‘Yes, he did. But I didn’t realize what was going on. My father
hasn’t been confiding in me.’ And a voice in my head immediately said: why? But another voice answered just as swiftly: it
doesn’t matter because it’s all over now.
‘Well, I guess he felt it was strictly men’s business,’ said Harry indulgently, ‘and not something you should have to bother
your pretty head about. No, the real mystery is not who tipped
us
off. The real mystery is who tipped off Donald Shine.’
I stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, of course he was tipped off!’
‘Why? What about? How?’
Harry was looking more indulgent than ever. ‘My dear, Shine had to have inside information about the Trust in order to work
out exactly how he could best take it over, and everything indicates that his inside information was very comprehensive indeed.
I hate to point the finger at any of the board but Shine’s knowledge seems to have been on a boardroom level, and beyond the
board I can’t think of anyone – except your father, of course, and a couple of his partners – who would be in a position to
give Shine the briefing he needed.’
‘More champagne, sir?’ said a passing footman.
The champagne was pale gold. I watched it sparkle in Harry’s glass and listened as Harry’s voice added: ‘There’ll have to
be a full investigation, of course, and that upsets me, it really does. Like your father, I’m just a nice well-intentioned
guy who dislikes any unpleasantness.’
I said abruptly, knifing through his nonsense: ‘When do you think Shine first got the idea of taking over the Trust?’
‘I’d say last spring. Jake died in September and by that time Shine seems to have had all the information he needed and was
busy formulating his plan of attack. If we assume he’d been working on the idea for at least three months, that takes us back
to June – or maybe May.’
‘The weather was lovely in May,’ I said. ‘I remember Scott and me watching the most wonderful sunset at Beekman Tower … but
no, I don’t remember it too well after all, not really, it’s just a blur in my mind.’ I drank all the champagne in my glass
and turned aside. ‘Excuse me, please, Harry.’
Leaving him I moved around the edge of the crowd towards the door, but all the time I was watching my father as he stood beneath
the central chandelier with a bunch of his oldest friends. He saw me and smiled and somehow I smiled back because I didn’t
want him to know anything was wrong. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t even want myself to know, and the voice in my
head spoke to me again, telling me that if I didn’t think about Harry’s disclosures they’d soon go away.
I went home and resolutely began to make more plans for my wedding on Christmas Eve.
[10]
‘Hi honey, how are you doing over there?’
‘Not so badly. How lovely to hear you! I’ve just got back from the most exhausting Bacchanalian revels at Daddy’s place –
everyone’s gone berserk with relief and I left them drinking champagne by the gallon. They’ll be cursing Shine all over again
tomorrow when they awake with their hang-overs!’
Scott laughed. ‘So I’ve missed a good party!’
‘No, all that wild glee was very boring, and besides … oh, I’m just sick to death of Donald Shine! I don’t want to talk about
him any more – he’s just past history, as far as I’m concerned, and all I care about right now is the future. Oh darling,
I can’t wait to meet you at the airport! I’m having the MG specially overhauled for your arrival!’
‘Forget it! Why don’t you borrow a Cadillac and chauffeur from your father and put a double bed and pull-down shades in the
back? Incidentally, is your father all right? He hasn’t been in the office the last few times I called, but I guess he’s been
very tied up with the take-over.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about Daddy! I haven’t seen much of him lately either, but he’s okay, he’s fine, there’s no need to worry
about Daddy at all.’
‘Honey, is something wrong? You sound a bit—’
‘No, I’m just going crazy because there’s so much to do before the wedding, and I keep having these neurotic dreams—’
‘Erotic? So do I! Couldn’t get by without them!’
‘No, neurotic – neurotic as in psycho and bananas and freaked-out. Darling, please don’t get knocked down by a bus or crushed
to death in an auto accident or killed in a plane crash, I mean, you will be careful, won’t you, you promise me? I keep having
these horrible dreams that we’re never going to meet again—’
‘I hope that’s not wishful thinking!’
‘Oh Scott – darling, if only you knew how much I loved you and how I care about absolutely
nothing
but the future – our future—’
‘Then relax. All you’re suffering from is pre-wedding nerves. Aren’t they supposed to be very common?’
‘I … I guess they are … Are you nervous too?’
‘Yes – at the thought of that hair-raising little sports car! Can’t you
give it away to someone? Then we could look forward to a long and happy life together!’
