He had a puzzled expression on his face.
“Did you ever think that someday, Bob, you’d be above the snow? Somewhere where you could see it falling below you and it couldn’t touch you?”
I looked at him. He didn’t know what I was talking about. But the man upstairs knew, Sinclair knew the snow could never fall on him. That’s why we were all kept on the floors below. Nothing could touch him. We fought and scratched and scrambled and when it was all over, he walked away arm and arm with whomever was the winner.
Fogarty came into the office. She was smiling as she gave me the flash report. I looked at it. We owned Saturday night. We were eight points ahead of the next nearest network on the Nielsen. I gave the report silently to Gilligan and went back to my desk.
Almost before I sat down the phones got hot. We didn’t get out to lunch. By the time I walked into the directors’ meeting, all the advertising agencies had bought their quotas.
***
I was a few minutes late and Dan Ritchie was already seated in the chair next to Sinclair that I usually occupied. The only vacant seat was at the foot of the table. I walked over to it and sat down.
“Sorry to be late, gentlemen,” I apologized. “But I’ve been jammed.”
“So we gathered,” Sinclair said, his face expressionless.
Dan Ritchie couldn’t wait. “Are you familiar with the press release in front of you?”
I looked down at it, then back at him. “I should be,” I answered. “I issued it.”
“You realize, of course, you issued it without authorization, not having cleared it with the board of directors?” His voice was dry and cold.
I looked at Sinclair. “My understanding with Mr. Sinclair was that as president of Sinclair Television I had complete autonomy and authority to run the network as I thought best.”
“But you did know that all your actions to date had been approved by the board?”
I nodded. “I knew that. And I had been given no indication that there had been any change in procedure. Since previous actions were approved post facto, I assumed the same would apply to anything I did.”
Ritchie was silent for a moment while he picked up some papers and went through them. I tried to read something into Sinclair, but his face was an impenetrable as a block of granite.
“I have here a cost breakdown on the schedule you so precipitously announced,” Ritchie said. “Do you realize it will involve an expenditure on our part of better than forty million dollars?”
I nodded.
“And added to that will be another eleven million dollars to convert the network to color?”
“That’s correct,” I said.
“Do you feel the expenditure of so much money is economically sound for our company?”
“Yes,” I said. “If I did not think so, I would not have committed the company.”
“Do you also think it a proper action on your part to announce the resignation of certain officers of the company without prior consultation with them?”
“Yes. I have had their resignations in my desk ever since I came here.”
“You did not have mine,” he said. “But you announced it nevertheless.”
“An oversight,” I said.
“What do you mean, an oversight?” He was angry now.
I looked at him and kept my voice down. “I’m sure that before this meeting is adjourned, I will have your resignation.”
His face began to flush, but I didn’t give him a chance. I looked around at the table.
“I know you’re busy, gentlemen, so I will be as brief as I can. The estimated billings for primetime in the current season is one hundred sixty million, of which thirty percent or forty-eight millions were advance sales. I have at this moment confirmed sales for fifty percent of next season’s primetime amounting to one hundred twenty millions against projected total sales of two hundred forty millions. I could bore you with a percentage of increase over last year but I won’t bother. The changes in programming initiated this last week by the movie and the Jana Reynolds show will increase the current year by a projected twenty-five million. So much for sales and programming.
“As for color, gentlemen, it is here and we may as well face it. If we waited five years when we would have to do it it would cost us better than fifty percent more than now. Meanwhile, we get an advantage of twenty percent increase in rates.”
I looked around the table. “The increased costs will only result in greater billings and profits. Concerning personnel, I believe I have eliminated none but supernumeraries whose value to the company has long since disappeared.”
They were all silent.
Sinclair spoke quietly. “The chair will entertain a motion for a vote of confidence in Mr. Gaunt and full ratification of his policies and schedule.”
The motion was made and carried unanimously with two votes abstaining. Ritchie’s and mine.
Sinclair’s voice was dry and cold. “The chair will entertain a motion for adjournment.”
In less than two minutes the meeting was over and there were only the two of us left in the boardroom. Ritchie and myself.
I gathered up my papers and looked down the long table. Ritchie sat there, hunched over as if he were in physical pain, his hands clasped tightly together on the table.
I stopped next to him on my way to the door. “I’m sorry, Dan,” I said.
He looked up at me. His face was scrunched and gray. “The son of a bitch!” he said heavily. “He didn’t even stop to say good-bye.”
I didn’t speak.
“He set me up for it,” he said.
“He set us both up.”
He nodded. His eyes blinked rapidly. “All he had to do was ask me to leave. It didn’t have to be like this.”
He walked over to the window and looked out at the snow. “Now I know why the windows in the new building can’t be opened. They knew there would be days like this.” He turned to look at me. “I saw him do things like this before. I even used to admire him for it. He could never do a thing like that to me, I thought.”
