by Emery, Lynn
“Those malcontents as you call them pay taxes, have jobs, and contribute to the economy as much or more. But even if they didn’t, they have a right to expect that businesses have some controls on what they can do in the name of profit.” Paul said, distaste evident in his tone.
“Those profits go to salaries, expansions, community projects, scholarships to help those same people who are screaming into the reporters’ microphones. They resent us for being who we are, what we are. Yes we live well. Sure, why shouldn’t we? We’re the brains, drive and guts that make things happen.” Claude jabbed a finger in the air between them.
“And what about safety, the environment?” Paul asked.
“Big business has pioneered industrial safety, including protecting the environment. But things have gone too far with this radical environmentalism. Besides, great strides mean taking risks.”
“Yeah, as long as the risks are taken by someone else. I must have been crazy to think you were genuinely interested in ways to reduce toxic emissions or prevent spill. What you really want is to find ways to fool the public into thinking you are doing more than you are, to find ways to cut corners so your profit margin won’t be affected.” Paul stared out the window again, the hard look on his face made plain that he would not accept Claude’s words.
“Paul, this is senseless.” Claude spread his arms wide to him in a plea for understanding. “I’m not the evil industrial robber baron you make me out to be. You’re more like me than you care to admit. Certainly profit is important. You didn’t get where you are by not keeping your eye on the bottom line. You’re smart, your father knew your potential. He saw to it that you got the best education possible by doing extra jobs as a paint contractor. You’ve got both his backbone and your grandmother’s brains, don’t waste them by throwing away this opportunity.”
“What did you just say?” Paul’s head jerked up.
“This is the opportunity of a life-time, don’t—”
“No, about my father and grandmother. What do you know about my family?”
“Everything.”
“You investigated my family as well.” Paul eyes narrowed as he looked at the thick folder. Striding to the desk, he leaned forward and yanked the file to him. Scanning a few pages, he looked up. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” He slapped it back down in front of Claude.
“Did she ever mention me?” Claude said softly.
“No. Never.” Paul was curt, not caring about his feelings. “Only in a diary. When you didn’t try to find her, she realized she’d been used.”
“That wasn’t true. Things were… difficult.” Claude placed a hand on the folder.
“Don’t bother to explain. She was the maid, you sowed some wild oats, it happened a lot back then I hear.” Paul sneered. He turned away to leave.
“You listen to me young man,” Claude shouted standing up, “I cared for Marguerite. She was fine and beautiful. She saw the reality of our situation. We both did. Maybe I could have shown more backbone, but I did the only thing I could for those times. But well, there was too much at stake. We were both so young. My future—”
“Yes, your future as the heir apparent. After all what did she have to lose compared to you?” Paul turned back to face him.
“Believe me, there have been long nights when I couldn’t sleep because of missing her.” Claude rubbed his eyes. He looked tired and older.
“Yeah, just not enough to give up the family name or a little of the family money to keep her from starving.”
“My father wouldn’t allow it when she refused the money for an abortion. I had no money of my own to give.” Claude shook his head.
“You make me sick. You had money from your grandmother. Oh yes, I know more than you think. You could have done more and I’m sure you knew where she was all along, didn’t you?”
“Paul, I—”
“That’s what I thought.” Paul turned from him in repulsion.
“I don’t want us to part in anger. Maybe I was foolish to think that we could be close. I even thought maybe I could talk to your father.” Claude said.
“Stay away from him. He doesn’t want anything to do with you.” Paul became anxious imagining the effect of such a meeting on Charles.“You’re fifty years too late.”
“You’re right. But that doesn’t mean we can’t continue our business relationship. Batton Chemical is your future, son.” Claude studied him.
“I won’t let you put lives in danger. Don’t think because all the fuss dies down, those procedures and changes I recommended can be abandoned. I’ll be watching. What’s more, I’ll tell the Citizens for a Clean environment what to look for, too.” He returned Claude’s steady gaze with one just as unwavering.
“I see.” Claude’s face became hard as though chiseled of stone.
“Seems we have nothing else to discuss.” Paul went to the private elevator and jabbed the button.
“Where do you think you’ve gotten most of your business for the past three years?” Claude barked. “I made you and I can break you. Think about it long and hard, boy. You’re father is sick and those medical bills are piling up. You’ve been able to help them out more than your brothers, who live from paycheck to paycheck. Both of whom happen to work at plants operated by ChemCo. The CEO and I go way back, old fraternity brothers actually. Neither you nor your family can afford for you to… make the wrong business decision when it comes to this.”
“You’re threatening my family? Why you— Grandmother didn’t know the half of what a slimy no good bastard you are.” Paul growled. He took a step towards Claude. The door to the outer hall opened a crack.
“Mr. Trosclair, is everything all right? I heard shouting…” The office manager, her eyes wide with fright, peered at them.
“Yes Beverly. Everything is fine.” Claude waved her away and waited until she went down the hall. “Don’t doubt that I will do whatever I have to save Batton Chemical and my family’s fortune. Think carefully before you cross me.” He stood between Paul and the elevator
“Maybe you will win. Whatever happens, you’re still a loser in a way you’ll probably never fully appreciate,” Paul said. All the heat and anger was gone from his voice. His face was a mixture of sadness and loathing as he closed the door quietly.
