lowered her eyes. He sounded like Greg. "I'll be fine," she said and looked up with a smile that said thanks for being concerned, but drop it. "Give me an hour and I'll be as good as new." She changed the subject then, motioning to the checkbooks. "I'm hoping that since that's the one I did that maybe I just screwed up."
Reed smiled faintly. With every moment that passed, they were growing closer. "Do you want me to go over it?"
Lydia nodded. "I can't bear to even look." She walked over to the window as he began, and for some ungodly reason, found herself watching the Bible reader's every move. He looked as if he was operating his machine in slow motion.
"Halfway point," Reed said, after a while. "We're still the same."
Lydia stared. The Bible reader was sitting down to rest.
"How was your father last night?"
"About the same."
"Were you able to talk to him about any of this?"
"Some. B
ut he either doesn't remember or has forgotten the details."
Reed looked over his shoulder at her. "There's no difference there, you know."
"Oh, I know. Believe me, I know. I'm just giving you his responses."
Reed waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't, so he turned back around to finish. Lydia needed only to look at his eyes when he finally hit the total button to know he'd come up with the same figure she had.
"Okay. Now what?"
Reed massaged the bridge of his nose, thinking. "Well, with what the bank says is our cash on hand..."
Lydia sat down across from him. "Let's call it a bottom line. It seems more poignant that way. A bottom line, with a monumental void."
Reed had to smile. At least she sounded like she was about to join the living again. "I guess we're going to have to come up with a plan."
Lydia stared off, nodding, and suddenly looked miles away. "You know who I haven't seen in a while?"
Reed shook his head.
"Carlson! Where is the little pervert?"
Reed laughed. What did the janitor have to do with this? "I see him here and there. Maybe he's just staying out of your way."
Lydia looked at him. "Well gee, that's nice. But why?”
"I don't know," Reed said, grinning. "Maybe because I asked him to."
"How nice of you. And he listened? I'll be damned."
"Is he keeping the machines stocked?"
Lydia laughed, nodding. 'We're going down the tubes, but by golly, we're gonna do it with full Kotex machines!"
Reed tore the tape from the calculator. "How many can we buy with this?"
Lydia hit him on the arm, laughing harder. "Stop! Come on, my head!" But it was several minutes before they finally ran down.
"Okay, now what?" Reed said.
Lydia dabbed at her eyes. That had been her question. “Well, for starters, I guess when Tony comes in we'll have to get him to speed up his selection process."
"It's only been a day."
Lydia sighed. The lunacy was gone. She felt like she'd been laughing in the lobby of a funeral parlor and was now viewing the corpse. "Sorry, but seeing as we have less time than I thought."
"I suppose it has to be done."
"Yeah, I'm afraid it does, even more so now. Not only do I want to eliminate the third shift immediately, I want to cut back on the other two as well. But right now, I think I'm ready for a cup of coffee and maybe one of those Danishes so appetizingly wrapped in cellophane. Want something?"
Reed shook his head. She was a whirlwind. "No, thanks. I had bacon and eggs earlier."
Lydia made a face. "Well, excuse me, mister three balanced-meals-a-day. Take the checkbooks with you. I'11 see you up in your office."
Reed laughed, and the next time he saw her, she looked as good as new, as beautiful as ever, and moving ahead.
"I think we should get Tony in here early so we can get going on this. I'm sure he'd just have a cow if I started axing people without him."
Reed sighed. "I don't know how you can be so flip. You talk about axing people like it was nothing."
"What do you want? Call it anything else, like, God forbid, terminate, and you gotta deal with that. Axing is easier. Think of Lizzie Borden. Chop! Chop! No muss, no fuss."
Reed smiled.
"Now call Tony and get him out of bed. Have him come in around two."
Reed glanced at his watch. "Why don't we give him another hour or so."
Lydia laughed. "Are you telling me you think he's still asleep?"
Reed shrugged. "He could be."
"Yeah! He could also be wide awake and with his hands full again, so call him. Otherwise, I'm going to start without him."
Reed laughed, buzzing Jan to ask her to get him on the line, and while waiting, he could do nothing but swoon as Lydia lit a cigarette. "I asked the other night," he found himself saying. "And you joked about it. But just how serious is it with you and Greg Stewart? Really?"
Lydia met his eyes hesitantly. "Serious enough."
That wasn't what Reed wanted to hear, but he was too far gone to let it bother him. Gazing at her again, when Jan buzzed back, he pressed down on the intercom without lifting the receiver. "Yes, Jan?"
"Mr. Armato is on line three, but he said for me to tell you, and these are his words, ‘This better be worth it.'"
Reed laughed, blaming Lydia. "See?! I told you! I ought to make you take it!"
"Fine." Lydia reached for it eagerly, and Reed batted her hand away, taking a deep breath before getting on the line.
