“How long has he to live?” asked Kate in a whisper.
“Six months at the outside, more likely three.”
“And I thought I had problems,” said William. He held tightly onto Kate’s hand as if it were a lifeline. “We must be going, Andrew. Thank you for telling us.”
“Do what you can for him,” said the doctor, “but for God’s sake, be understanding. Let him do what he wants to do. It’s Matthew’s last few months, not yours. And don’t ever let him know I told you.”
William and Kate drove home in silence. As soon as they reached the Red House, William called the girl Matthew had left the party with.
“Would it be possible to speak to Matthew Lester?”
“He’s not here,” said a rather irritable voice. “He dragged me off to the Revue Club, but he was already drunk by the time we got there and I refused to go in that place with him.” Then she hung up.
The Revue Club. William had a hazy recollection of having seen the sign swinging from an iron bar, but he couldn’t remember exactly where the place was. He looked it up in the phone book, drove over to the north side of town and—after questioning a passerby—eventually found the club. William knocked on the door. A hatch slid back.
“Are you a member?”
“No,” said William firmly, and passed a ten-dollar bill through the grille.
The hatch slid closed and the door opened. William walked across the middle of the dance floor, looking slightly incongruous in his three-piece banker’s suit. The dancers, twined around each other, swayed incuriously away from him. William’s eyes searched the smoke-filled room for Matthew, but he wasn’t there. Finally he thought he recognized one of Matthew’s many recent casual girlfriends, one he felt certain he’d seen coming out of his friend’s house early one morning. She was sitting cross-legged in a corner with a sailor. William went over to her.
“Excuse me, miss,” he said.
She looked up but obviously didn’t recognize William.
“The lady’s with me, so beat it,” said the sailor.
“Have you seen Matthew Lester?”
“Matthew?” said the girl. “Matthew who?”
“I told you to get lost,” said the sailor, rising to his feet.
“One more word out of you and I’ll knock your block off,” said William.
The sailor had seen anger like that in a man’s eyes once before in his life and had nearly lost an eye for his trouble. He sat back down.
“Where is Matthew?”
“I don’t know a Matthew, darling.” Now she, too, was frightened.
“Six feet two, blond hair, dressed like me and probably drunk.”
“Oh, you mean Martin. He calls himself Martin here, darling, not Matthew.” She began to relax. “Now let me see, who did he go off with tonight?” She turned her head toward the bar and shouted at the bartender. “Terry, who did Martin leave with?”
The bartender removed a dead cigarette butt from the corner of his mouth. “Jenny,” he said, and put the unlit cigarette back in place.
“Jenny, that’s right,” said the girl. “Now let me see, she’s short sessions. Never lets a man stay for more than half an hour, so they should be back fairly soon.”
“Thank you,” said William.
He waited for almost an hour at the bar, sipping a Scotch with a lot of water, feeling more and more out of place by the minute. Finally the bartender, the unlit cigarette still in his mouth, gestured to a girl who was coming through the door.
“That’s Jenny,” he said. Matthew was not with her.
The bartender waved for Jenny to join them. A slim, short, dark, not unattractive girl, she winked at William and walked toward him swinging her hips.
“Looking for me, darling? Well, I am available, but I charge ten dollars for half an hour.”
“No, I don’t want you,” said William.
“Charming,” said Jenny.
“I’m looking for the man who’s been with you, Matthew—I mean Martin.”
“Martin, he was too drunk to get it up with the help of a crane, darling, but he paid his ten dollars—he always does. A real gentleman.”
“Where is he now?” asked William impatiently.
“I don’t know. He gave it up as a bad job and started walking home.”
William ran into the street. The cold air hit him, not that he needed to be awakened. He drove his car slowly away from the club, following the route toward Matthew’s apartment, looking carefully at each person he passed. Some hurried on when they saw his watchful eyes; others tried to engage him in conversation. When he stopped for a traffic light outside an all-night diner, he caught sight of Matthew through the steamy window, weaving his way through the tables with a cup in his hand. William parked the car, went into the diner and sat down beside him. Matthew had slumped onto the table next to a cup of spilled, untouched coffee. He was so drunk that he didn’t even recognize William.