*****
“Claude, is everything all right? Dear me, you look worn out. I’ll get you a cup of tea. Now I know you like your strong coffee, but really is tea better on raw nerves.” Annadine half rose but stopped at the cold glance from her husband.
“Haven’t we had this same inane discussion for years? I do not like tea.” Claude rubbed his temples with his fingers tips.
“Certainly, dear. I just thought…. I know, a vacation. That’s what you need.”
“Annadine—,” Claude spoke in a low voice.
“We could go to that wonderful old hotel in Biloxi where we spent our honeymoon. Then visit our cousins in Jackson. Oh, Claude, if only we could be happy the way we were then. Remember how we drove along the gulf coast, laughing and singing? We were so carefree.” Annadine smiled.
“No, it’s not possible.”
“But Claude, it’s been years since we took a trip together,” Annadine said. Claude sat without looking at her. “We don’t do much of anything together. I wish we could be close, truly close the way we were when we first got married.”
“Not again, please. This is not a good time at all to get into another discussion about what went wrong with our marriage. I have a lot on my mind.”
“We’ve been married for thirty eight years, and for more than half that time you’ve treated me as though I were some necessary convenience.”
“You’ve had a very good life as far as I can see. Travel, clothes, all the right society connections. You seemed to be enjoying it.”
“I wanted more from you than that. Please, Claude. Let Kyle and Quentin handle the business for a while. Clayton has scores of bright lawyers that know exactly what to do. It isn
’t too late for us.” Annadine’s voice trembled as she sat next to him on the large sofa. She tried to embrace him.
“Quentin? Allowing Quentin to handle anything is guaranteed to end in disaster. Now will you stop this foolishness?” Claude snapped pushing her arms away.
“Who is it this time? Another one of your young sluts at the office?” Annadine drew back as if she had been struck across the face.
“I’m warning you.”
“You’ve spent more time in bed with other women than with your wife.” Annadine’s voice rose.
“Not another ugly scene, for heaven’s sake. I really need a drink now.” Claude went to the bar.
“Your family has meant less to you than the trash you pick up God knows where. You spent little time with your son, breaking his heart. You pushed me away. And now you’ve set out to ruin your grandson’s life with your selfish cruelty.”
“Don’t go too far, woman.”
“I’ve given you my life and a son, and you’ve treated us as though we were nothing to you. My family helped the Trosclairs rebuild their fortunes after the war, we—”
“The Mouton family was only a minor player in our business, believe me. As for you, it took very little time for me to realize that there was nothing behind that lovely smile except a frigid, silly woman who was more interested in position and appearances. And your son was a weak simpleton who spent all of his time making an ass of himself in every possible way. As for Quentin, well his record speaks for itself. It pains me to know he’ll inherit what generations of men better than he built. I’ve a good mind to—”
“To what, Claude? Acknowledge the bastard son of that colored whore? So, after all these years I finally get your full attention. Yes, I’ve always known about Marguerite. You sunk low enough to rut with a common nigra housemaid.”
“Marguerite was worth ten of you! You with you anemic pawing in the dark. You have all the passion of a cold, wet blanket against the skin. The only way I could stomach touching you after a while was to think of her. But even that wasn’t enough.” Claude’s face was vicious as he taunted her.
“No, I won’t listen,” Annadine said as she rushed for the door.
“The hell you won’t.” Claude caught her arm dragging back. “You started this now you’ll hear it all. Courting you was expedient,” Claude spoke, his voice a bitter snarl, their faces inches apart. “The Moutons had the assets we needed to expand and the social position my parents believed would be suitable for our children. I thought you’d at least be tolerable, but I was wrong. At least I took comfort from the money our alliance helped me make.” Claude released her, shoving her to the sofa.
“How can you say such things? You’re vile.” Annadine curled into a heap, sobbing loudly.
“What I choose to do with my fortune, what I and I alone built, is none of your damn business. Quentin will get the Trosclair trust, but I won’t see what it’s taken me thirty years to build dismantled by his bungling.”
“I’ll see you dead first! Do you hear? Quentin will not lose what is rightfully his as a Trosclair to a nig—” Annadine bolted up to face him. “No, Claude!” She stumbled back as he loomed over her.
“Don’t ever presume to tell me what to do. Now get out of my sight!” Claude roared, his face contorted with rage.
With a scream, Annadine fled the room. Claude gulped another glass of scotch then took a deep breath. He stood staring in the direction his wife had gone, then laughed disdainfully. Picking up the keys to his Mercedes Benz, he left the house.
*****
“Papa, it’s Paul.” Paul sat in the overstuffed chair pulled up next to the bed. Reaching out to take his father’s hand, he noticed how thin he was. The veins stood out like ropes underneath the dry skin. The queen sized bed was neatly made up with a quilt Marguerite had made for his parents as a wedding present. Despite the warm weather, his father was fully dressed in long sleeved pajamas.
“Hello, son.” Charles spoke in a soft hoarse voice. “What time is it? Layin’ in this bed, I can’t keep track of time.”
