Brotherhood of Gold

by Ron Hevener

  “She abandoned me, Aunt Sarah.”

  “Technically, I’m not so sure about that, Bennie. There are ways to keep an eye on someone without being there every day. Knowing how she felt about anything that was hers, I always figured there wasn’t much she missed when it came to you.” She was smiling now.

  “You sound like you know that for sure.”

  “I’m saying there were too many ways for a woman to find out.”

  “Esther?”

  “The ever-present Esther. She was always in love with Ezra, you know.”

  “Are we both talking about the same Esther?”

  “You bet! She wasn’t supposed to work for Ezra anymore after the church kicked them out, so she went and joined another congregation. Changed her whole religion and never looked back.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Funny what we learn about people we thought we knew so well, right?” she asked, without seeming amused. “Like Arden. I never believed he died in an accident, Bennie. But I couldn’t prove it. There are a lot of secrets in this town.”

  Tossing for some pillows, Ben took off his shoes and settled on the floor. “You’ll find out some day. I’ll help you if I can.”

  “Thanks, Bennie. But it was a long time ago. And we’re talking about your mother, right? This is one of those moments when the young man is all grown up and he wants to know the story.”

  He waited. She wanted him to know these things. “The church—it was a little, white Mennonite church with lilac bushes all around. I remember Phantom Creek ran beside the church and there was a little bit of a pond from a dam that some of the church members made with rocks and sticks and mud. They had Sunday picnics there. I went to a few. A lot of neighbors did.”

  “Can you show me where it was?”

  She shook her head. “Under water by now, Bennie. Like all the farms over there.”

  It had been foolish to ask.

  Sarah went on. “When Ruthie got pregnant,” she said, “it was a real scandal in town. Maybe it won’t matter to people so much in the future. But it was a real sin in those days. The truth is, I’m not sure which was worse for Ruthie—making the baby, or not telling anybody who your father was—that’s what really ticked them off, Bennie. She never told.”

  “Stubborn,” he said, with a sense of pride.

  “That’s our Ruthie! She was pretty mad when the church turned against her because she loved singing in that choir for her adoring public. I mean, no matter where she was on Saturday night—even New York—she’d be back in that church to sing for them Sunday morning. So, when they turned on her, she didn’t take it very well. Ezra didn’t, either, Bennie, I can tell you that. He didn’t like anybody saying anything bad about his Ruthie!”

  Ben laughed. “I can’t help it,” he said. “That’s so much like him.”

  “Well, the truth is, Ruthie never had any real friends around here. So, any chance she got, it was off to one place or another, trying to break into show business. She was so determined, people got nervous just being around her sometimes. But everybody agreed, she really was good. Oh, she must have been a handful for your Grandpa and Esther after Mary was put away! She, herself, never forgot her mother, though. She would go and talk to Mary, and bring her nice presents and she’d sing to everybody at the institution sometimes, just like she used to in church.”

  “After she left, where did she go?” he asked, really wanting to know.

  “Well, New York! As far away from here as she could. Ezra wanted her to have privacy and that’s what she got. Nobody was going to hurt his Ruthie ever again.”

  “But how did she live?”

  “Very well, I’d imagine! Oh, she was always getting into trouble one way or another, but Theodore found the nightclub for her and Ezra paid all the bills. Ezra was tight-lipped about her. She was attractive—beautiful, actually. Always took care of herself. But sometimes you’d get the feeling she’d tear you up if you got in her way!”

  “Her career?”

  “Good thing she had the club, because as far as I know, she never got the really Big Break she dreamed of. You know, that might be the only thing she never did get. She blamed it on people around here for messing up her life. She hated this town, Ben. But, you know, I think she got on the radio anyway, a few times. At least somebody said she did.” Sarah paused and thought a minute. “Look, Ben. Your mother had a lot of problems. But she did the right thing for you. Whenever Ruthie needed something—whatever it was—Ezra had Trimble take care of it. If anybody knows the truth about Ruthie, Bennie, it’s him.” She actually shuddered at the thought.

  “I just wish Grandpa had let me see her. Even just once in a while.”

  “How do you know he didn’t?” She hugged him. “Anyway, was I such a bad stepmom?”

  “The best,” he said. But it didn’t keep him from wondering about a phantom called Ruthie.

  “Has Wembly talked with you about his theories?” she smiled mischievously. “I kinda like his ideas about reincarnation. That one always fascinated me. Do you think I was Betsy Ross, or somebody important like that?”

  They laughed, twinkling with a sense of adventure.

  “Don’t you think you’re a little strong for Betsy Ross, Aunt Sarah? More likely, you were Jefferson’s slave mistress. Or George Washington! Yep! You were the General.”

  “Ah, yes, I remember it now! Do you know he rode an Arabian?”

  “No!” Ben mocked disbelief.

  “OK, maybe not. But one of those generals did. Time flies when it comes to reincarnation, you know!” They both laughed, and Sarah said, “I still can’t figure out Wembly’s sudden interest in horse shows. We’re into racing, him and me. What’s up?”

  “I’m not sure, either,” Ben said. “It’s the Native Costume class he wants to know about for some reason. I’m supposed to ask you about the rules for designing costumes.”

