Into the Whirlwind (3 page)

Mr. Kazmarek shot to his feet. Was he flushing? It was impossible for her to tell as he cleared his throat, adjusted his collar, and assumed the formal demeanor she was so accustomed to
seeing from him. He held out a chair for her, and she clenched the rim of the seat so her hands wouldn’t tremble.

“I’ll get right down to business,” Mr. Kazmarek said as he sat once again. All trace of his earlier humor vanished, and he projected the air of brisk professionalism Mollie was accustomed to. “A few years ago, Hartman’s made the strategic decision to begin acquiring our best suppliers. It makes sense for us to own the major artisans who supply our goods. We have been consistently impressed with your watches and would like to buy the 57th Illinois Watch Company.”

Mollie couldn’t speak. She thought they might have a complaint with her watches, or she feared they might want to terminate their contract, but never had she imagined they might want to buy her out. While she sat in dumbfounded amazement, Mr. Kazmarek continued to outline the deal.

“We want the entire company. That means all the equipment and inventory in stock. The deal would need to include all the property, technology, and artistic designs of the past and present.”

While he talked, Mollie’s brain snapped out of paralysis and began calculating numbers. She had fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of unsold inventory, but the real value of the company was in their equipment and designs. The reputation of the 57th was also worth something. She couldn’t consider selling for anything less than forty thousand. Maybe even forty-five if she wanted to push her luck.

When Mr. Kazmarek got around to talking figures, her heart almost stopped. “Given the value of current inventory and your reputation for quality, we are prepared to offer sixty thousand dollars. Payable in cash. Immediately.”

Mollie was stunned, especially as Mr. Kazmarek continued talking and the deal got even sweeter. “We want Miss Knox to be in charge of ongoing operations and are prepared to pay a
three percent royalty on all future business. We want to move quickly on this deal, so the offer is good only until next Monday morning, a week from today.”

Just as hope began to unfurl in Mollie’s heart, a cloud descended. There was something in this workshop more valuable than beautiful watch designs or enameled dials. “And my employees? What will happen to them?” She held her breath as she waited for his answer.

“Keep them,” he said. “We don’t want to interfere with anything that has gone into the artistry of the watches we see on display at Hartman’s.”

What a relief it would be to have the burden of ownership lifted so she could devote herself to watchmaking once again. No more snapping awake in the middle of the night worrying about invoices and payments. She smiled so wide it made her face hurt. “What do you think, Frank?”

“Why do you need an answer so quickly?” Frank asked. “This company has been in the Knox family for thirty years. Selling it is not something that should be rushed.”

He was right. It was easy to set a valuation for the inventory and equipment, but what about the worth of her father’s internal watch mechanism? Their reputation for beauty and quality had taken decades to establish, and it would take them a while to assess its proper value.

“How about until the end of the month?” she countered. “That will give me time to do a suitable accounting. I’d like to do long-term projections on the value of our designs. And compounded interest on our current equipment, of course.”

It was impossible to read Mr. Kazmarek. How could a man appear so cordial, even as his message was so ruthless? “Monday morning. Nine o’clock. If we don’t have an answer by then, we will make an offer to acquire another watch company.”

The words caused her stomach to sink like a stone. She couldn’t afford to lose Hartman’s business, but it would be suicide to let him know how rattled she was by the prospect. If he knew he had her over a barrel, he might tighten his deadline even more. “I appreciate your offer and will give it proper consideration.”

A bit of humor lightened his gaze. “Why do you say ‘proper consideration’ with the same tone you say ‘unsavory debris’? This is a smashing offer, and you know it.”

She did not flinch. “I like the offer. I don’t like the deadline.”

“It is unconscionable,” Frank added. “Maybe that’s how they teach lawyers from Yale to operate. Not here.”

Mr. Kazmarek’s demeanor did not falter as he kept his gaze locked on her. “Don’t let Mr. Sunshine over there distract you. I am offering you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to merge your company with the most prestigious store west of New York. There are people who would sell their firstborn for such an opportunity.”

