The Brass Statuettes Ch. 06

Chapter 6— Let's Get the Party Started

Frank had just hung up the phone after a conversation with Paul Riley at Citicorp. His bank had some preliminary interest in funding the bridge financing for the R&D projects, but they wanted to see the 10-Q before committing to anything. Frank was hearing that message over and over from each bank he contacted. That suited him fine because the 10-Q report would be in the hands of the SEC by the end of the week, and therefore in the public domain. Frank knew what the report said, so he was sure that after publication it would be on to the next step.

As soon as he hung up the phone Jeannette buzzed him on the intercom. "Mr. Lowell is here and insists on seeing you," she said in her normal, smooth voice. It didn't matter how her voice sounded, Frank knew there was trouble outside his closed door. When Jeannette used the word 'insist', Frank knew what it meant.

Frank could have put him off with one excuse or another and he was tempted to do it. It was eleven already, after all, and Frank would have preferred to avoid the distraction. He quickly realized that the idea was wishful thinking. In a tit-for-tat world Frank knew that Jason would quickly iced Aaron and the forecast, and that wasn't acceptable. He drew a deep breath. He was about to walk to the office door to greet Jason, but he thought better of it.

"Tell him to come in, Jeannette."

Jason Lowell was a slender man, and that gave him the appearance of being taller than he was. His wavy, reddish hair was a little longer than most, combed thoughtlessly to the side—no doubt a holdover from his days in academia. He had pale skin to go with his red hair, and the Texas sun had turned it blotchy. It all gave him a boyish look, but actually, he was a year older than Frank.

Frank remained seated as Lowell marched across the room. Jeannette closed the door behind him. He stayed silent until Jason stopped in front of his desk. He looked the intruder over; Frank couldn't see the floor just in front of his desk, but he wouldn't have been surprised if the young VP was tapping his foot.

"What's up, Jason?"

"It's that guy of yours, Fishberg; you've got to get him off my back," Lowell blurted out.

Frank didn't answer right away, and Jason looked about nervously for a chair. He found one and dumped himself into the seat.

"Let's go over to the alcove where it's more comfortable," Frank said as he rose from the chair behind his desk. Jason bounded out of his newly-won perch and followed his reluctant host.

"I'd offer you something," Frank said, "but it's too early for something hard and too close to lunch for anything else." He waited for Jason to seat himself. "Maybe we should have had this conversation over lunch."

"Maybe next time," Lowell answered.

"I could get you some water," Frank added as an afterthought. "How about some water?"

"No thanks," Jason replied.

"It's just that your throat sounds like it's a little dry," Frank observed.

Jason didn't answer this time. He sat motionless, arms crossed, in the leather chair. Frank thought that his blotchy forehead appeared slightly damp, despite the air conditioning.

"Fishman," Frank said.

"Huh?" Lowell grunted.

"His name is Aaron Fishman," Frank repeated. "It wouldn't normally be important for you to remember that, but since you'll be working so closely together over the next few days, I'd thought you'd want to know his name."

"I don't have time..." Jason began to protest.

"He won't mind if you call him Aaron," Frank said in a monotone.

"It's not up to me to do this," Lowell shouted. "It's your forecast! Put your own numbers to it. I didn't take this job to be a bean counter."

"Not a chance, Jason. We're talking about your projects and hundreds of millions of dollars. I'm beating my goddam brains out to get you the money you need. I can't do it without that forecast and I won't settle for a bag of garbage tied up with a pretty ribbon."

"We had a plan for the money," Jason reminded him. "Somehow, that all crapped out."

"That question's been asked and answered," Frank lashed back. "We're moving on. Did you meet with Blake Hart about the commercialization?"

"Well, uh..." Jason started to answer.

"No! I know you didn't because I spoke with Blake this morning. He's waiting for you and you're not even on his calendar."

Jason looked out the window and then down at the floor. "I guess I didn't know the process around here," he mumbled. "Couldn't the three of us meet around a table and..."

"No, you've got to work with Aaron on this. I'm busy arranging the financing. I should be doing that right now. It was what I was doing before you barged in here."

"Sorry," Jason uttered, averting his line of sight away from Frank. "I don't see how you can bring a guy up from the fifth floor and put him an office up here and expect us to just to be comfortable with him."

