different times he had talked to each of them about the facts of life. When Pa died, Mac counseled Nancy against letting Peter become chairman: she went against his advice, and now events had proved that Mac had been right. She knew that he was more or less in love with her. It was not a dangerous attachment: Mac was a devout Catholic and faithful to his plain, dumpy, loyal wife. Nancy was very fond of him, but he was not the kind of man she could ever fall in love with: he was a soft, round, mild-mannered type with a bald dome, and she was always attracted to strong-willed types with a lot of hair—men such as Nat Ridgeway.
While she waited for the connection, she had time to reflect on the irony of her situation. Peter’s coconspirator against her was Nat Ridgeway, her father’s onetime deputy and her old flame. Nat had left the company—and Nancy—because he could not be boss; and now, from his position as president of General Textiles, he was trying again to take control of Black’s Boots.
She knew Nat had been in Paris for the collections, although she had not run into him. But Peter must have held meetings with him and closed the deal there, while pretending to be innocently buying shoes. Nancy had not suspected anything. When she thought how easily she had been deceived, she felt furious with Peter and Nat—and most of all with herself.
The phone in the booth rang and she picked it up: she was lucky with connections today.
Mac answered with his mouth full of breakfast. “Hmm?”
“Mac, it’s Nancy.”
He swallowed rapidly. “Thank God you called. I’ve been searching Europe for you. Peter is trying to—”
“I know, I just heard,” she interrupted. “What are the terms of the deal?”
“One share in General Textiles, plus twenty-seven cents cash, for five shares in Black’s.”
“Jesus, that’s a giveaway!”
“On your profits it’s not so low—”
“But our asset value is much higher!”
“Hey, I’m not fighting you,” he said mildly.
“Sorry, Mac, I’m just angry.”
“I understand.”
She could hear his children squabbling in the background. He had five, all girls. She could also hear a radio playing and a kettle whistling.
After a moment he went on: “I agree that the offer is too low. It reflects the current profit level, yes, but it ignores asset value and future potential.”
“You can say that again.”
“There’s something else, too.”
“Tell me.”
“Peter will be retained to run the Black’s operation for five years following the takeover. But there’s no job for you.”
Nancy closed her eyes. This was the cruelest blow of all. She felt sick. Lazy, dumb Peter, whom she had sheltered and covered for, would remain; and she, who had kept the business afloat, would be thrown out. “How could he do this to me?” she said. “He’s my brother!”
“I’m really sorry, Nan.”
“Thanks.”
“I never trusted Peter.”
“My father spent his life building up this business,” she cried. “Peter can’t be allowed to destroy it.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Can we stop it?”
“If you could get here for the board meeting I believe you could persuade your aunt and Danny Riley to turn it down—”
“I can’t get there—that’s my problem. Can’t you persuade them?”
“I might, but it would do no good—Peter outvotes them. They only have ten percent each and he has forty.”
“Can’t you vote my stock on my behalf?”
“I don’t have your proxy.”
“Can I vote by phone?”
“Interesting idea ... I think it would be up to the board, and Peter would use his majority to rule it out.”
There was a silence while they both racked their brains.
In the pause she remembered her manners, and said: “How’s the family?”
“Unwashed, undressed and unruly, right now. And Betty’s pregnant.”
For a moment she forgot her troubles. “No kidding!” She had thought they had stopped having children: the youngest was now five. “After all this time!”
“I thought I’d found out what was causing it.”
Nancy laughed. “Hey, congratulations!”
“Thanks, although Betty’s a little ... ambivalent about it.”
“Why? She’s younger than I am.”
“But six is a lot of kids.”
“You can afford it.”
“Yes.... Are you sure you can’t make that plane?”
Nancy sighed. “I’m in Liverpool. Southampton is two hundred miles away and the plane takes off in less than two hours. It’s impossible.”
“Liverpool? That’s not far from Ireland.”
“Spare me the travelogue—”
“But the Clipper touches down in Ireland.”
Nancy’s heart skipped a beat. “Are you sure?”
“I read it in the newspaper.”
This changed everything, she realized with a surge of hope. She might be able to make the plane after all! “Where does it come down—Dublin?”
“No, someplace on the west coast. I forget the name. But you might still make it.”
“I’ll check into it and call you later. ’Bye.”
“Hey, Nancy?”
“What?”
“Happy birthday.”
She smiled at the wall. “Mac ... you’re great.”
“Good luck.”
“Goodbye.” She hung up and went back to the desk. The head porter gave her a condescending smile. She resisted the temptation to put him in his place: that would make him even more unhelpful. “I believe the Clipper touches down in Ireland,” she said, forcing herself to sound friendly.
“That’s correct, madam. At Foynes, in the Shannon estuary.”
She wanted to say
He reached for his timetable. “It’s scheduled to land at three thirty and take off again at four thirty.”
“Can I get there by then?”
His tolerant smile vanished and he looked at her with more respect. “I never thought of that,” he said. “It’s a two-hour flight in a small airplane. If you can find a pilot you can do it.”
Her tension went up a notch. This was beginning to look seriously possible. “Get me a taxi to take me to that airfield right away, would you?”
He snapped his fingers at a bellhop. “Taxi for the lady!” He turned back to Nancy. “What about your trunks?” They were now stacked in the lobby. “You won’t get that lot in a small plane.”
“Send them to the ship, please.”
“Very good.”
“Bring my bill as quick as you can.”
“Right away.”
