Sons of Fortune

“Why?” asked Mr. Russell.

“Because ten o’clock is a little too late for the staff of a progressive bank to be opening.”

As Tom drove them back to New York, he and Nat set about dividing their responsibilities.

“Dad was touched that you turned down Chase to join us,” said Tom.

“You made exactly the same sacrifice when you left the Bank of America.”

“Yes, but the old man has always assumed that I’d take over from him once he reached his sixty-fifth birthday, and I was just about to warn him that I wasn’t willing to do so.”

“Why not?” inquired Nat.

“I don’t have the vision or ideas that are required to rescue the bank, but you do.”

“Rescue?” said Nat.

“Yes, don’t let’s kid ourselves. You’ve studied the balance sheet, so you know only too well that we’re just about clearing enough to allow my parents to maintain their standard of living. But the profits haven’t risen for some years; the truth is that the bank needs your particular skills more than it requires an efficient packhorse like me. So it’s important to settle one thing before it ever becomes an issue—in banking terms I intend to report to you as chief executive.”

“But it will still be necessary for you to become chairman once your father retires.”

“Why?” asked Tom. “When you’ll obviously be making all the strategic decisions?”

“Because the bank bears your name, and that still matters in a town like Hartford. It’s equally important that the customers never find out what the chief executive is up to behind the scenes.”

“I’ll go along with that on one condition,” said Tom, “that all salaries, bonuses and any other financial considerations are allocated on an equal basis.”

“That’s very generous of you,” said Nat.

“No, it’s not,” said Tom. “Shrewd perhaps, but not generous, because fifty percent of you will bring in a far higher return than one hundred percent of me.”

“Don’t forget that I’ve just lost Morgan’s a fortune,” said Nat.

“And no doubt learned from the experience.”

“Just as we did when we were up against Ralph Elliot.”

“Now there’s a name from the past. Any idea what he’s up to?” asked Tom as he turned onto Route 95.

“The last thing I heard was that after Stanford he’d become a hot-shot lawyer in New York.”

“I wouldn’t want to be one of his clients,” said Tom.

“Or go up against him for that matter,” said Nat.

“Well, at least that’s something we don’t have to worry about.”

Nat looked out of the grimy window as they traveled through Queens. “Don’t be too sure, Tom, because if anything were to go wrong, he’ll want to represent the other side.”

They sat in a circle around his bed, chatting about anything and everything except what was on their minds. The one exception was Lucy, who remained firmly in the middle of the bed and treated Grandpa as if he was a rocking horse. Joanna’s children were more restrained. Fletcher couldn’t believe how quickly Harry Junior was growing.

/> “Now before I get too tired,” said Harry, “I need to have a private word with Fletcher.”

Martha shepherded the family out of the room, clearly aware of what her husband wanted to discuss with his son-in-law.

“I’ll see you back at the house later,” said Annie, as she dragged a reluctant Lucy away.

“And then we should be starting back for Ridgewood,” Fletcher reminded her. “I can’t afford to be late for work tomorrow.” Annie nodded as she closed the door.