"Aw, come off it, Jason. That's uncalled for. I brought him up here to make this whole thing move faster. It was my call—and a good one. And don't think I can't read between the lines. I'm going to let it pass because nothing is more important right now than getting this forecast done."

Jason said nothing, just glaring at the floor with his arms folded across his chest.

"I'll walk you to the door," Frank said, reclaiming his calmer demeanor.

"Never mind," Jason replied. "I'll find my own way."

Frank watched him walk to the door. As he reached out to open it, Frank stopped him.

"Hey, Jason," he called to him, "come on back at five and we'll have a drink."

Lowell paused and started to speak, but then turned and left without answering.

Frank shook his head as he watched Jason leave. It was nothing that he hadn't encountered before, and scientist-types were the worst when it came to forecasting and budgeting. They whined and moaned, but in the end it was a job that had to be done.

Frank was displeased at Jason's comments about Aaron. He hadn't really expected it from Jason, having come from liberal academia and all. He hadn't come out and said the 'J' word, but the edge was there and Frank knew what it meant. That was personal, though, and could only be important if it had an effect on the forecast. Besides, Frank never thought that he could save the world.

When he was sure that Jason had departed the area he went to Jeannette's desk. "Would you find Aaron and tell him to plan to have lunch with me? And, make reservations for two in the Executive Lunchroom for twelve-fifteen."

*********

Frank was waiting for Aaron outside his office as lunchtime approached. "I'd give you that extra hour today, Jeannette, but I can't afford to be without you," Frank told her.

"Stop worrying about it," she replied. "I only think about it when you bring it up."

At that moment Aaron appeared from around the corner, looking a little nervous.

"I hope you're hungry," Frank said as he pressed the up button for the elevator. The Executive Suite was a floor below the Dining Room. Aaron didn't answer. "They always push the salads," Frank joked, "but don't let them get away with it."

"I've never been in the Executive Dining Room," Aaron pointed out as the stepped into the elevator car.

"No, I wouldn't have thought so," Frank replied. "I don't go up there much, myself. More times than not, I have them bring me a sandwich to my office."

"We could have done that," Aaron volunteered.

"No, not this time," Frank replied. The elevator door opened and they stepped out. The Head Waiter greeted them and then escorted them through the crowded dining room and showed them to a table by the window. "Charles, have you got a table in the middle of the room?" Frank asked.

"Sorry, Mr. Bennett, they're all for parties of more than two. You usually ask for the window table. Sales has a big lunch on today for..."

"It's alright, Charles," Frank said. "I just had a thought that didn't work out."

The two men sat down; Aaron was busy rubbernecking around the room and catching the view of the city from the top floor.

"Why do you think I asked you to have lunch here today?" Frank asked.

Aaron thought a moment. Frank watched him and he was sure that the young man was searching for a tactful reply. It didn't bother him. It might have been him sitting in Aaron's place a dozen years ago. That is, if any VP had ever been in the mood to treat him to lunch.

"I guess it's in lieu of overtime," Aaron guessed.

"Beats getting money, doesn't it," Frank joked. Aaron forced out a strained laugh. "That's only part of the answer," Frank said. "Let's face it; if it were just that, I could have taken you somewhere a lot more interesting."

"This is real nice," Aaron countered. "I was just going to get a bowl of soup in the downstairs lunchroom."

"I ate a lot of meals in that lunchroom. I should go down there sometime, just for old time's sake." Frank thought it over for a second. "Probably not," he recanted. "I doubt if the employees could relax over lunch with the brass at the table next to them."

"I'm sure everyone would be happy..." Aaron tried to console him.

"Don't worry about it, Aaron," Frank interrupted. "I was there once. I know the score."

Frank let the point sink in while he paused to look over the menu. He took his time, waiting for the suspense to have full effect.

"I wanted you to be seen up here with me so that everyone knows that you belong in the Executive Suite while you're on this project and that the reason that you're there is because I said so."

Aaron took a gulp of his water. "I see."

"It's not that I don't appreciate the job you're doing or that I'm not enjoying having lunch with you," Frank said. "I've got to make sure of this other thing, too. I'm short-handed with the Controller's position vacant. We can't let that be an excuse. Nothing can get in the way of getting good performance on this forecast. I'm pulling out all the stops."

"I understand," Aaron assured Frank. "It's going a little slower than I thought..."

