I'll Take Manhattan

by Judith Krantz

  “Even if they worked for nothing, their salaries are a drop in the bucket compared to our other costs. And if word of pay cuts got around on Madison Avenue people might think we were in trouble and start to renege on the advertising commitments they’ve made. No, nothing gets cut, not the free lunch, not the quality of the photographs, not the amounts we pay to get celebrity writers. It would be fatal. We’ll go down in glory or continue in glory, but no in-between measures.”

  Maxi finished signing the checks with a brave flourish and smiled so encouragingly at Monty that he decided not to jump out of the window. The May sunlight seemed to scatter like drops of water off her shiny, dark, messy hair when she moved and although she was down to her very last million she refused to let Monty know how desperate she felt until it was necessary. Each issue of B&B that was sold proved to her that she’d been right in her idea about the need for a magazine that didn’t count on women’s ever-present supply of depression, guilt and anxiety for its subject matter. “Admit it, Monty, don’t you get just a tiny kick out of being on the cutting edge?” Maxi asked, laughing, her eyes so green that he blinked.

  “Of what?” he asked, almost smiling back.

  “Bankruptcy.”

  A week later, in the first days of June, Maxi sat down by herself to leftovers in Toby’s kitchen. Everybody was out with springtime projects, but as worn out as she felt, she hated to find herself alone. During the working day Maxi still managed to present a picture of confident leadership but more and more frequently, when she found herself without an audience, even an audience of one, she felt beset with anxiety. For the first time since her struggle with Gutter began she wondered if she weren’t being ridiculously quixotic, if she hadn’t started a fight that was impossible to finish, a struggle whose dimensions she had never anticipated when she first went to see Cutter to try to use moral suasion on him. Who, after all, had appointed her trustee of her father’s heritage? He had left control to her mother. Could that have possibly meant that he wanted her mother’s wishes to be followed strictly, even if they did involve the destruction of Amberville Publications? Why was she, Maxi, the only one in the family who knew—or thought she knew—as absolutely as if she could hear Zachary Amberville talking to her, that nothing must be left undone to keep the magazines together? Oh, she had had a special closeness to her father that not even the boys had felt. He had been the one person in the world who had always believed in her, stood up for her, no matter what escapade she had been involved in, but did that mean that she could know now what he would have wanted?

  The only person with whom she could share a part of her worries was Pavka and she’d seen him that day for lunch. She made a point of meeting him at least once a week so that she could keep track of what was happening on all the other Amberville publications. The picture he reported grew steadily worse. Every shrewd, ingenious and experienced move he had made to keep up the excellence of the magazines during the last few months since Cutter’s edict had been accomplished only by the exercise of utmost cunning and patience. Nevertheless half of the things he had tried to do had been detected and countermanded by Lewis Oxford who was in touch with Cutter every day. Only his promise to Maxi not to resign kept Pavka on a job in which he was no longer in control, and Maxi, who knew how close to the end of the line she was, felt guilty for the struggle he was undergoing. Yet neither of them was acting out of selfish or ambitious motives; they were both doing it for Zachary Amberville, or, to be accurate, for his memory.

  It couldn’t last much longer, she realized. The sale to UBC, if it were made, would take place at the end of June, when the quarter’s profits were known. The struggle couldn’t go on for more than another month in any case. By the end of June she might not have the money left to go to press. It all depended on the auction of her furniture that was scheduled for the following week. If that went exceptionally well she could just scrape by, and if she were sure she could publish the next issue she could ask Lily to reconsider.

  That afternoon Maxi had decided to take her jewelry and her precious boxes out of the unhurried, deliberately careful hands of Sotheby’s and sell them herself to anyone who would buy them. To hock them if she couldn’t sell them, although how she’d find the time to do it she didn’t know. She didn’t begin to know how you hocked things or where. If only she’d bought real estate instead of beautiful playthings. If only she’d worn fake pearls. If only she’d invested in the safest possible bonds instead of buying old furniture with uncertain market value. If only she hadn’t put central heating into Castle Dread but had frozen to death without protest. If only she’d acted like the squirrel in the fable and had stored away nuts for winter instead of like the feckless grasshopper. If only. If only she hadn’t acted like herself, she thought angrily. Too late now, and a pointless exercise. The doorbell rang and interrupted her fruitless replay of her life.

