“Me?God, no.I have my own business.I don’t want to be head of the St.George Company.But I do have some people in mind for the job.All of them have experience with international corporations.”
“None of them are part of this family.My father conceived of the St.George Company as a family business.”
“Your father,” Cutter spat back, losing it for a minute, “would have kicked you out long ago if he’d known all you did to Pam and Patricia.And to me.”He took a steadying breath.“You don’t have to worry that the company will go to pot.It’ll thrive, even expand.”
“It’s my company.”
“You’ll certainly still own your stock—”
“Iamthe company.”
“Not for much longer.As I started to say before,” he held up the proxies one last time before slipping them back into his pocket, “we can either call an emergency meeting or wait for the annual meeting in November.If you resign now—”
“I’m not resigning!”John bellowed, sounding so much like Eugene that Cutter had a moment’s pause, but only amoment’s.That fiery temperament was about all the two men shared.Remembering Eugene, remembering how much heart and soul the man had, how much he would have wanted for Patricia and Pam that they hadn’t had, Cutter was hardened.
“You have a choice,” he told John coolly, curtly.He was finished with toying.It was time for the belt with the five rows of metal studs.“You can resign now, in which case an acting president will be chosen until the annual meeting.Or you can fight us.If you decide to do that, we’ll call an emergency meeting and push things through sooner.We have enough votes, John.Morethan enough votes.You don’t have a chance of winning.It’s just a question of how hard you fall.”He barely paused for a breath before hauling back and swinging the belt again.“If you fight us, we’ll get dirty.You’ll go down anyway, but we’ll bad-mouth you all the way.On the other hand, if you submit your resignation and get out of the picture, we’ll be quiet.You can pack up your things and take your expertise somewhere else.You’ll get a job in a minute.They’ll fight over you, and the only explanation you’ll have to give for leaving the St.George Company is that you wanted a change.Or you can sell your interest in St.George and start a new business.Or you can retire.You can move down south or out west.In any case, you’ll have your reputation intact.If you resign.Within the week.”
John stood frozen.“That’s blackmail.”
“You should know.You’ve used it often enough.”
“You can’t do this.”
“It’s done.I have Pam’s support and Patricia’s support and,” he patted his breast pocket, “the support of a majorityof the remaining stockholders.Face it, John.You’re beaten.”
“No.I’ve worked too hard to get where I am.I’m the force behind the company—”
“I’m the force behindFacets,”Pam interrupted.“My designs are the backbone of our business.So it won’t really matter if you’re gone.The merchandise will be every bit as good, if not better.”
John’s eyes narrowed on her.“You’ve been dying for this.You’ve been working up to it since the day you came to work for me.”
“Since long before that,” she corrected, “and I work with you, not for you.”
“You’ve been just waiting to get your claws into me.”
She grinned.“Got them in good now, don’t I?”
To Brendan, John said, “She’s making a mistake.They all are.You don’t fix something that’s not broken.You’re a businessman.You know that.”
Brendan answered in a voice that was raspy but firm.“I know that change is good sometimes.It puts a fresh perspective on things.Like the airing of dirty laundry.It makes the room smell a whole lot better.”
Pam chuckled.
John glared at her.“Think that’s funny?You won’t be laughing when the figures start falling.”
“They won’t.I have faith in Cutter.He knows what he’s doing.”She grew puzzled.“Didn’t you have any inkling of it?Didn’t you see it at all?Didn’t you have any idea that he was becoming a force to be reckoned with?Where have you been all these years?”
“I’ve been working my tail off makingFacetsa success.”
“You’ve been hobnobbing with the rich and famous.”
“I am the rich and famous.”
“Maybe,” she conceded, “and there’s nothing we can do to change that.But you won’t be entertaining your friends onFacets’expense account anymore.You’ll be on your own.”
He considered that for a minute.He, looked from her face to Cutter’s, to Patricia’s.In the process, some of the steam seemed to leave him.“It’s revenge, then?”Again he looked around.“Is that it?Revenge?”
“You could say,” Cutter replied, but with the loss of John’s steam he too was feeling less anger.“I prefer to call it poetic justice.”
