Chapter 10

Cal sat alone in his office after business hours were over. Everyone else had gone home. He didn’t care, but he was hungry as he hadn’t eaten all day. He didn’t really care about that either. There was a full pot of fresh coffee his secretary made just before she left for the day. That would be enough.

His hunger did make him think for a moment about the Bluebird Diner, and then about Roxie’s bank note that he’d cosigned that afternoon and the used car she’d just picked at the dealer’s lot that went with it. He was sure that she was cruising around town showing it off. Edwin was probably with her; they’d probably end up out in Edwin’s cabin, if probability meant anything.

Cal didn’t think on it for long. Probability wasn’t his stock in trade at the moment. He was aimed at creating certainty out of what had been a possibility that morning. A legal pad full of blank paper was in front of him. He drew a grid, four-by-four, on the first page. Across the top he wrote the four conditions of Mr. Tanaka: ‘Access Road’, ‘Solvent Leak’, ‘Utilities’ and ‘Taxes’.

Down the left side of the grid he wrote the names of the players. He put himself on the first line. His placement there was more than coincidence. He knew that if he didn’t perform, the project would die. He penciled in Homer’s name on the second line. He shook his head as he did. As Mayor, Homer was a player, but in Cal’s secret thoughts the Mayor was the weak link. The next name was Norman Shad. He put an ‘X’ next to his name. ‘X’ for the unknown, for Shad wasn’t an entity who acted, or not, according to his own beliefs. He was the arm of a higher power, the Governor and the State Government and all its potential for good and bad.

Cal hesitated before placing the fourth name on the list. He scratched his chin and thought, then smiled and wrote it. The name was Tanaka. Yes, Mr. Tanaka would have his part to play, too. He possessed that to which no one else could dare lay claim: the authority to expend his company’s money and the power to relax his company’s demands. Cal wondered about the quantity of power Tanaka held in his grasp. How ever much it was, Cal knew that he had to use great care in the use of it.

He paused a moment and looked at the grid. It occurred to him that there weren’t enough players, so he left some blank lines. A voice in his head told him that he would need those extra lines filled in before everything was said and done.

His lawyer’s mind reminded him that his primary obligation was to the County, although he felt as though he was working toward satisfying Mr. Tanaka.

“Tanaka better realize who I’m working for,” Cal thought.

Cal thought Tanaka would be okay. At least for the moment, conflict with him didn’t seem to be a risk. Cal proceeded to fill in the grid.

He put a big check mark in the Norman Shad box for the space that corresponded to the pollution issue. Cal had no idea how to handle it, so he hoped to punt it to Shad. It was a big assignment for ‘Mr. X’. Cal planned to call him in the morning.

For the access road he gave himself a check mark, along with Homer. Cal thought he might persuade the County to build the road. He would rely on Homer to smooth over any local opposition. He started thinking that the State might have some funds available for the road too, so he put a check next to Shad’s name, as well. While he was thinking of money he thought of Tanaka and he got a check mark, on a just-in-case basis.

The utility question was an easy one. It would be up to him and Homer to settle that one. Homer would dig right in because it was an opportunity for the Mayor to take credit for expanding the utility services to where they didn’t reach in the city limits of Appleton. He heaved a sigh when he thought how getting cable television might be what convinced the people and filling the Annex with fresh jobs might be an afterthought.

The final subject was the property tax abatements, and that was up to Homer. Cal figured on the City selling the site to Midco. Once that happened the City Council would be licking their chops for new tax revenue, and it would be up to Homer to hold them off. The Mayor got a big check mark in that square, and that made Cal nervous. He had little faith in the depth of Homer’s commitment, and giving up tax revenue was as deep as a politician could get. The cable TV enhancement would have to keep his toe on the line.

Cal gave himself a check mark in that box, too. The County had an agency that funded economic development projects, so it might contribute funds to the city to offset the lost revenue.

His chart was finished and he rose from his desk to refill his coffee cup and stretch his legs. There had been a hint of rain earlier, so he thought he’d check the weather. He peeled back the blinds from his window just enough to allow him to see the street. It was dusk. He saw Roxie on the street below getting into her car.

“I wonder what she’s doing in the business district at this time of night.”

