Chapter 21

Cal was in George Lambe’s office, across the desk from the empty, leather, executive office chair. George had been called away for a few minutes, just as Cal’s meeting with him was getting under way. It gave Cal a chance to think about his visit to his brother’s cabin the night before as he sipped his coffee.

As he drove home Cal cast aside Edwin’s bellows and taunts. It was always Edwin who tried to make Cal feel smaller than he was. He had always been wrong and Cal learned to pay no attention because, as Cal knew, Edwin was a fool.

Cal had nearly forgotten what his brother said until he tried to get some sleep. It wasn’t just the words—as powerful as they were nonsensical. It was the way he said them, with such force and conviction and his voice of experience backing him up. Cal reckoned that he’d be the fool if he didn’t at least stop and think.

Cal wondered if he should have, at least, gained some experience with a simpler target, like Bonnie the waitress, before attempting a more complex venture. If Cal couldn’t keep Bonnie interested, what was he going to do with a veteran like Roxie?

Or so Cal wondered as he sat sipping his coffee.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Cal.”

It was George Lambe’s booming voice yanking Cal and his cobwebs back to the present tense.

“I thought I’d stop and see you before I drove to Binghamton to meet with New York Cable,” Cal reminded him. “I’m going to meet with them to discuss the Annex project.”

“Right, right—good idea,” George confirmed. “I wouldn’t expect any trouble over this. You briefed them on the general plan?”

“Yes, just the basics,” Cal answered. “I didn’t say anything about the access road.”

“Absolutely! We have to keep that under our hat for the time being. It’s the...”

“But, Tanaka will insist,” Cal interrupted. “He was very firm about that. If you think about it, it’s quite reasonable. They have to be able to get a direct road to the interstate.”

“Agreed, agreed,” George replied. “Look, we have to roll this out the right way. You’ll understand in time. In the meantime, just let me handle it—and stop worrying about it. I’ll fill you in when the time is right.”

Cal shrugged. He didn’t understand what George was telling him, but understood enough to play on the team.

“Anyway,” George continued, “I spoke to the people at Central New York Gas and Electric. They didn’t see very much problem, at all. Midco would probably need a substation for the extra wattage. They’d have to pay for that. I would expect that they would already have that cost baked into their plans. Midco would definitely be on demand pricing.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Cal said. “They can run some of their operations at night and get off-peak rates, if they want to. I wonder why Mr. Tanaka made such a point of getting the utilities on board.”

George frowned and shook his head from side to side.

“There was a time when that would have been an issue,” George explained. “So many factories have moved out of this part of the State that the demand for power is a lot less than in the old days. There’s plenty on the grid now. Tanaka is probably thinking of how it used to be.”

“It wouldn’t be bad to have that problem,” Cal mused. “We probably won’t see it like that again, but at least we can put this part of the Midco project behind us.”

“That’s right,” George agreed. “The cable company won’t give you a hard time, either. It will be more a trading of facts meeting. You’re setting them up to do more business, after all. They’re businessmen, so they’ll hardly complain.”

“I was thinking to let the cable outfit compete with the phone company for the telephone lines,” Cal offered.

“Good idea,” Lambe replied. “Just suggest it at the proper moment. Midco can do their negotiating for themselves. You might get a better deal from the cable guys if they think they’ve got a shot at it.”

“That’s how I figured it,” Cal answered.

“It will also give them an interest in seeing this Midco project come to life,” George continued. “If the cable company has a vested interest in the project, then there will be support from outside our area. There’s a State Senator and an Assemblyman from Binghamton who have some clout in Albany. The guys at the cable company will get those guys on our side.”

Cal finished his coffee and set the cup on George’s desk.

“Want another for the road,” George asked. “You look like you could use one.”

“You’re right; I didn’t get much sleep last night. Another hit of high-test might do me some good.”

George refilled Cal’s cup and then his own from a carafe on his desk.

“Worried about your meeting with the cable guys?” he asked Cal.

“No,” Cal answered. “Something more personal.”

“Oh, sorry,” George replied. “I didn’t mean to butt in.”

“It’s just that I got a date for the County Fair and no one seems to like the idea,” Cal blurted out.

“I almost forgot about the County Fair,” George answered.

He folded his hands on his desk and looked at Cal.

“I guess it’s more important if you like the idea. By the way, who is your unlucky victim?”

“C’mon, George!” Cal whined.

“Take it easy, Cal,” George laughed. “Who is the girl, anyway?”

“Roxie Pringle,” Cal pushed out the words before he could hold them back.

“Roxie, from the Diner?” George asked again.

Cal nodded and George sat back in his chair. A smile crossed over his face for a moment and then it was gone. Cal awaited the verdict.

“I see,” George said, “so everyone has an opinion about Roxie. Is that about it?”

“More or less,” Cal conceded.

George nodded and took a sip of coffee.

“Well, I’ve got one too,” the older man said. “I’ll keep it to myself, unless you want to hear it.”

“Sure,” Cal conceded.

