Countenance of Man

by Matthew Nuth

  Paul was dumb struck.

  William continued, “I never thought I was stealing. It was money I felt the company took from the Mattsons so the company ought to give it back. It was only right.”

  Paul regained his composure. “I never knew. Why didn’t you ever say something?”

  “Paul, I couldn’t. I knew if Lanny heard what you and Dad did, he probably would have left the company. Hell, you probably would have lost the entire team. I could not do that to you. It would have killed the company. But hell, Paul, it was only thirty-five hundred bucks. How could you and Dad have been so mean spirited, thoughtless, and greedy?” Paul was shocked to see that William was beginning to weep.

  “Wow, I kind of just swept this away from my memories. I never wanted to think about what I did. Damn, Sam would have been so disappointed in me.”

  “I know, Paul. So, it was better that I got fucked instead of you and Dad, but I need to move on now. I have an opportunity I want to take advantage of, but I cannot do it with the rumor of embezzlement hanging over my head . . . and I want you in this.”

  “I’ll do anything. What do you want me to do? We have to be able to move on. Right?” Paul looked at the coffee table as he spoke. He could not bring himself to look at William. He was filled with regrets on so many levels. He had done the absolute wrong thing regarding the down payment. Now it was time to face up to it. He and his Dad had kept what they were doing secret from everyone: his friends and his family because they had known all along it was wrong. He had not even bothered to follow-up with the Mattsons as any decent human being would have to see how they were fairing. He had treated them as nothing more than a payday. He accused William of stealing while he was the real thief. He had never given William a chance to explain his position. All of this had resulted in ruining the lives of the Mattsons and William, and, in effect, forever damaging his own life and that of his family. Now, he would spend a lifetime trying to make up for the shame he had heaped upon William. But he could never make up for what he did to Mary and Richard.

  “I need you to come clean with the family; you know, about what you did.”

  Paul realized that when William referred to ‘the family’ he meant Arlin, Lyle, Virginia, Joe Junior and Senior, both Lanny and Jim Horton, in addition to Sam. Sam would be the most difficult and, for him, the only one that really counted. She was the person that trusted, supported, and loved him without question, and he had violated her. He raised his eyes to meet William’s gaze. “You are right. I will. I will talk with Dad today on my way home to tell him what you did and what I need to do to earn back my man stripes. Thank you, William.”

  Paul, stood up and walked to the door. He let himself out without turning to say goodbye. Once he sat in his car, he realized he had not even told William about his new nephew, but that would be okay. There would now be plenty of opportunities for William to get to know Randall and become reacquainted with Cal. Although scared, anxious, and nervous, he felt better than he had in years.

  Chapter 18

  William was sitting at Paul and Sam’s kitchen table. “Paul and Sam, I want you to buy me out of PW Simmons. You don’t need me in the company. In fact, I would just be a sore reminder of a topic we need to put behind us now. I really have nothing to offer to the company.” At least that is what William intended to say.

  They had just enjoyed a fun evening together as a family, Paul, Sam, their two kids and their Uncle Bill. William preferred the ‘Uncle Bill’ to ‘Uncle William.’ He liked Uncle Bill because it did not sound so formal and it helped him start anew with his role as uncle to Cal and Randall. It had been a wonderful evening, something they had not enjoyed in almost three years. William had not stepped a foot into this house since that cold day in 1960 when they watched Cassius Clay win his pro boxing debut. It had been long ago. Everything now had been forgiven, if not forgotten . . . yet.

  After putting the kids down for bed, Sam had returned to the kitchen only to find the table cleared of dishes and replaced with stacks of papers and car brochures. A large ledger book had been placed at the table’s center, and Paul was standing by the table leaning on it with both hands while William was pointing to numbers in the ledger book while speaking animatedly about some topic that had been the secret he had wanted to share with his brother and sister-in-law.

  Sam stood on the other side of the table, across from the two men and asked what was so interesting. William flipped the ledger around to face Sam; only too happy to include Sam in his plans.

  William had been enamored with cars since his youth, and during the time he had been on his forced “sabbatical” from PW Simmons, the infatuation had morphed in to a full-fledged addiction. He had developed contacts with a number of auto dealerships to begin his journey understanding their business. He had been a quick student, and he was now fully convinced of the financial opportunities that could come from operating a dealership in their own Fort Collins.

  There were already three dealerships in town. Getting one of the Big Three automotive manufacturers to agree to a fourth was probably not likely; however, purchasing one of the existing three looked to be a promising option.

  In particular, William had developed a relation with the owner of one of the local dealers when he purchased his Buick. He had maintained his friendship with the owner, and now that dealer wanted to sell out and retire. The dealership currently sold both Chevy and Buick. William was confident that with the right money and negotiation, he could also get GMC to add a Cadillac franchise to the mix. This should be a great business opportunity in a growing market and would allow him to exit the construction business completely.

