She slipped the Rolls into gear, and started down the drive to the road.
Two
Burnham Flats lay in a shallow valley between the gentle, wooded hills that ran down to the edges to two lakes ‒ Lake Burnham and Downside. Lake Burnham was the town’s lake, a lively place dotted with summer houses and boat-sheds, where families went to swim on hot Saturday afternoons, and where the townspeople kept their canoes and fishing-boats. It belonged to, and was used by everyone in Burnham Falls, and it was still large enough to serve all their needs. Even so, it was small by comparison to Downside.
Downside stretched for five miles along the upper curve of the valley, a narrow, silent stretch of water fed by many little streams that slipped down the rocky sides of the hills. There were no houses built along the ridges of those hills, and the only road was narrow, curving, and almost totally deserted. The foreshores of Downside, save for a few acres, belonged to the New York Water Supply, which had made the lake a part of its chain of reservoirs to supply the metropolis, sixty miles away. The other important owner was the Catholic Church. The heirs of the millionaire who had built his grey granite mansion as a faithful copy of a German castle, had given Downside to the church when taxes made the place impractical to maintain. It was now a seminary for students for the priesthood.
The earliest records of Burnham Falls were dated 1732. The town itself looked like a hundred, or a thousand other towns that lay north of New York City and on the verge of the New England States, and which shared with them the rocky terrain, the long, frozen winters, the fierce tide of spring that turned too swiftly to summer, and the orange and scarlet falls. The houses were mostly white frame, and their lawns were trim and tended.
The courthouse at Burnham Falls had been built a little after the Revolution. Its beauty of line and proportion was so simple that many people who had lived in Burnham Falls all their lives had never really noticed it; the porticoed front, with its slender columns, was shaded in summer by the tall elms that still remained along this section of Main Street.
Across the lake from the courthouse, piled one on the other up the slope of the hills, were the cottages of the summer visitors. Viewed from here they were not unattractive ‒ the distance and the trees softened the outlines of the boxy little frame bungalows, with the screen porches and the split rail fences, and took away the painful obviousness of their square gardens. Those built since the war had coloured roofs ‒ green, red and blue. To anyone standing on the steps of the courthouse at Burnham Falls, they looked like dabs of bright paint autocratically imposed on a picture of the quiet lake and hills. The summer bungalows did not exactly belong with Burnham Falls, but they were needed. From June to September the population of the town was almost trebled, and many people lived on the proceeds of those months. The storekeepers did not overcharge the summer people purely from motives of greed ‒ but because the winters were long, and they had to make their profits before the bungalows across the lake closed down. They had yet to test fully the damage the supermarket and the shopping centre down the highway could do to them.
Since the full employment of the war years, Burnham Falls had tottered on the verge of decline. It needed more of one kind of person, and less of another ‒ more people to build new houses across the lake, and fewer farmers whose living had dwindled with the importance of agriculture in the area. Burnham Falls needed industry to bring employment to its people, or it needed a fast train service to turn it into a commuter dormitory, instead of just a summer resort. At one time it had believed that Joe Carpenter could keep its young men in jobs, and he had believed it also. But in the end Joe had failed to do this, and the young men had moved away with their families. Singly, Joe Carpenter had not been able to keep Burnham Falls alive.
And so, many eyes had turned curiously to look after Harriet, driving Joe’s old Rolls along Main Street. They wondered, a little uncomfortably, if anyone had told her about the sign. It was stretched, big scarlet letters on whiter cloth, from the portico of the courthouse to one of the elms on the lake shore. It was simple and blunt, and it spoke painfully of the town’s need.
BURNHAM FALLS WELCOMES AMTEC INDUSTRIES, INC.