  “That silly class?” she scoffed. “Running around in fancy sheets like you’re a desert Nomad when everybody knows you’re not? What a waste of time.”

  “Well, he wants to know if you’ll waste some time and show in Paris this year. Native Costume. Sponsored by DeCroy’s. It just came out of the blue,” Ben said.

  “Like hell it did! Nothing just comes out of the blue with Wembly DeCroy—especially when he’s putting his name on it! Tell him the answer is No. I have no intention of sending our beautiful racehorses to Paris, or anywhere else but the track. We’re racing people and we don’t show except to get the horses used to crowds. Why are you asking me this stuff, Bennie?”

  “Because he wanted me to. But, it sounds like you don’t have any faith in our horses. Not if you think they couldn’t win in the show ring.”

  “They’re good enough to do both! And Sid’s a good enough rider to do it! But Paris? That’s a big deal, Bennie. You don’t know. Flying horses overseas and all that. It’s risky.”

  “Maybe he just wants publicity first. Don’t they race horses over there?”

  “Not in fancy bedsheets, they don’t,” she said.

  He waited….

  “The races don’t pay much,” she said.

  He waited....

  “I don’t like it,” she said.

  He waited….

  “Anyway, where would I get the costumes?”

  “How should I know?” he teased. “You’re the one who wants to be Betsy Ross!”

  * * *

  Zurich, Switzerland

  Anja Oberlin worked in customer service for the bank. She had wired money before, but this was a big one and she didn’t dare ask what it was for, or where it came from. Not this time. Not this client. Knees weak, she approached her supervisor.

  “Is this for real?” he said, looking at the figures.

  “Yep,” she said. “They’re clearing out the whole account. What do you want me to do?”

  Removing his glasses long enough to consider why their largest depositor would be closing its account without any discussion
or advance warning, he decided they knew something he didn’t. If he could get out of the economy right now, he would, too. But people like him, with steady jobs and a family to feed, didn’t have much choice. Putting on his glasses, cleaner now than before, he cocked his head like one who can’t do a damn thing about it.

  “Signature OK?” he asked.

  “As far as I can tell,” she nodded.

  “Then, wire the funds.”

  * * *

  Paris, France, a few weeks later

  In the fitting rooms of DeCroy’s, Paris, among cottons, linen and silk being customized for elite clientele, Wembly caressed the golden threads holding shimmering stones of many different colors on the table before him. Exotic fabrics, rare feathers and special effects of a thousand and one Sheherazade nights transported his imagination from stories of old, to the excitement of the horse show stage. For anyone who has ever seen the Native Costume class at an Arabian horse show, the colors, glitter and fantastic abandonment of riders dashing around the ring is, for many, unforgettable. So unusual is this exhibit of the Arabian horse and rider dressed in imaginative Bedouin attire, in fact, that it has become one of the most anticipated free-style events of the horse show circuit. Sighing with regret, Wembly thought of Ezra. You knew behind every government there is a shadow. Behind every shadow, someone waits.

  It is quite a class in America, though less popular in Europe, and irresistible to anyone with a penchant for fashion and spectacle. “I’m very glad your Aunt Sarah said yes,” he had said to Sidney Leigh before leaving for Paris. “It will be wonderful. Melvin will take the best pictures—it will be fabulous!”

  “We can’t do it alone. With six horses, we need extra riders,” an excited Sidney reminded him.

  “Bring them along!” the designer’s eyes sparkled. “Show them Paris!”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” she smiled. “But why were you never interested in horse shows before this?”

  “Who says I wasn’t?” he pretended not to know.

  “Aunt Sarah. She says you never cared.”

  “Oh, but Sidney. I care very much. I care about horses! For millions of reasons, I care about them. The Salon du Cheval? Until now, we never had a reason for it. We never had the campaign! The Good Life!”

  “But the show isn’t for months,” Sidney Leigh said. “Why such a hurry?”

  “It is not nearly as far off as you think, darling. In fashion, when you advertise, you must always be a step ahead of everyone else. If you leave them bored, they will drop you. You must have great pictures for your ads. You must use your imagination! The campaign is very important. It is like making a movie! We are the directors, the producers, and you are a star!”

  She liked that.

  “We must show them great locations and images so out of the ordinary the average person feels, Yes! That is for me! There is so much more than Sarah’s beautiful horses in this campaign, Sidney Leigh. We are showing possibilities! We are showing fun! You are portraying how much fun life can be and how much it is worth living!”

  “I love it,” Sidney said. “Finally, I’m a real model. That’ll show the agency for saying I’m too womanly!”

  “I think,” Wembly said, remembering Sidney’s ambitions, “I heard your Aunt say they simply reminded you that you are not six feet tall? Do not worry about that anymore. You are, yes, a model without them. A model of womanly pulchritude!”

  The power of advertising.

