Wheels

will.

'Sis, you say you're getting money from Detroit - from Stephensen?'

'Yes. I haven't the figures, though I can send them to you, and the accountants who took over Clyde's office say it's a fair return. What worries me is all I read about car dealerships being risky investments, and some of them failing. If it happened to Stephensen's, the kids and I could be in trouble.'

'It can happen,' Adam acknowledged. 'But if you're lucky enough to have shares in a good dealership, you might make a big mistake by pulling out.'

'I realize that. It's why I need someone to advise me, someone I can trust. Adam, I hate to ask this because I know you're working hard already. But do you think you could spend some time with Smokey Stephensen, find out what's going on, form your own opinion about how things look, then tell me what I ought to do? If you remember, we talked about this once before.'

'I remember. And I think I explained then, it could be a problem. Auto companies don't allow their staff to be involved with auto dealerships. Before I could do anything, it would have to go before the Conflict of Interest Committee.'

'Is that a big thing? Would it embarrass you?'

Adam hesitated. The answer was: It would embarrass him. To do what Teresa asked would involve a close study of the Stephensen dealership, which meant looking into its books and reviewing operating methods. Teresa, of course, would provide Adam with authority from her point of view, but the point of view of Adam's company - his employers - was something else again.

Before Adam could cozy up with a car dealer, for whatever purpose, he would have to declare what he was doing, and why. Elroy Braithwaite would need to know; so would Hub Hewitson, probably, and it was a safe bet that neither would like the idea. Their reasoning would be simple. A senior executive of Adam's status was in a position to do financial favors for a dealer, hence the strict rules which all auto companies had about outside business interests in this and other areas. A standing Conflict of Interest Committee reviewed such matters, including personal investments of company employees and their families, reported yearly on a form resembling an income tax return. A few people who resented this put investments in their wives' or children's names, and kept them secret. But mostly the rules made sense, and executives observed them.

Well, he would have to go to the committee, Adam supposed, and state his arguments. After all, he had nothing to gain personally; he would merely be protecting the interest of a widow and young children, which gave the request a compassionate overtone. In fact, the more he thought about it, the less trouble he anticipated.

'I'll see what I can work out, sis,' Adam said into the telephone.

'Tomorrow I'll start things moving in the company, then it may be a week or two before I get approval to go ahead. You do understand I can't do anything without that?'

'Yes, I do. And the delay doesn't matter. As long as I know you're going to be looking out for us, that's the important thing,' Teresa sounded relieved. He could picture her now, the small concentrated frown she had when dealing with something difficult had probably gone, replaced by a warm smile, the kind which made a man feel good. Adam's sister was a woman who liked to rely on a male and have him handle decisions, though during the past year she had been forced to make an unaccustomed number on her own.

Adam asked, 'How much of the Stephensen Motors stock did Clyde have?'

'It was forty-nine percent, and I still have all of it. Clyde put up about two hundred and forty thousand dollars. That's why I've been so concerned.'

'Was Clyde's name on the franchise?'

'No. Just Smokey Stephensen's.'

He instructed, 'You'd better send me all the papers, including a record of payments you've had as dividends. Write to Stephensen, too. Tell him he'll probably be hearing from me, and that I have your authority to go in and look things over. Okay?'

'I'll do all that. And thank you, Adam dear; thank you very much. Please give my love to Erica. How is she?'

'Oh, she's fine.'

Erica had cleared away their meal and was on the sofa in the living room, feet curled beneath her, when Adam returned.

She motioned to an end table. 'I made more coffee.'

'Thanks.' He poured a cup for himself, then went to the hallway for his briefcase. Returning, he sank into an armchair by the fire, which had now burned low, opened his briefcase and began to take out papers.

Erica asked, 'What did Teresa want?'

In a few words Adam explained his sister's request and what he had agreed to do.

He found Erica looking at him incredulously. 'When will you do it?'

'Oh, I don't know. I'll find time.'

'But when? I want to know when.'

With a trace of irritation, Adam said, 'If you decide to do something, you can always make the time.'

'You don't make time.' Erica's voice had an intensity which had been lacking earlier. 'You take the time from something or somebody else. Won't it mean a lot of visits to that dealer? Questioning people. Finding out about the business. I know how you do everything - always the same way, thoroughly. So it will involve a lot of time. Well, won't it?'

He conceded, 'I suppose so.'

'Will it be in office time? In the daytime, during the week?'

'Probably not.'

'So that leaves evenings and weekends. Car dealers are open then, aren't they?'

Adam said curtly, 'They don't open Sundays.' 'Well, hooray for that!'

Erica hadn't intended to be this way tonight. She had wanted to be patient, understanding, loving, but suddenly bitterness swept over her.

She flared on, knowing she would do better to stop, but unable to, 'Perhaps this dealer would open on Sunday if you asked him nicely, if you explained that you still have a little time left to spend at home with your wife, and you'd like to do something about it, like filling it with work.'

'Listen,' Adam said, 'this won't be work, and I wouldn't do it if I had the choice. It's simply for Teresa.'

'How about something simply for Erica? Or would that be too much?

Wait! why not use your vacation time as well, then you could . . .'

'You're being silly,' Adam said. He had taken the papers from his briefcase and spread them around him in a semicircle. Like a witch's circle on the grass, Erica thought, to be penetrated only by the anointed, the bewitched. Even voices entering the magic circle became distorted, misunderstood, with words and meanings twisted . . .

Adam was right. She was being silly. And now whimsical.

She went behind him, still conscious of the semicircle, skirting its perimeter the way children playing games avoided lines in paving stones.

Erica put her hands lightly on Adam's shoulders, her face against his.

He reached up, touching one of her hands.

'I couldn't turn sis down.' Adam's voice was conciliatory. 'How could I? If things had been the other way around, Clyde would have done as much, or more, for you.'

Abruptly, unexpectedly, she realized, their moods had switched. She thought: There is a way into a witch's circle. Perhaps the trick was not to expect to find it, then suddenly you did.

'I know,' Erica said. 'And I'm grateful it isn't the other way around.'

She had a sense of reprieve from her own stupidity only seconds earlier, an awareness of having stumbled without warning into a moment of intimacy and tenderness. She went on softly, 'It's just that sometimes I want things between you and me to be the way they were in the beginning. I really do see so little of you.' She scratched lightly, with her fingernails, around his ears, something she used to do but hadn't for a long time. 'I still love you.' And was tempted to add, but didn't: Please, oh please, make love to me tonight!

'I haven't changed either,' Adam said. 'No reason to. And I know what you mean about the time we have. Maybe after the Orion's launched there'll be more of it.' But the last remark lacked conviction. As both of them