I had to laugh. ‘I feel better now I’ve talked to you.’
‘Honey, don’t worry about anything. I’ve no intention of stepping under a bus, believe me. Just be at that airport and watch
me walk through the customs area. I’ll be there.’
‘I know you will,’ I said. ‘I know it.’
‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ he said. ‘Everything’s going to be just fine …’
[11]
‘Mom,’ said Eric, ‘may I talk to you for a moment, please?’
It was the day before Scott was due to arrive in New York and both Eric and Paul were now home from school for the Christmas
recess. I was sitting at the desk in my bedroom as I worked out the servants’ wages. Dinner was due in half an hour.
‘Yes, of course, Eric. Come on in.’
He sat down in the chair next to the desk and regarded me seriously. This was characteristic; he was a very serious young
man. He was as tall as Sam now but thinner and more angular, and the blond hair which had given him a resemblance to me in
his childhood had darkened to brown. His eyes were sombre behind his glasses, and as he swallowed awkwardly I realized to
my astonishment that he was nervous. The idea that any of my children could be nervous of me was so novel that it took me
a moment to ask him what was wrong.
‘Two of my best plants have died,’ he said.
‘Oh, Eric, what a pity! And Nurse is usually so good with them while you’re away.’
‘It’s not Nurse’s fault. It’s the air. I’m sure the pollution’s getting worse, and that’s why I … I feel so strongly that
more should be done to protect the environment. In fact I’ve decided that when I go to college—’ He stopped. He was looking
white, and as I saw him struggle to tell me the truth he could no longer carry alone I found myself leaning forward until
I was sitting on the very edge of my chair.
‘When you go to college—’
‘When I go to college I want to –
must
– major in something relevant. Mom, I’m very sorry but I can’t go on pretending any more. I can’t major in economics. I can’t
be a banker. I want to major in environmental studies and then get some kind of job in conservation.’
I knew it was important that I should pull myself together but it
was hard to make the effort required of me. I felt too sad and too disappointed for my father.
Then I was taken by surprise. Eric leant forward and said urgently: ‘Mom, try to understand. This so-called Great Society
is laying waste this planet and this society is fuelled by money from institutions like Van Zale’s and that’s why I
cannot
be a banker, not under any circumstances. I know I have a duty to Grandad, particularly since Paul obviously won’t go near
the bank and it’s hard to imagine Benjamin being anything except a pain in the neck, but I can’t sell out my principles to
work for something I don’t believe in. Can’t you see how wrong that would be? I’d be trying to be something I’m not and then
after a while I’m sure I’d hate myself and despise what I was doing and consider that I was wasting my life … Don’t try and
make me over into what I’m not, Mom. Please – let me be myself! Let me do what I really want to do!’
So it was all very clear in the end, clearer than I had ever imagined, and of course I found the strength I needed to overcome
my sadness because I realized how very unimportant my disappointment was when compared with Eric’s happiness. I’d been on
the brink of making the mistake my father had made when he had tried to bend me into Emily’s image, but I wasn’t my father
and I wasn’t going to make his mistakes. I was myself, and when I spoke it was with my own voice, not my father’s. I said:
‘Of course you must do what you really want to do, Eric. I’m very proud of you for having the courage to speak out, and you
can be sure I’ll back you all the way.’
He stumbled over to me and gave me a clumsy hug. I was moved because he was normally so reserved, and in a flash I understood
why he had been withdrawn for so long. He had been living with his conflict ever since he had been old enough to understand
that he was destined to succeed his grandfather at the bank.
‘Mom – Grandad—’
‘It’s all right, I’ll tell him. But I may not tell him just yet. I’ve got to pick the right moment.’
He hugged me again and I heard his muffled voice saying: ‘He’ll never understand, will he?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘probably not. But I think your father would have understood. He spent so much of his life doing something he
didn’t really want to do.’
That made him feel less guilty. He said he wished he had known his father better, and we talked about Sam. Time passed. My
housekeeper looked in to say that dinner was ready. We joined the rest of the family in the dining-room. But that night I
sat up long after all the children
had gone to bed, and all I could ask myself was: how am I ever going to tell my father? How am I ever going to find the words
to let him know?
