“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Annie, she’s only sixteen.”
“I was younger when I first met you.”
“Annie, have you forgotten that when we were at college we marched for civil rights, and I’m proud that we’ve passed that conviction on to our daughter.”
40
When Nat dropped his son off at Taft and returned to Hartford, he felt guilty about not having enough time to visit his parents. But he knew he couldn’t miss the meeting with Murray Goldblatz two days in a row. When he said goodbye to Luke, at least the boy no longer appeared shrouded in the world’s woes. Nat promised his son that he and his mother would be back on Friday evening for the school play. He was still thinking about Luke when the car phone rang—an innovation that had changed his life.
“You were going to call before the market opened,” said Joe. He paused. “With some possible news?”
“I’m sorry not to have called, Joe; a domestic crisis came up and I simply forgot.”
“Well, are you able to tell me more?”
“Tell you more?”
“Your last words were, ‘I’ll know more in twenty-four hours.’”
“Before you burst out laughing, Joe, I’ll know more in twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll accept that, but what are today’s instructions?”
“The same as yesterday, I want you to go on buying Fairchild’s aggressively until the close of business.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Nat, because the bills are going to start coming in next week. Everyone knows Fairchild’s can ride out this sort of storm, but are you absolutely certain you can?”
“I can’t afford not to,” said Nat, “so just keep on buying.”
“Whatever you say, boss, I just hope you’ve got a parachute, because if you haven’t secured fifty percent of Fairchild’s by Monday morning at ten o’clock it’s going to be a very bumpy landing.”
As Nat continued his journey back to Hartford, he realized that Joe was doing no more than stating the obvious. By this time next week he knew he could well be out of a job, and more important, have allowed Russell’s to be taken over by their biggest rival. Was Goldblatz already aware of this? Of course he was.
As Nat drove into the city, he decided not to return to his office, but to park a few blocks from St. Joseph’s, grab a snack and consider all the alternatives Godblatz might come up with. He ordered a bacon sandwich in the hope that it would put him in a fighting mood. He then began to write out a list of the pros and cons on the back of the menu.
At ten to three, he left the deli and started to make his way slowly toward the cathedral. Several people nodded or said “Good afternoon, Mr. Cartwright,” as they passed, reminding him how well known he’d become recently. Their expressions were of admiration and respect, and he only wished he could advance the reel by one week to see how the faces would react then. He checked his watch—four minutes to three. He decided to circle the block and walk into the cathedral from the quieter south entrance. He climbed the steps in twos and entered the south transept a couple of minutes before the cathedral clock chimed the hour. Nothing would be gained by being late.
It took Nat a few moments to accustom himself to the darkness of the candle-lit cathedral after the strong light of the mid-afternoon sun. He looked down the center aisle that led to the altar, dominated by a massive gilded cross studded with semiprecious stones. He transferred his attention to the rows and rows of dark oak pews that stretched out in front of him down the nave. They were indeed almost empty as Mr. Goldblatz had predicted, save for four or five old ladies shrouded in black, one of them holding a rosary and chanting, “Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with you, blessed art thou…”
Nat continued down the center aisle, but could see no sign of Goldblatz. When he reached the great carved wooden pulpit, he stopped for a moment to admire the craftsmanship, which reminded him of his trips to Italy. He felt guilty that he’d been unaware of such beauty in his own city. He looked back down the aisle, but the only occupants remained the cluster of old ladies, heads bowed, still mumbling. He decided to make his way to the far side of the cathedral and take a seat near the back. He checked his watch again. It was one minute past three. As he walked, he became aware of the echoing sound his feet made on the marble floor. It was then that he heard a voice say, “Do you wish to confess, my son?”
Nat swung to his left to see a confessional box with the curtain drawn. A Catholic priest with a Jewish accent? He smiled, took a seat on the small wooden bench and drew the curtain closed.
“You’re looking very smart,” said the majority leader as Fletcher took his place on Ken’s right. “Anyone else and I’d have said you had a mistress.”
“I do have a mistress,” said Fletcher, “and her name is Annie. By the way, I may have to leave around two.”
Ken Stratton glanced down the agenda. “That’s fine by me; other than the education bill there doesn’t seem to be a lot that involves you except perhaps candidates for the next election. We’ve all assumed you will be running again for Hartford, unless Harry plans to make a comeback. By the way, how is the old buzzard?”
“He’s a little better,” said Fletcher. “Restless, interfering, irascible and opinionated.”
“Not much change then,” said Ken.
Fletcher considered the agenda. Fund-raising was all he would be missing, and that item had been on every agenda since the day he was elected, and would still be there long after he’d retired.
As twelve struck, the majority leader called for order and asked Fletcher to present his timetable for the education bill. For the next thirty minutes Fletcher outlined his proposals, going into considerable detail about those clauses he anticipated the Republicans would oppose. After five or six questions from his colleagues, Fletcher realized that it would require all his legal and debating skills if he was to get this piece of legislation through the Senate. The last question predictably came from Jack Swales, the longest-serving member of the Senate. He always asked the last question, which was a sign that it was ti