II
Amtec had chosen to introduce itself formally to Burnham Falls in the little square at the back of the courthouse. Harriet, at the time she had glimpsed the sign moving gently in the breeze, had only just begun to comprehend the homely touch that holding the gathering in the town square, instead of the new building up on the hill, would give to the occasion. There would be no ribbon-cutting at the glass and metal doors of the new Amtec Laboratories ‒ though they would be on show for three days to anyone who wanted to visit them. They had actually been functioning after a fashion for about a month; as scientists and technologists had begun to arrive from Amtec’s other smaller research centres across the country. In the next few weeks they would be followed by their families.
Main Street, and the two short streets leading to the square, were lined with parked cars, and there was a steady drift of people in that direction. Already Harriet could hear the low, rumbling noise of the crowd. She glanced anxiously at her watch as she nudged the Rolls through the pedestrians, raising her hand now and again to salute someone she recognised as she passed. It was almost noon. Unless she found a parking space quickly she would miss the opening speeches. Right at the edge of the square she saw Jed Wilson take his Ford out of the line of parked cars; thankfully she backed the Rolls into his place. She slid out of the seat, slammed the door, but did not lock it. As she started across the road towards the square she smoothed on her gloves; she noticed then that her hands trembled slightly.
Harriet hesitated as she reached the edge of the worn lawn that surrounded the bandstand. Just about everyone from Burnham Falls was here, she judged, and many people who’d never been in Burnham Falls before. But this wasn’t the untidy, good-humoured carnival or political-rally crowd, milling about noisily, or fighting for space on one of the eight wooden benches facing the bandstand. Burnham Falls had never known a meeting like this one before. The little square was packed solidly with folding aluminium chairs, set out in neat blocks.
Suddenly she was aware that Steve was coming towards her down one of the aisles between the chairs ‒ and that she had stood absent-mindedly on the kerb, absorbed in the scene. But even before he came close Harriet could sense his tension. His tall, loosely-jointed body, with its slightly hunched shoulders, was held with unnatural stiffness. He threw a half-smoked cigarette on the grass, and paused to stamp it out; then he came on towards her again. His tension was visible in the frown on his handsome, weary face; it was also in the feel of the hand that he laid too firmly on her arm.
‘I thought you weren’t going to make it. They’re just about ready to start.’
She shrugged and tried to smile. ‘Too much traffic and no parking space ‒ and that big Amtec sign scared me half to death.’
Her tone was deliberately light, but she looked at him almost appealingly. She wanted him to understand how she felt about the sign across Main Street; she needed the reassurance of a glance from him, or a further tightening of the grip on her arm. But whatever his concern, it was not, at the moment, for her; he seemed hardly to have heard her. He was leading her forward to a seat, leading her down through the rows of townspeople, many of whom had noticed her arrival, down to a section in the front near the bandstand that seemed to be filled with strange people, and with women wearing hats. Here, she noticed, the aluminium seats were different, more generous in width, with curved, padded backs, and arm-rests. Steve nudged her towards two empty ones at the end of a row. A few faces turned towards them, mostly unfamiliar ones, though she recognised Herb Miller, the Mayor, and Charles Stanley, the Prosecuting Attorney. She smiled warmly at these two; but her first quick glance had marked the chic spring hats and here and there a mink stole among the women, and she was conscious that she had not bothered to put on a hat, because she never wore a hat in Burnham Falls, and tha
t her suit must show every one of its six years. She was a naive fool to have taken this occasion so much for granted; this wasn’t Burnham Falls, this was Amtec. Steve leaned across her and touched the arm of the man on her right.
‘Tom! … Harriet, this is Tom Harvey, head of market research ‒ and Mrs. Harvey … my wife, Harriet.’
‘How do you do?’ Harriet said to both of them. Tom Harvey’s wife was a slim, pretty woman, who wore a mustard-coloured hat, and suede gloves that were an exact match; Harriet found herself taking the gloved hand, and being subjected to a swift, complete scrutiny. Her interested look of recognition told Harriet that she probably knew a great deal of the history of the Burnham Falls Shellac Company, and of Joe Carpenter. The eyes of the two women met firmly.
