The Ghost

by Danielle Steel

  The ugly little studio was only four and a half blocks from the office, which was probably why they got it. They had offered him a hotel, but he had said he preferred an apartment.

  The office was a beautiful space on the fiftieth floor at Fifty-first and Park, and when he walked into the reception area, he stood looking at the view for a while, and then walked slowly around the models. It was going to be interesting working here again. Suddenly after all these years, it all seemed so different. But nothing prepared him for how different it really was on Monday morning.

  He had woken up at four, and had been waiting for hours, working on a variety of papers. He was still on London time, and he was also anxious to get started. But when he got to the office, it didn't take long to sense that there was a palpable aura of tension. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the associates seemed to be constantly jockeying for position. They told him little secrets about each other's work when he called them in one by one, and one thing was obvious, there was no sense of a team here. They were a group of talented individuals, doing everything they could to get ahead and crawl over each other. But what surprised him most was the kind of work they did. They were supposedly talented, and he got the impression they worked hard, but the designs they were all working on seemed far less advanced than the ones produced by the same firm in Europe. He realized that it was something he had never noticed on his quick trips through town in the past, but he had always been concentrating on the work that he was responsible for in London. This seemed very different, and far less exciting.

  Both senior partners, Bill Jones and Arthur Whitta-ker, were on hand and introduced him to everyone. The staff seemed cautious but pleased, they had all been told about him, and he had been expected. He had even worked with two of the more senior architects ten years before, when he'd been in New York, but what surprised him about them was that they didn't seem to have moved ahead much. They were happy covering the same ground, and doing the same kind of work he remembered. It was a real shock to him now, as he went from desk to desk, from one architect to another, and the young interns and apprentices seemed even more restrained than the people they worked for.

  What goes on here? Charlie asked casually, as he shared lunch with two of the associates. They had ordered out, and he had invited them into his office, which was a large corner room with wood-paneled walls and a spectacular view all the way to the East River. I get the feeling that everyone's a little bit afraid here. The designs look surprisingly conservative. How do you explain that? The two associates shared a long, slow glance, and then failed to answer. Come on, guys, let's be straight here. I saw more exciting design work here fifteen years ago. This office looks like it's been going backward. One of them laughed in answer, while the other looked seriously worried. But at least one of them, Ben Chow, was brave enough to answer honestly. It was what Charlie wanted. If he was going to run the place effectively, he needed information.

  They pretty much keep a lid on us here, Chow explained. This isn't Europe. The big guys are here, and they're breathing down our necks all the time. They're ultraconservative, as you know, and they hate taking chances. They think the old ways are the best ways. And I don't think they really care what anyone does in Europe. They want the same kind of work they always did. They claim that's what we're known for. They think of Europe as a kind of eccentric outpost, a necessary evil in the business. But it was that belief that had allowed Charlie all the freedom he'd enjoyed during his ten years in London. This was going to be very different.

  Are you serious? Charlie looked startled while Chow nodded at him and his colleague looked extremely nervous. If anyone had heard what had just been said, there were going to be serious repercussions.

  That's why none of the interns stick around for long, Ben went on. They play the game for a while, and then they go off to I. M. Pei, or KPF or Richard Meyer, or one of the other offices that let them show their stuff. You just can't break through in design here, Ben Chow complained, and Charlie listened with interest. You'll see, unless they let you change things radically. They'll probably sit on you too, if they think they can do it. But at that, Charlie grinned at them. He hadn't come this far, and worked this long and hard, in order to start making cookie-cutter buildings or endorse them. No one was going to make him do that.

  But Charlie learned in short order that that was indeed what they expected of him. They made it clear to him right from the beginning. They had brought him to New York to be an administrator, not to change the world, and they had absolutely no interest in the kind of projects he'd done in Europe. They were well aware of them, and they claimed that that was an entirely different market. The people in the New York office did what was expected of them, and what they were known for. Charlie was in shock when he heard what they said to him, and within two weeks of his arrival, he was going crazy. He felt completely violated, totally misled, and completely wasted. This was not what he had come to New York for. He was paraded around everywhere, to all their most important clients, but he was only a front man. They wanted his expertise in selling design, but the designs were never anything he could be proud of, and none of the projects were ideas he could feel comfortable representing. He tried to effect a change, but everytime he did, or altered a design, even superficially, one or both senior partners would be in his office, explaining to him the climate of the New York market.

  I have to be honest with you, he said finally, over lunch at the University Club with Arthur Whittaker, the climate' you keep talking about is beginning to make me hot under the collar.

  I understand, Arthur said, looking completely sympathetic to Charlie. They had no desire to upset him. They needed him in New York, they had no one else now. But, Charles, you have to be patient. This is our most important market. It was not, and they all knew it. But it was where the business had started. It was where they lived, and it was obvious that they wanted to run it their way.