Then just before dawn it occurred to me that Eric’s decision would strengthen my position as peacemaker when the time came
for me to engineer a truce between my father and Scott. If his grandsons were to have no part to play in the bank’s future
my father might at last feel able to turn back to Scott and consent to a big reconciliation with his son by adoption.
It seemed not only a reasonable but a profoundly satisfying possibility.
I fell instantly into a dreamless sleep.
[1]
Scott walked out of the customs area and I ran to meet him. He was carrying a raincoat and a small case but he dropped both
to embrace me and the familiar taste of his mouth made me feel dizzy with relief that nothing had kept us apart. Pushing my
fingers blindly through the hair at the nape of his neck I pressed his face again to mine and felt his arms tighten, crushing
me against his ribs.
‘Welcome home!’ I whispered at last.
‘You see?’ he said laughing. ‘I made it!’
A redcap was already wheeling away the rest of the luggage, and outside the building the chauffeur was waiting with my father’s
latest Cadillac.
‘Pull-down shades and double bed?’
‘Just tinted glass!’
‘So you took me seriously about the sports car?’
‘I began to be terrified I’d have an accident on the way to the airport.’
‘Why, you poor little thing!’ he said astonished, taking my neurotic fears seriously for the first time. ‘I’m sorry I laughed
at you on the phone.’
‘It doesn’t matter – nothing matters any more now that you’re here.’
We sank into the back seat of the Cadillac and he pulled me into his arms.
Since it seemed likely that we would have to move to California in the new year in order to humour my father’s paranoiac fear
of working alongside Scott in New York, I had made no effort to set up a new home for us in the city but had instead done
my best to adapt the available space in my duplex to my new life as Scott’s wife. I didn’t foresee our stay in California
as being a long one, but I thought if I played along with my father at first he in his turn would be more willing to play
along with me later when I began pressuring for our recall to New York. Entangling myself in these necessary diplomatic manoeuvres
would be both exhausting and tiresome, but I felt I could tackle anything, even my father’s paranoia, once I was Scott’s wife
and Scott was no longer separated from me by the Atlantic Ocean.
‘How are the kids?’ he was saying.
‘Fine …’ With pubescent children on the premises I had felt it would be a mistake to offer him my bedroom at the apartment
before we were married, and Scott had agreed to spend the last days of his bachelor life at a suite at the Carlyle. I had
offered him my private apartment, but Scott had preferred the convenience of the hotel’s room service.
‘And your father?’
‘Oh, he’s okay. Darling, I can’t wait to show you the changes I’ve made to the apartment – I’ve had the master bedroom completely
redecorated, and the dressing-room has been converted into a retreat for you …’ I was intertwining my fingers with his as
I spoke; it was hard to believe he was so near. Every bone in his hand seemed important, and every movement of every finger
seemed vital.
‘It sounds wonderful!’ he said smiling at me. ‘I can’t wait to see it all!’
I felt dizzy with relief again, although I wasn’t sure why. ‘You’re so relaxed,’ I said. ‘So calm. I think I expected you
to be as tense as I was.’
‘But why? I’ve finished with Europe and you’re almost my wife and here I am, back in New York! If ever there was an occasion
for relaxing, this is it!’
‘Of course! How silly I’m being … It’s just that the last months have been so awful – the decorators running wild in the apartment
– Donald Shine running wild on Wall Street—’
‘Poor old Don!’ said Scott indulgently. ‘So the Eastern Seaboard finally taught him that chutzpah doesn’t necessarily conquer
all – a bitter pill for him to swallow! I guess he became over-confident once he got Jake’s support in the Trust take-over.’
At first I thought I’d misheard. ‘I’m sorry – could you say that last part again?’
He said it again. My heart started to thump against my ribs.
‘But Scott,’ I said, ‘Jake wasn’t supporting Shine.’
‘Why, sure he was! Shine needed to be thoroughly briefed about the Trust and Jake was the obvious route to the information
he needed. Jake knew all the board of the Trust, and there must have been at least one member he could have bent to suit his
own purposes. Now that Jake’s dead I doubt if we’ll ever know who that member was, but I guess Harry Morton has to be allowed
his witch-hunt and his therapeutic purges. I must ask your father how the inquiry’s going, although personally I think it’s
a waste of time … Hey, what’s the matter? Why are you looking at me like that? What’s wrong?’
I said unsteadily: ‘Just about everything. Jake was the informer, but he was on our side. That’s why we won. He slipped the
word to us way back in September that Shine was after the Trust.’
