Melanie arrived just as he was finishing dinner. He looked up as the butler showed her into the dining room. “Have you had your dinner yet?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I came from home.”
“Sit down then and have some coffee with me.”
The butler held a chair for her and then placed a cup of coffee in front of her. He left the room and she sipped at her coffee silently.
After a while Loren smiled at her. “You’re very silent and solemn tonight, Melanie.”
“I think my father knows about us.”
Loren looked at her. “Knows or suspects? There’s a big difference.”
“Not to my father,” she said. “It’s the same thing.”
“What if he does?” Loren asked. “There’s nothing he can do about it.”
“To you maybe,” she said. “But he can make my life miserable at home.”
“Then why don’t you move out and get your own place? He’s working now, it’s time you used some of the money for yourself.”
“I couldn’t do that to my mother. You don’t know my father. All he cares about is himself. If I weren’t there he would drive her crazy.”
“I’ll give you a raise,” he said. “That way you can still give them the same money.”
“It’s not just the money,” she said. “It’s him. He’s plain mean. And it shows even more since he’s gone to work for Bennett at Ford.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” he asked.
She looked at him. “You know what’s going on over there. The whole River Rouge plant is terrorized by Bennett and his gang and my father loves being part of Bennett’s storm troopers as they’re being called.”
“I don’t understand it,” he said. “Edsel isn’t that kind of a man. He wouldn’t tolerate it.”
“Edsel has nothing to do with it,” she said. “My father told me that Bennett has the old man’s ear and Edsel Ford is simply ignored.”
“The old man will live to regret it,” he said. “Someday that whole place will blow up.”
“It might come tomorrow,” she said.
He looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“You saw this evening’s papers?”
He nodded.
“My father says that Bennett is readying a surprise for the union. All of Bennett’s goons will be waiting when the union organizers show up.”
“There’s nothing they can do about it,” Loren said. “As long as the union keeps off Ford property.”
“What if they go up on the overpass over Miller Road in front of Gate Four?”
“What if they do?” he replied. “It’s a public pedestrian bridge. It’s always crowded with peddlers and ice cream vendors doing business when the shifts change.”
“My father told me that Bennett says it’s Ford property because they built it.”
He thought for a moment, then nodded. “That could mean trouble.” He looked up at her. “Get Richard Frankensteen or one of the Reuther brothers on the phone for me. I don’t want to see anyone hurt. It will be a black eye for the whole industry. I’ll warn them to keep off the bridge.”
She went to the telephone on the sideboard and called a number. After a brief conversation, she put a hand over the mouthpiece and spoke to him. “They’re all out at meetings,” she said. “And no one knows just what time they will be back.”
“Tell them that the first one to come back should call me immediately. It’s very important.”
She relayed the message and came to the table. She was about to sit down when she changed her mind. Instead she walked to his chair and kissed him.
“That’s not very secretarylike,” he said with a smile.
“I don’t care,” she said. “I like you.”
He reached up and put a finger on the tip of her nose. “I’ll give you a chance to prove how much as soon as the meeting is over.”
She took his hand and kissed it, letting her tongue lick the center of his palm. “I can’t wait.”
“Junior, you sit next to me,” said Loren. “Walt, you, Ted, and Scotty sit opposite us.”
Silently they took their seats. Melanie took her place at the foot of the rectangular library table and opened her notebook.
Loren looked at her. “You don’t have to take notes, Miss Walker. This is an unofficial meeting.”
She closed the book. “Do you wish me to remain, Mr. Hardeman?”
“Please do.”
She sank back into her chair as he turned to the others. “You fellows don’t have to look so solemn. Nothing terrible is going to happen.”
The tension in the room eased slightly. They leaned forward attentively.
“I’ll make it simple and brief,” Loren said. “What I have to say to you concerns the future management and operations of the company.”
He paused for a moment. “I will begin by telling you something I have no doubt that all of you already know. With the repayment of the final installment amounting to two million one hundred thousand dollars for our bank loans today, I have received in return all rights to the stock. I own in the company.”
“Hear, hear!” Duncan said softly.
Loren smiled at him. “I echo your sentiments. I don’t like bankers any more than you do. At the same time I received the resignation of the four directors they had on the board provisionally until the next board meeting.”
“Again, hear, hear!” This time the Scotsman couldn’t contain himself. He began to clap his hands silently.
A moment later the others joined in.
Loren gestured and they stopped. “Now for my plan.”
There was a slight rustling in the chairs. The men settled back, waiting.
“I own ninety percent of the company,” Loren said. “My son, ten percent. I am also fifty-nine years old and next year, when I am sixty, I intend to retire from active participation in the affairs of the company.”
He paused and the silence around the table deepened. “And so, accordingly, I have made the following disposition of my stock.
