A Letter to a Lucky Man

by Thomas Jobling

  Having finally ‘won the floor’ and after some gargled coughs Toni continued, he leaned across and patted Curtis’s arm. He spoke, almost in a whisper, his voice pained. 'Curtis listen, please. I know you’re in a rush...but just listen.’

  An eerie silence filled the windowed corner. Curtis straightened himself. He lent back, bracing himself into the chair. Quickly, sitting forward again, his hands under his thighs he glanced out through the window. The birds had flown far into the distance. He was, he had convinced himself, now ready to receive whatever proclamation his leader, his friend, was about deliver. Good, bad or indifferent. No, it’ll be good or, bad. No... it’ll be bad. I’ve got a feeling.

  'Okay, hit me with it.’

  Toni now on the edge of his chair tapped Curtis’s knee. He began, but not in his normal, polished style. He stuttered fidgeted but finally he got going. '... As you have obviously noticed I’ve lost a bit of weight recently and no doubt you’ve wondered why I appear to be somewhat impatient too. I also need to apologise if I’ve been abrupt with you at times recently. I’ve also not been around so much of late, especially when a bit of support would have been appreciated. But hey, young fella the ship is very much afloat under your command, your leadership. For that, I commend you.’

  Curtis smiled. Young fella. Ha, Toni was the only one that ever referred to him as young nowadays. He was almost forty. He refocused on his old mentor. What he’d heard so far was obviously the good news, next will be the bad; the industrial ‘Dear John’ letter. Another gap in the conversation ensued. On this occasion however, a Cardinali wise-crack did not emerge. After a gulp of what must be, near cold coffee Toni Russo took up his thread again.

  'It’s well, I’m not sure how to tell you this Curtis.’

  Curtis said nothing but thought, ‘Oh Holy shit, here we go. Come on big man; spit it out.’

  ‘I haven’t been well of recent; much pain. The...a... reason...or... at least one of the reasons I’ve not been around the factory, is that I’ve been dealing with a number of personal issues: businesses that I’m involved with and putting my wider affairs into some sort of order, so to speak. Curtis, I can hear your brain asking, why?. But you are wrong. As I said, we’re doing exceptionally well here on this site. It’s just, well...’

  Curtis was internally confused. What the heck is he saying? Ah Jeez, that’s it... he’s sold the flippin’ factory.

  Toni Russo rose from his chair. He moved towards the window while pulling a white linen handkerchief from his pocket. He blew hard. He turned, straightened himself, and in a low tone he recommenced. ‘It’s just... It’s because as I said, I’ve not been too well. That spot of leave, in truth was to think things over, to put my life into perspective; I suppose it was also to get a bit of colour to disguise this.’ He rubbed his fingers across his cheeks as if to emphasise their lack of his normal healthy glow. He coughed, and continued, 'I’ve been getting treatment but, unfortunately,’ he paused again, ‘I’m afraid it’s…well, I’s terminal. I have pancreatic cancer. An aggressive bugger too. Probably down to too many of these scones. Of course, nothing to with drink, a none too healthy diet, other than Jacqueline’s catering of course, or the Arturo Fuentes; ciggies, Curtis...’ He winked and produced a sly smile. ‘So there you have it Curtis my boy. All your observations and questions answered and out in the open! But best not to make it public knowledge though. Not too good for share values and stuff like that.’

  It was a shell-shocked Curtis Cardinali who left the office. He ignored the secretary as the long corridor was re-walked. She had glanced through her open door as he hurried past. Thus, she didn’t see that the colour had drained from his face. Nor did she notice the tear running down his cheek.

  Having reached his destination, the door of his office was closed behind him and blinds were swiftly drawn. He proceeded to phone Jac – no reply. Then if things couldn’t get any worse, Gerald Fox, the creepy, non-trusted, but long-surviving director of sales development knocked on his door and entered without being bid.

  Ironically, the pair of them had been getting on great guns of late, at least in the public domain. But this overt show of togetherness didn’t change Curtis’s private feelings for the man. Overall he just wanted him to be elsewhere at that precise moment. Undeterred Gerald opened the conversation, ‘What’s with you matey, bad news?’