"That's because not everyone thinks they have to work with you," Frank said. "I just had a visit from Jason Lowell this morning. I know he walked out on you earlier."

"Actually, he didn't walk out; he didn't show up," Aaron explained. "I sat outside his office for a half hour. We were supposed to meet at nine. His secretary finally ran him down and he said that he forgot. He was across town in the Polymer Lab checking on an experiment."

"That's even worse," Frank insisted. "I don't think he's held a test tube in a dozen years. He was just hiding out."

"He called me later and asked me what I needed him for. I told him and he said he didn't know what I was talking about. Then he said he'd have to get back to me."

"That must have been when he marched into my office," Frank said. "We had a good exchange. I doubt if he'll put you off again."

"I'm happy to hear that," Aaron admitted.

"But if he does," Frank warned, "you have to come to me right away. I know why you didn't. You didn't want to come running the first time someone kicked sand in your face."

"I thought I could handle it. You were busy with other things," Aaron pleaded.

"I understand," Frank continued, "but I can't condone it. This forecast is more important than personal pride. You've got to understand what's at stake."

"I think that I do," Aaron assured him.

"Well, let me make sure you do," Frank said, leaning forward. "This company needs to invest in R&D in a big way to keep up with competition, and that means lots of money. The stock offering is off the table for the time being, so that means debt financing. To get lenders on board, we need a forecast they can hang their hats on. If we don't get the financing, we won't be able to keep up. We'll lose market share and margin. It won't be right away, but it's sure to happen."

"I understand," Aaron said.

"I'm not finished," Frank said. "If we float a forecast that we can't live up to, we'll lose all credibility. Our stock price will tank. Our investors will lose their shirts. Western will become a takeover target and some outfit like KKR will pick us up for a song. Then they'll milk us until the company folds up piece by piece."

"I really do understand," Aaron tried to assure him.

"Jason Lowell called us bean counters this morning. Guys like him think this is some kind of silly exercise to keep us busy. It's not; it's serious. Every employee and investor is counting on us. Neither you nor I will drop the ball."

"I won't let you down," Aaron promised.

"Aaron, if I thought that there was anyone in this company could do this job even a smidgeon better than you, that person would be doing it."

"Except for you, of course," Aaron said with a deadpan expression. Frank paused and then slowly started laughing. Aaron laughed with him. "It's my Jewish sense of humor," Aaron explained.

"Don't be a wise guy," Frank countered. "That's not allowed in the Executive Dining room until you reach Pay Grade 9." Frank laughed some more. "C'mon, let's enjoy our lunch."

After they finished eating they were waiting for the elevator. "When you see Jason this afternoon, try to line up his numbers ahead of time as much as you can. Make it 'fill in the blanks' as much as possible."

"Thanks for lunch," Aaron said politely.

"Thank you," Frank replied. "Consider it a down payment."

*****************

"C'mon, Bren; it'll be fun. Just wear jeans. I'm in the car now; I'll be at your house in less than ten minutes."

It was Gloria's latest command. Brenda couldn't see why Gloria felt she needed an escort and she'd planned on spending the afternoon by herself, getting ready to go to dinner with Blake that evening. As it was, her nails were still wet.

Brenda sighed and put on her jeans and a pair of loafers. She didn't want to, but hadn't figured out a way to refuse when Gloria insisted. And, she reminded herself, one never knew what new developments might take place when Gloria was out and about. It was best that she be there if anything needed to be handled. Brenda sat waiting at the window, wondering what the upcoming excursion might bring her way.

Gloria pulled into Brenda's driveway in her silver Beemer, which meant that the company car, complete with chauffer, was assigned to Alvin for the day.

"This is starting out bad already. I don't even know if I'll make it back in one piece." Brenda had been in the passenger's seat of Gloria's car before, and it was always an adventure. She consoled herself with the knowledge that the German-engineered luxury car must have all the latest safety amenities. "I'll just have to figure out a way to buckle my seat belt without hurting her feelings."

Brenda always thought it tacky to wear expensive jewelry with jeans, but there Gloria was in all her denim glory. She wore one of her best strings of pearls over a denim shirt that matched her jeans. "At least they're designer jeans."

"Hi, Bren," Gloria greeted her cheerfully. "You'll be so glad you decided to come along. After everything you've done for me, I want to share this with you."