"Tony, sorry to disturb you, but..." He paused, listening, then turned and lowered his voice. "That close, huh?"
Lydia tried to take the phone, getting the gist of that, and Reed pushed her hand away, laughing again. "No, nothing's funny. In fact, it's quite the opposite." He drilled Lydia with his eyes, motioning for her to be still, and she sat back, smiling.
"Lydia and I were wondering if you could come in a little earlier." He stopped to listen, as if Tony had butted in, then chuckled and got red in the face. "Well, I'd like to pursue that subject with you, but..." He listened again. "Uh-huh, she's right here." His face reddened even more now, and he turned slightly. "We were thinking maybe around two. We have a few things we'd like to go over with you." He paused. "Okay, we'll see you then."
When he hung up, Lydia asked, "Is he coming in at two?"
"I don't know. Is that when good and ready is?"
Lydia almost laughed, and probably would have, had it been anyone other than Tony. "Is that what he said?"
No," Reed said, lying. "I was only kidding.
Lydia studied his eyes, knowing, then stood up and headed for the door. "I'm going to personnel."
"Why? What for?"
"I want to look up John Dale's number. You know, the foreman Superman replaced. I want to know why he quit.” Before Reed had a chance to even think, she walked out.
* * *
The personnel department had a ghost town feel about it, so rather than call from there, Lydia jotted down John Dale's number and phoned from the conference room. There was no answer.
She got into the past production scheduling then, going back six months, having noticed from the payroll records that most of the machinists were putting in at least two hours a day overtime. Curious about how this affected the cost, she also wondered what the machinists from the next shift did during the overlap period. At time and a half yet. And why were the jobs being overrun the standard percentage?
She noted a few more questions, then went out for a burger, laughing at the picketers antics on the way there and back. She had just sat down on the picnic table behind the plant to finish her milkshake when she saw Tony's car turn into the lot.
"Wonderful." Not wanting to stick around for another show of smooth moves and disappearing hands, she tossed the shake in the garbage and went inside. Upstairs in the conference room, she lit a cigarette and tried the old foreman's number again.
A woman answered. "Hello."
"May I speak to John Dale please?"
"I'll get him. Who's calling?"
"Lydia Merchant."
Several minutes passed. The woman got back on the line. "Are you from Merchant Manufacturing?"
"Yes."
"That's what he thought. He doesn't want to talk to you."
Lydia frowned. "Why not?"
"He just doesn't. He says to go to hell." Click.
Lydia couldn't believe it. Go to hell?! Why? She slammed the receiver down, grabbed an ashtray, and hurled it across the room, shattering it to pieces. And in walked Tony.
"Quit smoking?" he said. "Or just having a bad day?"
His smug expression only added to her fury, and looking around then for another ashtray to throw, she could have gone for his throat when he pointed to one at the far end of the table.
Then the intercom buzzed, its irritating sound making her even more furious. She shoved the phone away. It could buzz a thousand times for all she cared. Sh
e'd be damned if she was going to answer it. When this became quite obvious, Tony leaned across the table and picked it up.
"Yes?"
"Is Miss Lydia there?"
Tony could hardly keep a straight face. "Oh, she's here all right."
"May I speak to her, please? This is Jan."
Tony put the phone to his chest and cleared his throat for dramatic effect. "It's for you, Miss Lydia. It's your secretary.”
Lydia glared at him for saying her name like that and practically tore the phone from his hand.
"Yes, Jan?" she snapped.
"I'm s-s-sorry if I caught you at a bad time, but I need to talk to you."
"Go ahead. I'm listening."
Tony sat down and stretched his legs out, as if they were sore, and propped his elbow on the table, looking up at her.
"Perhaps I should call you back," Jan said nervously.
"That's not necessary," Lydia insisted. "What is it?"
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to resign," Jan said, her voice scratchy and high-pitched.
“Why?”
"Because," she said, sniffling. "I think it would be best. I know you're unhappy with me."
Lydia sighed. What next? And to make matters worse, from Tony's expression, she'd have sworn he knew exactly what Jan was saying. She swallowed. "Jan, I’ll be up to talk to you in a little while. All right? We'll work this out. Please, I don't want you to resign."
"Yes, Miss Lydia."
Lydia stared down at the phone for a moment after hanging up, knowing Tony was still looking at her ever so critically. When she finally raised her eyes, in came Reed, red‑
faced and indignant.
"What did you do to Jan now?"
Lydia shook her head. This was unbelievable, and not only unbelievable - but unfair. "I didn't do anything. I don't know what her problem is."
"You have to. I've never seen her this upset. And she's blaming herself, so whatever it is..."
"I told you, I didn't do anything. Just like I didn't do anything to him." She motioned to Tony. "Or the foreman whose wife just told me to go to hell. Or to anyone else for that matter."
Call Me Lydia Page 14