Chapter Nine

Chancellor Drew Scarlett paced the thick oriental rug of his office at 525 Fifth Avenue. He kept breathing deeply, pushing his stomach out as he inhaled—the proper way—because the masseur at his club told him it was one method of calming down under pressure.

It wasn’t working.

He would change masseurs.

He stopped in front of the mahogany paneled wall between the two large windows overlooking Fifth Avenue. On the wall were various framed newspaper articles, all of them about the Scarwyck Foundation. Each prominently mentioned him—some with his name in bold print above the stones.

Whenever he was upset, which was quite often, he looked at these framed records of achievement. It always had a calming effect.

Chancellor Scarlett had assumed the role of husband to a dull wife as a matter of course. The conjugal bed had produced five children. Surprisingly—especially to Elizabeth—he had also become interested in the family enterprises. As if in answer to his celebrated brother’s behavior, Chancellor retreated into the secure world of the quasi-inspired businessman. And he did have ideas.

Because the annual income from the Scarlatti holdings far exceeded the needs of a small nation, Chancellor convinced Elizabeth that the intelligent tax course was to establish a philanthropic foundation. Impressing his mother with irrefutable data—including the potential for antitrust suits—Chancellor won Elizabeth’s consent for the Scarwyck Foundation. Chancellor was installed as president and his mother as chairman of the board. Chancellor might never be a war hero but his children would recognize his economic and cultural contributions.

The Scarwyck Foundation poured money into war memorials, preservation of Indian reservations, a Dictionary of Great Patriots to be distributed throughout selected prep schools, the Roland Scarlett Field Clubs, a chain of Episcopal youth camps dedicated to the outdoor life and high Christian principles of their democratic—but Episcopalian – patron. And scores of similar endeavors. One couldn’t pick up a newspaper without noticing some new project endowed by Scarwyck.

Looking at the articles shored up Chancellor’s undermined confidence but the effect was short lived. He could hear faintly through the office door the ring of his secretary’s telephone and it immediately brought back the memory of his mother’s angry call to him. She’d been trying to find Ulster since yesterday morning.

Chancellor picked up the intercom. ‘Try my brother’s home again. Miss Nesbit.’

‘Yes sir.’

He had to find Ulster. His mother was adamant. She insisted on seeing him before the afternoon was over.

Chancellor sat down in his chair and tried to breathe properly again. The masseur had told him it was good exercise while sitting down.

He took a deep breath, pushing his stomach out as far as possible. The middle button of his suit coat broke from the thread and fell on the soft carpet, bouncing first on the chair between his legs. Damn!

Miss Nesbit rang him on the intercom. ‘Yes.’

The maid at your brother’s house said he was on his way over to see you, Mr Scarlett.’ Miss Nesbit’s voice conveyed her pride in accomplishment.

‘You mean he was there all the time?’

‘I don’t know sir. Miss Nesbit was hurt. Twenty agonizing minutes later Ulster Stewart Scarlett arrived.

‘Good God! Where have you been? Mother’s been trying to reach you since yesterday morning! We’ve called everywhere.’

‘I’ve been out at Oyster Bay. Did any of you think of calling there?’

‘In February? Of course not .. Or maybe she did, I don’t know.’

‘You couldn’t have reached me anyway. I was in one of the cottages.’

‘What the hell were you doing there? I mean, in February.’’

‘Let’s say taking stock, brother mine .. Nice office, Chance. I can’t remember when I was here last.’

‘About three years ago.’

‘What are all those gadgets?’ asked Ulster, pointing at the desk.

‘Newest equipment. See… Here’s an electric calendar that lights up on specific days to remind me of meetings. This is an intercommunicator setup with eighteen offices in the building. Now, right here a private wire to…’

‘Never mind. I’m impressed. I haven’t much time. I thought you might like to know… I may get married.’

‘What!… Ulster, my God in heaven! You! Married! You’re going to get married?’

‘Seems to be a general request,’’

‘Who, for God’s sake!’

‘Oh, I’ve whittled the numbers down, sport. Don’t fret. She’ll be acceptable.’