“To my grandchildren, Loren Three and Anne Elizabeth, five percent each, a total of ten percent for the two. This stock will be held and voted for them by their father as trustee until such time as they come to maturity. Further provisions have been made in the event of the decease of any of the parties interested in order to protect both the survivors and the company.”
He paused and looked at Melanie. “May I have a glass of water and two aspirin, Miss Walker?”
Silently she went to the bar and returned with the water and aspirin. The men did not speak while he took the pills. They were used to seeing him eat aspirin.
He put down the glass of water. “At the same time I have endowed a charitable foundation to be known as the Hardeman Foundation with thirty-nine percent of the stock. It will be the purpose of this foundation to use the funds they so acquire for the good and benefit of the public. The voting rights to the stock of the corporation are held by me in trust for the remainder of my lifetime. Upon my decease, the voting rights will be held by the trustees of the foundation who will be selected from the foremost educators and public-spirited citizens in the country. My son and I will automatically be lifetime trustees of the Foundation.”
A curious surprise came into Junior’s face. “I do not—”
Loren held up a hand. “Let me finish before you say anything,” he said pleasantly.
Junior nodded. He sat back in his chair, the surprise still etched on his face.
“I will still own personally forty-one percent of the stock,” Loren continued. “Which will be disposed according to my will after my decease among members of my family, the foundation and certain other people and charitable projects as I may elect.”
He picked up the glass of water and sipped from it. “Beginning with the next meeting of the board of directors I shall place a proposal before the board which will, in effect, pass the control of the company from one man, myself or my son, at the moment, into
the hands of the five-man executive committee, presently headed by myself and upon my retirement by my son. The head of the committee will have no vote on policy unless there is a tie vote between its members, in which case he will have the right to cast the deciding vote.”
He took another sip of the water. “Until my retirement I will remain as a director and chairman of the board of the company, while my son will continue as president and chief operating officer, bound to carry out the policies of the executive committee and the board of directors. Upon my retirement, my son will assume the chairman’s duties in addition to carrying on with his own.”
He fell silent for a moment, looking down at his hands. Then he looked up again. “There is more, gentlemen, much more to my proposal, but there is no point in my going into it at the present time. Other points cover such items as pension plans and profit-sharing for executives, special insurance and similar side benefits for the employees of the company. Before you leave, Miss Walker will give each of you a folder containing all the details of these proposals as well as those I have spoken about.”
He rose to his feet. “I guess that about covers all I have to say at the moment. Thank you, gentlemen.”
They rose with him. Quickly Melanie distributed the folders. Within a few minutes, all of them had gone except Junior. He sat in the chair looking at his father.
“May I have a word with you?” he asked.
Discreetly Melanie disappeared from the room.
“Come, have a drink,” Loren said.
Junior followed him to the bar. Loren poured himself a Canadian; he looked at his son: “Still drinking cognac?”
“I’ll take whiskey,” Junior said.
Loren nodded. He poured a good shot into Junior’s glass. “Ice?”
Junior nodded.
Loren walked behind the bar and took some ice from the bucket on the shelf. The ice tinkled in the glass he gave Junior. He stayed behind the bar and picked up his own drink. “Cheers,” he said. He threw the whiskey down his throat and was reaching for the bottle while Junior was still sipping at his.
Silently he refilled his shot glass. This time he sipped at it slowly while looking at his son. Junior’s face was thin and pale and there were blue circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He waited for his son to speak.
After a moment, Junior reached into his pocket, took out an envelope and placed it on the bar, without speaking.
Loren looked at it. “What’s that?”
“Open it and see,” Junior said. “The envelope’s not sealed.”
Quickly Loren took the paper from the envelope. It was neatly typed on Junior’s personal stationery.
To the Chairman of the Board
and
the Board of Directors of
Bethlehem Motors Company, Inc.
Gentlemen:
I hereby tender my resignation as president and chief operating officer of Bethlehem Motors Company, Inc. I also tender my resignation as a member of the board of directors of that company as well as officer and/or director of any of its subsidiary companies. All such resignations to be effective immediately.
Very truly yours,
Loren Hardeman II
Loren looked at his son. “What do you want to do a thing like that for?”
“You know, Father, when you called this meeting tonight,” Junior replied, “I thought it was for the purpose of firing me.”
Loren looked at him steadily. “What made you think that?”
“Two things,” Junior answered. “One, you got your stock back and, with it, complete control of the company. Two, I deserved it. I gave you enough reasons. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”
“It makes sense except for one thing,” Loren said slowly. “You tell me. It seems easy enough for a man to fire an employee, but how does a man go about firing his son from being his son?”
Junior looked at him steadily. “I made war on you where no war existed.”
“We did enough damage to each other,” Loren said quietly. He began to tear the letter in half. “Long ago when I said all this would someday be yours, I meant it. I haven’t changed my mind. You’re still my son.” He placed the torn halves of the letter back in the envelope and gave it to Junior.
Junior took the envelope, looked at it silently for a moment, then put it in his jacket. He looked up at Loren. He blinked back his tears. “Thank you, Father,” he said huskily.