“I think that Roxie’s just fine,” George pronounced. “I would forget what everyone says. Just take her to the County Fair and make your own decision.”

“Well, I suppose...”

“Roxie is one of those ‘never got a break’ kind of people,” George interrupted. “She may not have any college degrees, but she knows a lot about a lot of things—some of which they don’t teach in college. I think you might find her a pretty interesting person, if you give her a chance.”

George paused and Cal felt the older man’s eyes on him.

“Do you know her very well?” Cal asked.

“I knew her aunt better. Flora and I graduated in the same High School Class. I was sorry when she passed away. I couldn’t make the calling hours at the funeral home; I gave Roxie a call earlier that day.

Flora did the best she could for Roxie. She never had much money, but somehow, she made it stretch. Raising Roxie was no easy task. Sometimes she handled it alright. Sometimes she fell a little short. She always tried as hard as she could.”

“The County has a tax lien on the house,” Cal interjected.

“I know all about that,” George answered. “I had the County Clerk put a “Hold” on the enforcement of the lien so that they could stay in the house. It was the best that I could do.”

“I think Roxie will make out alright on it. She probably won’t be able to stay in the house, but she’ll take some money out when it’s settled.”

George nodded.

“It’s not much of a house, anyway. She’ll be better off with someplace smaller and easier to manage. Anyway, I have no doubt that Roxie will land on her feet. She’s unlike her aunt in many ways. Her times hardened her. She doesn’t live in daydreams, like Flora sometimes did. She’s down to earth.”

George stopped speaking and Cal figured it was his turn to answer. He wanted to say something wise and profound, but felt himself fall short. He took a deep breath, hoping something would come to him in the moments before he had to exhale. It seemed a vain hope. George rescued him.

“So take Roxie to the Fair. You’ll be glad that you did. Be nice to her.”

“Okay, George. I will,” was all he could say.

He swallowed the last of the coffee. George had been right. He had needed an extra cup.

“I’d better get on the road,” Cal said. “I’ve got forty-five minutes of driving time.”

“Stop in when you get back,” George said. “I think we might get the property appraisal from Bennett Associates later today. We can take a look at it and see what it means to the project.”

“I’ll make time, assuming this meeting in Binghamton doesn’t go overtime,” Cal answered.

He rose from his chair and started heading for the door.

“Just remember to keep quiet on the access road,” George called after him.

“Not a word,” he answered as he marched out the door.

It was late in the afternoon and Cal was looking forward to meeting with George Lambe for the second time that day. The meeting with the managers at the cable company had gone even better than expected. They couldn’t wait to get started. They had always wanted to complete the installation in the Appleton market. The Annex project would give them the volume to do that. If Midco brought them enough extra commercial business they agreed to run the cable at no cost.

Cal knew that he was picking the low-hanging fruit. The utilities were more-or-less set. There was still the issue of the access road to be built through Miller’s Marsh. The liability waiver had been promised, but never issued. Then, there was always Homer Barlow and his crew in the city government who couldn’t wait to wring every penny it could out of Midco.

“Still a long way from the finish line,” he said to himself while waiting for a signal light.

He was a step closer; that’s what mattered and in a few minutes he would be with George Lambe reviewing the appraisal of the Annex property.

Cal made a right turn on Commercial St. and the County Office Building came into view. He exhaled a sigh at what he saw. The student demonstrators had returned. They occupied the front steps of the building.

The picketers had taken a hiatus in recent days. George had warned Cal not to count them out.

“They just went home for the last few weeks of the summer,” he had told Cal. “When their semester is about to start, they’ll be back in full force.”

Cal remembered how he said he agreed, but in secret thought the irritation was over.

“Ingram is smart,” Lambe had said. “He knows the students don’t have a big attention span, so he’s giving them some time off. When they come back, it will be like something new for them—and that’s what keeps them going.”

Cal remembered those words as he pulled around the block and wondered how George had been able to predict it so well.

Cal made a left into a municipal parking lot and was relieved to see that the demonstrators had left the back door of the County Building uncovered. He decided to take the stairs to the third floor to George’s office. When he got there he saw the door to the inner office closed. George’s secretary was sitting at her desk.

“He said that you should go right in,” she told him as Cal stepped through the double doors.

Cal shrugged and stepped to the door of George Lambe’s private office. He gave a sharp, three-rap knock and turned the door handle and walked in. He was startled by what he saw.

George Lambe was sitting behind his desk in his shirtsleeves. In the chair on the opposite side of the desk sat Wesley Ingram. He was in uniform, with khaki pants, short-sleeved shirt and sandals. As Cal stood in the doorway looking at them, they looked back.

“I know that you two know each other,” George said, “so I’ll skip the introductions.”

Ingram stood and thrust out his bare arm. Cal was at a loss as to what else to do, so he grasped the offered hand and shook it.

“Pull up a chair,” George said. “I’ll have Marge bring you in a coffee.”

Cal shook his head.

“No thanks,” he mumbled, not taking his eye off of Ingram. “I had one on the road on my way back from Binghamton.”

