“Everything will be set in a week. The new cars should be rolling off the line within the month.”
“Good.” Loren smiled with satisfaction. “That cuts Charlie Sorensen’s new model changeover time at Ford exactly in half. Six weeks instead of ninety days.” He took a cigarette from the box on his desk. “Do you think he knows anything about it?”
“With his spy system?” Edgerton asked, then answered his own question. “I’m sure that he does.”
“But they’ve done nothing about it.” Loren asked, “What do you think they’re waiting for?”
“Actually, there’s very little they can do at the moment. The bank closing played right into our hands in this case. The bankers are too busy with their own problems to pay attention to us. And the board meeting is still more than a week away.”
Loren thought for a moment. “Get after Duncan and tell him I want the production line rolling within a week and I don’t care how he does it. I want that car coming off the line before the board meeting.”
“That means dumping the contract with Ford for car bodies,” said Edgerton.
“Dump it then.”
“Bennett will be sore. He’ll sue.”
“No, he won’t,” Loren said. “I’ll straighten it out with Edsel and Charlie Sorensen.” He was silent for a moment. “I wonder if there’s any tieup between Bennett and Warren?”
“I know they’re good friends,” Edgerton said. “Warren just built a house on Grosse Pointe Isles next to Bennett.”
Loren looked at him. “I understand all purchasing has been consolidated into Warren’s department.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Edgerton said. “Central control. We get better prices than purchasing department by department.”
“I’m not saying it’s not,” Loren said quickly. “I’m just wondering if a close look into purchasing won’t be useful.”
Edgerton smiled. “It can’t hurt.”
“Can you do it without him becoming aware of what’s happening?”
“I think so,” Edgerton said. “It’s near the time for our annual audit. I’ll just have the boys take an extra hard look at the purchasing contracts.”
“You do that and keep me posted.” Loren got to his feet.
Edgerton rose also. He looked at Loren. “Mr. Hardeman,” he said tentatively.
“Yes, Walt?”
“I’m glad you’re back,” he said.
“Grandpa! Grandpa!” The children’s voices greeted him at the door. He opened his arms and swept them up to him. He kissed Anne’s cheek first, then Loren III.
“Were you a good boy today?” he asked his grandson.
“He was a very good boy,” Anne said in her three-year-old voice. “He only hit me once today.”
“Only once?” Loren pretended shock. He looked at the boy. “Why did you do that?”
“I deserved it,” Anne said. “I hit him first.”
“Remember the rules,” he said sternly. “I said no more fights.”
“We’re trying to remember, Grandpa,” the little boy said. “But sometimes we forget.”
“Don’t forget,” he said.
“Piggyback! Piggyback!” Anne cried.
“Yes! Piggyback!” her brother echoed.
Loren put them down and got on his hands and knees. The children climbed on his back, Anne in front, her little hands digging into his hair, Loren III in the back, clutching his grandfather’s belt.
“Pony Express!” the boy yelled, slapping Loren’s behind with his hand.
“Faster! Faster!” Anne yelled happily.
Loren crawled rapidly into the library with them bouncing up and down on his back. He came to a stop in front of silk-clad legs in high-heeled shoes and looked up.
“Exactly what do you think you’re doing down there?” Sally asked, trying to keep her voice stern.
“Look out,” Loren said. “We’re the Wells Fargo Pony Express.” He set out at a rapid gallop around the room. He came to a stop again in front of Sally.
“All right, children,” Sally said firmly. “That’s enough. You’re annoying your grandfather. It’s time for your dinner.”
“We want to play!” Loren III yelled.
“Your grandfather is tired. He had to work hard all day,” Sally said, lifting him from Loren’s back. Anne slid to the floor. “Now give Grandfather a kiss and go in to dinner.”
“Can we play some more after dinner?” Anne asked.
“No. After dinner, you’re both going to bed, but if you both eat all your dinner, Grandfather will come upstairs and tell you a bedtime story.”
“Will you, Grandpa?” Loren III asked.
“You bet your sweet patootie,” Loren said, getting to his feet.
The children picked it up. “You bet your sweet patootie!” they shouted, running from the room, their voices echoing back from the hall. “You bet your sweet patootie!”
Sally frowned. “That’s a fine thing to teach the children,” she said, trying to keep a straight face. “You’re more of a child than they are.”
He laughed. “It won’t hurt them.”
“I have ice and whiskey on the bar,” she said. “Want me to fix you a drink?”
He nodded, watching her go to the bar. She came back to him, the whiskey amber and the ice tinkling in the glass. He took the drink from her. His eyes were on her face. “I always said a house needs a woman’s touch.”
She looked at him for a moment without speaking, then turned and went to the bar and made herself a drink. She came back to him. “I spoke to Junior today,” she said without sitting down.
“Yes,” he said in an expressionless voice.
“He wanted me to return home. He said he would come back if I did.”
He sipped at his drink without speaking.
“I told him I was never coming back,” she said.
