Sloan Wilson - Man in the Gray Flannel Suit

“Why don’t you leave me alone? You always have!”

“Susan,” he said quietly, “when I was your age, I didn’t have much money, and nobody paid much attention to me. I had a good chance to grow up. Now I’ve made a lot of money — I’ve never thought about it in this way before, but I suppose that if everything I have were liquidated today, there would be more than five million dollars. I know this talk of money shocks you — undoubtedly you think it vulgar. But I think this is a time for plain talking. For better or for worse, you’re rich. It’s nothing for you to be ashamed of, or proud of, or to worry about — it’s just a fact. Now there are two kinds of rich — foolish rich and responsible rich. I’ve hated the foolish rich all my life, and I’ve never seen anybody who was foolish rich and happy for long. It seems to me that you’re getting a good start on the way to being foolish rich. If you keep on the way your mother says you have been, you’re going to make yourself miserable. You’re going to get involved in a lot of half-baked marriages and divorces, and by the time you’re thirty, you’re going to find there’s no way in the world for you to have a good time. A lot of this is my fault, but I refuse to go into that now. What I’m trying to do is help you and myself too. This is just as much my problem as it is yours, and I plan to do something about it. I’m asking your help.”

She stared at him a moment. “Why are you doing this?” she asked finally. “Why the long speeches all of a sudden?”

“Because you’re my daughter,” he said. That sounded strangely inadequate, and he added awkwardly, “Because I love you.”

“That’s not true!” she exclaimed. “Don’t be a hypocrite! You’ve hardly bothered to see me since I was born!”

He was shocked at her vehemence. “People love in different ways,” he said.

“Why can’t you be honest? You don’t love me and you don’t love Mother. To tell the truth, I don’t think you love anyone — I don’t think you love anyone in the whole world! And I don’t want to be like that!”

Before he could say anything, she got up and fled from the apartment, slamming the door behind her. “Susie!” he called, getting up and following her. “ That’s not true! ”

Frantically she rang for the elevator. He stood in the door of his apartment and said, “Come back and sit down. Let’s be reasonable.”

“I don’t want to be reasonable,” she replied. “You and Mother have been reasonable all your lives. I’m going to try something else.”

Before he could answer, the elevator doors slid open, revealing the calm and aloof face of the girl who operated them. “Going down,” she said. Susan stepped into the elevator, and the doors rumbled shut behind her. Hopkins was left alone.

EDWARD SCHULTZ WALKED UP the stairs to Judge Saul Bernstein’s office. He wore a shabby raincoat over his uniform. He had always had his uniforms provided by his employer and for years had refused to buy a suit to wear on his day off. He walked into Bernstein’s office boldly, without knocking, and stared for a moment at a man sitting in a wheel chair there. Then he turned and looked at Bernstein, who was sitting behind his desk. “You wanted me?” he asked harshly.

“Yes,” Bernstein said calmly. “Sit down, Mr. Schultz.”

Edward remained standing. “Who’s he?” he demanded, jerking his thumb toward the man in the wheel chair.

“This is Mr. Sims, Mr. Rath’s lawyer,” Bernstein said. “Sit down, Mr. Schultz. We have some things we wish to talk over with you.”

“Why isn’t my lawyer here?”

“This isn’t a trial, and you are at liberty to call your lawyer whenever you want,” Bernstein said. “I suggest that you hear what we have to say first.”

“We want to do you a favor,” Sims said icily.

“A favor? What kind of a favor?”

“We think we can save you money.”

Edward sat down in the nearest chair. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“We want to give you a preview of the hearings on this document you brought in signed by the late Mrs. Rath,” Sims said quietly. “We think that might save you money — lots of it.”

“She signed it!” Edward said.

“We know that,” Sims replied. “But by a curious coincidence, she never told anyone about it, and there are no witnesses to her signature. Do you know why the law generally requires witnesses to a signature?”

“It doesn’t always!” Edward said. “I read that any document can be considered a will if in the opinion of the court it represents the intention of the deceased.” He spoke in a monotone.

“That’s true,” Sims replied gravely. “But there usually is some reason even for technicalities in the law. The reason that witnesses to a signature are generally required is that theoretically — theoretically, mind you — it would be possible for a man to trick an elderly woman into signing something without knowing it. I don’t say that happened in this case, mind you — I just say it’s theoretically possible.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“Of course not,” Sims replied soothingly. “Of course not. But if you persist in pressing your claim against the estate, there are a few facts I can prove, and I intend to bring them all before the court. For one thing, I intend to show it was part of your job to type up the checks Mrs. Rath used to pay her bills and to submit them for her signature. I also intend to prove that her eyesight was extremely poor during her later years. And finally, Mr. Schultz, I will prove that you are dishonest.”

“How?”

“By presenting at least five witnesses who will swear that you asked them to pad bills,” Sims said mildly.

Bernstein, who had been looking at Schultz’s face, glanced away. His stomach was hurting badly.

“They’re lying,” Schultz said.

“I doubt that the court would think so,” Sims continued evenly. “Our witnesses happen to be the most respected tradesmen in town. And there are other things we could look into. It might be interesting, for instance, to compare your bank balance with your income tax returns — that too might show you are dishonest.”

Edward’s face went white. “You can’t. ” he began.

“Just keep quiet a moment,” Sims said. “I’m going to give you a chance to save your neck. If you withdraw this document of yours and sign a release giving up all claim to the Rath estate, you can get out of this by paying only a small fee to your lawyer for the trouble you’ve already caused him. It’s entirely possible, of course, that your lawyer will sue you for giving him a fraudulent case, but that will be between you and him. If you continue your suit he’ll be much more likely to sue you himself, and that won’t be all. We may reconsider and sue for all the bills which you’ve been padding during the last thirty years. If you pursue this fraudulent claim, you’ll walk out of here without a cent, and you may go to jail!”

“Wait a minute,” Bernstein said, “You understand, Mr. Schultz, that we don’t want you to sign any sort of release if you feel further investigation would clear you of the suspicions Mr. Sims has formed. If you have a clear conscience, I suggest you sign nothing and that you call your lawyer immediately. If, on the other hand, you know that Mr. Sims’s suspicions are justified, you will probably be saving yourself and everyone concerned a lot of trouble if you drop your case here and now.”

“I have prepared those papers,” Sims said, pointing to some neatly typed documents on Bernstein’s desk. “It is an ordinary release, and by signing it you will give up all claim to the Rath estate. I’d like you to sign all five copies, and we’ll have a witness come in from next door.”