He’d worry about it later; there was still had a lot of work to do and he returned to his desk. He tore the first page off the yellow pad and put it in a folder. On the fresh page, he began to draft a letter to Mr. Tanaka. He went fumbling in his wallet for the business card Tanaka gave him. There was an e-mail address, too. Maybe that would be easier. Certainly, it would be a lot faster. He shook his head.

“I’ll do this the traditional way,” he told himself. “I doubt Tanaka would appreciate short cuts.”

In the morning he’d check in the Post Office for the transit time for a letter to Japan. If it was too long he would invest in a courier. He opened the folder and took another look at his grid. He wouldn’t tell Tanaka about the check marks. That information was better held in reserve. It would be a ‘thank you, let’s work together’ kind of boiler plate letter. Cal wrote it out longhand, editing as he went. Fifteen minutes later, he was done.

He was starting to get tired. Before he went home he would make some notes for the next day. He jotted them on a pad. Call Shad; meet with Homer; call Sherman and Ross. The latter two were Appleton’s State legislators in Albany. Cal wondered where they belonged in his lineup on the grid. There also needed to be a meeting of the Economic Development Committee that he chaired. He wrote that down. He looked at his calendar for the next day. He had a house closing, a court call and two clients wanted appointments for which Cal had no idea of the subject. Looking at one of the names, he guessed it was another DUI that he wanted Cal to fix.

“I almost forgot that I still have to make living.”

He packed everything up. It was time to go home.

Cal’s first order of business the following morning was to get something into his stomach. He hadn’t had a chance to eat anything the day before. A couple of eggs over easy with bacon and home fries would straighten that out. He stopped at his office first and then walked over to the Bluebird. He didn’t wait to be shown to a table. He took his regular booth in the back.

It was early. The first breakfast wave was still in the diner. They were the working men, getting ready to go out and climb electric poles, pave roads or maintain the dorms and classrooms at the college. Cal thought they became quieter as he walked by them in his business suit.

He supposed they were the lucky ones. They had good jobs and a place to be each morning. They could afford breakfast at the Bluebird instead a bowl of corn flakes at the house, if there was a house. More and more people were living in trailer parks. There was a time when most of the families in town put their daily bread on the table with good jobs, as these men were doing. Cal could barely remember those good days. He’d been told about them more than he remembered them.

The good times didn’t leave all of a sudden, of course. There had been a factory that made industrial filters. It moved to Alabama because of the taxes. People shrugged. They said it was ‘too bad, but the government needed the taxes to do the things it always did. What were they to do?’

There was also a factory that customized truck bodies. A strike brought that plant down. While the workers marched with signs a city in Tennessee convinced the owners to move to their more friendly community. The people shrugged again.

The typewriter factory was the last to go. It struggled to survive for several years. Over time, workers got to park closer and closer to the Employee Entrance as their numbers dwindled. By the time the doors shut for good it had been a foregone conclusion and the people didn’t bother to shrug.

All the chapters in the story added up to a certain attitude among the people that had as many definitions as there were people willing to share their two cents about it. Some called it ‘bitterness’, others ‘complacency’. Those with more than two cents called it ‘bitter complacency’.

Politicians clapped their hands in glee for the opportunity to grow their bureaucracies in order to hand out to people what they once earned for themselves. As trailers replaced houses they accepted being a ‘down and out’ community and Homer Barlow was the best man they could find to lead them.

Cal thought about all that as he waited for a waitress to come to his table and take his order. So, he cast off the silent sneers of the breakfast crowd, realizing that he knew things that they could not know. In his hands he could feel a rising power. He would fill that empty factory called the Annex. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to replicate the good old days, but there was a distant promise of better new ones.

He looked up at the ceiling. He imagined a light shining on him, summoning him to his mission—a quest for his own, private grail.

“Hi, Cal.”

He could hear his name in the background.

“Hi, Cal”.

There it was again. He shook himself to the present and saw Bonnie standing over him. As he looked up her she smiled at him.

“Sorry Bonnie, I was thinking of something else. I didn’t see you standing there.”

Bonnie blushed and drew a deep breath as if she was about to say something. She did it twice and then gave up and smiled at him again. She filled his coffee cup from the carafe she had in one hand.

“I guess I’ll have two over easy, bacon and home fries. Wheat toast. That’ll do it.”

Bonnie nodded and finally spoke.