The Best Laid Plans

"I'd love to," Leslie said. That was what she had been waiting for. There were two other newspapers in Phoenix, the Arizona Republic and the Phoenix Gazette. Henry's paper, the Star, was the only one losing money.

The offices and production plant of the Phoenix Star were smaller than Leslie had anticipated. Henry took her on a tour, and as Leslie looked around, she thought, This isn't going to bring down a governor or a president. But it was a stepping-stone. She had plans for it.

Leslie was interested in everything she saw. She kept asking Henry questions, and he kept referring them to Lyle Bannister, the managing editor. Leslie was amazed at how little Henry seemed to know about the newspaper business and how little he cared. It made her all the more determined to learn everything she could.

It happened at the Borgata, a restaurant in a castle-like old Italian village setting. The dinner was superb. They had enjoyed a lobster bisque, medallions of veal with a sauce bearnaise, white asparagus vinaigrette, and a Grand Marnier souffle. Henry Chambers was charming and easy to be with, and it had been a beautiful evening.

"I love Phoenix," Henry was saying. "It's hard to believe that only fifty years ago the population here was just sixty-five thousand. Now it's over a million."

Leslie was curious about something. "What made you decide to leave Kentucky and move here, Henry?"

He shrugged. "It wasn't my decision, really. It was my damned lungs. The doctors didn't know how long I had to live. They told me Arizona would be the best climate for me. So I decided to spend the rest of my life - whatever that means - living it up." He smiled at her. "And here we are." He took her hand in his. "When they told me how good it would be for me, they had no idea. You don't think I'm too old for you, do you?" he asked anxiously.

Leslie smiled. "Too young. Much too young."

Henry looked at her for a long moment. "I'm serious. Will you marry me?"

Leslie closed her eyes for a moment. She could see the hand-painted wooden sign on the Breaks Interstate Park trail: LESLIE, WILL YOU MARRY ME?..."I'm afraid I can't promise you that you're going to marry a governor, but I'm a pretty good attorney."

Leslie opened her eyes and looked up at Henry. "Yes, I want to marry you." More than anything in the world.

They were married two weeks later.

When the wedding announcement appeared in the Lexington Herald-Leader, Senator Todd Davis studied it for a long time. "I'm sorry to bother you, Senator, but I wonder if I could see you? I need a favor...Do you know Henry Chambers?...I'd appreciate it if you'd introduce me to him."

If that's all she was up to, there would be no problem.

If that's all she was up to.

Leslie and Henry honeymooned in Paris, and wherever they went, Leslie wondered whether Oliver and Jan had visited those same places, walked those streets, dined there, shopped there. She pictured the two of them together, making love, Oliver whispering the same lies into Jan's ears that he had whispered into hers. Lies that he was going to pay dearly for.

Henry sincerely loved her and went out of his way to make her happy. Under other circumstances, Leslie might have fallen in love with him, but something deep within her had died. I can never trust any man again.

A few days after they returned to Phoenix, Leslie surprised Henry by saying, "Henry, I'd like to work at the paper."

He laughed. "Why?"

"I think it would be interesting. I was an executive at an advertising agency. I could probably help with that part."

He protested, but in the end, he gave in.

Henry noticed that Leslie read the Lexington Herald-Leader every day.

"Keeping up with the hometown folks?" he teased her.

"In a way," Leslie smiled. She avidly read every word that was written about Oliver. She wanted him to be happy and successful. The bigger they are...

When Leslie pointed out to Henry that the Star was losing money, he laughed. "Honey, it's a drop in the bucket. I've got money coming in from places you never even heard of. It doesn't matter."

But it mattered to Leslie. It mattered a great deal. As she began to get more and more involved in the running of the newspaper, it seemed to her that the biggest reason it was losing money was the unions. The Phoenix Star's presses were outdated, but the unions refused to let the newspaper put in new equipment, because they said it would cost union members their jobs. They were currently negotiating a new contract with the Star.

When Leslie discussed the situation with Henry, he said, "Why do you want to bother with stuff like that? Let's just have fun."