  ‘Yeah, something like that. Look Gerry, if you’ll excuse me I need to be somewhere. Okay?’

  ‘Aye –fine. Maybe catch you over the weekend for pints at the yacht club.

  ‘No. Look, unless it’s anything really urgent... I’ll eh, see you Monday?’

  With that, Curtis effectively shut up shop and was gone, leaving Fox standing within a vacant door frame.

  His drive homeward was soulful. The sound of a key turning in the front door had alerted his two boys. They slid down the polished hall to greet their father, usual fashion. Curtis, bluffing away the emotional turmoil that he was enduring, hugged and held them. Jacqueline, popping her head out, said, ‘Well, well this is a first boys; your daddy is early home. Wow. Has he sacked you, or have you walked out, darling?’

  ‘Very funny. Why is everyone suddenly a comedian? I am an organised person. So—are you all ready to roll, yes, no?’ His wife had noticed an edge to her husband’s retort but chose not to pursue it. Quietly she instructed the boys to grab their bags, while Curtis got changed into his ‘weekend’ gear. Within half-an-hour of his arriving home they were underway, Jacqueline drove, Curtis dozed.

  In less than two hours the Cardinali family had pulled into a hotel and sports complex. Conversationally, it had been a quiet drive. Jacqueline knew that her husband had issues to resolve and was far from asleep. Something she guessed had happened at the factory. She also realised that this, luxurious as it was, was the last place he wanted to be.

  Conversely, Curtis had vowed with himself, not to spoil everyone’s outing. He morphed into super-dad the moment they had all checked in. Jacqueline had remained on edge even though the weekend break was a total success. The homeward trek was rowdy, father leading the sing-along. He had also opted for the scenic route along the stunning North Antrim coast road. It was, in Jacqueline’s view as if her husband didn’t want to be back in their home. Without warning a thought bombed in on her; oh my God! He wouldn’t, he hasn’t, he couldn’t―NO. Not an affair? Surely not?’

  Finally, she swung the wheel of Curtis’s Mercedes and crunched onto their driveway. It was early evening, Sunday. Bags were unloaded and a take-away which had been picked up on the way home got dispensed onto the kitchen table, no plates. Curtis, Jacqueline felt, was still putting on a show. As she saw it, it was an overture of over-the-top behaviour. Something was going to give, she knew it. What is it that he’s not saying?

  Needing to stretch out for if nothing else but to inject some clear thinking into her head, it was her turn to doze. She left him and the boys to clear up, and went to bed. She woke with a jump, her husband standing over her, asking. ‘... Jac, you okay love? What’s up? You don’t seem like you self. Weekend too much for you old girl? You’r—’

  At that, she sat up, her face stern, she cut off Curtis, demanding to know what exactly was going on with him.

  That was the key which burst open the reservoir. Unburdening himself of the terrible load which had been delivered onto him – a burden that he had locked within himself, to allow his family a much needed holiday, Curtis finally fell apart. He sobbed uncontrollably into his wife’s breast. A veil of guilt had also descended over Jacqueline; her thinking the worst of her husband.

  ⁎ ⁎ ⁎

  Within six months, Toni Russo, a year shy of his seventieth birthday, was dead and buried. Well, cremated. Curtis found himself a man alone. Still a managing director, but minus his ‘safety net’.

  Chapter 25 : Change of Circumstance

  Caught between his business responsibilities and private grief Curtis Cardinali had indeed found himself a man alone. Though he had the
support of a strong wife and outwardly at least, an accommodating board of directors, it was a collective made up of ‘doves and hawks’. His priority therefore would be to convince all of the eight members that building on the departed Mr Russo’s ideals was the correct strategy, going forward. He knew that he had a lot of ‘selling and watching’ ahead of him.

  The reading of the Toni Russo Last Will & Testament to which Mr and Mrs Cardinali had been invited was, in terms of a gathering, a scant affair. It was one however, which could potentially have an enormous outcome for either or both of them.

