The Inheritors (10 page)

The motion was made and carried unanimously with two votes abstaining. Ritchie’s and mine.

Sinclair’s voice was dry and cold. “The chair will entertain a motion for adjournment.”

In less than two minutes the meeting was over and there were only the two of us left in the boardroom. Ritchie and myself.

I gathered up my papers and looked down the long table. Ritchie sat there, hunched over as if he were in physical pain, his hands clasped tightly together on the table.

I stopped next to him on my way to the door. “I’m sorry, Dan,” I said.

He looked up at me. His face was scrunched and gray. “The son of a bitch!” he said heavily. “He didn’t even stop to say good-bye.”

I didn’t speak.

“He set me up for it,” he said.

“He set us both up.”

He nodded. His eyes blinked rapidly. “All he had to do was ask me to leave. It didn’t have to be like this.”

He walked over to the window and looked out at the snow. “Now I know why the windows in the new building can’t be opened. They knew there would be days like this.” He turned to look at me. “I saw him do things like this before. I even used to admire him for it. He could never do a thing like that to me, I thought.”

A wry grin didn’t make it to his eyes. “I thought,” he repeated. He came back to me, his hand outstretched. “Good luck, Steve.”

His handshake meant it. “Thank you, Dan.”

“Protect yourself at all times, like they say. And never take your eyes off the referee.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

I kept lacing my coffee with brandy all afternoon. It kept me going. It also kept me from thinking too much. About myself, about Dan Ritchie, about Sinclair, about everything except the network. Finally it was nine o’clock and we were finished.

“That wraps it,” I said, looking over at Fogarty.

“Yes, sir,” she said in that quiet way she had. She began to gather up her papers.

“Fogarty, fix me a drink.”

“Yes, sir.” She went over to the bar. “What would you like?”

“Very dry martini. Double.”

In a few minutes I had it. It was very good. “Was bartending one of the courses you took at Katherine Gibbs?”

She laughed. “No. That was on-the-job training.”

I laughed. “Fix yourself a drink, Fogarty. You deserve one.”

She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll just get my things together and get going. The trains will be running late in this snow.”

I had forgotten she lived in Darien. The way the New Haven was run she would be lucky to get home at all. “If there’s any problem, Fogarty, you go to a hotel and charge it to the company.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gaunt,” she said. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Yes. Make me another one of those delicious martinis before you go.” I finished the rest of my drink.

I took the new drink from her hand. “Miss Fogarty,” I said. “A martini like this is a good enough reason for a raise.” I sipped the drink. “Tomorrow morning tell payroll that you get twenty-five dollars more a week.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gaunt.”

“You won’t do it, Miss Fogarty, will you? You think I don’t mean it. That I’m smashed.”

“I think no such thing, Mr. Gaunt,” she protested.

“That’s a loyal secretary,” I said. “Miss Fogarty, I’ve come to a decision.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“We’ve got to stop being so formal with each other. You call me Steve and I’ll call you Sheila.”

“Yes, Mr. Gaunt.”

“Steve.”

“Yes, Steve.”

“That’s better, Sheila. Now we can get down to the really important things. Am I or am I not the president of this network?”

“You are, Mr.—er—Steve.”

“Then that makes everything very simple. Let’s fuck.” I took another sip of the martini.

A strange note came into her voice. “I think I’d better get you home.”

I drew myself up proudly. “You’re turning me down.”

She didn’t answer.

“You’re fired,” I said. “As president of this network, I’m firing you for refusing to perform your duties.”

She watched me without speaking.

I sat down. The liquor left me suddenly. “You’re not fired,” I said. “I apologize, Fogarty.”

“That’s all right, Mr. Gaunt. I understand.” She smiled. “Good night.”

“Good night, Fogarty,” I said.

***

The first fall of snow in New York is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. White and clean and crisp and clinging to shapes that nature never intended. I walked home through a white cubistic world that Braque would have given his left nut to paint, stopping only for an occasional traffic light. The snow formed a white peaked cap on each red and green traffic light, making them look like single-eyed cyclops going complacently about their business in the storm.