  I'm not sure I agree with you, Charlie said as politely as he could. Europe has been netting the lion's share of the firm's income for you for years. Along with Japan. It's just that the projects aren't quite as large or as well known as what you do here. But in many ways, they're not only more profitable, but more exciting. I'd like to see if we can bring some of that flavor here from Europe. Charlie could see just looking at him that the senior partner was looking for a tactful answer, because he didn't like what Charlie was saying. The only mystery to him was why they were so intent on keeping the New York office so boring. They were completely behind the times now.

  That's really worth thinking about, Charles, Whittaker began, and then wound up with a long speech about Charlie having lost touch with the American market, but they were going to see that he was brought up to date as soon as feasible. In fact, they had already planned a brief tour of some of their major projects in progress. There were half a dozen huge undertakings in cities around the country, and the following week Charlie was flown around in the company jet to see them. But all he saw when he visited them were the same tired designs, the ideas that had been so fresh fifteen years before, and had been done to death now. He just couldn't believe it. While he had been busy in Taipei and Milan and Hong Kong, and doing truly amazing things for them, they had gone to sleep at the wheel in New York, and they were resisting all his efforts to wake them up and change things. In fact, they made it very obvious to him when he returned, and they had heard what he had to say, that change was the last thing they wanted. And after he spoke to diem, he felt utterly confused about how to do the job that he had come for. The only thing they seemed to want from him was to shut up and run the office. He felt like a monitor on a playground, and all the employees did was fight because they were so bored, and frustrated with their projects. It seemed like a hopeless situation, and as Thanksgiving approached, Charlie's spirits plummeted. He hated his work and he had been so involved in what he was doing there that he had made no plans for the holiday, and had no one to be with. Both senior partners ac
tually invited him to join them the day before, but he felt so uncomfortable being with either of them that he lied and said he had made plans with some cousins in Boston. And in the end, he sat in his studio apartment watching football on TV, and he ordered in a pizza and ate it at the Formica counter. It was so awful that in a way it was funny. He and Carole had always made a turkey and invited friends, but it was more of an oddity to their English friends, and it had just been an excuse for a dinner party. But Charlie still couldn't help wondering if Carole had celebrated Thanksgiving this year with Simon. He tried not to think about it, and went into the office for the rest of the weekend. He was still looking through photographs, files, and blueprints, and reading the histories of a number of their projects. But the look was always the same. In fact, at times he almost wondered if they'd used the same blueprints. And by the end of the weekend he was certain of what he'd only feared before, he hated everything they were doing. And he had no idea what to tell them.

  On Monday, when he went back to work again, he realized he'd forgotten to look at apartments over the weekend. Looking around at the co-workers who still seemed so ill at ease with him, he almost wondered if it was an omen. Half of them still treated him with suspicion, the others seemed to view him as eccentric. And the senior partners spent most of their time trying to either discredit him or control him.

  So what do you think? Ben Chow asked later that week when he stopped in Charlie's office. He was a smart, talented thirty-year-old guy. He had gone to Harvard, and Charlie liked not only his work, but his candor.

  Honestly? Charlie looked him straight in the eye, and knew that Ben would never betray him. It was a relief being honest with him after all the sidestepping that seemed to go on in the office. I'm not sure I've figured this place out yet. I'm confused by the uniformity of design. It's like everyone is terrified to come up with an original design or even think for themselves here. There's something frighteningly mindless about it. Even their attitudes make me uncomfortable. Particularly the way they constantly squeal on each other. Most of the time I have no idea what to say. This is definitely not a constructive, happy office. Ben Chow laughed at his description, and leaned back in the chair across from Charlie.

  I think you've got it, friend. We're just recycling old designs, probably from the days when you were first here. It was truer than either of them knew. They hadn't done anything original in a decade, pretty much since Charlie had left for London. The amazing thing was that no one in Europe had ever noticed.

  But why? What are they all so afraid of?

  Progress, I guess. Change. They're using formulas that have worked for them for years. They want to play it safe. They won a lot of awards fifteen years ago, and at some time, when no one was looking, the guts went out of the enterprise. No one has any balls now. All the exciting work we do is being done in Europe. He saluted Charlie then and the two men smiled. It was a relief for both of them to talk to each other. Ben Chow hated what he was doing there as much as Charlie disliked being responsible for it.

  But why won't they let you do it here? Charlie asked, still puzzled.

  Because this is their turf, Ben said clearly, and listening to him, Charlie knew he was right. The two men who owned the firm weren't going to let anything out of their hands that wasn't exactly what they wanted. And as far as they were concerned, what Charlie did was an aberration that only worked in the Far East or Europe.