  Opening the reading within the antiquated surroundings of his personal law firm’s offices the partner in charge explained that Mr Russo was basically a single man. His only living associate, he explained, being his ex-wife. There were no siblings or children or relatives.

  Most of the money together with the dwelling in the Caribbean would be transferred across to the ex-Mrs Russo. As the detail of the transfer was disclosed the Cardinali’s glanced across to her, nodding as to offer their best wishes. The gesture was rebuffed.

  At that point the legal dialogue went off into various jargon-drenched aspects of the Will. Curtis and Jacqueline looked at each other with a bewildered glance. Both had already picked up on an obviously dissatisfied benefactor. Also, both Cardinali’s were privately asking why they had been invited to such a solemn assembly. If most of Toni’s assets were going to the ex-Mrs Russo, why were they here? An answer arrived in the form of more legalese but which meant, clearly, that they too would be beneficiaries.

  Jacqueline straightened. Her jaw had eased open as she learned that she and the boys would receive sizeable sums of money; in truth, she wasn’t terribly surprised for the boys as over the years Toni had come to treat them as nephews, his missing family. However, for her to receive anything was a very pleasant outcome. She smiled again at ex-Mrs Russo. Again her gesture was rebuffed.

  The remainder of the Russo wealth would be divided out among his list of charities and good causes. Curtis got caught sneaking a peek at his watch. This drew a comment from across the time-worn desk. ‘Patience, Mr Cardinali.’

  Moving on, but at his pace, the lead partner explained that all of the Russo shareholding in CML, NYF and several other minor outlets would be transferred to Mr Curtis Cardinali. A bolt shot through Curtis. All further details of the proceedings became a blur. Jacqueline took a hold of his hand and squeezed it hard. He sat back into the hard upright chair. His head shook from side to side. He couldn’t speak. He leaned forward, stared at the floor.

  Jacqueline, tissue in her hand wiped a tear from her eye.

  Across the room the ex-Mrs Russo had risen from her seat. Focusing her silent rage back at the solicitors, she turned sharply dropping her sunglasses down from her bleached bob of high hair, and left. No words had been spoken by her throughout the encounter.

  Curtis’s sudden change in circumstance meant that he really had become the new Russo. But in the same breath Curtis knew that he had to think and act as his long-term mentor would have done. His immediate thoughts though, centred round how best to inform his fellow directors of his – no other word came to mind – wind-fall. Curtis Cardinali, the boy born into a first-generation Italian immigrant family, five years after the ending of the Second World War, the boy who had failed his 11+ exam…was rich.

  Having departed the reading he allowed his mind to reflect on the journey which elevated him from the shop floor apprentice, to high management. The big adventure with Simon, all those years ago: the horror of that first day in England, meeting Toni then, the destruction of his first business venture back home. Today, he had been handed the key to the top of the tree! His quiet thoughts raced towards his late father. Quietly he said, ‘I told you, Dad.’

  He thought deeper; accepting full control was one thing, but wheedling out the non-players from his top-table team, regardless of whether they were hawks or indeed doves would become an early priority. Blood would no doubt be spilled. Confrontation, although enviable was something that Curtis always tried to avoid, but then visions of the Red-Fred circus bombed in on his recollection.

  Following the pronouncements of the Russo Will, Curtis knew that he needed to stand back, to analyse, and to gain a clear pathway while creating a definite company strategy; the Cardinali Business Plan for his company.

  One issue which had already been teasing him was the frustrations of the sales and marketing teams. At sales meetings, which he regularly attended, the tenor of how ungainly the company profile had become hadn’t gone unnoticed: so many product names, associated company names, sometimes opposing stockist and diverse market sectors.

  Unbeknown to his team similar thoughts had been germinating within Curtis for some time. Although he held the position of managing director he had always felt a little constrained, frustrated at being unable to simplify this aspect of the operation. Toni had been no help in that particular matter. He had often quipped, ‘Let sleeping dogs lay; more important stuff to get done.’