  “Justin? Am I glad to see you! I can offer you pâté, five kinds, all original and still nameless, of Toby’s own making. I haven’t started to eat yet—come on and I’ll put another plate on the kitchen table.”

  Justin followed her, sat down but only accepted a glass of wine. “How’s the news from the front?” he asked.

  “We’re not taking prisoners.”

  “So I’ve heard. That’s the word that’s around.”

  “What are people saying?” Maxi asked, frowning.

  “Oh, it goes all the way from rumors of the sale, which might have come out of UBC, to outraged denial. You name it, people are saying it. Confusion in the ranks, civil disorder, darkness at noon. Listen. I don’t want you to think that I’m avoiding the showdown but I’ve got to get out of New York, New York, it’s a hell of a town. And too much for me, Maxi. I can’t take all these stones any longer, now that the weather is so beautiful. There are so many other places I want to be. Better places. I’m going to hit the trail, kid, before the monsoon season starts. I like a Gershwin tune, but babe, I hate New York in June.” He tried to speak lightly but his expression was mordant.

  “I know you feel that way and, truly, I understand. At least I know you’ll always come back, sooner or later.”

  “I’m going to miss your birthday.”

  “So what, darling? You always miss my birthday. But honestly, it doesn’t hurt my feelings. Oh, you’re worried about my turning thirty, you think I’m going to go into a decline or something. That’s it, isn’t it? Oh, Justin, what’s thirty? What’s forty? Betty Friedan is what forty looks like, for God’s sake.”

  “Gloria Steinem,” Justin corrected her.

  “You see, it doesn’t matter. And I’ve got other things to think about, believe me.”

  “Well anyway, what the hell, I wanted to give you an advance birthday present to take the pain out of leaving your outrageous, picaresque, lust-filled twenties.” Justin casually pulled out a piece of paper and put it down on the table. Maxi didn’t reach for it.

  “Since when,” she asked, “do you give your own sister a check?”

  “When she’s grown up,” Justin answered, “enough to know what to do with it.” He took it, and delicately deposited it on her empty plate. She looked down and read the figures. It was enough to keep publishing B&B until all the new space she’d sold had been paid for, enough to save the magazine.

  “Didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t borrow from you? Would not, could not and will not,” she reminded him somberly, picking up the check and pushing it back across the table. “I have to see this through by myself.”

  “Don’t be too proud, Maxi. We’re a proud bunch, you and Toby and I—it must be Mother’s influence. I ask you, if Father had been in money trouble with a magazine he believed in, wouldn’t he have done anything, short of dishonesty, to save it? Don’t get carried away by pride, Maxi. Anyway, this is a present, not a loan. A nonreturnable gift. There’s nothing you can do about it except say, ‘Thank you, Justin.’ ”

  “But why? I don’t understand.”

  “Because this is the only
way I can find to join the fight. We’re all in this together, we’re a family and we’re doing this for the family name. I’ve got to be part of that! Zachary Amberville was my father too, Maxi. You aren’t the only who loved him, you know. If you don’t win, at least I won’t feel that I didn’t do as much as I could have. Let me help! It’s for all of us. Please, Maxi, take it,” he begged, showing more emotion than she had ever seen on his ironic, remote, withdrawn face.

  Maxi snatched the check back, as full of expectation and excitement as if she were watching the arrival of a comet.

  “Thank you, darling, darling Justin! And while you’re in this generous mood, could you possibly let me have ten dollars till payday?”

  26

  “Cutter, can’t you really go up to Canada without me?” Lily asked. “We’ve seen Leonard and Gerry Wilder for dinner at least three times since the two of you met. Isn’t that enough courtship, even for a major business transaction? Why is my presence necessary on this trip?”