“Matthew, it’s me,” said William, looking at the crumpled man. Tears started to run down William’s cheeks.
Matthew looked up and spilled some more of his coffee. “You’re crying, old fellow. Lost your girl, have you?”
“No, my closest friend,” said William.
“Ah, they’re much harder to come by.”
“I know,” said William.
“I have a good friend,” said Matthew, slurring his words. “He’s always stood by me until we quarreled for the first time today. My fault though. You see, I’ve let him down rather badly.”
“No, you haven’t,” said William.
“How can you know?” said Matthew angrily. “You’re not even fit to know him.”
“Let’s go home, Matthew.”
“My name is Martin,” said Matthew.
“I’m sorry, Martin, let’s go home.”
“No, I want to stay here. There’s this girl who may come by later. I think I’m ready for her now.”
“I have some fine old malt whiskey at my house,” said William. “Why don’t you join me?”
“Any women at your place?”
“Yes, plenty of them.”
“You’re on, I’ll come.”
William hoisted Matthew up and put his arm under his shoulder, guiding him slowly through the diner toward the door. It was the first time he’d ever realized how heavy Matthew was. As they passed two policemen sitting at the corner of the counter, William heard one say to the other, “Goddamn fairies.”
He helped Matthew into the car and drove him to Beacon Hill. Kate was waiting up for them.
“You should have gone to bed, darling.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.
“I’m afraid he’s nearly incoherent.”
“Is this the girl you promised me?” said Matthew.
“Yes, she’ll take care of you,” said William, and he and Kate helped him up to the guest room and put him on the bed. Kate started to undress him.
“You must undress as well, darling,” he said. “I’ve already paid my ten dollars.”
“When you’re in bed,” said Kate lightly.
“Why are you looking so sad, beautiful lady?” said Matthew.
“Because I love you,” said Kate, tears beginning to form in her eyes.
“Don’t cry,” said Matthew, “there’s nothing to cry about. I’ll manage it this time, you’ll see.”
When they had undressed Matthew, William covered him with a sheet and a blanket. Kate turned the light out.
“You promised you’d come to bed with me,” Matthew said drowsily.
She closed the door quietly.
William slept on a chair outside Matthew’s room for fear he might wake up in the night and try to leave. Kate woke him in the morning before taking some breakfast in to Matthew.
“What am I doing here, Kate?” were Matthew’s first words.
“You came back with us after Andrew MacKenzie’s party last night,” Kate replied rather feebly.
“No, I didn’t. I
went to the Revue Club with that awful girl, Patricia something or other, who refused to come in with me. God, I feel lousy. Can I have a tomato juice? I don’t want to be unsociable, but the last thing I need is breakfast.”
“Of course, Matthew.”
William came in. Matthew looked up at him. They stared at each other in silence.
“You know, don’t you?” said Matthew finally.
“Yes,” said William, “and I’ve been a fool and I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Don’t cry, William. I haven’t seen you do that since you were twelve and Covington was beating you up and I had to drag him off you. Remember? I wonder what Covington is up to now? Probably running a brothel in Tijuana; it’s about all he was fit for. Mind you, if Covington is running it, the place will be damned efficient, so lead me to it. Don’t cry, William. Grown men don’t cry. Nothing can be done. I’ve seen all the specialists from New York to Los Angeles to Zurich and there is nothing they can do. Do you mind if I skip the office this morning? I still feel bloody awful. Wake me if I stay too long or if I’m any more trouble and I’ll find my own way home.”
“This is your home,” said William.
Matthew’s face changed. “Will you tell my father, William? I can’t face him. You’re an only son, too—you understand the problem.”
