Alan said nothing; he certainly had not been aware of it. William won the hole.
When they reached the eighteenth, Alan was eight holes down and was about to complete the worst round he cared to remember. He had a five-foot putt that would at least enable him to halve the final hole with William.
“Do you have any more bombshells for me?” asked Alan.
“Before or after your putt, sir?”
Alan laughed and decided to call his bluff. “Before the putt, William,” he said, leaning on his club.
“Osborne will not be awarded the hospital contract. It is thought by those who matter that he’s been bribing junior officials in the city government. Nothing will be brought out into the open, but to be sure of no repercussions later, his company has been removed from the final list. The contract will actually be awarded to Kirkbride and Carter. That last piece of information, sir, is confidential. Even Kirkbride and Carter will not be informed until a week from Thursday, so I’d be obliged if you would keep it to yourself.”
Alan missed his putt. William holed his, walked over to the Chairman and shook him warmly by the hand.
“Thank you for the game, sir. I think you’ll find you owe me ninety dollars.”
Alan took out his wallet and handed over a hundred-dollar bill. “William, I think the time has come for you to stop calling me ‘sir.’ My name, as you well know, is Alan.”
“Thank you, Alan.” William handed him ten dollars.
Alan Lloyd arrived at the bank on Monday morning with a little more to do than he had anticipated before his meeting with William. He put five departmental managers to work immediately on checking out the accuracy of William’s allegations. He feared that he already knew what their inquiries would reveal, and because of Anne’s position at the bank, he made certain that no one department was aware of what the others were up to. His instructions to each manager were clear: All reports were to be strictly confidential and for the chairman’s eyes only. By Wednesday of the same week he had five preliminary reports on his desk. They all seemed to be in agreement with William’s judgment, although each manager had asked for more time to verify some details. Alan decided against worrying Anne until he had some more concrete evidence to go on. The best he felt he could do for the time being was to take advantage of a buffet supper the Osbornes were giving that evening; he could advise Anne then against any immediate decision on the loan.
When Alan arrived at the party, he was shocked to see how tired and drawn Anne looked, which predisposed him to soften his approach even more. When he managed to catch her alone, they had only a few moments together. If only she were not having a baby just at the time all this was happening, he thought.
Anne turned and smiled at him. “How kind of you to come, Alan, when you must be so busy at the bank.”
“I couldn’t afford to miss out on one of your parties, my dear. They’re still the toast of Boston.”
She smiled. “I wonder if you ever say the wrong thing.”
“All too frequently. Anne, have you had time to give any more thought to the loan?” He tried to sound casual.
“No, I am afraid I haven’t. I’ve been up to my ears with other things, Alan. How did Henry’s accounts look?”
“Fine, but we only have one year’s figures to go on, so I think we ought to bring in our own accountants to check them over. It’s normal banking policy to do that with anyone who has been operating for less than three years. I’m sure Henry would understand our position and agree.”
“Anne, darling, lovely party,” said a loud voice over Alan’s shoulder. He did not recognize the face; presumably one of Henry’s politician friends. “How’s the little mother-to-be?” continued the effusive voice.
Alan slipped away, hoping that he had bought some time for the bank. There were a lot of politicians at the party, from City Hall and even a couple from Congress, which made him wonder if William would turn out to be wrong about the big contract. Not that the bank would have to investigate that: the official announcement from City Hall was due the following week. He said good-bye to his host and hostess, picked up his black overcoat from the cloakroom and left.
“This time next week,” he said aloud, as if to reassure himself as he walked back down Chestnut Street to his own house … .
During the party, Anne found time to watch Henry whenever he was near Milly Preston. There was certainly no outward sign of anything between them; in fact, Henry spent more of his time with John Preston. Anne began to wonder if she had not misjudged her husband and thought about canceling her appointment with Glen Ricardo the next day. The party came to an end two hours later than Anne had anticipated; she hoped it meant that the guests had all enjoyed themselves.
“Great party, Anne, thanks for inviting us.” It was the loud voice again, leaving last. Anne couldn’t remember his name, something to do with City Hall. He disappeared down the drive.
Anne stumbled upstairs, undoing her dress even before she had reached the bedroom, promising herself that she would give no more parties before having the baby in ten weeks’ time.
Henry was already undressing. “Did you get a chance to have a word with Alan, darling?”
“Yes, I did,” replied Anne. “He said the books look fine, but as the company can only show one year’s figures, he must bring his own accountants in to double-check. Apparently that’s normal banking policy.”
“‘Normal banking policy’ be damned. Can’t you sense William’s presence behind all this? He’s trying to hold up the loan, Anne.”
“How can you say that? Alan said nothing about William”
“Didn’t he?” said Henry, his voice rising. “He didn’t bother to mention that William had lunch with him Sunday at the golf club while we sat here at home alone?”
“What?” said Anne. “I don’t believe it. William would never come to Boston without seeing me. You must be mistaken, Henry.”