  “I thought you liked Gerry.”

  “I do, she’s a perfectly agreeable woman, but this weekend trip with them up to look over the timberlands that the company owns—don’t you realize that it brings up difficult memories for me?”

  There was a change in Cutter’s expression, below the surface of his polished and almost absolute charm, something seemed to be happening, a tightening of resolution.

  “Darling, you’re being just a bit self-indulgent, changing your mind at the last minute, aren’t you? The fact that Zachary died in Canada shouldn’t make the place impossible to visit—you’ve never even been there. You still live in the house you shared with him all those years, yet that isn’t too painful for you. So why should this make any difference? You know I’ve planned this trip for weeks. Gerry is counting on your company while Leonard and I inspect the stands of timber.”

  “Oh, really,” Lily complained, “this does drag on so.”

  “It’s the kind of weekend that consolidates a relationship in a way that no number of New York dinners ever can,” Cutter explained. “When the time comes, two weeks from now, to sit down and talk business at UBC, my personal relationship with Leonard will make a difference. He won’t admit it, he won’t even be aware of it, but I know it’s true. So much hinges on you. You’re the star of our little group. You own Amberville, I only speak for you. Be a big girl, my darling. You’re so important in the end game. Remember, no deal is consummated until the papers are signed.”

  Lily sighed. She wanted to get this difficult, overdue sale over with and behind her. She was so weary of being looked at and standing in as the symbol of ownership, so tired of constantly having to watch herself in her mind’s eye, that most difficult judge of all, ever alert to the position Cutter put her in at the center of the Amberville Publications stage, always the gracious soloist. She knew that Gerry Wilder, pleasant as she was, was still slightly awed by her, as impressed as a member of a corps de ballet would feel about the ballerina. Still, she was accustomed to enduring that central role that once she had coveted beyond all else, and Cutter was evidently intent on her being part of this weekend.

  “All right, I’ll go. Will I need a heavy coat or just lots of sweaters?”

  “Bring everything you think you’ll need. We’re going in the UBC company jet so baggage is no problem.”

  “Good. That’s something. I’ll just go and tell my maid what to pack.”

  The interior of the UBC jet was so arranged that it didn’t look like a flying boardroom. Intimate conversations were possible at both ends of the cabin. Cutter and Leonard Wilder sat together talking while their wives chatted up front.

  “This timberland, thousands of acres, was one of the last things that my brother bought before he died,” Cutter said. “He felt that the more independent Amberville was from paper manufacturers, the better. Hell, he’d have bought a printing plant next, and then a distribution business. That might be something for UBC to consider.”

  “One thing at a time,” Leonard chuckled. Now that he had every intention of buying Amberville Publications his normally brusque manner had mellowed. “Speaking of things to consider, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to B&B. When we first met we only talked about the established books. I didn’t give B&B another month’s life. Since then your offbeat experimental baby has begun to fascinate me. At first I thought it would bring down your profits; then I saw the circulation figures, and lately I’ve started to ask myself if the first thing we should do is pour money into it or, on the other hand, shut it down. Any suggestions, Cutter?”

  “Leonard, I’ve been going through all of that questioning myself, multiplied by ten. I’ve been tinkering with the magazine personally, doing all the fine-tuning and I promise you I’ve managed to get it over the hump. It was a challenge I took personally. But the jury’s still out. As I do on any new project, I’ve let it go just so far and no further. It keeps our people on their toes and it’s good for the company.”

  “I heard Lily’s daughter speak at the dinner for Women in Publishing and I was damned impressed. Does she come with the package?”

  “Maxi’s a wonder. A chip off the old block. You’d have to cut your own deal with her, Leonard. I couldn’t speak for her … but I’m not convinced that she’s necessarily in it for the long haul. Still, who knows?”

  “Won’t the start-up losses distort your profit picture?”

  “Less than you’ll ever guess. I’ve been personally riding herd on Maxi and I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised. I’m satisfied with the Amberville balance sheet. I think you will be too.”

