“Let me go first,” he said. “It looks better for you.”
“Okay.” She was not sure she had a reputation left to protect, but she did not want to say that. She watched him pick up his suit on its hanger, and the paper bag containing the clean clothes he had bought along with his nightshirt in Foynes: a white shirt, black wool socks and gray cotton underwear. He hesitated at the door, and she guessed he was wondering if he would ever kiss her again. She went to him and lifted her face. “Thank you for holding me in your arms all night,” she said.
He bent down and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, his closed lips on hers. They held it for a long moment, then separated.
Nancy opened the door for him and he went out.
She sighed as she closed it behind him. I believe I could fall in love with him, she thought.
She wondered if she would ever see that nightshirt again.
She glanced out of the window. The plane was gradually losing height. She had to hurry.
She combed her hair quickly at the dressing table then took her case into the ladies’ room, which was right next door to the honeymoon suite. Lulu Bell and another woman were there, but mercifully not Mervyn’s wife. Nancy would have liked a bath, but had to make do with a thorough wash at the basin. She had clean underwear and a fresh blouse, navy instead of gray, to go under her red suit. As she dressed she recalled her morning conversation with Mervyn. The thought of him made her feel happy, but beneath the happiness was a strain of unease. Why was that? Once she had asked herself the question, the answer became obvious. He had said nothing about his wife. Last night he had confessed himself “confused.” Since then, silence. Did he want Diana back? Did he still love her? He had held Nancy in his arms all night, but that did not wipe out a whole marriage, not necessarily.
And what do I want? she asked herself. Sure, I’d love to see Mervyn again, go on dates with him, probably even have an affair with him; but do I want him to abandon his marriage for me? How can I tell, after one night of unconsummated passion?
She paused in the act of applying lipstick and stared at her face in the mirror. Cut it out, Nancy, she told herself. You know the truth. You want this man. In ten years he’s the first you’ve really fallen for. You’re forty years and one day old and you’ve met Mr. Right. Stop kidding around and start nailing his foot to the floor.
She put on Pink Clover perfume and left the room.
As she stepped out, she saw Nat Ridgeway and her brother, Peter, who had the seats next to the ladies’ room. Nat said: “Good morning, Nancy.” She remembered instantly how she had felt about this man five years ago. Yes, she thought, I might have fallen in love with him, given time; but there wasn’t time. And maybe I was lucky: could be he wanted Black’s Boots more than he wanted me. After all, he’s still trying to get the company, but for sure he’s not still trying to get me. She nodded curtly to him and went into her suite.
The bunks had been dismantled and remade as a divan seat, and Mervyn was sitting there, shaved and dressed in his dark gray suit and white shirt. “Look out of the window,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
Nancy looked out and saw land. They were flying low over a dense pine forest streaked with silver rivers. As she watched, the trees gave way to water—not the deep, dark water of the Atlantic, but a calm gray estuary. On the far side she could see a harbor and a cluster of wooden buildings crowned by a church.
The plane came down rapidly. Nancy and Mervyn sat on the divan with their seat belts fastened, holding hands. Nancy hardly felt the impact when the hull cleaved the surface of the river, and she was not sure they were down until, a moment later, the windows were obscured by spray.
“Well,” she said, “I’ve flown the Atlantic.”
“Aye. There’s not many can say that.”
She did not feel very brave. She had spent half the trip worrying about her business and the other half holding hands with someone else’s husband. She had thought about.the flight itself only when the weather got rough and she became scared stiff. What was she going to tell the boys? They would want all the details. She did not even know how fast the plane flew. She resolved to find out all that sort of thing before they got to New York.
When the plane taxied to a halt, a launch came alongside. Nancy put on her coat and Mervyn his leather flying jacket. About half the passengers had decided to get off the plane and stretch their legs. The rest were still in bed, closed in behind the tightly fastened blue curtains of their bunks.
