Lady of Fortune (65 page)

‘Perhaps I have,' said Caldwell earnestly. ‘But what concerns me is whether I have extraordinary power over you.'

‘Maybe not extraordinary,' Effie smiled. ‘But power, of a sort. My secretary omitted to tell you that you, too, are booked on The Century, and that we have adjacent suites at the Ambassador East. She also omitted to tell you that I have decided to ask you to become the chairman of the Commerce Bank of California, and executive vice-president of PanStates Inc. I like your work, Caldwell, and I like you. You're good.'

Caldwell looked back at her, surprised and pleased. ‘I don't know what to say,' he told her. ‘You're always one step ahead of me, aren't you?'

‘The day that I'm not, that's the day when you and I will have to say goodbye to each other,' said Effie. She meant it, too: not because she ever wanted to lose Caldwell, but because she never wanted to be at his mercy, which she would be if she ever lost her edge on him. He was almost too strong for her as it was: too knowledgeable, too quick, too bright. Effie didn't want to have dullards working for her, but on the other hand she always had to recognise that she was a woman in a man's world, and if she allowed a man to take over her career, she would be irrevocably relegated to second place.

Caldwell took her hand. ‘Thank you,' he said. ‘You're a wonderful person to work for. I never thought that I'd ever be able to accept taking orders from someone of the opposite sex – but, well, it seems that I can. It seems that I
like
doing it, too.'

‘Shall we go and eat now?' asked Effie.

Caldwell said, ‘There's one more thing.'

Across the restaurant, where the Duke of Windsor was dining with Mrs Hope Williams and a crowd of other café society names, the orchestra started to play
Shaking The Blues Away
. The mayor of New York, Jimmy Walker, small and dapper and smiling, came in with some guests from Detroit. There was an air of excitement and fun and wealthy wellbeing.

Caldwell said, ‘I was going to pick a better moment, but then
I found out that there never is a better moment than straight away, in a rush, as soon as you know that it's true.'

Effie frowned at him. ‘What do you meant? As soon as you know that what's true?'

‘Well, it's ridiculous,' said Caldwell, ‘but the fact is, Effie, that I've fallen in love with you. In fact, I think I probably fell in love with you the minute I first saw you.'

Effie opened and closed her mouth, completely lost for anything to say. She could see by Caldwell's intent expression that he was telling her the truth. My God, she thought, he really loves me. He really does. He almost got the edge on me, just by being frank and unpretentious. For a moment, she lost her nerve about everything she had planned to do; and she felt giddy with anxiety.

She said, half jokily, half desperately. ‘It isn't really a good idea, is it?'

‘Why not?'

‘A bank president being romantically involved with a bank chairman?'

Caldwell gave her a small smile. ‘I didn't actually think about it that way.'

‘Well, you have to. It's quite impossible.'

Caldwell laid his hand on her wrist. ‘Listen,' he said, ‘forget that I ever mentioned it. I'm sorry. It's just that you're so pretty to look at; as well as being so different and so confident. Yet I feel you're kind of vulnerable, too. You don't mind my saying that, do you? I feel that you're looking for something in your life which you haven't yet discovered. I just thought – big-headedly, I guess – that whatever it is you're looking for could be me.'

Effie suddenly found herself very close to tears. She didn't know why. She felt happy rather than sad, and yet her throat was so tight with emotion that she couldn't speak. She leaned forward, and Caldwell leaned forward too; they hovered for just one instant, and then they kissed. As they did so, a flashbulb popped loudly, and Effie found herself blinking with shock.

‘Thanks, Miss Watson,' said the photographer from the
Daily News
. ‘That should look great on page three.'

Caldwell jumped to his feet, knocking back his barstool. ‘You punk' he shouted. ‘If you print that picture I'll personally track you down and beat your brains out!
Gerardo! get this creep out of here!'

Gerardo shrugged. ‘I'm sorry, Mr Brooks, it's difficult. Gentlemen of the Press, you know? Throwing them out of here is bad for business.'

‘In that case, scratch the table. Miss Watson and I are leaving.'

‘But Mr Brooks,
please
–'

‘Will you kindly get the lady's coat?' Caldwell demanded. ‘Neither of us came in here to be set up as unpaid models for the yellow press.'

