She pecked at my cheek and sat down next to me. “I didn’t tell Mother about her present,” she whispered.
I didn’t answer. I had almost forgotten about it. The way things were going now, it didn’t look as if I would be able to pick it up anyway.
Bright kid, my daughter. She was quick to sense my mood. “Is there anything wrong, Dad?” she asked anxiously, peering at my face. “Have you and Mother had a quarrel?”
I shook my head. “Nothing like that, honey,” I answered. “Business problems.”
“Oh.” She didn’t sound convinced.
I looked at her. In that moment I knew she was no longer a child. She was a woman, with all the grace and intuition and inscrutability of her sex. “That’s a funny question for you to ask. What made you say that?”
She hedged. “Nothing,” she answered evasively.
“You must’ve had a reason,” I insisted.
She didn’t look at me. “You’ve been acting so queer lately and Mother has been going around with a sad expression.”
I tried to laugh but couldn’t. I’d been fooling nobody but myself. “That’s silly,” I said.
Her eyes came back to mine, her hand crept under my arm. She seemed reassured. “I saw a picture of that Mrs. Schuyler in the paper, Dad,” she said. “She’s very beautiful.”
I played dumb. “She’s all right.”
“Grandpa thinks she’s in love with you,” she said.
Silently I swore at him. Pop should have more sense than to say a thing like that. “You know him,” I said with forced lightness. “He thinks all women are nuts about me.”
A thoughtful look came into her eyes. “It’s possible, Dad,” she said. “You’re not decrepit, you know.”
I smiled at her. “Just a little while ago, you said I was an old fuddy-duddy and not in the least bit romantic. Remember?”
“But you could fall in love with her,” she insisted. “Things like that do happen. I saw a picture once where Clark Gable—”
“That’s the movies,” I said, interrupting her. “And I’m not Clark Gable.”
“You’re better-looking than he is,” she said quickly.
I looked at her sceptically. Her face was serious. I laughed, a warm feeling inside me. “Flattery’ll get you nowhere,” I said
Suddenly she was a child again, with all the romantic fervour of her age. “Wouldn’t it be terrible, Dad,” she whispered, “if she were in love with you and had to go through life knowing she could never have you?”
An ache, almost forgotten in the last few days, began to throb again in me. Out of the mouths of babes—
I got to my feet. I had enough. “Come inside,” I said. “Uncle Paul’s in there and he’d like to see you.…”
I didn’t sleep well. The faint night sounds kept beating at the windows, but there was no comfort in them for me. At last the first grey shadow of the coming day crept into the room. I had found no answers in the night; perhaps the climbing sun would point out a way. I closed my eyes and dozed.…
I dropped Paul off at the airport on the way in to the office. He was very glum. “At least let me speak with her,” he asked before getting on the plane.
I shook my head.
He stared at me for a moment. “You and your stupid pride,” he muttered, holding out his hand.
I took it, his grip was warm and friendly. His eyes met mine. “I hope it’ll come out right,” he said sincerely.
“It will,” I said more confidently than I felt. “It has to.”
He turned towards the plane. “Good luck,” he called back over his shoulder.
“Thanks,” I said. There was a kind of dejection in his walk. Impulsively, I called after him. “Paul!”
He stopped and turned back to me.
“This is only the first round,” I said, smiling. “Be brave.”
For a moment there was no expression on his face at all, then he smiled back at me. “You’re nuts,” he said, shaking his head with a half wave of his hand.
Mickey was at her desk her typewriter clacking like mad when I came in. “Get Chris,” I said.
She nodded towards my office door. “He’s in there waiting for you.”
I lifted a knowing eyebrow. He wasn’t wasting any time. I went on through to my office. He was sitting in my chair, behind the desk. He was scribbling something on a piece of paper. He looked up as I came in and started to get out of the chair.
I went along with the gag and waved him back into his seat. He watched me curiously. I didn’t speak, just sat there, staring back at him.
After a few minutes’ silence, he became uncomfortable. I could see a flush creeping up past his collar. I still didn’t speak.
He cleared his throat. “Brad—”
I smiled at him. “Comfortable chair, eh, Chris?”
As if touched with a hot iron, he jumped out of it.
I got to my feet, still smiling. “Why didn’t you tell me you were interested in it before, Chris?” I asked gently.
He flushed deeply.
Before he had a chance to speak, I spoke again. “If you had,” I continued in a still soft voice, walking around the desk and seating myself, “we might have done something about getting you one just like it.”
He didn’t speak; the colour was fading from his face. I could see his control coming back.
“You don’t understand, Brad,” he said. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Who?” I yelled. “Yourself?”
For the first time since I knew him, I saw him lose control of himself. “Someone around here has to keep his head on his shoulders!” he shouted back. “You’re dragging this outfit down with you because you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
I began to feel better. Now we were on grounds that I could understand. This pussyfooting, back-stabbing, genteel manner of business never went well with me. On Third Avenue we always settled our quarrels in the open.
“Where in hell were you all day yesterday?” I asked.