“My dear, half the city was there, and I don’t imagine that William traveled some fifty miles just for a round of golf with Alan Lloyd. Listen, Anne, I need that loan or I’m going to fail to qualify as a bidder for the city contract. Some time—and very soon now—you are going to have to decide whether you trust William or me. I must have the money by a week from tomorrow, only eight days from now, because if I can’t show City Hall I’m good for that amount, I’ll be disqualified. Disqualified because William didn’t approve of your wanting to marry me. Please, Anne, will you call Alan tomorrow and tell him to transfer the money?”
His angry voice boomed in Anne’s head, making her feel faint and dizzy.
“No, not tomorrow, Henry. Can it wait until Friday? I have a heavy day tomorrow.”
Henry collected himself with an effort and came over to her as she stood naked, looking at herself in the mirror. He ran his hand over her bulging stomach. “I want this little fellow to be given as good a chance as William.”
The next day Anne told herself a hundred times that she would not go to see Glen Ricardo, but a little before noon she found herself riding in a cab. She climbed the creaky wooden stairs, apprehensive of what she might learn. She could still turn back. She hesitated, then knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
She opened the door.
“Ah, Mrs. Osborne, how nice to see you again. Do have a seat.”
Anne sat and they stared at each other.
“The news, I am afraid, is not good,” said Glen Ricardo, pushing his hand through his long, dark hair.
Anne’s heart sank. She felt sick.
“Mr. Osborne has not been seen with Mrs. Preston or any other woman during the past seven days.”
“But you said the news wasn’t good,” said Anne.
“Of course, Mrs. Osborne, I assumed you were looking for grounds for divorce. Angry wives don’t normally come to me hoping I’ll prove their husbands are innocent.”
“No, no,” said Anne, suffused with relief. “It’s the best piece of news I’ve had in week
s.”
“Oh, good,” said Mr. Ricardo, slightly taken aback. “Let us hope the second week reveals nothing as well.”
“Oh, you can stop the investigation now, Mr. Ricardo. I am sure you will not find anything of any consequence next week.”
“I don’t think that would be wise, Mrs. Osborne. To make a final judgment on only one week’s observation would be, to say the least, premature.”
“All right, if you believe it will prove the point, but I still feel confident that you won’t uncover anything new next week.”
“In any case,” continued Glen Ricardo, puffing away at his cigar, which looked bigger and smelled better to Anne than it had the previous week, “you have already paid for the two weeks.”
“What about the letters?” asked Anne, suddenly remembering them. “I suppose they must have come from someone jealous of my husband’s achievements.”
“Well, as I pointed out to you last week, Mrs. Osborne, tracing the sender of anonymous letters is never easy. However, we have been able to locate the shop where the stationery was bought, as the brand was fairly unusual, but for the moment I have nothing further to report on that front. Again, I may have a lead by this time next week. Did you get any more letters in the past few days?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Good. Then it all seems to be working out for the best. Let us hope, for your sake, that next week’s meeting, on Thursday, will be our last.”
“Yes,” said Anne happily, “let us hope so. Can I settle your expenses next week?”
“Of course, of course.”
Anne had nearly forgotten the phrase, but this time it only made her laugh. She decided as she was driven home that Henry must have the $500,000 and the chance to prove William and Alan wrong. She had still not recovered from the knowledge that William had come to Boston without letting her know; perhaps Henry had been right in his suggestion that William was trying to work behind their backs.
Henry was delighted when Anne told him that night of her decision on the loan and he produced the legal documents the following morning for her signature. Anne couldn’t help thinking that he must have had the papers prepared for some time, especially as Milly Preston’s signature was already on them, or was she being overly suspicious again? She dismissed the idea and signed quickly.
She was fully prepared for Alan Lloyd when he telephoned the following Monday morning.
“Anne, let me at least hold things up until Thursday. Then we’ll know who has been awarded the hospital contract.”
“No, Alan, the decision has been made. Henry needs the money now. He has to prove to City Hall that he’s financially strong enough to fulfill the contract, and you already have the signatures of two trustees so the responsibility is no longer yours.”
“The bank could always guarantee Henry’s position without actually passing over the money. I’m sure City Hall would find that acceptable. In any case, I haven’t had enough time to check over his company’s accounts.”
“But you did find enough time to have lunch with William a week ago Sunday without bothering to inform me.”
There was a momentary silence on the other end of the line.
“Anne, I——”
“Don’t say you didn’t have the opportunity. You came to our party on Wednesday and you could easily have mentioned it to me then. You chose not to, but you did find the time to advise me to postpone judgment on the loan to Henry.”
“Anne, I am sorry. I can understand how that might look and why you are upset, but there really was a reason, believe me. May I come around and explain everything to you?”
“No, Alan, you can’t. You’re all ganging up against my husband. None of you wants to give him a chance to prove himself. Well, I am going to give him that chance.”
Anne put the telephone down, pleased with herself, feeling she had been loyal to Henry in a way that fully atoned for her ever having doubted him in the first place.
Alan Lloyd rang back, but Anne instructed the maid to say she was out for the rest of the day. When Henry returned home that night, he was delighted to hear how Anne had dealt with Alan.