“Then what did he say?”
“He got nasty and said all sorts of things.”
“What sorts of things?”
“That he knew what we were doing and we didn’t fool him or anyone else. That he had the evidence that we were sleeping together and he wouldn’t hesitate to use it in court to take the children away from me.”
Loren shook his head sadly.
“It’s more than that,” she said. “He hates so much he’s blind.”
Loren looked up at her. “What are you going to do?”
“I can’t stay here,” she said. “There’s no point in dragging you into this mess. I was thinking of moving to England.”
“Would you get a divorce first?”
“Yes,” she said. “If he would agree, I could go to Reno.”
“Then what would you do?”
“Go to England with the children. The schools are very good there. And at least they speak the same language.”
After a moment, he put his glass down. “When did Junior say he would return?”
“Next week. He said something about having to be here for a board meeting.”
That added up. It also provided the reason why Warren was lying low. They were going to let him dig his own grave. He got to his feet. “You don’t have to go anywhere, you know that,” he said. “You can stay right here in Hardeman Manor. The children are happy and I don’t give a damn what he does.”
She looked into his eyes. “The children have never been happier. You’ve played with them more in these two weeks than their father has since they were born. But it’s not fair to you. You have enough problems as it is.”
“Think about it,” he said. “Don’t make up your mind yet.”
She nodded.
“I’m going upstairs to lie down a bit before dinner. Call me when it’s ready.”
“Headache again?”
He nodded.
“Want me to get you some aspirin?”
“No. I had enough of those today. I’ll try to do without it. Maybe I’ll feel better after a little rest.”
She watched him leave the ro
om and heard his footsteps on the staircase, then sank into a chair. She could feel the tears just behind her eyes. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair.
A thought suddenly came to her. She ran up the steps and into his room without knocking at the door.
He was just coming from the bathroom, his shirt already unbuttoned. He looked at her.
“I never thought of you,” she said quickly. “Or of what you want.”
He didn’t speak.
“I’ll go back with him if it will make things easier for you.”
He took a deep breath, then held his arms open toward her. She came into them and laid her cheek against his broad chest.
“I don’t want you to go anywhere but here,” he said.
Chapter Eleven
Melanie’s voice through the intercom was hushed and impressed. “The White House calling, Mr. Hardeman.”
Loren flipped the switch and picked up the telephone. “Hello.”
A man’s voice spoke. “Mr. Hardeman?”
“Speaking.”
“Just a moment for the President of the United States.” There was a click.
“Mr. Hardeman?” There was no mistaking that voice. He had heard it too many times on the radio.
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“I regret very much that we have never met but I want you to know that I am personally very grateful for your contribution to the Democratic campaign fund.”
“Thank you for being so kind, Mr. President.”
“Now I have an important favor to ask of you, Mr. Hardeman, and I beg of you to consider it.” The President came right to the point. “As you know, I consider the most important problem facing this country to be the Depression and the unemployment resulting from it, so I have placed before Congress a bill which I have entitled the National Recovery Act. Contained within this bill is the framework to rebuild and rehabilitate our industries through an adoption of mutual practices to be effected by self-help and government regulations.”
“I’ve read about it, Mr. President,” Loren said. The Detroit newspapers were already filled with it, denouncing it for the most part as an attempt to socialize and bring the automobile industry under government control.
“I’m sure you have, Mr. Hardeman.” The President paused for a moment. “And I’m equally sure that you’ve read nothing good about it.”
“I wouldn’t say that, Mr. President. There are some practical proposals in it that merit further consideration.”
“That brings us to my favor,” the President said. “I would like you to come to Washington to help develop that section of the NRA that pertains to your industry. You, of course, will be working directly under General Hugh Johnson who has accepted the position of over-all responsibility. Since we regard the automobile industry as the keystone of our economy, you can see how important a contribution you can make to your country.”
“I’m most flattered and honored, Mr. President,” Loren said. “But I am certain there are others more worthy and more capable for that position.”
“You’re being modest, Mr. Hardeman,” the President chuckled. “And that’s not in keeping with what I’ve heard about you. But you are our first choice and I do hope you will give it every consideration.”
“I will, Mr. President,” said Loren. “But my own company is in serious trouble and I don’t really know if I could leave it at this time.”
“Mr. Hardeman,” the President said, “the entire country is in serious trouble. I am sure that as a responsible citizen you cannot fail to see that unless the country recovers from its malaise, neither will your company.” He paused for a moment. “I would appreciate your decision within the week, Mr. Hardeman, and I do hope that it will be favorable.”
“I will let you know, Mr. President,” Loren said.
“Good-bye, Mr. Hardeman.”
“Good-bye, Mr. President.” Loren put down the telephone. He reached for a cigarette and lit it. President Roosevelt didn’t waste time. He promised to stir up some excitement and that was exactly what was happening.
The intercom buzzed again. He flipped the switch. “Yes, Miss Walker?”