Loren nodded. He didn’t speak, for he didn’t trust his own voice.
“I’ll try not to let you down again,” Junior said. “I’ll do the best I can.”
“That’s all anyone can do,” Loren said.
They were silent for a moment, then Loren came around the bar and embraced him. They were very still, then Loren stepped back. “You go on home and get some sleep, son. You look like you can use it.”
Junior nodded and started for the door. He turned and looked back. “It will be just like old times, won’t it, Father?”
Loren smiled. “Just like old times.”
Junior returned his smile. “Good night, Father.”
“Good night, son.” Loren waited until the door closed before he turned back to the bar and poured himself another drink.
Melanie came into the room. “Let me do that for you,” she said, taking the glass from his hand. She went behind the bar and put ice cubes in his glass and then gave it back to him. “Everything all right?”
He nodded wearily, tasting his drink. He looked at her. “It’s been a long day.”
“I’ll go upstairs and draw you a hot bath,” she said. “It will make you feel better.”
She came around the bar and started for the door.
“And don’t you go putting all those damn perfumes in it,” he called after her. “You make me smell like a French whore.”
She smiled back at him from the doorway. “Stop complaining,” she said. “You know you love it.”
He came out of the bathroom, the towel wrapped around his middle, his hairy chest and shoulders shining blackly in contrast with the white towel.
“I’m relaxed.”
“Do what I tell you,” she said. “I know how hard you worked today.”
Obediently he crossed to the bed and stretched out on his stomach. Her fingers were strong as they dug into his neck, bit by bit they moved over his shoulders and down onto his back. Slowly the muscles loosened under her hands.
“How does that feel?” she asked.
“Fine,” he said. He rolled over on his side. “But I’m getting a hard-on.”
“I know,” she said, looking at him. “You always do.”
“What are you going to do about that?” he laughed.
“It’s a muscle just like any other,” she grinned mischievously. “It can be handled.” She took his penis in her hands and slowly pulled the foreskin down, revealing the reddish purple swollen head. At her touch, his erection came to full stand. Holding his phallus in one hand, she gently stroked his testicles with the other, then slowly began to move her hand up and down.
“You have a beautiful cock,” she said, fascinated by the giant strength of him. She bent toward him, her tongue delicately licking him. She pushed his phallus back against his stomach and took one of his testicles in her mouth, then the other. Finally she let her open mouth travel up the length of his penis until she covered its head with her lips.
He sank his fingers into her hair and turned her face up to him. “I want to fuck,” he said.
“Yes, yes.” She got to her feet and began to undress. Her breasts tumbled free from her brassiere and she pulled off her girdle, revealing her lush, full hips and the heavy black triangle beneath her belly.
He pulled her down on the bed and began to roll over on her.
“No,” she said quickly. “You relax. Let me do it for you.”
He fell back and she got to her knees over him. Holding his penis in one hand, her other hand balancing herself against his chest, she lowered herself on
to him slowly, guiding him into her.
Impatiently he grabbed her buttocks and pulled her toward him. The air spilled from her lungs in a gasp. “Christ! You fill me up!”
Slowly at first, then more rapidly, she began to grind herself against him. His hands reached up and he squeezed her breasts and pulled them toward his face. He took her nipples in his mouth and sucked until they were bright red and swollen.
She pulled back from him and reached down behind her back until she found his testicles with her hand. They were hard and tightly knotted at the base of his shaft. She felt her orgasms approaching and began to shudder as they wracked her body. She felt his testicles swell in her fingers and begin their discharge. A fiery liquid heat began to sear her loins.
“Loren! Loren!” she cried, falling against him in the throes of their mutual orgasm. She clung to him until she stopped the aching shudder and she felt the wet of him flooding back out of her down the sides of her legs onto him.
Slowly she felt him relax inside her, then she rolled off him suddenly. Holding her cupped hand over herself so that she would not spill on the rug, she started for the bathroom. “You wait there,” she said. “I’ll come back and wash you off. I want you to rest.”
“Bring some aspirin with you. My head feels like it’s in a vise.”
“Okay,” she said.
A few minutes later, when she came out, he seemed to be sleeping peacefully, his face turned away from her on the pillow. Silently she knelt on the floor beside the bed and washed him with the warm washcloth, then gently patted him dry.
His hand moved toward her as she started to get to her feet. “You sleep,” she said softly. “You need it.” She walked back to the chair and picked up her brassiere.
“Melanie!” His voice was hoarse and strange.
“Try to sleep, Loren,” she said gently, fastening the brassiere and picking up her girdle.
“No, Melanie!”
Something in his voice made her look at him as she was poised, one foot through her girdle. He was turning toward her. But there was something wrong in the way he was moving. It was almost as if she were watching a slow motion film and everything he was doing took just too much effort.
The Betsy (1971) Page 28