“It will all turn out for the best, my love, you’ll see. On Thursday morning I will be awarded the contract and you can kiss and make up with Alan; still, you had better keep out of his way until then. In fact, if you like we can have a celebration lunch on Thursday at the Ritz and wave at him from the other side of the room.”
Anne smiled and agreed. She could not help remembering that she was meant to be seeing Ricardo for the last time at twelve o’clock that day. Still, that would be early enough for her to be at the Ritz by one, and she could celebrate both triumphs at once.
Alan tried repeatedly to reach Anne, but the maid always had a ready excuse. Since the document had been signed by two trustees, he could not hold up payment for more than twenty-four hours. The wording was typical of a legal agreement drawn up by Richard Kane; there were no loopholes to crawl through. When the check for $500,000 left the bank by special messenger on Tuesday afternoon, Alan wrote a long letter to William, setting down the events that had culminated in the transfer of the money, withholding only the unconfirmed findings of his departmental reports. He sent a copy of the letter to each director of the bank, conscious that although he had behaved with the utmost propriety, he had laid himself open to accusations of concealment.
William received Alan Lloyd’s letter at St. Paul’s on the Thursday morning while having breakfast with Matthew.
Breakfast on Thursday morning at Beacon Hill was the usual eggs and bacon, hot toast, cold oatmeal and a pot of steaming coffee. Henry was simultaneously tense and jaunty, snapping at the maid, joking with a junior city official who telephoned to say the name of the company that had been awarded the hospital contract would be posted on the notice board at City Hall around ten o’clock. Anne was almost looking forward to her last meeting with Glen Ricardo. She flicked through Vogue, trying not to notice that Henry’s hands, clutching the Boston Globe, were trembling.
“What are you going to do this morning?” Henry asked, trying to make conversation.
“Oh, nothing much before we have our celebration lunch. Will you be able to name the children’s wing in memory of Richard?” Anne asked.
“Not in memory of Richard, my darling. This will be my achievement, so let it be in your honor. The Mrs. Henry Osborne wing,” he added grandly.
“What a nice idea,” Anne said as she put her magazine down and smiled at him. “You mustn’t let me drink too much champagne at lunch as I have a full checkup with Dr. MacKenzie this afternoon, and I don’t think he would approve if I was drunk only nine weeks before the baby is due. When will you know for certain that the contract is yours?”
“I know now,” Henry said. “The clerk I just spoke to was one hundred percent confident, but it will be official at ten o’clock.”
“The first thing you must do then, Henry, is to phone Alan and tell him the good news. I’m beginning to feel quite guilty about the way I treated him last week.”
“No need for you to feel any guilt; he didn’t bother to keep you informed of William’s actions.”
“No, but he tried to explain later, Henry, and I didn’t give him a chance to tell me his side of the story.”
“All right, all right, anything you say. If it’ll make you happy I’ll phone him at five past ten and then you can tell William I’ve made him another million.” He looked at his watch. “I’d better be going. Wish me luck.”
“I thought you didn’t need any luck,” said Anne.
“I don’t, I don’t, it’s only an expression. See you at the Ritz at one o’clock.” He kissed her on the forehead. “By tonight you’ll be able to laugh about Alan, William and contracts and treat them all as problems of the past, believe me. Good-bye, darling.”
“I hope so, Henry.”
An uneaten breakfast was laid out in front of Alan Lloyd. He was reading the financial pages of the Boston Globe, no
ting a small paragraph in a right-hand column reporting that at ten o’clock that morning the city would announce which company had been awarded the $5 million hospital contract.
Alan Lloyd had already decided what course of action he must take if Henry failed to secure the contract and everything that William had claimed turned out to be accurate. He would do exactly what Richard would have done faced with the same predicament: act only in the best interests of the bank. The latest departmental reports on Henry’s personal finances disturbed Alan Lloyd greatly. Osborne was indeed a heavy gambler, and no trace could be found that the trust’s $500,000 had gone into Henry’s company. Alan Lloyd sipped his orange juice and left the rest of his breakfast untouched, apologized to his housekeeper and walked to the bank. It was a pleasant day.
“William, are you up to a game of tennis this afternoon?”
They were at breakfast, and Matthew Lester was standing over William as he read the letter from Alan Lloyd for a second time.
“What did you say?”
“Are you going deaf or developing into a senile adolescent? Do you want me to beat you black and blue on the tennis court this afternoon?”
“No, I won’t be here this afternoon, Matthew. I have more important things to attend to.”
“Naturally, old buddy, I forgot that you’re off on another of your mysterious trips to the White House. I know President Harding is looking for someone to be his new fiscal advisor, and you’re exactly the right man to take the place of that posturing fool Charles G. Dawes. Tell him you’ll accept, subject to his inviting Matthew Lester to be the Administration’s next Attorney General.”
There was no response from William.
“I know the joke was pretty weak, but I thought it worthy of some comment,” said Matthew as he sat down beside William and looked more carefully at his friend. “It’s the eggs, isn’t it? Taste as though they’ve come out of a Russian prisoner-of-war camp.”
Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune Page 16
