Джеймс Кейн - Mildred Pierce

But there came a day when Reserve , on the books, was $5,003.61 and at the bank was $3.61. She had to tell a long story to Miss Jaeckel, to cover her inability to make another transfer. Two days after that she couldn’t pay her meat bill. Bills of all kinds, in the restaurant business, are paid on Monday, and failure to pay is a body blow to credit. Mr. Eckstein, of Snyder Bros. & Co., listened to Mildred with expressionless eyes, and agreed to deliver meat until she “straightened this little matter out.” But all during the following week, Archie was raging at the inferior quality of the top sirloins, and Mrs. Gessler had to be restrained from calling Mr. Eckstein personally. By Monday, Snyder Bros. were paid, but Mildred was asking time on other bills, particularly her liquor bill, most of which she owed Bodega, Inc. And then one day Wally Burgan strolled into the Pie Wagon, and it developed that he had been retained by several of her creditors. He suggested a little conference. As most of the trouble seemed to be at Laguna, how would she like to meet them down there the following night? They could have dinner, and then talk things over. The following night was the night Veda was to sing at the Bowl. Mildred shrilly said it was impossible, she had to be at the Bowl; nothing could interfere. Then, said Wally, how about one night next week? How about Monday?

The delay made matters worse, for Monday saw more unpaid bills, and in addition to Mr. Eckstein, Mr. Rossi of the Bodega, and representatives of three wholesale grocers, Mildred had to face Mr. Gurney and several small-fry market men who had previously been flattered if she so much as said good morning. Wally, however, kept everything on a courteous plane. He enjoined silence about the matter in hand while dinner was being served, lest waitresses hear things. He insisted that Mildred give him the check for the creditors’ banquet, as he somewhat facetiously called it. He encouraged her to talk, to lay her cards on the table, so something could be arranged. He kept reminding her that nobody wanted to make trouble. It was to the interest of all that she get on her feet again, that she become the Al customer she had been in the past.

Yet, at the end of two or three hours of questions, of answers, of figures, of explanations, the truth at last was out, and not even Mildred’s stammering evasions could change it: All four units of the corporation, even the Laguna restaurant, would be showing a profit if it were not for the merciless milking that Mildred was giving them in order to keep up the establishment in Pasadena. Once this was in the open there was a long, grave pause, and then Wally said: “Mildred, you mind if we ask a few questions about your home finances? Kind of get that a little straightened out?”

“That’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“None of it’s anybody’s business, so far as that goes. If we just went by what was our business, we’d have gone to court already, asking for receivers, and strictly kept our questions to ourselves. We didn’t do that. We wanted to give you a break. But looks like we’re entitled to little consideration too, don’t it? Looks like we could go into what we think is important. Maybe you don’t think so. Maybe that’s where the trouble is. It’s you that’s behind the eight ball, not us.”

“... What do you want to know?”

“How much does Veda pay in?”

“I don’t charge my own child board, I hope.”

“She’s the big expense though, isn’t she?”

“I don’t keep books on her.”

“This is what I’m getting at: Veda, she’s making plenty. She had some dough, that I got for her, and she was smart the way she invested it. She’s dragging down $500 a week from Pleasant, and even after she pays all them agents, teachers, and chiselers, she must have quite a lot left over. Well, wouldn’t you be justified in deducting an amount to pay for her keep? If you did, that would kind of ease the pressure all around.”

Mildred opened her mouth to say she couldn’t do any deducting, that she had nothing to do with Veda’s income. Then, under Wally’s bland manner she noted something familiar, something cold. As her heart skipped a beat, she knew she mustn’t fall into any traps, mustn’t divulge any of her arrangements with Veda. She must stall, say this was something she hadn’t thought of before, insist there were legal angles she would have to look into before she would know how she felt. So mumbling, she kept watching and saw Mr. Rossi look at Mr. Eckstein. Then she knew what this was about. Wally was engineering a little deal. The creditors were to get their money, the corporation was to be placed on a sounder basis, and Veda was to foot the bill. It didn’t occur to her that there was an element of justice in this arrangement: that the creditors had furnished her with goods, and were entitled to payment; that Veda earned large sums, and had run a lengthy bill. All she knew was that hyenas were leaping at her chick, and her craftiness, her ability to stall, deserted her. She became excited, said that no child of hers was going to be made the victim of any such gyp, if she had anything to do with it. Then, looking Wally in the eye, she went on: “And what’s more, I don’t believe you or anybody has any right, even any legal right, to take what belongs to me, or what belongs to my child, to pay the bills of this business. Maybe you’ve forgotten, Mr. Wally Burgan, that it was you that had me incorporate. It was you that had the papers drawn up and explained the law to me. And your main talking point was that if I incorporated, then my personal property was safe from any and all creditors of the corporation. Maybe you’ve forgotten that, but I haven’t.”

“No, I haven’t forgotten it.”

Wally’s chair rasped as he stood to face her, where she was already standing, a few feet back from the big round table. “I haven’t forgotten it, and you’re quite right, nobody here can take one dime of your money, or your personal property, or Veda’s, to satisfy the claims they got, makes no difference how reasonable the claims may be. They can’t touch a thing, it’s all yours and a yard wide. All they can do is go to court, have you declared a bankrupt, and take over. The court will appoint receivers, and the receivers will run it. You’ll be out.”

“All right, then I’ll be out.”

“You’ll be out, and Ida’ll be in.”

“... Who?”

“You didn’t know that, did you?”

“That’s a lie. She wouldn’t—”

“Oh yes she would. Ida, she cried, and said at first she wouldn’t even listen to such a thing, she was such a good friend of yours. But she couldn’t get to you, all last week, for a little talk. You were too busy with the concert. Maybe that hurt her a little. Anyway, now she’ll listen to reason, and we figure she can run this business as good as anybody can run it. Not as good as you, maybe, when you’ve got your mind on it. But better than a stagestruck dame that would rather go to concerts than work, and rather spend the money on her child than pay her creditors.”

At the revelation about Ida, tears had started to Mildred’s eyes, and she turned her back while Wally went on, in a cold, flat voice: “Mildred, you might as well get it through your head you got to do these things. You got to cut down on your overhead, so you can live on what you make. You got to raise some money, from Veda, from the Pierce Drive property, from somewhere, so you can square up these bills and start over. And you got to cut out this running around and get down to work. Now, as I said before, there’s no hard feelings. We all wish you well. Just the same, we mean to get our money. Now you show us some action by a week from tonight, and you can forget it, what’s been said. You don’t and maybe we’ll have to take a little action ourselves.”