A wry grin didn’t make it to his eyes. “I thought,” he repeated. He came back to me, his hand outstretched. “Good luck, Steve.”
His handshake meant it. “Thank you, Dan.”
“Protect yourself at all times, like they say. And never take your eyes off the referee.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
I kept lacing my coffee with brandy all afternoon. It kept me going. It also kept me from thinking too much. About myself, about Dan Ritchie, about Sinclair, about everything except the network. Finally it was nine o’clock and we were finished.
“That wraps it,” I said, looking over at Fogarty.
“Yes, sir,” she said in that quiet way she had. She began to gather up her papers.
“Fogarty, fix me a drink.”
“Yes, sir.” She went over to the bar. “What would you like?”
“Very dry martini. Double.”
In a few minutes I had it. It was very good. “Was bartending one of the courses you took at Katherine Gibbs?”
She laughed. “No. That was on-the-job training.”
I laughed. “Fix yourself a drink, Fogarty. You deserve one.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll just get my things together and get going. The trains will be running late in this snow.”
I had forgotten she lived in Darien. The way the New Haven was run she would be lucky to get home at all. “If there’s any problem, Fogarty, you go to a hotel and charge it to the company.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gaunt,” she said. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Yes. Make me another one of those delicious martinis before you go.” I finished the rest of my drink.
I took the new drink from her hand. “Miss Fogarty,” I said. “A martini like this is a good enough reason for a raise.” I sipped the drink. “Tomorrow morning tell payroll that you get twenty-five dollars more a week.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gaunt.”
“You won’t do it, Miss Fogarty, will you? You think I don’t mean it. That I’m smashed.”
“I think no such thing, Mr. Gaunt,” she protested.
“That’s a loyal secretary,” I said. “Miss Fogarty, I’ve come to a decision.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“We’ve got to stop being so formal with each other. You call me Steve and I’ll call you Sheila.”
“Yes, Mr. Gaunt.”
“Steve.”
“Yes, Steve.”
“That’s better, Sheila. Now we can get down to the really important things. Am I or am I not the president of this network?”
“You are, Mr.—er—Steve.”
“Then that makes everything very simple. Let’s fuck.” I took another sip of the martini.
A strange note came into her voice. “I think I’d better get you home.”
I drew myself up proudly. “You’re turning me down.”
She didn’t answer.
“You’re fired,” I said. “As president of this network, I’m firing you for refusing to perform your duties.”
She watched me without speaking.
I sat down. The liquor left me suddenly. “You’re not fired,” I said. “I apologize, Fogarty.”
“That’s all right, Mr. Gaunt. I understand.” She smiled. “Good night.”
“Good night, Fogarty,” I said.
***
The first fall of snow in New York is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. White and clean and crisp and clinging to shapes that nature never intended. I walked home through a white cubistic world that Braque would have given his left nut to paint, stopping only for an occasional traffic light. The snow formed a white peaked cap on each red and green traffic light, making them look like single-eyed cyclops going complacently about their business in the storm.
I was covered with snow by the time I reached home.
“It’s rough,” the doorman said, leaning on his shovel.
“Yeah.” I didn’t think it was bad at all. But then I didn’t have to clear the walks.
The first thing I saw when I let myself into the apartment was the candles glowing on the table. I stopped. I had the strange thought that I had entered the wrong apartment. But then I saw the giant can of Malossol and the Dom Perignon in the ice bucket. It was all there.
“Barbara,” I called out.
She came from the bedroom, carrying a single rose in a crystal vase. She looked at me for a moment, then placed the rose in the center of the table. “That does it, don’t you think?”
I was still in the doorway. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s snowing,” she said.
“I know that,” I replied.
“The first snow of the new year,” she said. “I thought we should celebrate.”
I looked at her. “Sure.” I turned and put my hat and coat in the closet. When I turned back to the room, she was standing next to me.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You sound strange.”
“Nothing. I’m tired,” I said. “I need a drink.”
“I have an almost frozen bottle of vodka,” she said.
“That should do it.” I followed her to the bar. The bottle was encrusted with ice. She poured the drink. I waited for her.
She shook her head. “You go ahead.”
It went down like beautiful liquid fire. I held the empty glass to her. She refilled it. This time I sipped.
She watched me. “It’s been three months.”
I nodded.
“Did you wonder what happened to me?”
I shook my head. “I figured you could find your way.”
“But you knew I was lost.”
“Aren’t we all?” I said.
She poured herself a drink. She held her glass toward me. “Not you,” she said. “You know exactly where you are. All the time.” She swallowed her drink quickly and poured herself another. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
“It was a fine idea.”
“I know how hard you’ve been working. That’s why I kept out of your way. I thought this would be a surprise.”