There was a silence broken only by the remote hum of the Cadillac. We were leaving the airport and heading for the Van Wyck
Expressway. Beyond the tinted windows the sky was a distorted grey.
‘Did no one tell you?’ I said. ‘No one at all?’
‘No.’ He hesitated but only for a moment. Then he said: ‘But that’s not so odd. I was very cut off over there in London, and
some things are better not discussed over the transatlantic phone. Also I can hardly believe … Honey, are you sure you have
your facts right? Jake was Shine’s obvious ally. He’d hated your father for years.’
‘At the end when he was dying none of that mattered any more.’
‘But even so … Are you sure – quite sure—’
‘Scott, you’ve been away so long you’ve no idea how strongly the conservatives of Wall Street felt about a smart young operator
like Shine muscling in on the financial community! Jake acted in character. Like all the Old Guard he viewed Shine with prejudice,
anger and just plain revulsion.’
‘But then if Jake didn’t brief Shine, who did?’
I shook my head, shrugged my shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think anyone knows. Isn’t that why Harry’s in the middle of
this postmortem at the Trust?’
‘God knows what Harry can be up to. I don’t understand any of it and I still can’t believe the story about Jake. Where did
you get it from?’
‘Harry himself.’
‘Did he talk directly to Jake?’
‘No.’
‘Well, there you are! The whole story’s some kind of crazy rumour – you’d be amazed at the kind of rumours that get around
after a crisis like this. I wonder where Harry picked up the story. I wouldn’t have thought he’d have been so gullible.’
‘Harry got it from my father.’
‘
Your father
?’
‘Jake talked to Daddy on the phone before he died.’
‘But that’s impossible! They hadn’t talked directly to each other for over ten years!’
‘I was in the room when my father made the call. Jake used me to persuade my father to contact him. It’s all true, Scott.
It’s no rumour. It’s all true.’
He stared at me. He said nothing. Then he turned to stare out of the window at the ugly Long Island suburbs.
‘Of course,’ I said, ‘although I was in the room I couldn’t hear a word Jake was saying over the phone and my father gave
nothing away. He was upset afterwards, but I thought that was just because of Jake’s illness. It never occurred to me at the
time to think they were talking about … well, never mind what they were talking about, what does it matter now, I don’t care.
The Trust’s safe and Shine’s withdrawn and that’s that. Oh Scott, please. Let’s forget the whole thing! Can’t we talk about
something else?’
‘Sure.’ He was motionless, still staring out of the window. His face was without expression. At last he said: ‘Yes. I’m sorry
– tell me more about the kids. What was Paul’s final verdict on his first semester at Choate?’
I started to talk about Paul. I was wondering whether I should tell him about Eric’s decision not to go into the bank, but
in the end I was so loath to discuss any subject connected with One Willow Street that I said nothing. I talked instead about
my plans for a family Christmas, and as I listened to my voice chattering on and on I saw the jagged towers of Manhattan pierce
the steel skies beyond the concrete ribbon of the freeway.
When we reached his suite at the Carlyle all I wanted was to go to bed and bolt the door against the world for a few precious
hours, but Scott merely said: ‘Why don’t you order up some drinks while I take a shower?’ and left me alone in the sitting-room.
Dialling room service I ordered six Cokes, a bucket of ice and one double martini. Then I went on sitting in the living-room
and staring at the closed bedroom door. Some time passed but eventually the bell of the telephone near by stirred softly and
I knew Scott had picked up the extension in the bedroom.
I told myself I wouldn’t listen. But I did. I couldn’t stop myself. A second later my burning cheek was pressing against the
panels of the bedroom door and I heard Scott say abruptly: ‘Is he there, please? Okay, could you have him call Scott Sullivan
at the Hotel Carlyle? Thanks.’ The receiver clicked, and by the time he was opening the door I was already some distance away
by the window.
He had changed not into casual clothes but into another suit with a fresh shirt and tie, and I was just about to ask him in
surprise why he felt he had to be so formal when the room-service waiter arrived with the drinks.
The telephone rang just as Scott had produced a tip.
‘Shall I get it?’ I said, but he was already reaching for the receiver.