Ingram retook his seat. Cal picked up one of the chairs that sat around the conference table and set it next to Ingram’s and then sat down. Cal thought about the demonstrators on the street outside the building. If it was surrender that was on Ingram’s mind, he had a hard way of showing it.

“I asked Wes to come in and clarify his objectives,” George said. “Now that you’re here, Cal, we’ll both have a chance to hear it first-hand.”

“So it’s ‘Wes’, now?” Cal asked himself.

The three men sat in an uncomfortable silence. George had begun the meeting. He looked like he was waiting for someone else to speak. For his part, Cal didn’t know what to say.

“The floor’s all yours, Wes,” George said with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile.

Ingram shifted in his chair. He scratched his forehead.

“Well—um,” he mumbled.

“Yes, Wes,” George said in a soft voice.

He leaned forward, as though he couldn’t wait to hear a gurgle from the fountain of knowledge.

“Well, I ... I mean we ... we have been clear on that throughout,” Ingram said in a low voice.

He took a deep breath and his tone strengthened.

“In fact, we’ve been very clear ... very clear and consistent the whole time.”

“Maybe I missed it,” Lambe said.

He was still leaning forward in his chair. A new smile spread across his face and he leaned back again.

“I’m sure you’ve been clear, Wes. I just missed it, that’s all.”

“Well, it’s this Midco, and the waiver. The Annex...” Ingram spouted.

“You mean that you want to keep Midco out?” Lambe queried.

Ingram crossed his arms over his chest and slouched down in his chair.

“Yes.”

“Times are tough, Wes. Are you saying that you would keep Midco out and keep all those people from all those jobs? You would do that?”

“Well, I suppose...”

“That’s very gutsy of you, Wes. Not many politicians would go along with that. I’ve got to admire you—out on that limb, all by yourself.” George clapped his hands together and that made Ingram startle and sit upright.

“Standing on principal,” George said as though awestruck. “I’ve got to admire you.”

Well, it’s...” Ingram started to say.

“Three hundred jobs, Wes,” George interrupted, “three hundred families with the rent paid and food on the table. That’s just the Midco part of it; there’ll be the peripheral businesses, too. Is that what you’re trying to stop, Wes?”

“You know that I never meant that, George,” Ingram insisted.

“That’s what it amounts to,” Cal put in. “The old solvent tanks aren’t even in the ground anymore.”

“Wes knows all that, Cal,” George said. “Why don’t we let him explain himself? This is a courageous stand Wes is taking and he should have an opportunity to explain himself.”

“It’s not Midco,” Ingram insisted. “It’s the liability waiver. Once they get it, everyone will want one. We can’t let that happen. All that we’ve worked for will be gone.”

“What do you mean?” Cal asked.

“That’s how we control them,” Ingram explained. “If they don’t toe the line, we can sue the living breath out of them. Once they get waivers, it will all be gone.”

“I don’t mean to be obtuse, but who is ‘them’?” Cal asked again.

“Industrial companies,” George answered for the flustered professor. “That’s how they control them—and drain money from them. Even when a company has no fault whatever, the threat of a class-action suit has bankruptcy written all over it. The legal defense, alone, costs millions. Wes and his people need that threat. A lot of companies figure it’s cheaper to donate to their ‘not-for-profits’ than to stand up to them.”

Ingram frowned and shook his head.

“They’re a source to be tapped, isn’t that it, Wes?” George asked.

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he said. “It’s just that...”

“Anyway,” George butt in, “you’re protecting the system. You don’t care one way or the other about Midco.”

“That’s right,” Wesley answered.

“Only you have a problem,” George went on. “You never made that clear, so you’re stuck with trying to block Midco. If you back off, you’ll lose face.”

Ingram cast his eyes down.

“I just thought they’d give up the waiver and we’d declare victory,” he admitted.

“You need a way out,” George said. “You can’t back away. You’d lose too much prestige. Those young college kids would have the stars washed out of their eyes and you would be the laughing stock of the cocktail party circuit.”

Ingram nodded.

“We could keep it going. No one would win.”

“You can’t do that, either, can you, Wes? At some moment the enthusiasm would die out and—let’s face it—people are really hungry for those jobs and guys like Jack Ross are hungry to take credit for giving them.”

“So, why don’t we let him die on the vine?” Cal interjected.

George snapped his head away from Ingram and stared at Cal.

“Because it would take too much time. Midco might give up on Appleton in the meantime and find another small town near an interstate highway with an empty factory. How unique do you think we are, Cal?”

Cal was sorry that he’d interrupted.

George cast his gaze back on Ingram, who was slouching even lower in his chair.

“We need a solution, don’t we,” George said.

“Yes, but what?” Ingram asked. “I don’t...”

“It so happens that I’m on your side on this, Wes,” George declared, “to a point at least. As I see it, we need to get Midco to drop their demands for the waiver. We’ve got to give them a way to do it that will keep them on board. We can’t afford to lose that project.”