I was covered with snow by the time I reached home.

“It’s rough,” the doorman said, leaning on his shovel.

“Yeah.” I didn’t think it was bad at all. But then I didn’t have to clear the walks.

The first thing I saw when I let myself into the apartment was the candles glowing on the table. I stopped. I had the strange thought that I had entered the wrong apartment. But then I saw the giant can of Malossol and the Dom Perignon in the ice bucket. It was all there.

“Barbara,” I called out.

She came from the bedroom, carrying a single rose in a crystal vase. She looked at me for a moment, then placed the rose in the center of the table. “That does it, don’t you think?”

I was still in the doorway. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s snowing,” she said.

“I know that,” I replied.

“The first snow of the new year,” she said. “I thought we should celebrate.”

I looked at her. “Sure.” I turned and put my hat and coat in the closet. When I turned back to the room, she was standing next to me.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You sound strange.”

“Nothing. I’m tired,” I said. “I need a drink.”

“I have an almost frozen bottle of vodka,” she said.

“That should do it.” I followed her to the bar. The bottle was encrusted with ice. She poured the drink. I waited for her.

She shook her head. “You go ahead.”

It went down like beautiful liquid fire. I held the empty glass to her. She refilled it. This time I sipped.

She watched me. “It’s been three months.”

I nodded.

“Did you wonder what happened to me?”

I shook my head. “I figured you could find your way.”

“But you knew I was lost.”

“Aren’t we all?” I said.

She poured herself a drink. She held her glass toward me. “Not you,” she said. “You know exactly where you are. All the time.” She swallowed her drink quickly and poured herself another. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

“It was a fine idea.”

“I know how hard you’ve been working. That’s why I kept out of your way. I thought this would be a surprise.”

“I was surprised.”

A wall of tears suddenly masked the blue of her eyes. “I think I’d better go.”

“Don’t go,” I said. “I can’t eat all this by myself.”

She stood there. “Is that the only reason you want me to stay?”

“The snow outside is up to your ass. And there aren’t any cabs.”

She was silent for a moment, her eyes searching my face. “I love you,” she said. “Aren’t you even going to kiss me?”

I took her in my arms. Her mouth was soft and wet with the salt of her tears. I’m sorry, Steve,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

I pressed her head against my chest. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

She twisted in my arms. Her voice was strained. “I tried to warn you,” she cried. “I tried to tell you what he was like. But you wouldn’t listen, you wouldn’t believe me.”

I was bewildered. “What—who?”

“Daddy!” She spit the name out. “I was at his house for dinner last night and I heard him. He was on the phone to somebody.

“‘We’ll fix that cocky little bastard,’ he said. ‘He’ll find out who’s running Sinclair Television.’”

She clung tightly to me. “Don’t feel too badly, Steve,” she whispered against my chest. “You’ll find another job and show him.”

I turned her face up to me. “Is that why you came here tonight?”

She nodded. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“You’re beautiful,” I said. I smiled at her. “I didn’t get fired. But I did find out who’s running Sinclair TV. And so did your father. Me.”

She threw her arms excitedly around me. “You did it, Steve? You really did it?”

I nodded, picking up the bottle of Dom Perignon. “Let’s get this open. We’ve really got something to celebrate.”

She kissed me quickly. “You open the wine.”

I smiled as I watched her walking around the room turning off the lamps. Finally they were out and she came toward me in the golden light of the candles. I gave her a glass of champagne.

“There, isn’t that better?” she asked.

“Much better,” I said. We clinked our glasses. The bubbles tingled in my nostrils.

But it didn’t help. I fell asleep at the table sometime between the Chateaubriand and dessert.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Somewhere the telephone was ringing. I pushed my way up through the black, reaching for it. It stopped ringing before I could get to it. I heard a soft voice whispering into it. I opened my eyes.

She turned back to me, putting down the telephone. “Go back to sleep,” she said gently.

“Who was it?” I asked.

“Your office,” she said. “I told them you were still asleep.”