They passed through the main lounge, stepped out onto the stubby sea-wing, and boarded the launch. The air smelled of the sea and of new timber: there was probably a sawmill nearby. Near the Clipper’s mooring was a fuel barge marked SHELL AVIATION SERVICE, with men in white overalls waiting to refill the plane’s tanks. There were also two quite big freighters in the harbor: the anchorage here must be deep.
Mervyn’s wife and her lover were among those who had decided to land, and Diana glared at Nancy as the launch headed for the shore. Nancy was uncomfortable and could not meet her eye, although she had less to feel guilty about than Diana herself: after all, Diana was the one who had actually committed adultery.
They landed via a floating dock, a catwalk and a pier. Despite the early hour, there was a small crowd of sightseers. At the landward end of the pier were the Pan American buildings, one large and two small, all made of wood painted green with red-brown trim. Beside the buildings was a field with a few cows.
The passengers entered the large airline building and showed their passports to a sleepy exciseman. Nancy noticed that Newfoundlanders spoke fast, with an accent more Irish than Canadian. There was a waiting room, but it attracted no one, and the passengers all decided to explore the village.
Nancy was impatient to speak to Patrick MacBride in Boston. Just as she was about to ask for a phone, her name was called: the building had a voice-hailer system like a ship’s. She identified herself to a young man in a Pan American uniform.
“There’s a telephone call for you, ma’am,” he said. Her heart leaped. “Where’s the phone?” she said, looking around the room.
“In the telegraph office on Wireless Road. It’s less than a mile away.”
A mile away! She could hardly contain her impatience. “Then let’s hurry, before the connection is broken! Do you have a car?”
The youngster looked as startled as if she had asked for a space rocket. “No, ma’am.”
“So we’ll walk. Lead the way.”
They left the building, Nancy and Mervyn following the messenger. They went up the hill, following a dirt road with no sidewalk. Loose sheep grazed the verges. Nancy was grateful for comfortable shoes—made by Black’s, of course. Would Black’s still be her company tomorrow night? Patrick MacBride was about to tell her. The delay was unbearable.
In ten minutes or so they reached another small wooden building and went inside. Nancy was shown to a chair in front of a phone. She sat down and picked up the instrument with a shaking hand. “This is Nancy Lenehan speaking.”
An operator said: “Hold the line for Boston.”
There was a long pause; then she heard: “Nancy? Are you there?”
It was not Mac, contrary to what she expected, and it took a moment to recognize the voice. “Danny Riley!” she exclaimed.
“Nancy, I’m in trouble and you have to help me!”
She gripped the phone harder. It sounded as if her plan had worked. She made her voice calm, almost bored, as if the call was a nuisance. “What sort of trouble, Danny?”
“People are calling me about that old case!”
This was good news! Mac had put the wind up Danny. His voice was panicky. This was what she wanted. But she pretended not to know what he was talking about. “What case? What is this?”
“You know. I can’t talk about it on the phone.”
“If you can’t talk about it on the phone, why are you calling me?”
“Nancy! Stop treating me like shit! I need you!”
“Okay, calm down.” He was scared enough: now she had to use his fear to manipulate him. “Tell me exactly what has happened, leaving out the names and addresses. I think I know what case you’re talking about.”
“You have all your pa’s old papers, right?”
“Sure, they’re in my strong room at home.”
“Some people may ask to look through them.”
Danny was telling Nancy the story she herself had concocted. The ploy had worked perfectly so far. Blithely Nancy said: “I don’t think there’s anything you need worry about—”
“How can you be sure?” he interrupted frantically.
“I don’t know—”
“Have you been through them all?”
“No, there are too many, but—”
“Nobody
knows
what’s in there. You should have burned that stuff years ago.”
“I guess you’re right, but I never thought ... Who wants to see the stuff anyway?”
“It’s a bar inquiry.”
“Do they have the right?”
“No, but it looks bad if I refuse.”
“And it looks all right if I refuse?”
“You’re not a lawyer. They can’t pressure you.”
