Dean continued looking out the window, watching two of the lettuce packers leaning against a jalopy in the parking area and jawing with each other. He frowned and scratched his head. He had not thought of Hal that way before, but the man was right. As long as he worked with a strong boss, he was an excellent man. But with someone else who would depend on Hal to make decisions — Dean caught his breath and his teeth clicked together with an audible snap. He spun about in his chair and stared into Hal’s eyes. Then he started to grin.
He told Hal, “Sit tight for a minute,” and reached for the telephone to dial the Moore number.
He caught Steve Moore just as he was leaving the plant for lunch. Steve barked into his ear, “What’s on your mind? Oh, wait a minute. I heard about Betty calling on you. Damn it all, she shouldn’t have done that. If she bothered you — ”
Dean smiled and said warmly, “Forget it. That’s a real nice gal you’re married to.”
“I’ve always thought so.”
“Not many women would put themselves out that way.”
“I still don’t like — ”
“Forget it, I said. I was glad to meet her. What I called about — Freeman and I signed a contract this morning.”
“I heard.”
“Yeah. Now, look. There’s nothing personal in the deal as far as I’m concerned. But hell, when Freeman comes around offering his services, no produce man in his right mind would pass it up. Would you turn down an offer of ten cars at a dollar a crate over the market? Well, that’s just about what Freeman means to a sales office every day of the week. You just don’t say no to a thing like that.”
There was a moment of silence, then Steve said, “I understand your position. I’m sorry, though, that Freeman doesn’t trust me. He’s cutting his own throat.”
“That’s neither here nor there. The thing is done. Maybe the guy was too mad and maybe he acted too fast for his own good, but the fact remains I got him and you’re fresh out of a sales manager. That bothers me.”
“Hmmm?”
“I don’t like the position you’re in, and I feel — well, maybe a little responsible for it. There’s plenty of room for all of us in this valley and I don’t like seeing you take it on the chin right when you’re stepping into the old man’s shoes.”
Steve said dryly, “I appreciate your solicitude.”
Dean said, “Now, wait. I’m serious about this. What are you doing about replacing Freeman?”
Steve was silent for a moment, then said, “I don’t know what to do. I’ve called about everybody I know and they all tell me the same thing. There’s no such animal as a spare sales manager lying around loose.”
“That figures. It’s a tight setup in this business. You could import a man, but then you’d have to send him on a three-month tour of the markets to acquaint him with the buyers, and you don’t have time for that.”
“I have one possibility like that. He’s already a buyer with the Nevins wholesalers in San Francisco. He’d like to get in this end of the business. But,” he sighed, “even he would need a month or more to acquaint himself with the operation here.”
“And,” Dean added, “then he might not work out. All right. You know Hal Smith, works for me?”
Steve replied, “W-e-1-1, yes, I think I do. Tall, thin fellow, gray hair?”
Dean looked across the desk at Hal and winked at him, then spoke into the phone. “That’s him. You know I don’t go around hiring jerks. He’s a damned good man at his job.”
“I imagine he would be.”
“You bet he is. But here’s the pitch: I can keep him on as assistant to Freeman, at the same dough, and do myself no harm. On the other hand, now that I’ll have Freeman around, it wouldn’t do me any harm either if Hal walked out on me. You see what I mean?”
Steve sputtered, “Well, I — but — but — ”
“I’m serious about this. And I’ve already talked it over with Hal. If you want someone to take over that mess you’re in, he’s the man. And, although he hasn’t said so in so many words, I think he’d be willing to make the switch. What do you think?”
“Well, I — Well, I’ll be damned. Do you mean this?”
“Are you going to lunch?”
“Yes.”
“Berdell’s?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have Hal meet you there in about fifteen minutes and you can talk it over. You two make any arrangements you want.” Dean paused a second, thinking of Hal and his debts and the wealth of the Moore outfit, then said, “Incidentally, don’t try to bargain with him over money. It won’t work. I pay him eighteen thousand for the season. If you want him you’ll have to pay the same. So you take it from there and talk with him.”
Steve gasped, “By God, Dean, you’re the best. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Forget it. I’ll see you around, Steve. So long.”
He put the phone in its cradle and grinned at Hal, who was staring at him with his mouth open wide. “You heard it,” he said. “I’ll give you ten to one that one hour from now you’ll be working for the Moore outfit for eighteen grand. I think that will take care of a lot of your problems. O.K.?”
Hal shook his head, a man in a trance. He was incapable of saying anything. He got to his feet and leaned over to shake hands with Dean and walked stiffly out of the office. A moment later he was back, looking around the edge of the door, a slight mist in his eyes. “I’ll never forget this,” he mumbled.
“Sure. I’m not the bastard everyone thinks I am.”
“I’ll never forget it, Dean.”
“You’d better run along.”
Dean watched him disappear, then leaned back in his chair, the hangover all gone, and chuckled quietly for a long while. A weak man who could not make gambling decisions and a weak boss who had a great deal to learn about the business. Dean’s chuckle deepened and he burst out laughing. What a wonderful combination!