  William was convinced of a huge upside for the automotive business in the region. His argument was well thought out and many faceted. It was absolutely true that a number of new companies had either put a new footprint in town or were planning to over the next several years. All of these would bring jobs, a lot of high-paying jobs, along with them. With the jobs came money to buy new cars and cars were required to drive to where the jobs existed; largely on the outskirts of town. It was symbiotic, a virtuous relation. The country was infatuated with cars, and PW Simmons had already benefited from the trend. The majority of the homes they built now included a two-stall garage even though most of the families only owned one car. William wanted to profit from filling that second stall. Paul and Sam absolutely concurred with his assessment of the market and the potential.

  To fulfill his dream, he would either need Paul to buy in with him or buy out his share of PW Simmons. William had anticipated Paul was already consumed with leading PW Simmons and the Simmons Company along with being a father to two kids; the youngest just a baby. He would not likely want, or be able, to tackle another set of responsibilities on top of his almost overwhelming work-load. No, William was positive Paul would say no to becoming part owner in a dealership, at least at this time.

  Although William had genuinely hoped Paul would join him the car dealership, he was a pragmatist and had, instead, pulled together the alternative proposal to sell his portion of PW Simmons to Paul and Sam. With the help of Lanny, he had established a fair value for his portion of the company and was confident that with the proceeds from the sale and some help from the bank, he could satisfy the conditions for the dealership transfer. He had been surprised at the value Lanny had calculated for PW Simmons. He was potentially wealthier than he had anticipated. As things stood. he would be able to provide a great value to Paul without jeopardizing his chances of becoming Fort Collins newest car dealership owner.

  Paul and Sam listened to William run through the numbers. Sam could tell from Paul’s questions and the excitement in his eyes that he was dying to throw in with William to buy the dealership. All the same, she knew that his commitment to his family and PW Simmons would prevent him from getting too excited.

  William had the same sense and as he moved through the business opportunity,
his excitement gave way to sorrow. Sorrow in knowing his big brother would by all means do the right thing and not even ask to participate as a partner in the dealership. He would pass on the opportunity, not because it was not interesting and exciting, but because of his sense of responsibility.

  It was exactly what William had expected, yet he had not been prepared for the look on Paul’s face. William had seen this look long ago, when as a kid, his brother had passed on getting his letterman jacket, knowing that the family could not really afford the purchase. Even though their Mom and Dad had scrimped and saved to buy him the jacket, he had asked, no forced, Mom and Dad to return it to the store. Paul had wanted that jacket so badly. The look on Paul’s face was the same this evening as they stood around the kitchen table.

  William stopped. “I take it back. I don’t want you to buy me out. Forget it, I have another idea.”

  Completely winging it, William put aside his plans and jumped into outlining a plan that would include Paul and Sam in selling cars. “Guys, look, Virginia’s talents are being wasted in PW Simmons now that Lanny had joined the team. She has a business mind that is exceptional and you both know it. Let’s set it up as another subsidiary of PW Simmons. I’ll run the dealership and bring Virginia over as the business manager. She’ll run the financing and the day-to-day operations. I handle the marketing, sales and maintenance. Lanny can leverage his role over the accounting department that already exists at the dealership.

  Although it was pretty clear that William was flying blind on his recommendations, it really did ring true on a number of counts. First off, Virginia had given up a lot of her responsibilities with the addition of Lanny and it was a waste. Even though she was approaching 60, she showed no signs of slowing down or desiring a smaller role in the company. She would fill a huge role in what William was outlining and would need to be a quick study in the position, but there was no doubt she could do it. Finance was a huge driver in defining whether a car dealer would succeed or fail, and Virginia would make sure it succeeded.

  Likewise, Lyle was not ready for retirement. He was and likely would continue to run Simmons Company just fine without intervention from Paul. That part of the business was not growing, but it continued to churn out profits month after month.

  The largest part of the business would remain, at least for the time being, the house development portion of PW Simmons. Paul realized that between Arlin, Sky, and Lanny, they had it covered well. His role would really migrate to being the CEO of the entire company. Sure, they would need to hire some new blood to provide for some degree of a succession plan for the business, but that was just a good business practice; whether they purchased the dealership or not.

  Really only two issues remained. The first was convincing the rest of the PW Simmons stock holders to back the plan. He did not expect this to be much of an issue once they saw the cash flow projections. The second weighed more heavily on Paul: what in the heck did any of them know about running a car dealership?

  Chapter 19

  There was nothing sexier than these sleek, beautiful monsters of steel as they glistened in the car showroom. The gleaming paint, the spotless chrome, the smell of the interior; you could imagine how these beauties would perform on the road. Cal rolled down the driver’s side window and nonchalantly placed his left elbow on the door. He draped his right hand over the top of the steering wheel of the brand new 1966, Marina Turquois, Pontiac GTO. At fourteen years old, driving age was only a couple short years away, but that still a seemed forever to him. In any case, he had already picked his car; and this was it.

  As a freshman in high school, Cal’s life was pretty simple. It revolved around only three things: baseball, girls, and, of course, cars. He was a frustration to his dad and he knew it. Dad wanted to alter his priorities to include school and church. Cal had normally discounted his Dad’s continuous badgering as proof that good old Dad had no idea what it was like to be young.