‘Hullo?’ he said, but evidently it was not the call he expected. I saw him relax for a moment but suddenly he was tense again
and as I watched he turned away as if to exclude me from the scene. ‘Sure,’ he said into the receiver. ‘I’ll come right away.
No problem. How are you doing, Cornelius?’
But the receiver went dead in his hand. He stood looking at it for a moment before turning back to face me with a shrug. ‘That
was your father,’ he said. ‘Some new crisis. He wants to see me right away.’
‘Oh, but—’ I ran out of breath. It was so odd. My lungs seemed to have forgotten how to work rhythmically. I wondered if I
were belatedly developing my father’s asthmatic weakness.
‘Yes, of course he’s being outrageous,’ said Scott quickly, ‘but what can you do with despots but humour them? I know better
than to argue with your father once he decides to play the great dictator! Look honey, I’ve no idea how long this’ll take,
but why don’t you go home and I’ll join you there as soon as possible?’
‘Okay.’ I was breathing again but every breath hurt. I sank slowly down on the edge of the couch. ‘You go ahead. I’ll just
have my drink.’
‘Sure.’ He stooped to kiss me, his lips brushing my forehead, and the next moment he was gone.
I drank my martini but it seemed to make no difference to the tightness in my chest. I had just realized I’d never been so
frightened in my life when the phone rang a second time at my side.
I was so terrified that several seconds passed before I could nerve myself to pick up the receiver.
‘Hullo?’ I whispered.
A man’s voice said cautiously: ‘Vicky?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, hi, beautiful – I thought it must be you! This is Donald Shine …’
[2]
‘Hey, is Scott there?’ he said. ‘I just checked with the office and when I heard he’d called me I realized I was only a couple
of blocks from the Carlyle so I decided to stop by. I’m downstairs right now in the lobby. Can I come up?’
In those brief moments while he spoke I lived through an entire lifetime of love, hate, rage and grief, but when I spoke my
voice was expressionless.
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Why not?’ And then cutting the connection I went to the door to wait for him.
He was looking very smart in a well-cut dark green suit with an olive-green striped shirt and a colour-coordinated patterned
tie. His hair, still as bright and floppy as if it had been newly washed, was longer than ever and waved attractively over
his ears. Despite his recent set-backs his brown eyes had lost none of their zest and as soon as he walked into the room I
saw that his buoyant manner too was unchanged.
‘Hi!’ he said, sauntering across the threshold as if he had bought the entire hotel seconds earlier. ‘Where’s Scott?’
‘He’s not here. But I wanted to talk to you.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said Donald Shine, swivelling abruptly to face me.
The pain had gone from my chest. Now that I knew the truth I could no longer be paralysed by my fear of facing unbearable
facts, and suddenly it was easy to be cool, just as easy as it was to say in my politest voice: ‘Please sit down, Mr Shine.’
‘Now wait a minute! If you’re going to bitch to me about the Trust I think I’ll keep on my toes! Look, the Trust is buried
six feet deep as far as I’m concerned, and even if it wasn’t I wouldn’t discuss it with you after the hand you dealt me!’
‘The hand
I
dealt you? What the hell do you mean?’
‘Well, it was you, wasn’t it? You committed pillow-talk, as Doris Day said to Rock Hudson before she lost her virginity. Or
did she lose it? I don’t think I ever saw that movie.’
‘Are you trying to tell me—’
‘Ah, come on, Vicky! Come clean! Scott trusted you when he should have kept his mouth shut – right? And then you ran straight
to Daddy with the bad news as soon as Scott’s back was turned! How else would Cornelius Van Zale have found out about my plans
so well in advance? Hell, I’m surprised Scott’s still going with you, but I guess he figures you’re the safety net – he’s
taken a bad fall on the high wire but so long as he marries you he’ll still wind up president of an
incorporated Van Zale’s one day after the old man’s kicked the bucket!’
‘But—’
‘And God damn it, why shouldn’t he marry you? You’re so pretty that even
I
can’t even feel mad at you any more! Scott’s a lucky s.o.b and you can tell him I said so!’ He smiled good-naturedly and
moved back towards the door. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me—’
‘I wasn’t the one who tipped off my father,’ I said. ‘It was Jake Reischman.’
As he swung round I noticed that there were flecks of green in his dark eyes and that the pupils seemed to dilate as all the
buoyancy drained from his face. He said: ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’
‘No. He told me personally that old friendships meant more to him than new business ties.’