No Relation (34 page)

I called Sarah when I made it back to my apartment.

“Okay, mission accomplished, with mixed results,” I started my report.

“Well, which is it? Was the mission accomplished or were there mixed results? You can’t really do both.”

“It’s always nice to start a conversation with hairsplitting. When I say mission accomplished, I meant that we actually managed to intercept Henderson, follow him to a restaurant, photograph the guy he met with, and even record an all-too-brief snippet of their conversation.”

“That sounds pretty good to me. Sounds like Q set you up with a bug for the table,” she replied. “So why do you call those impressive results mixed?”

“Well, it turned out we probably could have recorded their entire conversation had I thought to raise it sooner. My friend Hat is a whiz with a parabolic receiver.”

“Okay, cut to the chase.”

“Henderson met with a sharp-dressed man in his forties who looked a little familiar to me but I don’t know where or even if I’ve seen him before. I’ve just emailed you his photo and the short MP3 recording of their parting words.”

“What were those parting words?” she asked.

“It starts with Henderson in mid-sentence. He says: ‘… almost taste it.’ Then the other guy responds with ‘Me, too. Hang in there. We’re just about home. Just keep doing what you’re doing.’ ”

“Interesting and very suspicious,” Sarah said.

“I assume Henderson went directly back to the airport, but I’m not certain. We just couldn’t get our act together to tail his cab after the meeting.”

“He must be on his way back. I’m told he’s due back in some big meeting with Dad at 5:30.”

I didn’t even try to write that afternoon, even though I had the time. If nothing had changed with my father, nothing would change with my novel. As Madelaine had said, finally knowing the root cause of my travails usually doesn’t resolve them. It just makes it easier to chart a course toward resolution.

So instead of not writing, I met with my mechanic and picked up the G35. The new brakes were a bit touchy, as he had warned, turning the Stop signs into STOP signs. I made it home safely.

Sarah called again at 11:30 the next morning. “Come today, now,” she said in a very tight voice. “Come as soon as you can.”

One of the benefits of living in New York is that if you ever need to fly to Chicago on very short notice, there’s a flight bound for O’Hare every twenty minutes or so. An hour and twenty-five minutes after her call, my seat belt was fastened for takeoff.

“Good, you’re here,” Sarah said when I stuck my head in her office.

She stood up, grabbed my arm, and propelled me down the corridor.

“Okay, so I was thinking we could strategize a bit on our approach,” I said as we walked, fast. “Then we could pull Dad aside tonight at the house when it’s quiet and really get to the bottom of this.”

Sarah said nothing, until she, or rather we, barrelled right past my father’s secretary, Irene, and headed directly for his closed office door.

“Ms. Hemmingway, I’m afraid he’s in the middle of a big meeting right now,” Irene said from her desk, standing up as she spoke.

Sarah seemed not to have heard her.

“Um, Sarah,” I said.

“Ms. Hemmingway, now is not a good time …”

Sarah, or rather we, didn’t even slow down. She, we, threw
open the door and barged into our father’s office and slammed the door behind her, er, us.

“Okay, just what the hell is going on?” Sarah snapped. “And don’t tell me ‘nothing,’ because it’s all too obvious that something big is happening.”

Our father was seated at the head of the small board table without his suit jacket on. That was not good news. I’d very rarely seen him without his jacket. He looked pale and not himself. Henderson Watt, his shirt-sleeves rolled up, sat to Dad’s left, with the company lawyer, Michael Kingsley, next to him. The man across the table turned in his chair to face us. I didn’t recognize him.

“Sarah, please, calm down,” said our father.

Not a line I would have recommended.

“I will not calm down when my own father will not return my calls,”
she shouted.
“I will not calm down. What is going on? I’m not leaving until you tell me!”

Then she turned on Henderson Watt.

“And why were you in New York yesterday? What were you doing?”

Henderson put his pen down on the table very slowly before meeting Sarah’s eyes.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was meeting with an old friend. We sit together on the board of a national charity based in New York and we’re dealing with a very messy
HR
fiasco involving our executive director. It’s not a pleasant situation and it requires sensitive and discreet management. The phone
simply would not suffice. Face to face was required. That’s why I was in
NYC.”

“Oh,” Sarah said.

Surely we hadn’t misread the whole play.

“And who are you?” Sarah said to the one stranger in the room.

“Sarah, please. Show some manners,” our father said.

“It’s okay,” the stranger said. “I’m Stephen Jacobs, from Paragon Counsel. Nice to meet you.”