Dean called Ruth’s home to ask how she was getting along, but was informed by the maid that Mrs. Tinsley was sleeping and was not to be disturbed. Dean sat back and thought of her falling down the cliff, and for the first time it struck him as being funny. He was still smiling about it when he went outside to get his car. He looked over toward the Moore plant and saw the gray Mercedes standing before the entrance to the offices. Steve was there, talking with his sister. Dean thought of something else he could tell Steve, to cinch the deal concerning Hal, so he got into his car, pulled onto the highway, and drove around the steel-wire fences to the Moore property. He stopped alongside the Mercedes, but Steve was nowhere in sight.
Dean got out of his car and walked around to the left of the Mercedes to look in at Truly Moore. She was lighting a cigarette and swung her gray eyes sideways to appraise him as she puffed at it. She shoved the lighter back into the dashboard slot, blew out a puff of smoke, and gave Dean a cool smile. She reached over to turn the ignition key and started the engine.
Dean said, “Wait a minute. Where’d Steve go, back inside?”
“No. He left for lunch.”
“But I just drove in. I didn’t see him go.”
“His car was around in back. I guess he went out that way.”
“Oh.”
“Anything important? You could probably catch him at Berdell’s.”
“It was nothing.”
“As a matter of fact, he had a luncheon engagement with me. He had to break it.”
“Yeah, I know. Business.” He grinned and asked, “Always gets in the way where you women are concerned, doesn’t it?”
“Not if I didn’t want it to. Or if the man didn’t happen to be my brother.”
He laughed and winked at her. “I see what you mean.”
“You’re feeling very good, aren’t you?”
He leaned his elbows on the door, his face a few inches from her own, and nodded happily. “You wouldn’t believe it, but until a little while ago I didn’t think I’d live through the morning. Hangovers usually leave
me in a hurry, but this one was a real beaut. What a head!”
“How do you work when you feel that way?”
“Low gear, strictly.” He chuckled. “Say, wait a minute. No reason you should be stood up for lunch. How about going along with me? I have to put on the feed bag myself. You name the place.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips and she regarded him as she would some curious animal. Since first meeting him, she had thought very little of Dean Holt. She had been hearing his name quite often that week, since the funeral, and one evening Steve had told her something of the man’s background and how he had fought his way up in the business. But Dean had registered in her mind only as someone with red hair whom she had met a few times. Yet each time she saw him she felt a peculiar sense of antagonism toward him. It had her curious. She had no real reason to dislike the man; he seemed pleasant enough and he was passably interesting.
People usually impressed her as either black or white. There were the people of her world, the world of secure backgrounds and broad horizons, and then there were the “others.” There was no one in between. Either a person belonged or he did not. Dean, however, failed to fall into a convenient slot. It was obvious that he came from the world of the “others” and probably still belonged there, and it was equally obvious that he moved about in her world freely enough. He was not one or the other, nor was he in between. It irritated her that she could not conveniently dispose of him. It also increased her curiosity.
She saw that he was becoming embarrassed by her silence and again gave him a cool smile. “You’re very nice,” she said, “and I am hungry. Where would you suggest?”
He breathed easier and said, “Well, let’s see. The mob will be at Berdell’s. Too much shop talk. And at the Pub you usually have to wait for a table. How about Walker’s, just up the highway?”
“I’ll follow you.”
He pulled his car out of the parking area and watched her swing around behind him through the rear-view mirror. Walker’s was only a mile north on the highway, halfway between his plant and Salinas. He had little time to wonder about Truly on the short drive, but he was surprised that she had accepted his invitation. He was more surprised at himself for having offered it. The lunch hour was not for food alone. It was an important part of the business day. It was the one time when men who were otherwise engaged in cutting each other’s throats over the telephones and teletypes could get together and relax and hash over market problems, crop conditions, and the labor situation, and exchange ideas concerning all phases of the business. More than a few dollars had been won and lost over a steak sandwich and a cup of coffee. Yet he was giving that important hour to a woman he resented and who, in turn, apparently had little liking for him. He wondered if he had rocks in his brain.
But he, too, was curious.
Walker’s had originally been a roadside diner, but had grown with the prosperity of the valley. Dean and Truly secured a table near the brick barbecue section, where they could watch the chef at work and the people seated at the bar. Truly ordered a Martini and Dean his usual drink.
When they arrived Dean raised his glass toward Truly. “Why drink anything else,” he said, “when you can have the best?”
“Personally,” she said, clicking her glass against his, “I like this slop.”
He thought that was very funny and laughed uproariously, until he noticed that she was watching him gravely, without even a smile. His laughter died. He appraised her closely over the edge of the menu as they ordered lunch. She was wearing a ruby-red gabardine suit with an aqua blouse of pure silk. Except for an expensive wrist watch, there was no jewelry, and she wore no hat. Dean was fascinated by her hair. It was swept back in a roll from her forehead, fell away softly to fit her head like a cap, and then was rolled under slightly just above her shoulders. The color, he thought, was beautiful. He could not tell whether or not it was natural.