  Now, Curtis had the wherewithal to do something about it. At a specially convened board meeting he would reveal his change of status. Within his statement he would confirm that there would indeed be a company name change together with the creation of sub-divisions to alleviate the much talked about sales and marketing issues. His objective was to deliver an overall upbeat message, but one without, at this stage, too much specific detail. Of course he was worldly wise enough now to understand that his news would not be welcomed across the board.

  A few weeks later, the big day arrived. Gathered together at a nearby venue were, first and foremost, his directors, senior managers, the company’s legal people and personnel from the corporate design and marketing company that he personally had hired. A PowerPoint presentation walked the audience through Curtis’s timetable of change. More especially it spelt out in detail the aspects of the new company’s strategy, going forward.

  Visually, a new logo and corporate colour schemes seemed to grab the attention. First there was the holding company; CARDINALI INDUSTRIES LIMITED.

  The modern yellow font would feature throughout, but on different coloured backgrounds: Cardinali Industries for example, on a dark grey background. This was followed by the liveries of new divisions: Cardinali Contract Moulding, on a dark green background. Cardinali Marine, on a dark blue background. Finally, Cardinali Transport, and in memory of his father, it would be on a maroon background; The exact colour scheme of his dad’s original Foden cab.

  Rounding up the day Curtis explained how each of the new divisions would interact and allow the ‘group’ to continue to expand. ‘We will be even more successful, and profitable.’ A similar presentation, he finally explained, would be held the following month to allow this good news story to go public. With that the various generals scurried away to study their portfolios, and in turn consider how their own fortunes, or otherwise will likely hold within this new world of the Cardinali’s. A high quality corporate publication, charting the company history together with the Cardinali memoir and a Russo biography was passed out to all of the company personal, from top to bottom.

  Not everyone was as enthusiastic as the majority share-holder. Equally the managing director, now chairman knew that his inherited board of directors remained in a state of imbalance: too many chiefs, too many opinions, too many hiding places. Fresh blood was needed. Whether this came upwards from within or, in from outside, he didn’t know yet, but he was certain, regardless he would not be phased or blown off-course.

  Thereafter, with his family gathered close, Curtis Cardinali allowed himself a quiet moment within a hectic day to remember his parents, Phyllis and Ricky as well as Archie. For Jacqueline the big grin across Curtis’s face told its own tale. She squeezed his hand. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Told you I’d do it dad.

  PART TWO

  A Cabin-cruiser and a Person of Interest

  Chapter 26 : Jinxed?

  Truth be told, Friday was not one o
f Curtis Cardinali’s favourite days. The first Friday of each month had become set-in-stone – an admin day-long feast of forward planning, strategy reviews and financial spreadsheets. Administration he generally treated as a chore; necessary, but no less a chore. As Curtis continued to be the ‘hands on’ front face of his company he couldn’t really complain; after all, it was he who created the ‘first Friday concept’ in the first place.

  On a first Friday he, his board of directors and senior managers and of course his secretary Alice, would meet. Generally these meetings would be convened within a ‘do not disturb’ location away from his flourishing industrial complex; away, but never too far away. It would generally be an all-day-affair, nick-named and referred to throughout the Cardinali ‘empire’ as lock-down Friday.

  This would be only the second time that Curtis Cardinali would not chair the gathering. The first and last time was when his youngest son had fallen at school, breaking his arm and Jac had been on an impromptu trip back to England to see her old ex-housemates. Equally and because this current, ‘bit of personal business’ had been an on-off-on-off affair, he decided that once and for all, it needed to be concluded. He nominated his director of sales development as the ‘first Friday’s’ substitute chair person.

  * * *

  Boyishly excited, Curtis had found himself wide awake. Illuminated in a bright dawn squeezing through slatted wooden blinds he stretched his five foot eleven frame upright. He clasped his arms behind his head and glanced left towards the clock. It confirmed the unearthly hour. Then to his right he smiled down at his sleeping wife, quiet and warm beside him. He quickly disabled the alarm and slipped out of bed.