Chancellor eyed his brother coldly. He was prepared to be told that Ulster had chosen some Broadway trollop from a Ziegfield show, or, perhaps, one of those weird female writers in black sweaters and men’s haircuts who were always at Ulster’s parties.

‘Acceptable to whom?’

‘Well, let’s see, I’ve tried out most of them.’

‘I’m not interested in your sex life? Who?’

‘Oh, but you should be. Most of your wife’s friends—married and otherwise—are lousy lays.’

‘Just tell me who you intend honoring, if you don’t mind?’

‘What would you say to the Saxon girl?’

‘Janet!… Janet Saxon!’ Chancellor cried out with delight.

‘I think she’d do,’ murmured Ulster.

‘Do! Why, she’s wonderful! Mother will be so pleased! She’s just terrific!’

‘She’ll do,’ Ulster was strangely quiet.

‘Ulster, I can’t tell you how pleased I am. You’ve asked her, of course.’ It was a statement.

‘Why, Chance, how can you think that?… I wasn’t sure she’d pass inspection.’

‘I see what you mean. Of course… But I’m sure she will. Have you told Mother? Is that why she’s calling so hysterically?’

‘I’ve never seen Mother hysterical. That should be quite a sight.’

‘Really, you should phone her right away.’

‘I will. Give me a minute—I want to say something. It’s quite personal.’ Ulster Scarlett sat carelessly down in a chair in front of his brother’s desk.

Chancellor, knowing that his brother rarely wanted to be personal took his seat apprehensively. ‘What is it?’

‘I was pulling your leg a few minutes ago. I mean about the lays.’

‘I’m relieved to hear that!’

‘Oh, don’t mistake me—I’m not saying it isn’t true—just tasteless of me to discuss it… I wanted to see you get upset.

‘Take it easy, I had a reason—I think it makes my case stronger.’

‘What case?’

‘It’s why I went out to the island… To do a lot of thinking… The aimless, crazy days are coming to an end. Not overnight, but they’re slowly fading out.’

Chancellor looked intently at his brother. ‘I’ve never heard you talk like this before.’

‘You do a lot of thinking in a cottage by yourself. No telephones, no one barging in on you… Oh, I’m not making any big promises I can’t keep. I don’t have to do that. But I want to try… I guess you’re the only person I can turn to.’

Chancellor Scarlett was touched. ‘What can I do?’

‘I’d like to get some kind of position. Informal, at first. Nothing regimented See if I can’t get interested in something.’

‘Of course! I’ll get you a job here! It’ll be simply great working together.’

‘No. Not here. That’d be just another gift. No. I want to do what I should have done a long time ago. Do what you did. Start right at home.’

‘At home. What kind of position is that?’

‘Figuratively speaking, I want to learn everything I can about us. The family. Scarlatti. It’s interests, business, that sort of thing… That’s what you did and I’ve always admired you for it.’

‘Did you really?’ Chancellor was very serious.

‘Yes, I did… I took a lot of papers out to the island with me. Reports and things I picked up at mother’s office. We do a lot of work with that bank downtown, don’t we? What in hell is the name?’

‘Waterman Trust. They execute all Scarlatti commitments. Have for years.’

‘Maybe I could start there—Informally. Couple of hours a day.’

‘No problem at all! I’ll arrange it this afternoon.’

‘Another thing. Do you think you might phone Mother—’

‘Just as a favor. Tell her I’m on my way over. I won’t bother to call. You might mention our discussion. Tell her about Janet, if you like.’ Ulster Scarlett stood up in front of his brother. There was something modestly heroic about him, about this errant who was trying to find his roots.

The effect was not lost on Chancellor, who rose from his chair and extended his hand. ‘Welcome home, Ulster. It’s the start of a new life for you. Mark my words.’

‘Yes. I think it is. Not overnight, but it’s a beginning.’

Elizabeth Scarlatti slammed the flat of her hand down on the desk as she rose from her chair.

‘You’re sorry? Sorry? You don’t fool me for a minute! You’re frightened out of your wits and well you should be! You damned fool! You ass! What did you think you were doing? Playing games! Little boy games!’