Nancy paused, pretending to hesitate, keeping him in suspense a moment longer. Finally she said: “Then there’s no problem.”
“You’ll turn them down?”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll burn everything tomorrow.”
“Nancy ...” He sounded as if he might weep. “Nancy, you’re a true friend.”
She felt a hypocrite as she replied: “How could I do anything else?”
“I appreciate this. God, I really do. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Well, since you mention it, there is something you could do for me.” She bit her lip. This was the delicate bit. “You know why I’m flying back in such a rush?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been so worried about this other thing—”
“Peter is trying to sell the company out from under me.”
There was a silence at the other end of the line.
“Danny, are you there?”
“Sure, I’m here. Don’t you want to sell the company?”
“No! The price is way too low and there’s no job for me in the new setup—of course I don’t want to sell. Peter knows it’s a lousy deal but he doesn’t care so long as he hurts me.”
“Is it a lousy deal? The company hasn’t been doing too well lately.”
“You know why, don’t you?”
“I guess ...”
“Come on, say it. Peter is a lousy manager.”
“Okay ...”
“Instead of letting him sell the company cheap, why don’t we fire him? Let me take over. I can turn it around—you know that. When we’re making money, we can think again about selling out—at a much higher price.”
“I don’t know.”
“Danny, a war has just started in Europe and that means business is going to boom. We’ll be selling shoes faster than we can make them. If we wait two or three years we could sell the company for double, three times the price.”
“But the association with Nat Ridgeway would be so useful to my law firm.”
“Forget what’s useful—I’m asking you to help me out.”
“I really don’t know if it’s in your own interests.”
Nancy wanted to say: You goddamn liar, it’s your interests you’re thinking about. But she bit her tongue and said: “I know it’s the right thing for all of us.”
“Okay, I’ll think about it.”
That was not good enough. She was going to have to lay her cards on the table. “Remember Pa’s papers, won’t you?” She held her breath.
His voice became lower and he spoke more slowly. “What are you saying to me?”
“I’m asking you to help me, because I’m helping you. You understand that type of thing, I know.”
“I think I do understand it. Normally it’s called blackmail.”
She winced. Then she remembered who she was talking to. “You hypocritical old bastard, you’ve been doing this sort of thing all your life.”
He laughed. “You got me there, kid.” But that sparked another thought. “You didn’t
initiate
the damn inquiry yourself, just to have some way of putting pressure on me, did you?”
This was dangerously close to the truth. “That’s what you would have done, I know. But I’m not going to answer any more questions. All you need to know is that if you vote with me tomorrow, you’re safe; and if you don’t, you’re in trouble.” She was bullying him now, and that was the kind of thing he understood; but would he knuckle under or defy her?
“You can’t talk to me like that. I knew you when you wore diapers.”
She softened her tone. “Isn’t that a reason for helping me?”
There was a long pause. Then he said: “I really don’t have a choice, do I?”
“I guess not.”
“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll support you tomorrow, if you’ll take care of that other thing.”
Nancy almost cried with relief. She had done it. She had turned Danny around. Now she would win. Black’s Boots would still be hers. “I’m glad, Danny,” she said weakly.
“Your pa said it would be like this.”
The remark came out of nowhere and Nancy did not understand it. “What do you mean?”
“Your pa. He wanted you and Peter to fight.”
There was a sly note in Danny’s voice that made Nancy suspicious. He resented giving in to her, and he wanted to get in a parting shot. She was reluctant to give him that satisfaction, but curiosity overcame caution. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“He always said the children of rich men were normally bad businessmen because they weren’t hungry. He was really worried about it—thought you might throw away everything he’d earned.”
“He never told me he felt that way,” she said suspiciously.
“That’s why he set things up so you’d fight one another. He brought you up to take control after his death, but he never put you in place; and he told Peter it would be his job to run the company. That way you’d have to fight it out, and the toughest would come out on top.”