Джон Макдональд - More Good Old Stuff

“How about Maura Gissing?”

“Her? Oh, sure. You went around with her before you got engaged to Alicia. She’s still in town. A widow. She married a boy named Barton who got killed overseas during the war. She works in the phone company and is active in civic affairs. No kids.”

“I might look her up.”

“Oh, so you came back to pick a wife?”

“Relax, boy. I’ve got no time for wives.”

“Got yourself all lined up with some Chinese talent, hey?”

During lunch Evan told him about the current problems of the Furnivall Company, told how anxious Roy Bedford was to get his hands on it.

His face a mask of despair, Evan said, “What I can’t understand is why he should want the outfit. He’s got enough irons in the fire.”

Matt sipped his coffee, then said, “The pattern is pretty clear, Evan. Roy was the kid that everybody expected would end up like his old man. Look at him now. At thirty-two he’s one of the biggest guys in town. Who were the two top families when he was a kid? The Cranes and the Furnivalls. Now he lives in the Crane house. He won’t completely justify himself until he controls the Furnivall Company.”

Evan smiled tiredly and said, “It’s pretty tough to combat a psychosis — with dough behind it. I wish I knew what to do.”

“Can you fight?”

“Pat wants to fight. She’s got an ancestor complex about the plant. And she hates Bedford and everything he stands for. But our working capital is scraping bottom. If we have to close down, it will just about force us under.”

“What will happen to you, Evan?”

“Oh, I’ll start punching somebody else’s time clock.”

“I wish I could help you,” Matt said.

Evan frowned, stirred the dregs of his coffee. Matt, looking toward the door, saw Roy Bedford come in, following a young girl. She was quite tall and looked oddly like Patience Furnivall. But there was more life and exuberance to her. Her eyes were brighter, her mouth larger. She walked with an air of vitality and health, smiling back over her shoulder at Roy Bedford.

“Here’s your problem,” Matt said softly.

Evan looked back and then stared at Matt, consternation plain on his face.

“That’s nice!” he said. “That’s Susan Furnivall.”

Roy Bedford had changed little in nine years. His crisp dark hair had receded a bit, but the sharp, vital features were the same; the eyes, set far apart, had that same opaque, bland look. He was well dressed and had an air of confidence.

Matt saw him glance toward the table, say something to Susan, and they came over. Evan stood up as Matt did. Roy Bedford said, “Well, hello there, Matt! Heard you were in town.”

“You must have your spies out,” Matt said.

“I keep track of things. This is Susan Furnivall, Matt. Hello, Evan.”

Susan sighed. “You were one of my heroes, Mr. Otis. When I was in the fifth grade you were on the football team in high school. I cut your picture out of the paper and slept with it under my pillow for months. Hello, Evan.”

“I can’t live up to that buildup, Susan. How’s Patience?”

“The female industrialist? Grim. Why don’t you drop out and see her? The way I lost that picture, she took it away from me and it ended up under her pillow.”

“You had quite an effect on the whole family,” Roy said. “Well, see you around. Drop up to the house for a drink if you have time.”

They walked off and took a table in the corner.

“She owns eleven thousand shares of Furnivall stock,” Evan said. “She’s young and pretty. It’s time Roy got married. That would be the easy way for him to beat Pat.”

“You’re dreaming up trouble for yourself,” Matt said.

“Am I? Take a look over there when you get a chance.”

As they left, Matt looked back. Susan was leaning toward Roy, her face animated and eager, her eyes soft. Her fingers rested lightly on Roy’s wrist...

Susan took her hand away as the waiter approached. She ordered and, as Roy studied the menu, she thought of Matthew Otis. There was such a tremendous gap between the dreams of childhood and the actualities of an adult.

Matthew Otis had always been young, laughing, surrounded with sort of a shining halo of success. There were two males named Matthew Otis. One was forever back on the green field, leaping high in the air to catch the long pass, running with the ball while the cheering section screamed. The new Matthew Otis was a heavy man with a brown face and an impassive look.

She looked at Roy. Roy was different. She had gradually begun to think of him in one of those odd curved helmets that the Spaniards had worn when they sought gold in the New World. He had a look of lean cruelty that awakened something deep inside her. Something exciting.

“That’s a very unflattering expression, Susan,” he said. “You look as though you expected me to reach over and hit you.”

“You’re a conquistador,” she said.

All expression left his face. He said softly, “That’s not bad, Sue. Not bad at all. They came here in the sixteenth century and took over. And that’s what I’m doing.”

“You frighten me sometimes. You know, I didn’t expect you to know what a conquistador was.”

He was suddenly angry. “You college snobs! You got it in nice airy classrooms. I got it at night. And I got a lot more than you did.”

She laughed. “A sore point?”

His anger faded. “Sure, kitten. Why do I frighten you?”

She took time to pick the right words. “When I was a little girl I used to go in the plant with Dad. There was a room with a concrete floor and in the room there was a huge machine that nearly touched the ceiling. It had a big hammer thing in it that used to come down with a thud that you could feel against your feet. I used to think that nothing in the world could stop that machine. It was ruthless and relentless. It used to scare me and I used to hold Dad’s hand so tightly that he’d laugh at me. But every minute, I wanted to run to where it came down and be smashed to nothing.”

He smiled crookedly. “Not too flattering, kitten.”

“You don’t care about me as a person, Roy,” she said softly.

“Don’t be silly!”

“Oh, I know. I’m young and healthy and clean and I dress well. But this is just a big deal for you.”

“Big deal?”

“Sure. I know how you operate. You want me because along with a nice clean young girl to wife, you’ll get control of the company. The daily double.” There was scorn in her voice.

He looked at her steadily. “That’s exactly the way it is. And there isn’t a thing you can do about it. Your dad isn’t around to hold your hand so you won’t jump into the drop forge. It’s just a question of how long before you jump.” He reached out and his fingers were tight and hard on her wrist. She looked into his eyes and all the rest of the room faded into mist, with just those eyes the only thing visible to her.

She felt her breath come fast. Then he leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. The room swam back into focus.

“I think I hate you,” she said softly.

“That’s a strong enough emotion, kitten. That will do.”

The food came, but she had lost her appetite. She wanted to disturb his calm confidence. She said, “Rose Carney will hardly be pleased, Roy.”

He took a sip of water. He said, “Rose Carney does, thinks and believes what I tell her to do, think and believe. I will tell her to be glad about this.”

“And you will tell her to pack her undies and take a train ride to California, Roy. Without forwarding address.”

His face was blank. Then he smiled brilliantly. “You know, kitten, you have possibilities! Okay. Rosie gets a one-way ticket. The dough I get for the beach house will give her a going-away present.”