“That is chicken feed. Textiles can’t make shit in the United States. We have to revisit the idea of moving operations out of country. In Mexico, we can produce the same merchandise for less than a quarter of what it costs here. Hell, the unions here in Jersey are costing us a fortune.”
Samuel learned long ago to pacify his father, let him blow off some steam and things would settle. “We have looked into that. The problem is that we would lay off hundreds of workers who have been loyal through the years. Besides, as I said, we are in the black.”
Nathaniel blew a cloud of smoke toward his son. “I’ve decided to hire Jared Clawson as CFO, chief financial officer. The man has some innovative ideas.”
“Didn’t he just leave New England Energy amid allegations of illegal activities?”
“Nothing was proven. Besides, I have seen the figures. When Clawson was assisting with finance at NE Energy, their profits were through the roof. Since his departure, they’re doing well to keep the grids going.” Samuel remained silent. “The man is a damn genius. We’ve met a few times. He believes Rawls has potential and has some great ideas.”
Samuel knew his opinion didn’t matter. If Nathaniel’s mind was made up, Jared Clawson was coming on board. The only thing he could do was watch and do his best to stop anything illegal before it began. “The contracts with Huntington House are in their final stages. They have plans for a whole new clothing line. The potential for revenue is huge. They have distributors all up and down the East Coast.”
“Damn chicken feed.”
A strong positive mental attitude will create
more miracles than any wonder drug.
—Patricia Neal
Chapter 8
Survival for the last two months was facilitated by a technique Claire called compartmentalization. She couldn’t bare the entirety of her situation, but she could handle a part at a time. The colossal lapse in judgment that brought her to this circumstance; the treatment, punishment, or consequence that he felt he had the right or ability to carry out; the duties he could tell her to do, and the fact that she obeyed—all were too much. She had to separate them and deal with them in small manageable bits. Some days that was possible. Other days it was more difficult.
Her morning workouts now included swimming and weight training. Exercise supposedly produced endorphins, and endorphins helped elevate mood. That seemed like a good idea.
Before she was allowed outside, Claire spent many afternoons with a blanket and a good movie. The lower level of the house contained a movie theater. With Anthony’s busy schedule, she wondered if he ever used it. It held hundreds, if not thousands, of digital movies. Claire loved the classics, especially musicals. She could lose an entire afternoon curled up in a large soft recliner watching happy people sing and dance. It was a magnificent escape from reality.
It was near the end of May, and Claire had taken advantage of her outdoor liberty every chance she could by lounging at the pool, walking in the gardens, and reading books in the yard. Now she wanted to explore. The woods held the possibility of both plant and animal life. It had been a few years since she studied Earth science, but she believed it would come back. Anthony said his house had been on this land for fourteen or fifteen years. Claire believed no one had been back in the woods for years. The potential for real undisturbed wildlife excited her. Not that there would be bears or lions, but deer, rabbits, birds, and rodents. In her current situation, self-preservation encouraged her to find happiness wherever possible.
Three days earlier, she asked Anthony for hiking boots. Now she was tying them and preparing for her new adventure. Inhaling the sweet smells of nature, Claire contemplated her path as Catherine came rushing toward her. “Ms. Claire, I am so glad I didn’t miss you.”
Claire’s tranquility suddenly evaporated. “No, it looks like you caught me. And I promise to be back before five.”
“Ms. Claire, I just received a call from Mr. Rawlings. He has an engagement tonight in Davenport. It is a fund-raiser at the Alder Theater for the Quad City Symphony.”
“So he won’t be back tonight?” she said, thinking that perhaps she could stay out in the woods later than five.
“No, miss, he will be back.”
“What?”
“He will be here at six to pick you up. You are to accompany him to the symphony.”
Claire stared at Catherine in disbelief. She’d just been permitted to be outdoors, and now she was going to Davenport to a symphony. Saying “No, thank you” didn’t seem to be an option. Her mind swirled. “Catherine, I’ve never been to a symphony before. Can you please help me?” Claire prayed that this wasn’t another test about appropriate dress.