Mollie had a respectable bank account, but sixty thousand dollars was a fortune. And she could keep working here, earning a salary, and enjoying a portion of the profits through the royalty split. The only thing she would lose by accepting the offer was control. For the past three years, at the dawn of every day, she’d worried about how to protect her employees. Her father was a disaster as a businessman, and this company would have run aground had she not been there to rein in his wilder impulses. The long-term survival of the company rested entirely on her shoulders, and Mr. Kazmarek was watching her as if she were a ripe pear about to drop from the tree.

She couldn’t think with him in this tiny office. He was too overwhelming, sucking up all the oxygen. He would keep talking, distracting her from the deluge of thoughts that were fighting for space in her mind.

“I will calculate the numbers and be in contact with you soon,” she said, proud of the professional tone she managed to project.

Mr. Kazmarek stared at her. It was odd how quickly he could slip back into the hard-nosed persona that always intimidated her. “I have been doing business with you for three years,” he said in a formal tone. “In all that time, you have consistently impressed me as a businesswoman of faultless logic. Don’t let me down now.”

He stood and took his leave.

2

Z
achariasz Kazmarek surveyed the garden behind the Hartman mansion, sheltered by a screen of poplar trees and wisteria vines. It was hard to believe he was in the middle of Chicago. There were at least forty people gathered for Josephine Hartman’s evening soiree on the flagstone terrace of her garden, soft music coming from the open doors leading into the opulent home. Lanterns flickering beneath the leafy trees illuminated the evening.

“Try this,” Louis Hartman said as he pressed a snifter into Zack’s hand. “It is fifty-year-old cognac imported from the misty hills of southern France. My wife thinks there will be a market for it here.”

Zack took a sip of the cognac. Such a drink wasn’t normally to his taste, but working at Hartman’s meant that certain foibles had to be observed. Josephine’s annual trips through Europe were a whirlwind tour to acquire new offerings for the store, and everything was first sampled here in their palatial home. This evening, she was serving caviar from Copenhagen and cognac in glasses from the renowned Venetian glassworks. The linens covering the garden tables came from Ireland, and the candles flickering in the lanterns were made at a monastery in Spain.
Last year, Zack had accompanied the Hartmans on their trip to Europe, visiting Harrods and learning as much as he could about the luxury retail business.

Zack swirled the cognac in his glass. “Your wife said it is the best?”

Louis shrugged his shoulders. “Given what she paid for it, it ought to be.”

“If it has Mrs. Hartman’s approval, it will sell.” Just like those outrageous watches he had been researching all week. Ever since he became the lead attorney for Hartman’s, it never ceased to amaze Zack what rich people would pay for an ounce of perfume or a yard of silk, but those pocket watches were like something a Medici prince would own. Zack didn’t judge how rich people spent their money; he was simply glad they did and that he had finally earned enough to join their ranks. Not that he squandered his money frivolously. In the years since he began earning his appallingly generous salary, there was only one luxury he had purchased for himself. It was a shocking extravagance, but something he enjoyed looking at every day.

Louis leaned in a little closer. “Have you issued the offer to Mollie Knox?” he asked in a low voice.

Just the mention of that woman’s name made Zack stiffen, but he disguised the emotion. “I met with her this afternoon,” he said casually. “She has the offer.”

“Strange bird, that one.”

Zack merely nodded. “I think she will see the wisdom behind the deal. I don’t anticipate any trouble from her.”

He needed to tread carefully here. Louis Hartman had a bizarre mistrust of any close affiliation between his suppliers and employees. Zack’s predecessor had been caught taking bribes from suppliers who were anxious to have their goods sold at Chicago’s premier store. Hartman was a millionaire many times
over, but like most men who had clawed their way to the top, he was obsessed with the bottom line and loathed the prospect of being cheated. Zack knew better than to indulge his irrational yearning for Mollie Knox. Yielding to that weakness could get him fired.

“Get her on board quickly,” Louis said. “I had a good relationship with that woman’s father, so I want this deal locked down tight. Immediately. Don’t let her get sentimental and try to wiggle off the hook.”