Ulster Scarlett gripped the arm of the sofa in which he sat and repeated to himself over and over again, Heinrich Kroeger, Heinrich Kroeger.

‘I demand an explanation, Ulster!’

‘I told you. I was bored. Just plain bored.’

‘How involved are you?’

‘Oh, Christ! I’m not. All I did was give some money for a supply. A shipment. That’s all.’

‘Who did you give the money to?’

‘Just—guys. Fellows I met at clubs.’

‘Were they criminals?’

‘I don’t know. Who isn’t these days? Yes, I guess they were. They are. That’s why I’m out of it. Completely out of it!’

‘Did you ever sign anything?’

‘Jesus, no! You think I’m crazy?’

‘No. I think you’re stupid.’

Heinrich Kroeger, Heinrich Kroeger. Ulster Scarlett rose from the sofa and lit a cigarette. He walked to the fireplace and threw the match on the crackling logs.

‘I’m not stupid, Mother,’ replied Elizabeth’s son.

Elizabeth dismissed his pouting objection. ‘You only supplied money? You were never involved in any violence?’

‘No! Of course not!’

‘Then who was the ship’s captain? The man who was murdered?’

‘I don’t know! Look, I told you. I admit I was down there. Some guys said I’d get a kick out of seeing how the stuff came in. But that’s all, I swear it. There was trouble. The crew started fighting and I left. I got out of there as fast as I could.’

‘There’s nothing more? That’s the extent of it?’

‘Yes. What do you want me to do? Bleed from my hands and feet?’

‘That’s not very likely.’ Elizabeth walked around the desk and approached her son. ‘What about this marriage, Ulster. Is it, too, because you’re bored?’

‘I thought you’d approve.’

‘Approve? I wasn’t aware that my approval or disapproval concerned you.’

‘It does.’

‘I approve of the Saxon girl, but I doubt for the reasons Chancellor thinks I should. She seems to be a lovely girl from what I’ve seen of her… I’m not at all sure I approve of you… Do you love her?’

Ulster Scarlett looked casually at his mother. ‘I think she’ll make a good wife.’

‘Since you avoid my question, do you think you’ll make a good husband?’

‘Why, Mother. I read in Vanity Fair where I was New York’s most eligible bachelor.’

‘Good husbands and eligible bachelors are often mutually exclusive… Why do you want to be married?’

‘It’s time I should be.’

‘I’d accept that answer from your brother. Not from you.’ Scarlett walked away from his mother to the windows. This was the moment. This was the moment he had planned, the moment he had rehearsed. He had to do it simply, say it simply. He’d pull it off and one day Elizabeth would recognize how wrong she was. He wasn’t stupid; he was brilliant.

‘I tried to tell Chance. I’ll try again with you. I do want to get married. I do want to get interested in something… You asked me if I love the girl. I think I do. I think I will. What’s important to me now is that I get straightened out.’ He turned from the window and faced his mother. ‘I’d like to learn what you built for us. I want to know what the Scarlatti family’s all about. Everyone seems to know but me. It’s a place to start, Mother.’

‘Yes, it’s a place to start. But I should caution you. When you speak of Scarlatti, don’t be under any illusions that your name guarantees you a voice in its management. You’ll have to prove your value before you receive any responsibility—or authority. In that decision, I am Scarlatti.’

‘Yes. You’ve always made that very clear.’

Elizabeth Scarlatti circled the desk and sat down in her chair. ‘I’ve never been wedded to the idea that nothing changes. Everything changes. And it’s possible you have talent. You are the son of Giovanni Scarlatti and, perhaps, I was a damned fool to change the surname. It seemed right at the time. He was a genius… Go to work, Ulster. We’ll see what happens.’

Ulster Stewart Scarlett walked down Fifth Avenue. The sun was out and he left his topcoat open. He smiled to himself. Several passersby noticed the large, striking-looking man with the open coat in the February cold. He was arrogantly handsome, obviously successful. Some men were born to it.

Ulster Scarlett, seeing the looks of envy from the little people, agreed with the unspoken thoughts.

Heinrich Kroeger was on schedule.