  Why do you stay? Charlie asked him, looking curious. It can't be very exciting for you, and it won't do squat for your portfolio at this rate.

  I know that. But they still have a name that catches people's attention. Most people haven't figured out yet what we know. It'll probably take another five years and then it'll all be over. I want to go back to Hong Kong next year, but I want to put in another year here first. It sounded sensible to Charlie, and he nodded.

  What about you? Ben had already said to several friends that he didn't think Charlie would last six months there. He was far too advanced, and too creative to waste his time recycling garbage.

  They agreed to send me back to London in a year. But he was already concerned about Dick Barnes, who might not be willing to give up running the London office, and that could turn out to be a serious problem.

  I wouldn't bet on it, Ben said knowingly. If they like your style, they're going to try and keep you here forever.

  I don't think I could stand it, Charlie said, nearly in a whisper. It was a far, far cry from what he had done in Europe. But he could give them a year. He had promised them that, and he was ready to fulfill his obligation to them. But on Monday morning he got in an enormous argument with Bill and Arthur over a complicated construction they had going in Chicago. It turned into a week-long fight, an ideological debate, and eventually challenged everyone's integrity and ethics. And Charlie absolutely would not relent about it. But everyone was drawn into the debate, and it divided the entire office into factions. By the end of the week, everyone had finally settled down again, tempers had calmed, and most of the participants retreated to compromise positions, though the main issues were not entirely resolved to Charlie's satisfaction. And within days, a similar argument broke out over a project in Phoenix. It was all about design and having the courage to move forward, and not selling the same old tired concepts to unwitting clients. But they were doing the same thing in Phoenix they'd done before, and the building was almost identical to one they'd done in Houston, but the client didn't know it.

  What is going on here? Charlie ranted at both partners in a closed meeting in his office a week before Christmas. It had been snowing all week, and three of their architectural associates had been unable to come in from the suburbs, which made the pressure on all of diem somewhat greater. But the battle about Phoenix had been raging since early morning. What exactly are we doing? We're not selling anything original. We're not even selling design. We're becoming contractors, that's all we are. Don't you understand that? Both men sitting in the room with him bristled at the accusations, and reminded him that they were one of the most respected architectural firms in the country. Then why don't we act like it, and start selling design again, not this crap that could be done by morons. I really can't let you do this, he said, and the two partners looked at each other, but Charlie had his back to them and was looking at the snow out the window. He was completely frustrated by what they were doing, and humiliated by what they were selling. It really had been a disastrous year for him, and as he turned to face them again, he was surprised to hear them remind him of it. They had already discussed it several hours before, and they were trying to salvage a very delicate situation.

  We know you've had a hard time ' we heard about your wife, they said cautiously, that must have been stressful for you, Charles. And moving back from Europe after ten years can't be easy either. Maybe we were wrong to ask you to just step right into the job in a matter of days, without even pausing for breath between New York and London. Maybe you need some time to adjust' . What about a little vacation? We've got a project in Palm Beach you could go down and supervise for us. In fact, there's no reason for you not to stay there for a while. You could easily spend a month there. As they said it, alternating sentences, they both looked somewhat sheepish.

  A month? In Florida? Is that a polite way of getting rid of me? Why don't you just fire me? In fact, they had discussed that too, but given his immense success abroad, and the contract he'd signed, they both found it more than a little embarrassing to fire him, and potentially very expensive. His not working out in New York would be a reflection on them as well, and they were both anxious to avoid any possibility of lawsuits or scandal. He was highly respected in their field, and firing him, and all that entailed, would cause comment and controversy, which might eventually hurt them. They wondered if leaving him in Florida for a while would cool him off, and give them a chance to rethink their options. They needed time to discuss it with their lawyers.

  Fire you? They guffawed at the thought. Charles! O
f course not! But just looking at them, Charlie knew better. He knew that sending him to Florida was just a ploy to get him out of their hair. And he also knew that not only was he unhappy in New York, but he was making them very nervous. Professionally at least, in his years abroad, he had come to represent everything they hated. He was far too avant-garde now for the New York office, and in their haste to fill the job, they had somehow managed to overlook that.

  Why not just send me back to London? he asked hopefully. But the truth was, they couldn't. They had just signed a deal with Dick Barnes, guaranteeing him Charlie's old job for at least five years. He had come at them with an incredibly shrewd lawyer. But the contract had been drawn up in the utmost secrecy, and Charlie knew nothing about it. I'd be a lot happier if I were there, and so would you, I suspect. He smiled at the two men who were his bosses. They weren't bad men, they just had no sense of artistic excitement, and lately they seemed to be lacking courage. They were tired, and so was everything they were doing. And they were running a police state in order to keep everything the way they wanted.