Which showed that Louis didn’t know much about Mollie Knox. That woman was the most efficient, practical person he had ever met. She was going to analyze the deal six different ways before signing on the dotted line. She might sell the world’s most gloriously impractical watches, but her brain was as logical as an accounts chart.

“I gave her one week to consider the deal,” Zack said.

“A week? I would have offered her a day.”

Zack shook his head. “That sort of speed will make her suspicious. Trust me, she won’t do anything that might endanger that ragtag gang of people she has working for her. She will be looking for safety and security in this deal. If we push too hard, she’ll balk, and there is no comparable watchmaker in the entire country.”

A waiter stepped onto the terrace, but he carried no champagne or imported delicacies. A troubled look on the man’s face roused Zack’s interest as the waiter headed straight toward him, then leaned over to whisper discreetly.

“Sir, a woman claiming to be your mother is here to see you.”

Zack didn’t let his expression change. “Is she alone?”

“Yes, sir.”

There could be a million reasons for his mother’s unexpected arrival, none of them good. He turned toward Louis, forcing a
pleasant smile to his mouth. “If you’ll excuse me. A bit of family business,” he said, then followed the waiter into the house, down a hallway lit with crystal sconces, and toward the servants’ entrance. Had there been an accident down at the docks? He’d been begging his father to quit his job for years. No sixty-year-old man should still be loading grain elevators, but Zack had failed at pounding that fact into Jozef Kazmarek’s thick skull.

His mother was fidgeting in the room near the servants’ entrance, her colorful but threadbare shawl in stark contrast to the fine black broadcloth the Hartman servants wore.

“Is Papa all right?” Zack asked, holding his breath.

His mother’s smile set him at ease. “Oh yes,” she said as she reached up to hug him. “Well, he has been arrested, but he is perfectly fine aside from that.”

His shoulders sagged. “What has he done this time?”

One might think his mother ought to be upset at a time like this, but she appeared oddly excited. Proud, even. Her eyes sparkled, and she clasped her hands together. “Well, you know there is a Russian delegation in town. . . .”

“A Russian
trade
delegation,” Zack clarified.

His mother waved her hands dismissively. “All the same thing. There is a Russian delegation in town, and your father could not pass up an opportunity like this. He marched right down to City Hall to confront them. . . .”

His mother rambled on, but Zack stopped listening. Last night, he had explained to his parents that the men from Russia were in Chicago only to discuss shipments of dried beef. The Russian delegation had no influence with the czar, nor were they responsible for the massacre following the January Uprising eight years ago in Poland.

Neither of his parents had ever set foot in Poland, but memories among Chicago’s Polish community were long. All four of
Zack’s grandparents were Polish refugees who were driven from their land as Russia whittled away at the dwindling autonomy of their homeland. His grandparents’ devotion to Poland had taken root in both of Zack’s parents. When the last vestiges of Polish autonomy were wiped away in 1864, his parents responded by doubling their efforts to save Poland.

He turned his attention back to his mother, who was rambling on about how brave his father had been when he’d forced his way inside the room where the Russian delegates were meeting with Chicago’s mayor.

Almost as if she had been there to witness it. “Mother, please tell me you didn’t go with him to City Hall.”

“Of course I did! We needed as many people as possible so we could make an impression on those Russians. There were nine of us from the Polish Society. I was the only woman, and they left me alone, but they arrested all the men. I told everyone you would come and get them out of jail. ‘
My son is a famous lawyer for Hartman’s
,’ I told them. They already knew that, since we brag about you all the time.” She pinched his cheek. “We are all so proud of you.”

He pressed his mouth into a hard line. This wasn’t the first time he had bailed members of the Polish community out of jail, nor would it be the last. Did they truly believe their saber-rattling could be heard by the czar? Or that he would care? At least his mother had not been hauled away to face the indignity of sitting in a jail cell. He squeezed her in a big hug and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His soul ached to see her tireless efforts for a cause she could never win. She had been at it all sixty years of her life and would probably be carrying the battle flag until her dying day.