Effie said, ‘Caldwell –'

‘I want the lady's coat!' Caldwell shouted.

‘Caldwell,' said Effie, taking his arm. ‘Caldwell, come on now, calm down. When you're as famous as I am, you expect this kind of thing. The newspapers are interested in us. Let's just say that it's good for business.'

‘He took that damn picture without even asking!'

‘Caldwell, calm down. I know he did. But leave it alone. You're in banking now. No matter how much people provoke us, we're always supposed to be stable and even-tempered. Would you invest your money in a bank whose chairman kept screaming and shouting and making scenes in restaurants?'

Caldwell clenched his fists and closed his eyes and took a deep, even breath. At last he said, ‘Okay, I'm with you. I'm okay now.' He opened his eyes again and said to the photographer, ‘Listen, I'm sorry. I just flew off the handle.'

‘I'm sorry too, buddy,' replied the photographer laconically, jotting down a caption in his notebook.

Sherry Devino from the
World Telegram
came up to them in a shocking-pink dress with a diamond boutonnière, all bubbly blonde curls and wide Gloria Swanson eyes. ‘Miss Watson? Is there any truth in the story that you and Mr Brooks here are secret lovers?'

Effie shook her head. ‘We're just good bankers.'

‘Is it true that you go every week to George Sabatini's grave and lay a wreath?'

‘I have a wreath sent to Mr Sabatini's grave by florists. I don't go in person.'

‘What does Mr Brooks think about your affair with one of New York's most notorious gangsters?'

‘You'd better ask Mr Brooks.'

‘Does it bother you, Mr Brooks?' asked Sherry Devino.

Caldwell looked across at Effie; and for a moment she saw something in his expression that wasn't quite doubt, or uncertainty; but could almost have been that slightly fixed stare that a high-diver has when he approaches the split-second of dropping from the topmost diving-board. Then he reached over with his hand, and held her arm, and said to Sherry Devino, ‘Miss Watson's past life is entirely her own business. I'm handling her investment affairs for her, not her love affairs.'

‘You always kiss your investment clients?'

‘Sometimes, when we pull off a particularly happy deal. The last client I kissed was Baxter Patrick, of the New York Meat-Packing Company.'

Everybody laughed. The Duke of Windsor, who had looked up to see what all the commotion was about, gave Effie a little three-fingered wave. The orchestra slid smoochily into
The Cooch
. ‘Come on, Caldwell,' said Effie, ‘let's sit down and eat.'

Over fragrant dishes of casseroled pheasant, with chilled Bollinger champagne, Caldwell said, ‘Those stories of you and George Sabatini certainly used to surprise me.'

Effie looked up. ‘Why? He may have been a gangster, but he was also a gentleman. He was friendly, and witty, and he would have done anything for me.'

‘You're making me jealous,' said Caldwell. ‘Can you believe that I'm jealous?'

‘Don't be. George is dead and you're still alive.'

Caldwell ate in silence for a while, and then he said, ‘Did you really love him? Despite what he was?'

‘I suppose, in a way, I loved him because of what he was. He knew how dangerous his business was. He was always at risk; and yet he was always affectionate and cheerful.' She paused. ‘I pray he didn't suffer when they killed him.'

Caldwell asked the waiter for another bottle of champagne. He started to eat again, but then he laid down his knife and fork, and said, ‘Is that why you can't love me? Because I don't do anything that puts me into mortal danger? Is
that
what you love in a man? Physical bravery? A cool nerve under fire? I heard about the Count von Ahlbeck, during the war. I don't know how much of what I heard was true. Does a man have to die to prove that he loves you, and to win your love in return?'

Effie flushed. Very softly, she said, ‘No.'

‘But it does appeal to you?'

Effie stared at him. ‘Courage? Yes, I suppose it does.'

‘In that case,' said Caldwell, ‘I think I'll have to say that your offer of the chairmanship of the Commerce Bank has been gratefully considered, but rejected.'

‘I don't understand you,' said Effie.

