Bitter Business

Stephen’s eyes on me like a cat watching a careless bird.
    “Is that all you need?” he asked softly. I was surprised, when I turned, to find him standing over me.
    He took my hands and pulled me to him in one long, smooth motion. Sometimes, when he is close, the sheer size of him overwhelms me. I am tall enough that I spend my days looking most men in the eye. With Stephen, even when I stand on tiptoe he must bend himself to me.
    As I heard the quiet growl of the zipper of my dress being lowered inch by inch, I cast a cautious glance toward the door. The hallway was dark. We were alone in the churchlike confines of Callahan Ross and Stephen had made a bed for us of Russian sable on my office floor.
     
    I did not expect Lydia to come to our nine o’clock meeting alone and she did not disappoint me. A phalanx of lawyers preceded her into the conference room. Her husband was at her side.
    Arthur Wallace was a small man, slim and dark, with a manicured black beard and the narrow waist and slim hips of a dancer. It was easy to see why Jack Cavanaugh must have hated him on sight. My own impression was that he was an oily little man, obviously on the make, whose birdlike eyes seemed to display an almost infinite capacity for calculation.
    The resemblance between Lydia and Peaches was startling. There was the same blond hair, swept straight back from the face, the same carefully applied makeup, the same kind of expensive designer suit I was confident that Peaches would have chosen for the occasion. But while Jack’s wife radiated warmth and telegenic charm, unhappiness was telegraphed by Lydia’s every gesture. Her face was set in a discontented frown calcified by habit.
    As I introduced myself her eyes darted around the room, as if looking for someone else, and the hand she gave to be shaken was stiff with rings.
    “Where’s Babbage?” she demanded as she claimed the seat at the head of the table. “I told Daddy specifically that I wanted to meet with the company’s head lawyer and not be pushed off on some young flunky. No offense.”
    “Why ever would I be offended at being called a flunky?” I inquired coldly. For years people had been bowing and scraping before Lydia, giving her exactly what she wanted. So far it didn’t seem to be doing anybody any good. I decided on a different approach. “The first time I went to court after I graduated from law school, the judge looked right at me and asked where the lawyer was. Women lawyers learn early not to take offense. To answer your question, Daniel Babbage is dying of cancer. I am replacing him as corporate counsel.”
    Lydia looked at me and chewed her gum. If I’d offended her, she didn’t show it, and if I had, I didn’t care. I’d been up since five o’clock in the morning reading the Superior Plating file and I was in no mood to take shit from anybody, especially anybody named Cavanaugh.
    “Well, he couldn’t have picked a worse time to be sick,” she said finally. “It would have been easier to deal with someone who knows our family.”
    “Your family is wondering why you’ve chosen to sell your shares,” I cut in.
    “It’s a purely business decision,” replied Lydia, her tone of voice implying the exact opposite.
    “I see.” My internal bullshit meter was already edging toward the red zone. “Would you mind being more specific? What exactly are your concerns with the way in which the company is being managed?”
    “If you can call what’s going on at Superior Plating management.” Lydia sniffed. From the looks she was getting from her lawyers I could tell that she’d been coached not to get into a discussion of her motives. But Lydia, I guessed, had never been one to take direction. Besides, it was obvious that she couldn’t resist an audience.
    “My father runs the company like he runs the family. It’s all just an extension of his own ego. He reaches into the company’s coffers like he’s putting his hand into his own pocket. Who do you think pays for his plane? His horses? His houses? Now that he’s married that bimbo, he’s been looting the company to keep her in style. Who do you think’s paying for all those shopping trips to New York? It’s disgusting.”
    “Have you discussed this with the other board members?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Have you talked this over with your brothers and sister?”
    “Why? I know exactly what they’ll say. This family has always been divided. There’s an inside group and