  As the horse show drew nearer, there were benefit dinners on behalf of DeCroy’s, business trips to monitor investments, and people to meet. Upon arrival at each destination, Wembly and Ben would check into an elegant hotel or other first-class accommodation to find a message waiting at the desk. Ben would call, announcing their safe arrival and he would confirm the details for each meeting with company executives. There were banking records. Financial reports. New product developments, sales projections and decisions to be made regarding profits or losses. Initial meetings were held in hotel dining rooms, from where the parties would generally have lunch and reconvene later at corporate home offices.

  At first, Ben observed and soaked up everything he could, but as time went by, he asked what area of specialty Wembly might suggest for him to perfect for these meetings. “Am I just an assistant, or what?” he asked.

  “It is not enough to be my traveling companion?” Wembly said, with a wink.

  Ben blushed, and knew their relationship had already been speculated upon.

  “I was thinking maybe I could pay attention to a specific area of business, you know? Purchasing? Marketing? Accounting? The way it is, I never know for sure what kind of industry we’re going to be looking at next. But if there was something they all have in common…maybe I could be good at that.”

  “But, mon frer! Don’t you see? You are the marketing—you have complete access to their advertising departments and plans, which makes it necessary for you to review budgets, which opens doors to the accounting managers, and that gives you access to the flow of money. What all businesses have in common is their management—and that is what we must together study.”

  “The dossier for each company gives us the names and all pertinent information of all officers and shareholders for each business,” Wembly said. “As for the particular area of your specialty, we are tree doctors, are we not?” He smiled. “And a doctor sees many patients, yes? Meet these people. Play with them! Enjoy them! Look for the loyalists…and look for the traitors, Benjamin.”

  Ben fidgeted with his tie. Whatever Wembly had in mind would reveal what his mentor really thought of his abilities. And what Wembly DeCroy thought about anything was increasingly important to him.

  “For you, Benjamin, I see a much more challenging discipline than anything so mundane as what we can buy a college degree for,” Wembly said. “The finest international specialists for anything can be hired if we want them, but no school or college in the world teaches what you must know: The Big Picture. My skill as a designer is to shape, color and gather all that is needed for making things—including the making of a whole business. DeCroy’s is my business face to the public. It gives me credibility wherever I go. It is the reason my suggestions are accepted by the companies we visit. And it is the same for you, now.

  “It is not enough for you merely to be Ezra Hoover’s grandson and for them to guess what you know. That might get you through the door. But it does not keep you inside. And inside is where you must be. Inside. Because of Phantom Lake, we know there are challenges facing BG Investments, Benjamin. Since Ezra died, stockholders are restless. Some want to pull out and we cannot allow that. If we are to hold together the organization, we must smoke out anyone who has betrayed us. To control his investments, The DeCroy Man must stay focused on the Big Picture. No one is stronger than one who controls his own destiny. Your specialty, Benjamin, is people. Know how they think, what they feel, what they hope for. And you will never go wrong.”

  As he said it, he reached in his pocket.

  “Ezra wanted you to have this,” he said. “He said I would know when the time was right.”

  Beautiful. Smooth. Eternal. It was part of Ben’s life as far back as he could remember, and a symbol of what was to come. It was Ezra’s ring.

  He saw the familiar, comforting outline of Ezra’s money tree and the inscription as plain as if it were being whispered to him…Brotherhood of Gold.

  CHAPTER 17

  Baubles, Bangles & Beads

  “You speak as a true idealist,” Diane says. “But look at you. Do you have any idea how far away from reality your life is from the lives of most people?”

  Having heard this all his life, Ben replies, “Is there anything wrong with high standards? Trying your best? Or is that too much work for most people?”

  “Aren’t you sugar-coating it? Just a little? Most people would look around and call this an empire.”

  He shakes his head. “If their idea of an empire is a group of businesses working toget
her to stabilize local economies, then I’ll take that in a heartbeat! Business isn’t government, Diane. It’s a natural force that everybody has inside. You’re born with it! You don’t need a college degree for it! It’s like air and trees and water! A natural, healthy freedom. And there are no political boundaries! If you have a good product or service, it’s just as good in Czechoslovakia as it is in Cleveland, Ohio—but you have to get it there. Business is the truest international link. Like music, or art or science. It’s a unifier. Not a divider.

  “Business brings people together no matter what their personal beliefs are—and this is so important as we approach a time when people could become divided. Irish Catholics need better mousetraps just as much as Irish Protestants do, Diane…Russians just as much as people in the USA. Products and services are just about the only common meeting ground we have left! Our only hope, and I believe that.

  “You call me an idealist? That’s a compliment! It takes idealists and dreamers to create a greater world, Diane. To show what excellence really is! Who else do we have—James Bond? James Bond is a hero. Political scandals and tabloids don’t hurt him. And isn’t it interesting that he’s a hero the enemy can’t touch or kill?”

  Her attention all his now, Diane Wallace asks, “But who is the enemy, Ben?”

  * * *

  Paris, France

  The Salon du Cheval is one of the most prestigious horse shows in the world.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the speaker announced over the public address system in both French and English as the crowd grew quiet. “The Arabian horse is noted as one of the most versatile of all horses. Originating in the deserts of the African continent, his countenance is still inscribed on the walls of the great Pharaohs’ tombs, and preserved as the living treasures of nomadic Bedouin tribes. The Arabian horse carries his master through peace and war.