‘You don't understand me? I'm easy to understand. I'm not up to your heroic criteria, that's all. There's nothing more complicated to it than that. I am not the kind of man who likes to lay his life on the line for anything, least of all for money. Effie – I'm a plain, middle-of-the-road kind of a man. I've very talented at what I do. But I'm not a soldier or a gangster or even a weekend airplane pilot. The most dangerous thing I ever do is drive my car at eighty miles an hour. I just don't know what you
expect
of me. And even if I did know, I doubt if I'd be able to live up to it. I'm sorry.'

Effie lowered her eyes for a moment or two. Then she lifted them again and without looking at Caldwell, beckoned to the
maitre-d
'. The
maitre-d
' saw her signal, and nodded.

The orchestra stopped right in the middle of
Swaying Down South
, and struck up with
California, Here I Come
. From the far corner of the restaurant, a small cortège of waiters appeared, bearing between them a huge three-tiered silver and white cake, lavishly decorated with flowers and piped icing, and topped by more than a hundred lighted candles. They made their way around the tables until they were standing beside Effie and Caldwell; and then they laid the cake down right in front of Caldwell's place, and applauded. Gerardo cried, ‘Three cheers! Hip-hip-hurra!' and although hardly anybody in the Colony knew what the celebration was all about, they stood up and applauded.

Caldwell, his face illuminated by the candles, stared at Effie and then at Gerardo, and then down at the cake. Beautifully written across its top tier, in green fondant script, was the message, ‘Congratulations to the Chairman of the Commerce Bank of California, from His Admiring President.'

Out of her purse, Effie brought a slim black jeweller's case, laid it next to the cake, and opened it. Inside, gliterring with twenty diamonds, was a Baume & Mercier wristwatch. The card tucked behind the strap said, ‘For Caldwell, with Pride and Love, Effie'.

There were tears sparkling in Caldwell's eyes. He had to press his hand over his mouth to keep back his feelings.

Effie said, ‘I can love you, Caldwell, and I do. Did you really
think that you could be as caring and as affectionate to me as you have been, without my noticing it and appreciating it?'

Caldwell hesitated for a moment, and then reached across and picked up the watch. ‘It's very nice,' he said, huskily. Then he looked up at Effie, and said, ‘You've done it again, haven't you? Kept one step ahead of me. You even fell in love with me first.'

‘Yes, Mr Chairman,' said Effie. ‘I think I probably did.'

He was waiting for her unexpectedly, on Saturday afternoon, when she returned from a downtown shopping expedition with her friend Tiffany Mears, the wildly red-headed daughter of Herbert Mears, of Mears Steel. She had bought herself a whole new range of French pastel-coloured silk nightdresses, rose-pinks and coffee-beiges and eau-de-Nils, as well as a new collection of Venetian sherry-glasses, which would be delivered later. She was laughing as she came up the steps from the street at something Tiffany had said about Winthrop Aldrich, old John D. Rockefeller's son-in-law.

Kitty opened the door for her, wearing her full maid's uniform, with cap and apron and long grey skirt. She said, ‘You've got a visitor, Miss Effie.'

Effie frowned, and then glanced back towards the curb. She saw now that a long black Rolls-Royce was waiting there, a few doors down, with a closed landau hood and black-smoked windows. Effie guessed who it was at once: guessed who it must be, and she said flatly to Tiffany, ‘Tiffany, darling, would you think me terribly rude if I cancelled our tea … just for this afternoon?'

Tiffany stared at the Rolls-Royce, and then back at Effie. ‘Is it a man?' she asked, melodramatically. ‘In that case, I'll make myself
instantly
scarce!'

‘Tiffany, it's nothing personal. It's just that I have to do this alone.'

‘I'm not offended, believe me,' said Tiffany, waving her long-fingered hands around, in their long white gloves. But
then she looked at Effie more seriously, and said, ‘You're all
right
, aren't you? You're not upset about anything?'

Effie held her wrist. ‘I'm fine. I'm very well. Perhaps I can call you later.'

Tiffany threw back her head. ‘Later,' she announced, in the deep voice of a contralto opera singer, ‘I hope to be lost in the arms of my lover, Herbert A. Schumacher, Junior!'

Effie smiled, but couldn't keep her smile for very long. She knew who was waiting for her inside. She gave Tiffany a small, abstracted wave, and then followed Kitty into the house. Kitty took her coat in silence, and hung it up in the hall closet. ‘Maybe you'd like some tea, Miss Effie,' she suggested.