  Things were now coming to a head. The ultimatum had been thrown down this past week; either get the grades moving north or baseball was gone and the promised car would become a distant dream. The baseball threat was a joke. Dad loved the idea of his son being a baseball star. The car threat was probably real and infinitely more important to Cal at this moment. This had been the dance between dad and son for years: Dad pushing priorities with incentives, then with threats, and then ultimately backing down as soon as Cal made even the most modest move in the desired direction. Cal had become a very good dancer, but the dance was boring.

  Actually, Cal thought his grades were fine; a solid B average. It was just that Dad had been a straight A student and expected him to deliver the same; but then grades were only part of the disappointment for dear old Dad. Cal would never be the basketball player Dad had been. Genetics had just not been agreeable. At six foot two, Dad towered over Cal’s five foot five frame. Although it did not look as if Cal was ever going to be tall, by fourteen he had developed what his Dad had referred to as a thick body. He was muscled beyond his years and had sprinters speed.

  Even though basketball was never going to be Cal’s forte, Cal would be every bit the athlete his dad had been. As a freshman, he had already locked down the catcher’s position on the varsity baseball team. He was not only the first freshman to make the varsity, to be a starter was a huge accomplishment and honor. It was something even his famous dad had not achieved. That said, Dad’s name was the only two-time name on the school’s “Most Valuable Player” trophy that graced the Fort Collins High School honors cabinet. Cal had dreams of changing that.

  Church was another thing. It meant getting up at seven in the morning on Sunday, dressing up in a tie, and spending all morning with his mother in the old, stone, First Methodist Church downtown. Dad only attended during the holidays. He seemed to always have an excuse to miss the weekly service, and it normally revolved around something that needed to be done at the office. In Cal’s mind, Dad’s badgering about church was hypocritical. If Dad found other things more important than church, how could he possibly insist that he make church a priority.

  It wasn’t so much that he disliked going to church; he actually enjoyed the sermons and the music; Sunday school, not so much. Most of his friends from school attended other churches or none at all, so the Sunday school was lonely; and the lessons were particularly boring and juvenile; taught either by old farts that had not talked with a teenager in decades or young parents that were much better prepared to relate to babies in diapers than they were with the modern adolescent. The worst part of the young volunteer teachers, they wanted to act like they were teenagers themselves. It was sad.

  Cal pulled his left arm off the window sill to grab the steering wheel and moved his right hand to the gear shifter. He pushed down on the clutch with his left foot and ran through the shift pattern, imagining the torque pushing him into the back of the bucket seat. This “four on the floor” beast would really get up go. At least that is what Uncle Bill had told him. Dad had dropped Cal off at the dealership after school today so he and his Uncle could take out one of the GTO’s for a spin. Uncle Bill had promised to drive out east of town to the newly completed interstate freeway so they could let the car fly. Cal was excited. On the country roads leading to the highway, he anticipated his Uncle would bend the law a little and let him hop behind the steering wheel to try out this beast for himself. This was a time for the muscle car; Ford had the Mustang and Fairlane, Chevy had the Chevelle, Plymouth had the GSX, Dodge had the Charger, but nothing rivaled the GTO. Someday, this would be his.

  He loved the way the cars looked in the showroom. Everything in this place shown like sunlight. From the glossy grey asbestos tile floor to the glossy white painted cinderblock and glass walls to the ever-important cars. Today, three cars graced the floor; their black tires looking like black licorice, glistening under the intense fluorescent lighting. Their vivid paint colors: Midnight Blue, Riviera Red, and, obviously
, his favorite, the Marina Turquois; powerful colors accentuated by the lack of color surrounding them.

  Looking through the windshield, Cal could see Uncle Bill and Virginia talking business. Even though he had been looking forward to the GTO drive all day, he was content sitting in the cars in the showroom. He loved them; the smell of the vinyl interiors, the shiny dashboards, the feel of the steering wheel in one hand, the shifter knob in the other. The car was a God, full of power. The showroom was full of light, like heaven.

  Cal reached down to begin adjusting his seat so that he might more easily reach the wheel when he heard a tapping on the driver’s side window and almost instantaneously the click of the door opening. It was not Uncle Bill, but rather one of their salesmen and he looked nervous.

  “Cal, your uncle asked me to watch over you for a while. Virginia just collapsed, and he has called an ambulance.”

  Cal, glanced back the office where he had just watched his Uncle and Virginia in discussion. Now, through the glass wall, all he could see was Uncle Bill’s back as he knelt next to Virginia’s prostrate body. He could see Virginia’s prone legs, but the rest of her was shielded from view by his Uncle’s wide body. Cal could tell the woman lying in the floor was Virginia by her shoes. He could not recall a time when he had seen Virginia not wearing a pair of brown leather pumps. In his eyes, the shoes defined her: classy, consistent, and practical. She must have dozens of them in her closet, varying subtly only in shade and decorative embellishment. Uncle Bill was holding her hand.