“It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. How are you feeling?”
“Better, a little better every day. What time did you say it was? Oh, never mind. Don’t matter no way. I ain’t got nowhere to go.”
“Have you been doing what the doctor tells you to? Mama says you been hardheaded here lately. Not wanting to take your medicine,” Paul said, scolding him as though he were the parent and Charles the child.
“Dadgum doctors. They gone kill me tryin’ to cure me if I let ‘em.”
“I just might move in here, you know to help mama take care of you.” Paul frowned.
“Hey, I might be down, but I don’t want you leavin’ your business on my account.”
“With you lying in this bed not wanting to get up, it’s going to be tough on her. She could use another pair of hands.”
“I ain’t gonna be no burden on Reba.” His father perked up. With some effort he sat up in the bed.
“You won’t if you do what you’re supposed to. Physical therapy three times a week, right?”
“Yeah, right,” Charles mumbled.
“Papa, look at me. I won’t leave if I think you and Mama need me. Sam could go to Kuwait. We’ve got more than enough business as it is, this is just something new we wanted to explore.”
“Opening up new things is how you get to be successful. I done told you that all your life. We didn’t get rich, but I never overlooked anything to make a living. I started out with nothing but a brush, some buckets of paint, and working my butt off on weekends. But I ended up with two crews working for me getting all the business I could handle. No, you go do what you have to do. Me and Reba gonna make it just fine.” Charles picked up his left arm with his right hand. “I’m going to therapy, son. You go to Kuwait. I’ll be on my feet in no time.”
“I just bet you will.” Paul kissed his forehead.
Paul found his mother sitting in the living room. She patted the cushion on the sofa next to her.
“Thank you, baby.” Reba, tears in her eyes, kissed Paul on the cheek. “I heard you in there gettin’ your papa stirred up. He was givin’ up. But you put the spark back in him.”
“He was just depressed. He’s used to being strong and healthy, being the one everyone else leaned on. I can imagine how hard it is for him being dependent on others.”
“But the doctor is hopeful that he can recover from the stroke. That therapy can make his left side strong again.”
“Thank God. And don’t you forget, Robert and the others will be some kind of mad if y’all don’t call on them to help.”
“You know I don’t get a chance to call them rascals ‘fore they over here fixing on the house, bringing food. Even my grandbabies done learned how to give your Papa what for if he won’t take them pills.” Reba laughed.
“That’s what family is for, loving and fussing just when you need it.” Paul hugged her.
“What about you? You say you doin’ okay, but your face say different. I think you goin’ on this trip to run away from your feelings.”
“Mama—”
“Now you hold on. Don’t tell me ‘bout how you was plannin’ this trip anyway. You wasn’t in no hurry to leave for almost a year. Them whatever you call ‘em gone be right there for a while. You oughta go back to Beau Chene to talk this out with Savannah.”
“She didn’t feel what I thought she felt for me, Mama. There isn’t anything to talk out.” Paul’s face took on a pinched look as he turned his head away from his mother’s gaze.
“I learned a long time ago, livin’ with pride can’t no way take the place of livin’ with the one person whats got a hold on your heart. Uh-huh,” Reba said, forestalling his protest, “that’s all I’m gonna say on the subject. Now, what about Trosclair now that you through with that job?”
“Nothing more to that either. I did what I was hired to do. The end.”
“Smart man like that with his money; don’t
seem likely he didn’t know where Charles was, or who you were for that matter.” Reba tapped his arm as she spoke.
“You know.”
“I didn’t go to college or work in no fancy office but I got sense enough to see that. Charles has such a block in his mind about that part of his mama’s life ‘til he didn’t want to think that maybe his real daddy been knowin’ where he was all this time. But I pray Trosclair don’t do nothin’ to hurt your papa.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mama. I warned him to stay away. Besides, he’s got his hands full trying to salvage Big River. I doubt he wants anymore complications in his life right now anyway.”
“So, you leavin’ for sure. All packed?”
“Yes, ma’am. Plane leaves tomorrow, six o’clock.”
“Then you got time to have supper with the family. Everybody gone be here at five.” Reba patted his hand affectionately.
As he told his mother, Paul made his flight the next day. The plane leveled off high above fluffy white clouds. Peering through the small window, Paul looked down at the disappearing landscape around the New Orleans International Airport. Sighing, he settled back against the seat.
With a grim expression, he recalled his last conversation with Sam as they drove to the airport.
“We can still call this off you know,” Sam said for the fifth time.
“An opportunity like this can move us into international markets. There’s no reason to wait any longer.”
“Listen, man—”
“No, you listen. I’m going. I don’t need anybody else telling me what I should do with my life. Drop it, just drop it.”
Paul closed his eyes. He was tired yet could not sleep. The words he kept repeating to everyone had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Yes, he wanted to get away. Get away from any chance that he might see Savannah with Devin. Night after night, he imagined them in each other’s arms. Though he tried, he could not stop remembering her. The touch of her fingers on his body. The sweet musky way her skin smelled, damp with sweat, after lovemaking. Folding his arms tightly to his chest, he stared back out at the clouds. Paul hoped each mile put between them would cause the dull ache to ease.