‘I’m glad to meet you at last, Mrs. Dexter.’
Then, from directly in front of Harriet, a man interrupted them. He turned around, and of his own initiative, held out his hand to Harriet.
‘Mrs. Dexter! … I’m Arthur Sommers.’ His round babyish face creased in a smile. ‘Don’t mind my introducing myself ‒ we’re all in the same family now, and I’ve known Steve ever since he joined the company. Steve tells me you were actually brought up in Burnham Falls.’
‘Oh, yes … Burnham Falls has been here for quite a long time … a long time before to-day.’ Beside her, Steve shifted his position in his chair.
‘Well, it’s certainly a pretty spot ‒ and I’ll bet it’s got quite a bit of history attached to it, too. I liked this place the moment I saw it, and I’ve been telling my wife, Mary, that she and the kids are going to enjoy living here. Mary isn’t here to-day … we’re moving here from New Jersey next week, and there was too much to be done for her to take the day off …’
Steve cut in, leaning in towards the group. ‘Art is going to head up our finance division here, Harriet. He’s comptroller.’
‘Just an old penny-watcher, that’s all I am!’ His face crinkled with laughter, as if it were an old joke for him. ‘Hateful ‒ but necessary, Mrs. Dexter. Can’t let the boys get so relaxed by these fresh open spaces that they don’t watch the costs any more. But say ‒ my wife would like to meet you as soon as she comes up here. You being brought up here ‒ you could tell her all about the neighbourhood, the stores, and so on … whatever it is you ladies always want to know about a new place.’
‘I’d be glad to,’ Harriet said, ‘but there isn’t so much to know about Burnham Falls ‒ or much to do in it, either.’
‘There will be,’ Sommers said genially, but with firmness. ‘There will be! Just you wait and see the plans Amtec has for Burnham Falls. They’ll have all you ladies so busy you won’t have time to turn round. There’s the new school to get off the ground, for one thing …’
‘I thought the country would be paying for the new school …’ Harriet murmured.
‘That’s true, but Amtec is bringing in the people who’ll be the taxpayers. And it’s up to Amtec to see that we get the kind of school we want …’ He paused, and then decided to finish out his thought. ‘The company’s had a lot of experience, Mrs. Dexter, and there are a lot of planning and construction experts on the payroll. Amtec expects them to give their time to community work, just like everyone else.’
Then Tom Harvey said, ‘You’re darned right, Art! We can only get the things we want here if we’re prepared to work for them … and for my part, that’ll suit me fine. I’ll enjoy getting my teeth into some community projects. I’ve been a cliff-dweller in New York for too long.’
Mrs. Harvey said gently, ‘My two girls are going to enjoy going to school in the country. They go to P.S. 6 now, but they’d rather be in the country. And if the Town Council passes the present plans for the new school, it’ll be one of the finest in the State.’
‘I didn’t know the plans were ready,’ Harriet said.
‘We’ve had them at Amtec for some weeks,’ Tom Harvey said. ‘In fact, we recommended the architect who prepared them to the Town Council.’
Steve lit another cigarette. ‘I’ve only glanced at them,’ Steve said, ‘but it looks like a pretty expensive project to me.’
‘It’s going to be a consolidated school,’ Art Sommers explained. ‘It’s going to join a couple of the towns round here ‒ and after all, we have to take care of the needs of the future population. If we don’t get first-class establishments, we can’t get the right kind of teachers, either. Amtec, of course, has made it possible for the Council to get the loans …’
He stopped speaking as the Burnham Fire Department Band suddenly struck up. They played rather raggedly, but with great gusto. Harriet realised that they were nervous ‒ incredibly they were nervous, these men who knew almost every face in the crowd except for the group of strangers sitting in the special seats.
Tom Harvey suddenly touched Harriet very lightly on the arm. ‘Here’s E.J. ‒ coming now.’
‘… and we are proud, very proud indeed, to become corporate citizens of Burnham Falls.’
