ROBBINS Harold - The Carpetbaggers

"Hello," I said. I looked at Monica. "Hello, Monica."

"Hello, Jonas," she said stiffly. "How are you?"

"O.K. I want to see you."

"About what?" she asked. "I thought everything was settled."

"It's not about us," I said quickly. "It's about the kid."

She held the child closely to her in a sudden gesture. Something like fright came into her eyes. "What about Jo-Ann?"

"There's nothing to worry about," I said.

"Maybe we'd better go inside."

I stepped aside while she opened the door, and followed her into a small living room. She put the child down. "Go into your room and play with your dolls, Jo-Ann."

The child laughed happily and ran off. Monica turned back to me. "You look tired," she said. "Were you waiting long?"

I shook my head. "Not long."

"Sit down," she said quietly. "I'll make some coffee."

"Don't bother. I won't keep you long."

"That's all right," she said quickly. "I don't mind. It isn't often we have visitors."

She went into the kitchen and I sank into a chair. I looked around the room. Somehow, I couldn't get used to the idea that this was where she lived. It looked as if it was furnished from Gimbels basement. Not that it wasn't good. It was just that everything was neat and practical and cheap. And Monica used to be more the Grosfeld House type.

She came back into the room, carrying a steaming cup of black coffee, and put it down on the table next to me. "Two sugars, right?"

"Right."

Quickly she put two lumps of sugar into the coffee and stirred it. I sipped it and began to feel better. "That's good coffee," I said.

"It's G. Washington."

"What's that?"

"The working girl's friend," she said. "Instant coffee. It's really not too bad when you get used to it."

"What will they think of next?"

"Can I get you a couple of aspirins?" she asked. "You look as if you have a headache."

"How do you know?"

She smiled. "We were married for a while once, remember? You get a kind of wrinkle on your forehead when you have a headache."

"Two, then, please," I said. "Thanks."

She sat down opposite me after I'd taken them. Her eyes watched me steadily. "Surprised to see me in a place like this?"

"A little," I said. "I didn't know until just a little while ago that you hadn't kept any of the money I gave you. Why?"

"I didn't want it," she said simply. "And my father did. So I gave it to him. He wanted it for his business."

"What did you want?"

She hesitated a moment before she answered. "What I have now. Jo-Ann. And to be left alone. I kept just enough money to come East and have the baby. Then when she was old enough, I went out and got a job." She smiled. "I know it won't seem like much to you but I'm an executive secretary and I make seventy dollars a week."

I was silent for a moment while I finished the rest of the coffee. "How's Amos?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I haven't heard from him in four years. How did you find out where I was living?"

"From Rina," I said.

She didn't say anything for a moment. Then she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Jonas." I could see sympathy deep in her eyes. "You may not believe me but I'm truly sorry. I read about it in the papers. It was a terrible thing. To have so much and go like that."

"Rina had no surviving relatives," I said. "That's why I'm here."

A puzzled look came over her face. "I don't understand."

"She left her entire estate in trust for your daughter," I said quickly. "I don't know exactly how much, maybe thirty, forty thousand after taxes and debts. She appointed me executor and made me promise to see that the child got it."

She was suddenly pale and the tears came into her eyes. "Why did she do it? She didn't owe me anything."

"She said she blamed herself for what happened to us."

"What happened to us was your fault and mine," she said vehemently. She stopped suddenly and looked at me. "It's foolish to get excited about it at this late date. It's over and done with."

I looked at her for a moment, then got to my feet. "That's right, Monica," I said. "It's over and done with." I started for the door. "If you'll get in touch with McAllister, he'll have all the papers ready for you."

She looked up into my face. "Why don't you stay and let me fix you supper," she said politely. "You look tired."

There was no point in telling her that what she saw was the beginning of a hangover. "No, thanks," I said, equally polite. "I have to get back. I have some business appointments."

A wry, almost bitter look came over her face. "Oh, I almost forgot," she said. "Your business."

"That's right," I said.

"I suppose I should be thankful you took the time to come out." Before I could answer, she turned and called to the child. "Jo-Ann, come out here and say good-by to the nice man."

The little girl came into the room, clutching a small doll. She smiled up at me. "This is my dolly."

I smiled down at her. "It's a nice dolly."

"Say good-by, Jo-Ann."

Jo-Ann held out her hand to me. "Good-by, man," she said seriously. "Come an' see us again. Sometime. Soon."

I took her hand. "I will, Jo-Ann," I said. "Good-by."

Jo-Ann smiled and pulled her hand back quickly, then ran out of the room again.

I straightened up. "Good-by, Monica," I said. "If there's anything you need, give me a call."

"I'll be all right, Jonas," she said, holding out her hand. I took it. She smiled tentatively. "Thank you, Jonas," she said. "And I’m sure if Jo-Ann could understand, she'd thank you, too."

I smiled back. "She's a nice little girl."

"Good-by, Jonas." She took her hand from mine and stood in the open doorway while I went down the walk.

"Jonas," she called after me.

I turned. "Yes, Monica?"

She hesitated a moment, then laughed. "Nothing, Jonas," she said. "Don't work too hard."

I laughed. "I'll try not to."

She closed the door quickly and I continued on down the sidewalk. Forest Hills, Queens, a hell of a place to live. I had to walk six blocks before I could get a cab.

"But what are we going to do about the company?" Woolf asked.

I looked across the table at him, then picked up the bottle of bourbon and refilled my glass. I went to the window and looked out over New York.

"What about The Sinner ?" Dan asked. "We'll have to decide what to do about that. I'm already talking to Metro about getting Jean Harlow."

I turned on him savagely. "I don't want Harlow," I snapped. "That was Rina's picture."

"But my God, Jonas," Dan exclaimed. "You can't junk that script. It'll cost you half a million by the time you get through paying off De Mille."

"I don't care what it costs!" I snarled. "I’m junking it!"

A silence came over the room and I turned back to the window. Over to my left, the lights of Broadway climbed up into the sky; on my right, I could see the East River. On the other side of that river was Forest Hills. I grimaced and swallowed my drink quickly. Monica had been right about one thing. I was working too hard.

I had too many people on my back, too many businesses. Cord Explosives; Cord Plastics; Cord Aircraft; Inter-Continental Airlines. And now I owned a motion-picture company I didn't even want.

"Well, Jonas," McAllister said quietly. "What are you going to do?"

I walked back to the table and refilled my glass. My mind was made up. I knew just what I was going to do from now on. Only what I wanted to. Let them earn their keep and show me how good they really were.

I stared at Dan Pierce. "You're always talking about how you could make better pictures than anyone in the business," I said. "O.K. You're in charge of production."

Before he had a chance to answer, I turned to Woolf. "You're worried about what's going to happen to the company. Now you can really worry about it. You're in charge of everything else – sales, theaters, administration."