She was aware of his appraisal and shoved the menu aside to ask, “Don’t you like it?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Well, thank you.”
“I guess I’m an authority on women’s hair. It’s the first thing I notice.”
“Really? I thought that all Americans, with their mammary fixation, never got beyond the breasts.”
“Well, you got a point there, but with me it’s the hair. I don’t know why it is.”
“I do.”
“Hmmm?”
“Your own hair is beautiful, almost too much so for a man. And obviously you give it a great deal of your attention. So naturally you’re a student of hair.”
He asked seriously, “You think that’s the reason? I don’t know. I think it goes deeper than that. Maybe that’s part of it, but it isn’t all of it. The first memory I have of a woman is of long, black hair as soft as velvet and so black it had almost a blue shine to it.”
“Your mother?”
“No. She was a redhead, like me. I don’t know who the woman was. I must have been hardly more than a baby. All I remember is the hair and the feel of it. You know something? Every time I see a woman with beautiful hair I have to touch it.”
“You mean you’re searching for that same texture you remember?”
“I guess so.” He looked around as their soup was brought to the table and then laughed. “This is a hell of a conversation.”
“Interesting, though. Now I know something about you.”
They were silent through their soup and salad and did not speak again until they were halfway through succulent barbecued ribs. Dean ate them by separating the bones with a knife, then lifting the ribs in his fingers to chew off the meat. He noticed that Truly was prying at them with knife and fork and had to grin.
“Y’know,” he said, “that’s where us peasants got it all over characters like you.”
She gave him a puzzled glance. “What do you mean?”
“That’s no way to eat barbecued ribs. You have to pick ’em up and chew on ’em. The sweeter meat is against the bone. By being so damned Emily Postish, you’re missing all the fun.”
She looked undecided for a moment, then boldly picked up a bone and chewed on it with her small, gleaming white teeth. She looked across at him and laughed, the first natural reaction she had had in his presence. “You know,” she said, “you’re absolutely right. They’re delicious this way.”
“Stick around me, baby, and you’ll learn all kinds of things.”
She shuddered.
Dean thought it best to keep the conversation away from business, but over their coffee Truly said, “Steve was telling me about your possible exchange of sales managers this morning.”
“Oh, yeah. That. He and Hal should get along. Good man.”
“Steve seemed to think it was an unusually friendly gesture on your part.”
He asked sharply, “Don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t say — this early.” She fixed a cigarette in a filter holder, accepted a light from Dean, then said, “It will probably be difficult, but I’m trying to keep out of Steve’s end of the business.”
“You got all the lettuce land, didn’t you? So why should you fool with the business?”
“That’s the way I look at it.”
“You’re safe. All you can make is loot, with no chance to lose anything.”
“I know. But I don’t think Steve’s in a very secure position.”
Dean said evasively, “Oh, I don’t know.”
“I think you do know. Even I know a little bit about it. The point is that I don’t think Steve belongs.”
“He’s worked at it before.”
“Yes. Now and then, whenever Dad would let him. Steve knows the background and some of the details, he’s intelligent and he grasps new ideas faster than most men, but he’s also a bit too naïve for a businessman. For example, he was all enthusiastic over your kind offer. I’d be suspicious.”
“Why?”
“You’re a competitor, the next biggest. Also
, you have delusions of grandeur. It’s not in your interest to go out of your way to give Steve a helping hand.”
Dean chuckled and said, “Look, baby. You got me all wrong. O.K., so I didn’t like your father. I’ll be honest. We fought all the time. But I do like Steve. I’ll compete with him, like I do with everyone else, but I don’t mind helping him, too. There’s plenty of room for all of us. Anyway, I’m doing more business than I can handle right now.”
Her glance slid across his eyes and away. She did not believe him, but apparently she saw no reason to pursue the subject further. She looked over the other diners and through an opening into another room. “There are the Parkers,” she said. “It’s unusual for them to be having lunch together, or any other meal, for that matter.”
Dean followed the direction of her eyes and noticed Sam’s deep flush and the telltale brightness of Jan’s eyes. The two of them were probably drunk already, or well on their way.
Dean said, “She’s been down to Las Vegas for a few days. I guess Sam just picked her up at the airport. Jan likes to roll the ivory cubes.”
“Her whole life is a gamble.”
“Not yours?”
“Could be. I like my share of gambling. But I get a really big charge out of it only when the stakes are high enough so they can hurt.”
“That’s the philosophy of a poker player. But I hear you sometimes go for wrestlers and fighters and people like that.”
She stared at him curiously and then laughed softly. “Oh, I get a kick out of them, and besides, we’re talking about high stakes again. Make the wrong move with people like that and you get your arm broken. They aren’t exactly gentle. Like you.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I think I know one thing. I think you’re probably one of the most unpredictable men I’ve ever met.”
“Maybe that’s why you don’t like me.”
She said coolly, “You’re getting warm,” and pushed back her chair.
Hunger and the Hate Page 12