E. J. Harrison had been speaking for some minutes. Along with the others he had listened politely to the Mayor’s, Herb Miller’s, speech ‒ a brief, enthusiastic speech that had risen to a little crescendo at the end, as he led the applause which accompanied the progress of the Chairman of the Board of Amtec Industries, Incorporated, from his seat to the speaker’s place in the centre of the bandstand. Amtec wanted its chairman heard; the public address system was evidenced by only one discreet mike at the speaker’s stand, but Amtec engineers had done a very competent job of wiring the whole square. No one would miss the words of E. J. Harrison.
‘You here in town know, of course, that about eighteen months ago the operation that used to be known as the Burnham Falls Shellac Company became the newest member of the family of growing companies that make up Amtec Industries. Under the guidance of Amtec, with improved production methods, with the Amtec distribution and sales channels open to it, the plant has considerably increased its volume, its markets, and its manpower. We are determined to continue this trend until Burnham Falls is the biggest producer of shellac in the Eastern States.’
Herb Miller again led the applause, but the crowd didn’t need urging. This was what it had come to hear about ‒ more production and more jobs.
‘The Research Laboratory is working for the United States Defence Department ‒ who have long been one of Amtec’s leading customers. Now I am able to announce that we have been granted increased government contracts to manufacture the products of our research ‒ research which in the past has proved to have been vital to our defence. This will require a new and extensive plant, and one that must be capable of being enlarged, as our needs and products increase. It gives me great pleasure to tell you now that Amtec has decided to build this plant in Burnham Falls, and we will want Burnham Falls man-power to run it.’
He cut out the applause with an authoritative gesture.
‘Ladies and gentlemen ‒ Burnham Falls is going to take its place in the space age! ‒ in the age of missiles and rockets! We are in the process of developing new and improved epoxies and solid fuels ‒ substances that will be used in building and firing the missiles that will keep our country safe from aggression, missiles that will give us control of outer space!’
Wild applause broke out now. Harriet joined in the applause, and she knew that Burnham Falls was being carried away on a wave of patriotic fervour, even though most of the people were hearing about epoxies and solid state fuels for the first time. There was a comfortable thought of prosperity to accompany the patriotism.
‘… And we of Amtec Industries are fully conscious of the responsibilities we owe to any community which we enter. We have brought, and will be bringing, progress to your town. There are two hundred scientists coming to staff the research centre, and with them are coming their wives and families. Amtec has met its responsibilities to these families, by building the development which is known as Amtec Park. We pride ourselves at Amtec that no move of personnel has ever involved
hardship.’
His voice grew louder, more forceful. ‘You in Burnham Falls will share the privileges and benefits enjoyed by the thousands of people throughout the United States who work for Amtec. You will share its health plans, its insurance plans, its pension funds. You will know the feeling of security which comes from belonging to an organisation which has the means and the capacity to be a friend and a helper to you.’
E. J. Harrison was happy, because these were words which he had said many times before, in many different places.
He went on: ‘Amtec has made some far-reaching plans. We know that when we build the new plant here, our demands on man-power are going to exceed the supply available to us here in Burnham Falls. This man-power we must bring in from outside. But don’t think we’re going to throw a housing problem into your laps, or despoil or overcrowd this beautiful town. At the same time we break ground to begin construction of the new plant ‒ which is scheduled for this season ‒ we shall immediately begin construction for housing for the families of the men Amtec will recruit to work in the plant. With this plan in mind we have just completed the purchase of a large tract of land on the western limit of the town, where we will build three hundred homes.’
He paused, and the pause was long enough to let the feeling and the picture of the three-hundred house unit take shape, the thought of the fresh money flowing into the cash registers of Burnham Falls, the thought of the children crowding the schools, the automobiles crowding the streets.
‘Ladies and gentlemen … we believe that in this new extension to your town, in these new families who come to live there, will lie the future life and growth of Burnham Falls.
Corporation Wife Page 2