“I was surprised.”
A wall of tears suddenly masked the blue of her eyes. “I think I’d better go.”
“Don’t go,” I said. “I can’t eat all this by myself.”
She stood there. “Is that the only reason you want me to stay?”
“The snow outside is up to your ass. And there aren’t any cabs.”
She was silent for a moment, her eyes searching my face. “I love you,” she said. “Aren’t you even going to kiss me?”
I took her in my arms. Her mouth was soft and wet with the salt of her tears. I’m sorry, Steve,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
I pressed her head against my chest. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
She twisted in my arms. Her voice was strained. “I tried to warn you,” she cried. “I tried to tell you what he was like. But you wouldn’t listen, you wouldn’t believe me.”
I was bewildered. “What—who?”
“Daddy!” She spit the name out. “I was at his house for dinner last night and I heard him. He was on the phone to somebody.
“‘We’ll fix that cocky little bastard,’ he said. ‘He’ll find out who’s running Sinclair Television.’”
She clung tightly to me. “Don’t feel too badly, Steve,” she whispered against my chest. “You’ll find another job and show him.”
I turned her face up to me. “Is that why you came here tonight?”
She nodded. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“You’re beautiful,” I said. I smiled at her. “I didn’t get fired. But I did find out who’s running Sinclair TV. And so did your father. Me.”
She threw her arms excitedly around me. “You did it, Steve? You really did it?”
I nodded, picking up the bottle of Dom Perignon. “Let’s get this open. We’ve really got something to celebrate.”
She kissed me quickly. “You open the wine.”
I smiled as I watched her walking around the room turning off the lamps. Finally they were out and she came toward me in the golden light of the candles. I gave her a glass of champagne.
“There, isn’t that better?” she asked.
“Much better,” I said. We clinked our glasses. The bubbles tingled in my nostrils.
But it didn’t help. I fell asleep at the table sometime between the Chateaubriand and dessert.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Somewhere the telephone was ringing. I pushed my way up through the black, reaching for it. It stopped ringing before I could get to it. I heard a soft voice whispering into it. I opened my eyes.
She turned back to me, putting down the telephone. “Go back to sleep,” she said gently.
“Who was it?” I asked.
“Your office,” she said. “I told them you were still asleep.”
“My office?” I snapped awake. “What the hell time is it?”
“Noon,” she said.
I stared at her. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You were tired.” She smiled. “You know you sleep like a baby. Soft and gentle.”
I got out of bed. “What kind of a dressing did you use on that salad? Seconal?”
She sat up. “You didn’t need it. You knocked off a bottle of vodka and two bottles of champagne all by yourself.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You passed out at the table. I had to call room service to help get you to bed.”
“Is there any coffee?” I asked.
“There’s some on the dining room table. I’ll get it for you.”
I went into the bathroom. When I came out she had a steaming cup on the tray. I took it from her hand and sipped it. “That’s a help,” I said. “But I’ll need more than that to get started. You’ll find a bottle of cognac on the bar.”
She watched me lace the coffee. “You’re drin
king more than you used to.”
I looked at her silently.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m not the one to talk.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Stay loose.”
“Good advice. Why don’t you take it yourself?” She came close to me. “You’re uptight.”
“I got a lot of things on my head.”
“You were wrong,” she said. “You didn’t get him. He got you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re drinking more and fucking less. That’s the true sign of a big executive.”
I didn’t speak.
“I could have saved myself the bother,” she said. “I wore the new nightgown. I saved it from the last time I was here. But it didn’t work that time either.”
I watched her walk into the bathroom and close the door. I looked down at the coffee cup in my hand. She was right. It had been three months now. Ever since I got the job. I put the cup down on the dresser. When she came out of the bathroom I was back in bed.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, a quick concern in her voice. “Don’t you feel well?”
“I never felt better.”
Suddenly she was kneeling by the side of the bed, holding my face in her two hands, covering it with quick tiny kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she said in between them.
“Don’t get personal,” I said, pulling her up on the bed beside me. “You’ll blow your cool.”
***
It was two thirty in the morning when I stopped the car in front of Aunt Prue’s house. The bright, full, winter moon bouncing from the snow turned the night into day.
“The house is dark,” Barbara said as we crunched our way through the snow to the front door. “You’ll frighten the hell out of her, waking her up at this hour.”
I reached up and took the key from its hiding place over the doorframe. “Chances are she won’t even know we’re here until we come down in the morning.”
Light spilled into the foyer from her small office. “Chances are that you’re wrong as usual,” Aunt Prue said from the doorway.
She came into my arms and for a moment I had that surprise I always had when I realized she was never as tall as I thought she was. Somehow you always think of your elders as bigger than you. I kissed her.
“How did you get up here?”
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