"I'm having fun," Leslie assured him.

Leslie had a meeting with Craig McAllister, the Star's attorney.

"How are the negotiations going?"

"I wish I had better news, Mrs. Chambers, but I'm afraid the situation doesn't look good."

"We're still in negotiation, aren't we?"

"Ostensibly. But Joe Riley, the head of the printers' union, is a stubborn son of a - a stubborn man. He won't give an inch. The pressmen's contract is up in ten days, and Riley says if the union doesn't have a new contract by then, they're going to walk."

"Do you believe him?"

"Yes. I don't like to give in to the unions, but the reality is that without them, we have no newspaper. They can shut us down. More than one publication has collapsed because it tried to buck the unions."

"What are they asking?"

"The usual. Shorter hours, raises, protection against future automation..."

"They're squeezing us, Craig. I don't like it."

"This is not an emotional issue, Mrs. Chambers. This is a practical issue."

"So your advice is to give in?"

"I don't think we have a choice."

"Why don't I have a talk with Joe Riley?"

The meeting was set for two o'clock, and Leslie was late coming back from lunch. When she walked into the reception office, Riley was waiting, chatting with Leslie's secretary, Amy, a pretty, dark-haired young woman.

Joe Riley was a rugged-looking Irishman in his middle forties. He had been a pressman for more than fifteen years. Three years earlier he had been appointed head of his union and had earned the reputation of being the toughest negotiator in the business. Leslie stood there for a moment, watching him flirting with Amy.

Riley was saying, "...and then the man turned to her and said, 'That's easy for you to say, but how will I get back?'"

Amy laughed. "Where do you hear those, Joe?"

"I get around, darlin'. How about dinner tonight?"

"I'd love it."

Riley looked up and saw Leslie. "Afternoon, Mrs. Chambers."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Riley. Come in, won't you?"

Riley and Leslie were seated in the newspaper's conference room. "Would you like some coffee?" Leslie offered.

"No, thanks."

"Anything stronger?"

He grinned. "You know it's against the rules to drink during company hours, Mrs. Chambers."

Leslie took a deep breath. "I wanted the two of us to have a talk because I've heard that you're a very fair man."

"I try to be," Riley said.

"I want you to know that I'm sympathetic to the union. I think your men are entitled to something, but what you're asking for is unreasonable. Some of their habits are costing us millions of dollars a year."

"Could you be more specific?"

"I'll be glad to. They're working fewer hours of straight time and finding ways to get on the shifts that pay overtime. Some of them put in three shifts back to back, working the whole weekend. I believe they call it 'going to the whips.' We can't afford that anymore. We're losing money because our equipment is outdated. If we could put in new cold-type production - "

"Absolutely not! The new equipment you want to put in would put my men out of work, and I have no intention of letting machinery throw my men out into the street. Your goddam machines don't have to eat, my men do." Riley rose to his feet. "Our contract is up next week. We either get what we want, or we walk."

When Leslie mentioned the meeting to Henry that evening, he said, "Why do you want to get involved in all that? The unions are something we all have to live with. Let me give you a piece of advice, sweetheart. You're new to all this, and you're a woman. Let the men handle it. Let's not - " He stopped, out of breath.

"Are you all right?"

He nodded. "I saw my stupid doctor today, and he thinks I should get an oxygen tank."

"I'll arrange it," Leslie said. "And I'm going to get you a nurse so that when I'm not here - "

"No! I don't need a nurse. I'm - I'm just a little tired."

"Come on, Henry. Let's get you into bed."

Three days later, when Leslie called an emergency board meeting, Henry said, "You go, baby. I'll just stay here and take it easy." The oxygen tank had helped, but he was feeling weak and depressed.

Leslie telephoned Henry's doctor. "He's losing too much weight and he's in pain. There must be something you can do."

"Mrs. Chambers, we're doing everything we can. Just see that he gets plenty of rest and stays on the medication."

Leslie sat there, watching Henry lying in bed, coughing.

"Sorry about the meeting," Henry said. "You handle the board. There's nothing anyone can do, anyway."

She only smiled.