“Yes, I will,” said William. “I’ll go down to New York tomorrow and let him know if you’ll promise to stay with Kate and me. I won’t stop you from getting drunk if that’s what you wish to do, or from having as many women as you want, but you must stay here.”
“Best offer I’ve had in weeks, William. Now I think I’ll sleep some more. I get so tired nowadays.”
William watched Matthew fall into a deep sleep and removed the half-empty glass from his hand. A tomato stain was forming on the sheets.
“Don’t die,” he said quietly. “Please don’t die, Matthew. Have you forgotten that you and I are going to run the biggest bank in America?”
William went to New York the following morning to see Charles Lester. The great man aged visibly at William’s news and seemed to shrink into his seat.
“Thank you for coming, William, and telling me personally. I knew something had to be wrong when Matthew stopped his monthly visits to see us. I’ll come up every weekend. He’ll want to be with you and Kate and I’ll try not to make it too obvious how hard I took the news. God knows what he’s done to deserve this. Since Matthew’s mother died, I’ve built everything for him, and now there is no one to leave it to.”
“Come to Boston whenever you want to, sir—you’ll always be most welcome.”
“Thank you, William, for everything you’re doing for my son.” The old man looked up at him. “I wish your father were alive to see how worthy his son is of the name Kane. If only I could change places with Matthew, and let him live …”
“I ought to be getting back to him soon, sir.”
“Yes, of course. Tell him I love him, tell him I took the news stoically. Don’t tell him anything different.”
“Yes, sir.”
William traveled back to Boston that night to find that Matthew had stayed at home with Kate and had started reading America’s latest best seller, Gone with the Wind, as he sat out on the veranda. He looked up as William came through the French doors.
“How did the old man take it?”
“He cried,” said William.
“The chairman of Lester’s bank cried?” said Matthew.
“Never let the shareholders know that.”
Matthew stopped drinking and worked as hard as he could right up until the last few days. William was amazed by his determination and continually had to make him slow down. He kept well on top of his work and would tease William by checking his mail at the end of each day. In the evenings before the theater or a large dinner, Matthew would play tennis with William or row against him on the Charles. “I’ll know I’m dead when I can’t beat you,” he mocked.
Matthew never entered the hospital, preferring to stay at the Red House. For William, the weeks went so slowly and yet so quickly, waking each morning and wondering if Matthew was still alive.
Matthew died on a Thursday, forty pages still to read of Gone with the Wind.
The funeral was held in New York and William and Kate stayed with Charles Lester. In six months he had become an old man, and as he stood by the graves of his wife and only son, he told William that he no longer saw any purpose in this life. William said nothing; no words of his could help the grieving father. William and Kate returned to Boston the next day. The Red House seemed strangely empty without Matthew. The past few months had been at once the happiest and unhappiest period in William’s life. Death had brought him a closeness, both to Matthew and to Kate, that normal life would never have allowed.
When William returned to the bank after Matthew’s death, he found it difficult to get back into any sort of normal routine. He would get up and start to head toward Matthew’s office for advice or a laugh, or merely to be assured of his existence, but he was no longer there. It was weeks before William could prevent himself from doing this.
Tony Simmons was very understanding, but it didn’t help. William lost all interest in banking, even in Kane and Cabot itself, as he went through months of remorse over Matthew’s death. He had always taken it for granted that he and Matthew would grow old together and share a common destiny. No one commented that William’s work was not up to its usual high standard. Even Kate grew worried by the hours William would spend alone.
Then one morning she awoke to find him sitting on the edge of the bed staring down at her. She blinked up at him. “Is something wrong, darling?”
“No, I’m just looking at my greatest asset and making sure I don’t take it for granted.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Toward the end of 1932, with America still in the grip of the Depression, Abel was becoming more than a little apprehensive about the future of the Baron Group. Two thousand banks had been closed during the past two years, and more were shutting their doors every week. Nine million people were still unemployed, which seemed to have as its only virtue the assurance that Abel could maintain a highly professional staff in all his hotels. Despite this, the Baron Group lost $72,000 in 1932, the year in which he had predicted they would break even, and he began to wonder whether his backer’s purse and patience would hold out long enough to allow him the chance to turn things around.