“I was trying to keep Matt Brady off our backs,” he said. “I was at his office. I made a deal with him.”
“What deal?” I asked. “Almost all our customers are gone and the rest of them are liable to go to-day.”
He nodded coldly. “I know,” he said. “He told me that he would break us the day you wouldn’t see him.”
“Who gave him the list of our customers so that he could go to work so quickly?” I got out out of my chair. “Was that how you figured you could help me? Out?”
His face flushed. “He wanted some references.”
I smiled. “That’s pretty weak, isn’t it, Chris?” I walked around the desk and looked down at him. “You don’t really think I’d buy that, do you?”
He stared up at me. His voice was cold and controlled once more. “I don’t give a damn what you believe,” he said. “I have a responsibility to all the people working here. I can’t stand by and see their work go for nothing.”
“Very noble,” I jeered. “Judas, too, had a feeling for others. What are your thirty pieces?”
His eyes were bright on mine. I could see the ambitious glitter in them. I knew he felt that I was whipped. “Brady will lay off if you get out,” he said.
“That silent partner deal you spoke about on the phone?” I asked, pretending an interest.
He shook his head. “I’m prepared to offer you a fair price for the company. You have to go for everybody’s good.”
I sat down again. “What’s a fair price?” I asked.
He hesitated a moment. “Fifty thousand.”
Big deal. The outfit was netting better than one hundred and fifty grand a year. “How can you be so generous?” I asked sarcastically.
“It is generous,” he said doggedly. “You might as well face it, Brad; you’re through here. You haven’t enough business left to pay the rent, let alone anything else.”
What he said was true enough, but somehow it didn’t matter. If I had to close up sh
op, I would do it. But I’d be damned if I’d let someone else take what I had built with so much pride and effort.
“Matt Brady agree to finance you?” I asked. “That’s part of the deal too?”
He didn’t answer.
I studied him for a minute. He stared back at me. “Chris,” I said gently.
A faint shadow of triumph flickered into his eyes for a moment as he leaned towards me expectantly.
“I’m almost tempted to take the dough and let you have the outfit.” I spoke quietly. “But I have a greater responsibility to the people that work here than you. You see, I built this and made their jobs possible. The easiest thing in the world for me to do would be to take your dough and get into something else. I would make out.”
“Sure, Brad,” he said eagerly, rising to the bait. “You can do anything.”
I let him think he was pushing me in the direction he wanted to go. “You really think so, Chris?” I asked, as if doubtful.
He was on the hook now and fighting hard to keep it. “You’re one of the best men in the field, Brad,” he said. “There isn’t an outfit that wouldn’t give their eye teeth for you to join them. Your record here speaks for itself. Look what you did here with nothing for a start.”
“You convinced me, Chris,” I said.
He got to his feet, triumph was clear in his eyes now. “I knew you’d be sensible about it, Brad,” he said, walking around the desk and clapping his hand on my shoulder. “I told Mr. Brady you’d listen to reason.”
I looked at him as if bewildered. “I think you misunderstand me, Chris.”
His hand fell from my shoulder and his jaw dropped.
“If I’m that good,” I continued, “I’m staying right here. We’ll get over this. My responsibility to the staff is too great to allow me to sell them down the river like slaves.”
“But, Brad,” he said. “I——”
I cut him off. “I wouldn’t trust you or Matt Brady with my dog,” I said coldly. “Much less other human beings.” I punched the buzzer on my desk.
Mickey’s voice came from the intercom. “Yes, Brad.”
“I want the whole staff, down to the office boy, in my office right away,” I said.
“Sure, Brad,” she answered, clicking off.
I turned back to Chris. He was standing there as if he had taken root. “What are you hanging around for, baby?” I smiled. “You don’t live here any more.”
He started to speak, then changed his mind and started for the door. As he opened the door, I could see that most of the staff was already in Mickey’s office, waiting. I had an idea. “Chris!” I called.
He turned, his hand on the open door.
I spoke loud enough for all of them to hear, I chose my words purely for effect. “Let my secretary know where to forward your mail. Matt Brady or the devil?” I laughed “Seems to me there isn’t much choice between them.”
Chapter Nineteen
I SAT at my desk and watched the last of them file from my office. I kept the smile on my face until the door closed behind them. My face ached when the smile went.
It had been a good meeting. I had reviewed the entire affair briefly from the first meeting with Matt Brady right up to the one I had with Chris before they came in. I told them that I could promise them nothing but a fight; that it would not be easy, but if I could count on their support I felt we would make out.
I couldn’t lose, especially after letting them hear what I had said to Chris as he went through the door. They promised their co-operation and swarmed around with words of encouragement. Some of them even volunteered temporary salary cuts until we could level off.
I waved that off, leaving the door open if I had to come back to them for that in the future. Then I shook hands with every one of them and they left.
It was great. I had promised a lot and said nothing. I stared down at the desk dejectedly. The phones were curiously silent. Normally at this time they would be banging like mad. I smiled grimly to myself. There was an old saying in the business—when they stop calling, you’re yesterday’s news. That’s exactly what I felt like.