  “The figures will tell the story, won’t they?” He stretched agreeably. “Ah, it’s nice to be getting away. I’ve never been to the wilds of Canada.”

  “We have flush toilets for VIPs.”

  “Somehow I’d imagined you would.”

  “Leonard and I never had any children,” Gerry Wilder told Lily, as she did each time they talked. “I envy you so much. And not just three children, even a granddaughter. You must be so proud.”

  “I am … but recently I began to realize something. I can’t take the credit for them when they’re being wonderful and so I shouldn’t blame myself when they’re being … difficult. It’s taken years to even begin to reach that conclusion. I always thought that they had to be perfect or else it meant that I wasn’t perfect. Well, I’m not and they’re not. We’re all just human.”

  Gerry Wilder tried to hide her astonishment. She’d never heard Lily talk about herself so intimately before. She seized the opportunity to delve further into the character of the woman whose manner and breeding had always caused most of the other women of New York to think of her as set apart from them.

  “Are you closer to one of your children than to the others?”

  Lily smiled gently at the question. Only a woman without children could imagine that such a question could be answered simply, or even at all. She said the obvious and satisfactory thing. “They’re each different and I’m close to each one in a different way.”

  “It must be wonderful having a daughter,” Gerry said wistfully.

  “Actually I’m more optimistic about Maxime than I’ve ever been before,” Lily said, surprised at her own words.

  “Optimistic?” Gerry Wilder said, puzzled.

  “Oh,” Lily laughed at her impulsive remark. “She’s had three husbands, you know. That’s a bit worrying for a mother. She seems to have finally settled down. Happily unmarried.”

  “Goodness, yes. Leonard took me to the Women in Publishing dinner and I thought she was marvelous. So businesslike. That combination of intelligence and beauty bowled us over. And I do adore that magazine of hers. I even go out to buy it—I can’t wait to read it at the hairdresser’s. It always makes me feel so—well, pleased with myself. I suppose she shows it to you before it comes out every month?”

  “Actually she’s quite private about it. I have to go to the newsstand to get it too.”

 
“For heaven’s sake,” Gerry said, mystified by the world of publishing. After all, Lily Amberville owned the company. You’d think she’d get advance copies of every magazine. It sounded as if she knew as little about her own business as Gerry herself did about next season’s pilots. Leonard wouldn’t let her look at them because she couldn’t conquer her habit of comparing them to “Masterpiece Theatre.” But then she didn’t own UBC.

  Soon the small jet landed on the airstrip that had been carved out of the forest. The passengers left the plane, pulling on the heavy coats they had brought along. It was windy and bright but still very chilly up in this part of Northern Ontario. A tall, obviously young man in spite of his fine red beard stood waiting for them with a new jeep. He approached the group, shyly. “Mr. Amberville?” he asked, looking questioningly at the two men.

  “I’m Mr. Amberville,” Cutter answered. “You must be Bob Davies. You look like your dad.”

  “Yes sir. Nice to meet you, sir.”

  “This is Mrs. Amberville and our guests, Mr. and Mrs. Wilder. Bob’s just learning the ropes, Leonard. His father used to be in charge of the camp here but he retired last year, went down to Florida. Just out of college, aren’t you, Bob? How’s your dad?”

  “Fine, sir. Thank you. Why don’t you all get into the jeep while I stow those bags? I don’t like to keep you waiting in this wind. It’s about a half-hour ride to the guest house.”

  Leonard Wilder entered the enclosed jeep reluctantly. He wanted to drink in the sight of the dark green, towering trees that, like the sea, had the power to awe a city man. Network television had never given him such a heady sense of being in touch with the real world, with growing things. This particular, surprising asset of Amberville Publications, he decided, was going to become his private fiefdom. The next time he flew up here it would be as host, not as a guest. He’d let Gerry redecorate the guest house, whatever shape it was in, so that she’d stop complaining about his never sharing the pilots with her. She refused to realize how lucky she was that he didn’t.