"I have to be back by five," Brenda warned. "Blake and I are having dinner at the club tonight with the Dawson's. I'll have just enough time to put my face on and slip into my dress."

"That's fair enough!" Gloria conceded. She took a right turn a little too fast and the tires squealed. "By that time, the children get picked up, anyway."

"Careful of that man on the bicycle," Brenda warned. Gloria swerved away into the adjacent lane, bringing on a blast from an angry horn.

"What's their problem?" Gloria asked. Brenda knew better than to tell her.

Soon they were in the parking lot of the Sunrise School, the beneficiary of Gloria's Foundation. The school director greeted them as they strode up the walk leading to the front door.

It was a young woman who met them, although she looked older than she was by virtue of wearing no makeup and her hair packed tightly in a bun behind her head. She was slender and had on a long, rustic, cotton skirt—kind of a canvas cloth—and sandals underneath that. A pair of rimless spectacles completed the picture.

"Welcome, Mrs. Warner!" she gushed. "It was such a nice surprise when I received your call this morning.

"I already told you, Madeleine, you have to call me Gloria," she answered. The two women hugged one another. "You remember Brenda."

"Of course," Madeleine replied. "Welcome to you, too, Brenda." She released Gloria and reached out and grasped Brenda's hand.

"I just couldn't stay away from my little darlings," Gloria admitted. "Now that you're all moved in, I thought I'd take a look and see how everything's working."

"It's all wonderful, thanks to you," Madeleine answered as they walked into her office. Gloria focused her attention to a wall where some children's artwork was on display. "Almost all our programs are in place," Madeleine announced.

Something in the answer didn't sound right to Brenda. She knew that Gloria would pick up on it, too.

"What do you mean, 'almost'," Gloria asked, snapping her head around.

Madeleine let out a sigh. I wasn't sure how to tell you, as she motioned Brenda and Gloria to chairs in front of her desk. Madeleine sat on the corner of her desk and folded her hands in her lap.

"I don't know how to tell you this," the young woman repeated. "It was my fault, really. I didn't know how much..."

"Just tell us, Maddy," Gloria pleaded.

"It's the ESL teacher. We were going to share the salary with another school nearby. I just couldn't have imagined our share would be so much."

"ESL?" Brenda asked.

"English as a Second Language," Gloria explained. "Most of these children speak Spanish in the home. The ESL program is aimed at teaching them English so that they can use it along side their Spanish when they need to."

"We just didn't have the funds to commit," Madeleine continued. "I asked for more money from United Way after I found out, but they insisted that their budget guidelines are very strict. Once our request was turned in, we couldn't ask for more."

"How much are you short?" Gloria asked.

"A lot, I'm afraid," the teacher answered.

"I want to hear a number," Gloria demanded.

"Fifteen thousand!" Madeleine replied, nearly disbelieving her own words.

"That is a lot," Gloria agreed.

"Maybe we could ask Western for it," Brenda suggested, "or one of the law firms downtown."

"That won't be necessary," Gloria said. She opened her purse and pulled out her checkbook. "Tell the ESL teacher not to go anywhere." She scribbled the details on a personal check and then tore it out of her book and handed it to Madeleine.

"Oh, I could never ask you to do this!" Madeleine exclaimed. "It's so much, and on such short notice. I couldn't!"

"Yes you can, and I insist that you take it."

Brenda looked at Gloria and saw the resolute expression. "Gloria, that's very generous. We could make some calls before you commit your own money." It was a side of Gloria that didn't come out often. Some never saw it. Brenda knew it was for real.

"It's nothing, and time's wasting," Gloria said. "These children need that ESL Program. I'm afraid that if we don't commit to it right away the teacher will get snapped up by some other school. We're only getting half-time as it is. It's a cornerstone program; it's a must if those children are to have any chance in school. It was unfair of United Way. Maddy is a teacher, not a bean counter, after all."

"If the children only knew what you do for them..." Madeleine said.

"I know," Gloria countered, "and that's enough.

"The children are getting ready for an assembly," Madeleine told them. "We have a birthday of one of the students today. Perhaps you'd like to attend."

Gloria jumped out of her chair. Madeleine and Brenda followed behind. In the gym the students were filing in; an assistant teacher was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a guitar. Gloria turned to Maddy with a questioning look.