The intercom buzzed. I flipped the switch lackadaisically. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Schuyler is here and wonders if you’d have time to look at some notes on the Infantile campaign?” Mickey’s voice was metallically cheerful.
For a moment I couldn’t find my voice. “Send her in,” I said, closing the switch.
I was on my feet as the door opened. I tried to calm the wild excitement pounding inside me. The door closed behind her.
She stood there looking at me. Her eyes were wide pools of concern; she didn’t smile. Then she came slowly towards my desk.
I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. There was something about her that belted me where I live. I could feel this woman in every cell of my being.
She looked up at my face. “You don’t look well, Brad,” she said quietly.
I didn’t speak, just kept soaking her up with my eyes.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?” she asked.
I found my voice. “Elaine.” I reached for her hand. Just the touch of her fingers made me want more. I started to pull her to me.
She shook her head and slipped her fingers from mine. “No, Brad,” she said gently. “It’s over. Let’s not start again.”
“I love you,” I said. “It’s not over.”
“I made a mistake, Brad,” she said in a small voice. “Please don’t keep throwing it up to me. I want to be your friend.”
“You don’t love me?” I asked.
I never saw such eyes. They told so much, they held so much pain. “Let me go, Brad,” she begged. “Please.”
I took a deep breath and went back to my chair and sat down. With trembling fingers I tapped a cigarette on the desk and lit it. I blew out a cloud of smoke and stared at her through it. “Why did you come back, Elaine?” I asked. “To torture me?”
The words seemed to hit her physically. I could almost see her shrink before my eyes. Her voice was tight and strained. “It’s my fault,” she said. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be fighting with my uncle.”
“You had nothing to do with it,” I said quickly. “He doesn’t even know I know you.”
“I know about the report he had on you,” she said. “That’s why you didn’t want to see him that night. You knew if I went with you, he would know. You were protecting me.”
“I was protecting myself,” I said. “I was completely selfish about it. Things would have been worse for me the other way.”
She didn’t answer.
“How do you know about the report?” I asked, wondering whether Sandra had talked. She knew the name, all right. She could have tied the two together.
“Uncle Matt told me,” she answered. “He was angry about the way you spoke to him. He felt he was only acting for your own good.”
“Heaven protect me from Matt Brady’s good intentions,” I said sarcastically. “If they were any better, I’d be dead for sure.”
“Uncle Matt felt you would have had a brilliant future with him,” she insisted.
“I had a brilliant future right here,” I pointed out. “Your dear uncle took care of that. Now I got nothing.” I ground out the cigarette which had burned almost down to my fingers. “He’s a real helpful character,” I added. “As long as you don’t cross him.”
“I can speak to him,” she said.
“No, thanks,” I answered. “Not interested. It’s too late, anyway. He pulled off my best accounts already.” I smiled wryly. “Your Uncle Matt doesn’t waste time.”
“Brad, I’m sorry,” she breathed.
I got to my feet. “I’m not,” I said. “Not for myself anyway. You pay for everything you get in this world. You get nothing for nothing. Little happiness—little pain; big happiness—big price. Everything comes out even. The books are always in balance.”
She got to her feet. A cold contempt had crept into her voice. “You�
��ve quit already.”
“What do you mean. I’ve quit?” I exclaimed in surprise. “What am I going to do? Sue him.”
Her eyes were cold. “Uncle Matt will be real disappointed,” she said. “I got the impression he was looking forward to a fight.”
“What am I gonna fight him with?” I asked. “Match-sticks? When he cut off my customers, he cut off my dough.”
“I have some money,” she said.
“Save it,” I said tersely.
“I want to help, Brad. Isn’t there anything I can do?”
I stared at her and shook my head. “I don’t know, Elaine. I don’t know if there’s anything anybody can do now. There’s an unwritten law in this business, and I broke it. No matter how you feel, the client is always right. Nobody’ll come near me now, for fear they might be tarred with the same brush.”
“What about the other members of the Steel Committee?” she asked. “I know some of them. They’re still interested in your plan.”
I laughed. “The way I figure it your uncle probably took care of them too.”
“How do you know unless you try?” she asked. “I know them pretty well. Most of them have no love for Uncle Matt.”
She had something in her favour. It was worth a chance. I reached for the telephone. “Who likes him the least?” I asked.
“Richard Martin, at Independent Steel,” she answered, her voice charged with excitement. “You’re going to call him?”
I nodded, asking Mickey to get him for me. I put down the phone while waiting for the call to go through.
“Good,” she smiled, her eyes glowing. “We’ve lost too much time already.”
I began to smile. This was a girl after my own heart. Everything she did was for me. Even the way she thought. She took out her cigarette case. The gold gleamed up at me. I walked over and held the light for her. She looked up at me, the blue smoke casting swirling shadows in her eyes.
I grinned down at her. “If you weren’t the woman I love, I’d offer you a partnership.”
“Better be careful,” she warned, smiling slowly. “I might take you up on it. Then you’d never be rid of me.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” I said. “It ain’t me that wants to run away.”
Never Leave Me (1953) Page 10