“It’s almost time for the board meeting, Mr. Hardeman.”
“Thank you, Miss Walker. Will you bring in my folder?”
“Right away, sir.”
A moment later she came into his office and placed the folder on his desk. Instead of leaving, as she usually did, she hesitated.
He looked up at her. “Yes, Miss Walker?”
She blushed. “Was that really President Roosevelt on the telephone?”
“It was.” He nodded. He opened the folder and looked at it, then looked up. She was still standing there. “Yes, Miss Walker?”
“I voted for him,” she said. “It was the very first time I voted.”
“So did I,” he smiled.
She smiled suddenly. “I like the sound of his voice on the radio. It’s so warm and friendly. It seems like he’s really talking to you.”
It was the first time he had seen her smile. He looked at her. “You know, you’re a very pretty girl, Miss Walker,” he said. “You should smile more often.”
She blushed again. “Thank you, Mr. Hardeman.”
He watched her walk to the door. Odd that he had never really looked at her before. She was an attractive girl. The door closed behind her and he looked down at the file folder.
He deliberately arrived a few minutes late. The other board members were already in the room, clustered in small groups, deep in conversation. They fell silent as he entered. He wasted no time on the usual greetings. Instead he rapped his knuckles on the table.
“Will the board members kindly take their seats?” he asked.
Silently they took up their positions around the long rectangular table. Junior sat facing him at the foot of the table, Warren sat at Junior’s right. There were eleven others at the table as it came toward him. Coburn and Edgerton were the only other company employees on the board. The rest consisted of representatives of the banks and insurance companies to whom they were in debt and several token members, officials of other noncompetitive corporations.
“The chair calls this meeting to order and will entertain a motion to suspend the reading of the minutes of the previous meeting, a copy of which is in the folder in front of you.”
He waited. Coburn made the motion, Edgerton seconded it, and it was carried unanimously and quickly by the rest of the board. That done, he awaited a motion to place the current agenda before the board.
“Mr. Chairman!” Junior said.
“Yes, Mr. President,” he said formally.
“I would like to place a motion to delay the consideration of the agenda in favor of other and more important business.”
“The chair has no objections, Mr. President,” he said. “Do I hear the motion seconded?”
“Second the motion,” said Warren.
“The chair will abstain from the vote,” he said. “The board will now vote on the motion placed before it by the president. All in favor say ‘Aye.’”
There were eleven Ayes, the two Nays came from Edgerton and Coburn. He smiled. “The motion is carried.” He took a cigarette from the box on the table before him, lit it and leaned back in his chair.
Junior was on his feet almost before Loren could let out his first breath of smoke. “I accuse the chairman of the board of overstepping his authority in the exercise of his duties and of other gross improprieties detrimental to the welfare of the company and I demand his resignation!”
There was a stony silence in the room. Loren smiled again. He put down the cigarette carefully. “The chair will be pleased to consider Mr. President’s request if he puts it before the board properly as a motion.” He paused for a moment but not long enough to give Junior a chance to speak again. “The chair will also be pleased to entertain a motion for the board to visit Assembly Plant Number Three before any other business.”
Coburn came through on cue, Edger
ton seconded. Curiosity swung the board in their favor. The only two votes against were Junior and Warren.
“The motion is carried.” Loren got to his feet. “The meeting is adjourned to Assembly Plant Number Three. Follow me, gentlemen.”
Duncan fell in step beside him as they came out of the administration building. “Walk slow,” the Scotsman whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “The first car isn’t due to reach the end of the assembly line for another ten minutes.”
Loren nodded. Deliberately he led them the long way round. It was exactly nine minutes until they arrived at the end of the production line in Assembly Plant Number Three.
Loren turned to the board members. “I assume all you gentlemen know how to drive a car?”
They nodded.
“Good.” Loren smiled. He looked down the production line. A car was coming toward them. “In case you gentlemen are wondering why I asked you to come down here, I want to show you the reason.”
The car came through the final inspection shed and arrived, dark blue and shining before them. “Here is the first Baby Sundancer off the line. It will sell for under five hundred dollars and put us firmly in the low-car market with Ford, Chrysler, Plymouth and Chevrolet!”
He paused a moment. “Mr. John Duncan, our chief engineer and designer, will drive off in the first car to the freight yard where the car will be loaded on a train and begin its journey to the dealer. If each one of you will take a car as it comes off the line and follow Mr. Duncan, you will have an opportunity to judge for yourself how well the car performs and handles. A bus will be waiting there to bring you back to the administration building at the end of your drive.”
Duncan got into the car and started the engine. He moved off slowly just as the second car arrived. This was a dark burgundy color.
Loren took one of the directors by the arm. “Go ahead, drive it.”
The man got into the car and started it. After that there was no problem. The men couldn’t wait their turn. They were like children with a new toy. One car after another took off until only Loren, Junior and Warren were left.
“You can’t get away with this!” Junior snarled.
The Betsy (1971) Page 26