“The M&A firm?”

Stephen Jacobs just nodded.

“Dad, what’s going on?”

“Gentlemen, could I call a brief recess. I clearly need to speak with my family.”

“I’ve got to get something from my car anyway. Let’s take a break,” Henderson said, pushing his chair back and gathering his papers. “But we don’t have a lot of time, EH3.”

“Just give us fifteen minutes, and then come back in,” my father said.

Kingsley and Jacobs stood, closed their notebooks, reloaded their file folders, and piled documents into gigantic briefcases. A moment later, the top of the board table was bare. Then they all left the room, closing the door behind them without making a sound.

No one said anything for a few seconds. We just stood there looking at Dad. He was looking at his hands clasped in front of him.

“Sit down, please,” he said.

Sarah and I sat next to each other on the near side of the board table.

“I’m sorry you’re hearing about this in this manner. I intended to talk to you both this evening. But your rather dramatic entrance has overtaken my plans.”

He paused for a moment before continuing. He was looking at me when he spoke.

“I have signed a letter of intent to sell the company to – ”

“Not to MaxWorldCorp!” Sarah interrupted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re not that desperate. You know I’d never sell to Buccaneer Gainsford. That will never happen. Preston Holdings is, as the name suggests, a holding company. They seem to know what they’re doing in the clothing trade. They’ve made us a very generous offer that’s well above Hemmingwear’s current market valuation. In the end, it was an easy call, after Earnest, here, refused to assume his rightful place at the helm and ended nearly a century of family ownership and management of this place. This keeps the company out of Gainsford’s megalomaniacal hands and gives it a fighting chance. It was the responsible decision to make under the circumstances.”

Ouch. That stung a bit. But even then, I did not question my decision. In fact, I was feeling something almost akin to relief at Dad’s news. Sarah started to say something, but Dad held up his hand to silence her.

“Preston is largely based in Europe, and they were looking for a beachhead in the North American market. Hemmingwear
is it. This is the right time. This is the right buyer. And this is the right price. The deal is done.”

He lowered his hand.

“No, you can’t do that,” Sarah said. “We have the ability to lead the market if we just make a few changes around here. We can do it. I know we can.”

“Sarah, MaxWorldCorp is slowly crushing us. We’re the frog sitting happily in water that’s about to boil. Open your eyes. Every time we make a move, they anticipate it and undercut us. They’re heavily capitalized and can simply starve us out of business unless we act. They are going to take us out, one way or another, unless we make this deal.”

“Dad, no, you’re wrong. I’m sorry, you’re just wrong,” Sarah persisted. “We have a viable plan to use our own strengths to compete with them, to defeat them. You just have to push the button on the plan.”

“If you’re referring to your plan, it won’t work. It won’t help us,” Dad replied. “In fact, Henderson has been over it in some detail and believes that it will substantially weaken us at a time when that would simply guarantee our demise. This deal will keep the Hemmingwear brand strong in the marketplace.”

“Exactly how will the plan weaken us? Tell me how, precisely!”
Sarah snapped.

Our father, well, he hesitated a little too long.

“You haven’t even read it, have you?” she said. “I guess I’m not surprised. Don’t listen to Henderson Watt. He’s a jackass
who’s not nearly as smart as you think, and nowhere near as smart as he thinks.”

“There was a time when you thought quite highly of Henderson Watt,” he said. “You brought him to the company, wanted me to hire him.”

“And I regret it profoundly.”

“Henderson Watt has given me outstanding counsel from the day he arrived here. We are a better company for his intelligence and dedication. We’d be in deep trouble without his support. I’m thankful you introduced him to me. I think, perhaps, that personal feelings you may have for him are clouding your judgment.”

Sarah stiffened and seemed to grow an inch or two. She clenched her fists and emitted a noise from somewhere deep within her that sounded a lot like a collision of rage, exasperation, and frustration. Then she bolted from the room. I turned to follow her out, having made absolutely no contribution to the meeting thus far. But my father said:

“Hem, wait. There’s something else I need you to know. I’ll tell Sarah when she’s cooled down.”

I sat back down as Dad closed the door that Sarah had almost pulled off its hinges.

“I’m not well. I’m going into hospital in four weeks for what’s called a prostatectomy. I have prostate cancer.”

“Dad …”

“We’ve caught it early, and the odds of a full recovery are good. But it’s not a sure thing. I’m not yet out of the woods.
My desire for you to come back to Chicago was driven as much by my illness as by my respect for family tradition.”