Earlier, Abel had begun to take an active interest in American politics during Anton Cermak’s successful campaign to become mayor of Chicago. Cermak had talked Abel into joining the Democratic party, which had launched a virulent campaign against Prohibition; Abel had thrown himself wholeheartedly behind Cermak because Prohibition had proved very damaging to the hotel trade. The fact that Cermak was himself an immigrant, from Czechoslovakia, had created an immediate bond between the two men, and Abel had been delighted when he was chosen as a delegate to the Democratic National Convention held in Chicago in 1932, where Cermak had brought a packed audience to its feet with the words: “It’s true I didn’t come over on the Mayflower, but I came over as soon as I could.”
At the convention Cermak had introduced Abel to Franklin D. Roosevelt, who had made a lasting impression on him. FDR went on to win the Presidential election easily, sweeping Democratic candidates into office all over the country. One of the newly elected aldermen at Chicago City Hall was Henry Osborne. When Anton Cermak was killed in early 1933 in Miami by an assassin’s bullet intended for FDR, Abel decided to contribute a considerable amount of time and money to the cause of the Polish Democrats in Chicago.
During 1933 the group lost only $23,000, and one of the hotels, the St. Louis Baron, actually showed a profit. When President Roosevelt had delivered his first fireside chat on March 12, exhorting his countrymen “to once again believe in America,” Abel’s confidence soared and he decided to reopen the two hotels he had closed.
Zaphia grew querulous about his long soj
ourns in Charleston and Mobile while he took the two hotels out of mothballs. Zaphia had never wanted Abel to be more than the deputy manager of the Stevens, a level at which she felt she could keep pace. The pace was quickening as every month passed, and she became conscious of falling behind Abel’s ambitions and feared he was beginning to lose interest in her.
She was also becoming anxious about her childlessness and started to see doctors, who reassured her that there was nothing to prevent her from becoming pregnant. One offered the suggestion that Abel also be examined, but Zaphia demurred, knowing he would regard the very mention of the subject as a slur on his manhood. Finally, after the subject had become so charged that it was difficult for them to discuss it at all, Zaphia missed her period.
She waited hopefully for another month before saying anything to Abel or even seeing the doctor again. He confirmed that she was at last pregnant. To Abel’s delight, Zaphia gave birth to a daughter, on New Year’s Day 1934. They named her Florentyna, after Abel’s sister. Abel was besotted the moment he set eyes on the child, and Zaphia knew then that she could no longer be the first love of his life. George and Zaphia’s cousins were the child’s Kums, and Abel gave a traditional ten-course Polish dinner on the evening of the christening. Many gifts were presented to the child, including a beautiful antique ring from Abel’s unknown backer. He returned the gift in kind when the Baron Group had made a profit of $63,000 at the end of the year. Only the Mobile Baron was still losing money.
Several months after Florentyna’s birth Abel, who found he was spending much more of his time in Chicago, decided that the time had come to build a new Baron there. Hotels in the city were booming in the aftermath of the World’s Fair. Abel intended to make his new hotel the flagship of the group in memory of Davis Leroy. The company still owned the site of the old Richmond hotel on Michigan Avenue, and although Abel had had several offers for the land, he had always held out, hoping that one day he would be in a strong enough financial position to rebuild the hotel. The project required capital, and Abel decided to use the $750,000 he had eventually received from Great Western Casualty for the old Chicago Richmond to start construction. As soon as his plans were formulated he told Curtis Fenton of his intention, with the sole reservation that if David Maxton did not want a rival to the Stevens, Abel would drop the whole project—a gesture he felt he owed Mr. Maxton. A few days later, Curtis Fenton advised him that Abel’s backer was delighted by the idea of the Chicago Baron.
Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune Page 34