“My office?” I snapped awake. “What the hell time is it?”

“Noon,” she said.

I stared at her. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You were tired.” She smiled. “You know you sleep like a baby. Soft and gentle.”

I got out of bed. “What kind of a dressing did you use on that salad? Seconal?”

She sat up. “You didn’t need it. You knocked off a bottle of vodka and two bottles of champagne all by yourself.”

“I don’t remember.”

“You passed out at the table. I had to call room service to help get you to bed.”

“Is there any coffee?” I asked.

“There’s some on the dining room table. I’ll get it for you.”

I went into the bathroom. When I came out she had a steaming cup on the tray. I took it from her hand and sipped it. “That’s a help,” I said. “But I’ll need more than that to get started. You’ll find a bottle of cognac on the bar.”

She watched me lace the coffee. “You’re drinking more than you used to.”

I looked at her silently.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m not the one to talk.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Stay loose.”

“Good advice. Why don’t you take it yourself?” She came close to me. “You’re uptight.”

“I got a lot of things on my head.”

“You were wrong,” she said. “You didn’t get him. He got you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re drinking more and fucking less. That’s the true sign of a big executive.”

I didn’t speak.

“I could have saved myself the bother,” she said. “I wore the new nightgown. I saved it from the last time I was here. But it didn’t work that time either.”

I watched her walk into the bathroom and close the door. I looked down at the coffee cup in my hand. She was right. It had been three months now. Ever since I got the job. I put the cup down on the dresser. When she came out of the bathroom I was back in bed.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, a quick concern in her voice. “Don’t you feel well?”

“I never felt better.”

Suddenly she was kneeling by the side of the bed, holding my face in her two hands, covering it with quick tiny kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she said in between them.

“Don’t get personal,” I said, pulling her up on the bed beside me. “You’ll blow your cool.”

***

It was two thirty in the morning when I stopped the car in front of Aunt Prue’s house. The bright, full, winter moon bouncing from the snow turned the night into day.

“The house is dark,” Barbara said as we crunched our way through the snow to the front door. “You’ll frighten the hell out of her, waking her up at this hour.”

I reached up and took the key from its hiding place over the doorframe. “Chances are she won’t even know we’re here until we come down in the morning.”

Light spilled into the foyer from her small office. “Chances are that you’re wrong as usual,” Aunt Prue said from the doorway.

She came into my arms and for a moment I had that surprise I always had when I realized she was never as tall as I thought she was. Somehow you always think of your elders as bigger than you. I kissed her.

“How did you get up here?”

“Drove from New York.”

“In this storm?” she asked.

“The snow stopped a long time ago. The turnpike’s all cleared.”

She turned to Barbara and held out her hand. “I’m Prudence Gaunt,” she said. “And my nephew hasn’t changed a bit since he was a boy. He still forgets his manners.”

Barbara took her hand. “Barbara Sinclair. And I’m very pleased to meet you. Steve’s been talking about you all the way up.”

“Lies probably.” But I could see that she was pleased. “You must be frozen. Let me fix some tea for you.”

“With rum, Aunt Prue,” I said. “If you haven’t forgotten your own recipe.”

In the morning we went walking in the snow on the beach. The sun was bright and danced like diamonds on the snow. We got back to the house, our faces red and shining, in time for lunch.

Aunt Prue was at the door. “There’ve been five calls from New York for you.”

I looked at her. “What did you tell them?”

“You weren’t here,” she said.

“Good. If they call again, tell them you haven’t seen or heard from me.”

“Is there anything wrong, Stephen?” she asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said. “I wanted to get away for a while. I needed a vacation.”

“What about your job?”

“It will keep.”

After three days we had enough of the snow, so we went up to Boston and caught a plane for Bermuda. We spent a long weekend in the sun and the water. For the first time in three months I was able to fall asleep without wheels in my head. I went back to the office on a Monday morning.

Fogarty followed me into the office, almost staggering under the pile of papers. She put them down on my desk. “You’ve got great color, Mr. Gaunt.”