‘It isn’t to me, because I don’t need nursing. I’ll give them their minimum week and that’ll be the end of it. I’ll take care of that, too.’
‘That’s good.’ If there was going to be a mood swing – a switch in her reaction – it would surely be during the next nerve-stretched week. Reminded, Carver said: ‘Jamieson’s also going to talk to Dr Newton.’ Paul Newton was their Manhattan physician.
‘I don’t need a doctor and I don’t need nurses!’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I do know that.’
‘Charlie’s only going to tell Paul what happened, so he’s in the picture.’
‘We all know what happened. Dad had an accident and got killed under an over-turned tractor.’
‘It’s right that Paul should know, one doctor to another.’
‘I don’t want to see him. I don’t need anyone!’
On the other side of the cabin Jennings shifted uncomfortably.
‘He needed to be told.’
‘And I told you I’m quite all right!’
‘I’m not,’ honestly admitted Carver, deflating her vehemence.
At the 34th Street helipad the reception committee was made up of the company lawyer, the two most senior partners below Carver, Hilda Bennett and Janice Snow and, unexpectedly, a media contingent, photographers and two journalists, whose questions – the sound of words, not their content – were the first things of which Carver became aware when they cleared the noise of the helicopter. He moved to shield Jane but she shrugged him aside, stopping both for questions and pictures. A Wall Street legend had been taken from them, she said. They were all devastated. It was a mark of her father’s professionalism that the future of the firm that bore his name had been guaranteed before his death by his personal choice of successor, her husband. The firm of George W. Northcote would be the memorial to the man who founded it.
Carver and Jane went into the lead car of their cross-town cavalcade, with the lawyer beside Carver and the two personal assistants facing them from the jump seats. As they began to move Carver said: ‘How the hell was that allowed to happen!’
The lawyer, Geoffrey Davis, said: ‘It’s not something we anticipated. Or could have prevented.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Jane, from the other side of the car.
Across Carver, the lawyer said: ‘If you’ll allow me, Mrs Carver, you did very well. Thank you.’
Belatedly Carver realized that from his unspeaking part in the impromptu press conference he would appear very much the puppet. ‘There been a lot of media coverage?’
‘Just the formal announcement, so far,’ said Davis. ‘It was late …’
Janice Snow said: ‘I’ve got a list of interview requests.’
Carver at once wondered if Alice’s was one of them and even more quickly was angry at the stupidity of the thought. He’d have to try to call her. ‘I’m not sure if there’ll be time today.’
‘I’ll do them,’ declared Jane, beside him. ‘It’s got to be done today.’
‘We’ll do it together,’ Carver recovered. To Hilda he said: ‘What’s the schedule?’
The matronly woman said: ‘Partners at three, overseas people at four thirty. Drinks in the boardroom at five thirty.’
Carver said: ‘Set up a press conference for me at six fifteen…’
‘For both of us,’ broke in Jane, addressing Hilda. ‘I’m staying at the office…’ She nodded to the cellphone on its central pod. ‘Perhaps you’d call the funeral director now: fix a meeting there for me at four…’ She paused. ‘I’ll use father’s rooms.’
‘Is that…?’ Carver started but stopped.
Jane said, heavy in rebuke: ‘Thank you!’
There was a stir throughout the car, with Hilda looking imperceptibly at Carver, who hoped she noticed his equally imperceptible nod to indicate that Jane had to be humoured, in everything. He wouldn’t be able to continue his intended search with Jane occupying her father’s office! To his personal assistant he said: ‘Perhaps, Hilda, you’d help Mrs Carver. You can be with me today, Janice.’
Both women nodded, Hilda at the same time reaching out for the console-mounted telephone.
Janice said: ‘Everything you asked for last night has been fixed.’
As vital as it was he wouldn’t anyway have had time today to go through Northcote’s office and personal vault safe, Carver acknowledged. But Jane wouldn’t be in the office tomorrow. Nor would it have been possible for him to have got to Northcote’s apartment, where he’d told Jennings to disturb nothing, just tidy whatever needed tidying. Would there be a safe or a hidden place there that would open to one of the unidentified Litchfield keys at the bottom of the valise securely clamped between his legs? Deciding that it was a question that wouldn’t upset Jane he said: ‘What’s the reaction been?’
There was a hesitancy between the lawyer and the two women. Finally Davis said: ‘Overwhelming. We’ve got two girls listing the calls. I guess there’ll be as many letters in tomorrow’s mail.’
To Hilda, who was replacing the car phone, Jane said: ‘I’ll personally sign the reply to each one.’
Hilda looked to Carver for another nod of agreement. To Jane she said: ‘Four’s fine for the funeral people. And I’ll keep a note of the letters and messages.’
Jane separated with Hilda the moment they reached the executive floor. Walking with Carver to his office suite, the lawyer said: ‘Jane’s standing up remarkably well.’
‘Remarkably well,’ agreed Carver. For how much longer, he wondered.
Within fifteen minutes of settling behind his own desk Carver fully realized just how impractical his idea of searching Northcote’s office had been, even if he’d known exactly what he was looking for. He handed his diary over to Janice to rearrange his appointments over the next week, together with Northcote’s valedictory address to be copied in time for the partners’ meeting, which she managed, along with more than sufficient duplicates for the following overseas assembly. The partners’ meeting inevitably began with the ritual of condolences, with which Carver supposed he and Jane would become all too familiar over the coming days. At the company secretary’s insistence the partners took a formal vote of acceptance of Northcote’s posthumous speech, which was repeated later at the gathering of the overseas chief executives, also attended by the American partners. At the combined meeting there was the additional formality, again insisted upon by the company secretary although this time endorsed by the lawyer, of another vote unanimously accepting Carver’s succession. Carver hadn’t anticipated the need to make this speech and in effect didn’t. He thanked them for their support and confidence and in a jumble of cliches pleaded his inadequacy to fill Northcote’s place but pledged to do his utmost to try, which would need the help and assistance of them all. There were grunts and mumbles of assurance when he said he hoped he would get that help and assistance.
Jane was waiting in his office and announced at once that the funeral would be in three days. She’d agreed the flowers and the limousines and booked the wake at the Plaza Hotel. There was to be a memorial service at Litchfield at the end of the month and, as he had already instructed, her father was to be interred alongside his late wife. The will was going to be read in Burt Elliott’s office, which the household staff needed to attend to hear about their inheritances. She’d already told Jennings here in Manhattan to arrange that. The remaining staff at Litchfield were coming down in the morning. She’d called Al Hibbert to warn him there would be no one at the estate.
There was no hesitation – or question – in her accompanying Carver to the boardroom drinks gathering, where she spoke individually to practically everyone and called for silence to thank them for their condolences and to announce that the cocktail party at East 62nd Street, which had been cancelled, was going to be held after all and she looked forward to meeting the wives there.
‘It’s what my father would have expected of me,’ she concluded.
Jane was totally composed at the press conference and although she deferred to Carver for most of it she was always ready when a question was directed personally at her. On their way uptown afterwards Carver said: ‘I didn’t think you’d want the cocktail party.’
‘Like I said, it’s what he would have expected. I’ve organized caterers and warned Manuel to expect their call. We’re having steak tonight, incidentally. It was the easiest thing I could think of, with the uncertainty of our not knowing what time we’d be back. We’re actually much earlier than I expected.’
‘You’ve pretty much filled your day,’ said Carver. In terms of actual achievement she’d accomplished far more than he had.
