He hadn’t realized until he heard himself apologize. When he entered her suite he knew what he was going to say. It wasn’t what he said. Anthony Rawlings could count on one hand the people to whom he’d apologized. Now this woman, a piece of his plan, was on that shortlist.
At the Simmonses she performed beyond his expectation. Then his overreaction almost ruined everything. Claire’s strength, standing up to him, explaining the situation, and then not complaining yet complying with his punishment touched him. But when she was relieved by his realization, instead of upset by his overreaction, she melted him.
In reflection he berated himself. He should have stayed indifferent, dominant, and in charge. The words from his past echoed in his memory, “Only the weak apologize.” He reconsidered waking her, fulfilling the indifferent domineering qualities that would prove he wasn’t weak. Then he saw her peaceful expression and thought of her giving and surrendering herself over and over. Quietly, he got out of bed, put on his trousers, and left her suite. Stepping into the corridor, he decided to work out.
There is something perverse about more than enough.
When we have more, it is never enough. It is always somewhere
out there, just out of reach. The more we acquire,
the more elusive enough becomes.
—Unknown
Chapter 17
Clawson tried one more time. “It is very easy. Textiles have made you a fortune, a fortune you can now plant and invest to grow a lot more. This is 1977. The real money isn’t in creating. It is in owning and selling. See these figures?” He handed Nathaniel the reports. “You have capital not only in profit margins but also in secured retirement plans. That money is just sitting there, waiting for those employees to get old. Hell, many of them won’t be eligible for retirement for another twenty years. Use that money, invest it. Grow it. Right now, it’s just rotting away in these accounts.”
Samuel stayed quiet as long as he could. His father’s dark eyes were starting to flash dollar signs. “Clawson, the problem with your plan is that our employees own that money, not us. They’ve entrusted us to keep that money for them so it will be available when they retire. And it is growing interest.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Rawls, have you seen the interest rates? Your employees will have their money because you aren’t going to lose it. You’re growing it. Then when the day is done, they’ll have their retirement and Rawls Corp. will have additional profits.” Clawson spoke to Samuel, but hoped Nathaniel was the one listening.
He was. Nathaniel said, “Jesus, Samuel, have you looked at these reports? Where are the figures on Hong Kong Industrials? Since the exchange-trade options change of seventy-three, it’s a cake-walk to manipulate these options.” Clawson handed Nathaniel the reports. “We set our strike price. If the stock price starts to move out of the option near expiration, we set the cap.”
Clawson smiled. The old man was finally getting it. “You have the capital to do that.”
Samuel threw a report on the table. “It isn’t our capital.”
Looking first to the suddenly disorganized stacks of papers, then to his son, Nathaniel’s dark eyes darkened. “Like hell it isn’t. It is my goddamn company. I built it from nothing. Do you think those employees you’re so damned concerned about would have a job if I didn’t work my ass off thirty years ago?”
Who will tell whether one happy moment of love or the joy of breathing or walking on a bright morning and smelling the fresh air is not worth all the suffering and effort which life implies.
—Erich Fromm
Chapter 18
A week later, they flew to Chicago. Tony absorbed himself in his work and laptop as Claire sat quietly and thought about the city. It had been a frequent haunt during her college days. Valparaiso is only an hour and twenty minutes from the Loop. She and her sorority sisters would spend entire afternoons or evenings enjoying the sights. They would shop, dine, or go to the theater. They knew their way to all the best deals.
Claire remembered the fun as they rode the L and the train around the city. Sometimes they would go with guys to a baseball game, usually the Cubs. She enjoyed watching people at Wrigley Field. Not really a baseball fan, she liked warm evenings with a group of friends, enjoying hot dogs and beers. They would all pile into someone’s vehicle and road-trip. It really didn’t get better than that. They were even known to blow off classes for a day at Wrigley. Claire rationalized it as academic research, her major being meteorology and baseball held outdoors, it all made sense.