We both froze.
Mrs. Campbell’s voice came next. “Nicholas-”
“Goddamn this stupid arrangement. Where the hell did our fathers come up with this ridiculous idea?” Then, a whump, sounding a lot like a fist, slammed onto a tabletop.
“How many did he have?” I asked Jackson in a whisper.
He held up four fingers.
Another one for our “Do not serve” list.
Helen Hendrickson attempted to say something, but Senator Blanchard interrupted. “Nick, this isn’t helping. Elaine, you know as well as I do that if we don’t move forward now-quickly and decisively-we won’t be able to sell for another ten years.”
Mrs. Campbell spoke up. “We have until December fifteenth.”
“You think that’s a lot of time?” Volkov shouted.
“I think it’s plenty of time to wait to discuss this.”
Volkov kept at it. “That’s why this arrangement is such idiocy. You may very well have inherited your share of the company, but you have certainly not inherited any business sense.”
A chair scraped. I imagined Mrs. Campbell standing up. “Excuse me?”
Volkov’s words slurred. “We have a buyer interested, which means this is the time to strike. You may have all the time in the world to make up your mind on other matters, but for now, this is the most important item on my agenda. If you don’t agree to sell, then I can’t be responsible for my actions.” Another whump. Louder this time.
I peeked around the corner. Secret Service agents had moved into the room, close enough to act, should the need arise. Mrs. Campbell, however, held them off with a raised hand. “I thought it would be a good idea to talk tonight,” she said. “I see I was wrong.”
From my vantage point, I watched her make eye contact with each of her colleagues, one at a time. She spoke softly. “Despite the range of our ages, we practically grew up together. Have you forgotten? Our fathers were friends, close friends. As I believed we were.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Time and distance and circumstances have caused the four of us to lose the closeness we once had, but I’d hoped we’d be able to reach an agreement.” She sighed.
Helen Hendrickson remained seated, and Volkov, his energy spent, dropped back into his chair. Blanchard, standing to Mrs. Campbell’s left, leaned forward, fisted hands on the table. “We can still reach an agreement, Elaine.”
She shook her head. “I no longer believe that.”
“If you’d only listen to reason.”
She held up a hand. Blanchard stopped talking. “Our fathers were wealthy men.” Again she stopped long enough to make eye contact with her guests. “They envisioned something bigger than themselves, something that would live on after they were no longer here. It was their dream to use their knowledge, their wealth, and their contacts for philanthropic purposes. And you all know what a great success they achieved.”
Helen Hendrickson finally got her word in. “But that’s the thing, Elaine. Zendy Industries is bigger and more successful than our fathers ever imagined. It’s got holdings in every major market in the world. Just think about the good that can be done if we were to sell it.”
Mrs. Campbell shook her head. “The good can only continue if Zendy remains under the charter upon which it was founded. Our fathers entrusted us to carry on their vision. If we sell now, what will we be doing to future generations?”
Volkov growled, “My children are the future generation. Seems to me our parents would want us to ensure their security.”
“My dad told me that Zendy Industries was the best investment he ever made,” she said softly. “He believed in its mission. And he made me promise never to sell.”
The three others gasped.
Mrs. Campbell licked her lips. “I invited you all here tonight to tell you once and for all that I will not sell. Not before December fifteenth. Not ever.”
Volkov bolted upward, upsetting his chair. For a moment I thought one of the agents would grab him, but he strode away from the First Lady. “Idiocy!” He threw his hands upward, gesturing to the ceiling as he paced.
“I had hoped to… wait,” Mrs. Campbell continued. “To discuss this more fully at a later point in time, when everything settled down. Sean’s death…” She bit her lip.
Cyan nudged me. “Getting an earful?”
I nodded.
Blanchard flexed his jaw, in an obvious attempt to keep himself in check. “Did you discuss this decision with your own children?” he asked.
“This is not their concern,” she said. “Not now. Someday when it becomes their decision, I hope they’ll see the wisdom of keeping Zendy Industries under family control.”
Volkov, at the far end of the room, shouted, “Then buy us out. We can sell it and you can control it all.”
Mrs. Campbell returned to her seat. “You know I don’t have the means to do that, Nick,” she said.
I glanced up at Jackson and tilted my head toward the door, asking if he was ready to serve dessert. Maybe a little sweetness would bring these people around.
While Jackson placed the peppermint ice cream at each diner’s place, Volkov returned to his seat, grumbling. He stopped Jackson. Holding up his lowball glass, he swirled it briefly before lifting it to his lips and draining the last few drops. “Get me another one of these, would you?”
Jackson nodded wordlessly, but when he returned to the bar area of the pantry, I watched him prepare the drink differently.
“Won’t he know the difference?” I asked when Jackson added a liberal dose of tonic water.
“He’s lucky to know the difference between his hands and his feet at this point.”
When Mrs. Campbell excused herself to take a phone call, the three others talked among themselves. I hoped for a tasty piece of information-for some discussion of the recently deceased Kirsten Zarzycki-but they spoke in hushed tones, and all I could make out was their intense disappointment at Mrs. Campbell’s decision.
Helen heaved a great sigh. “I guess there’s nothing left for us to do.”
I peeked around the corner long enough to see Treyton Blanchard pat her hand. “Let me talk with her one more time,” he said.
“Fat lot of good it will do,” Volkov groused. He knocked his dessert plate away with a look of disgust and staggered to his feet. “There’s got to be another way around this. And I’m going to find it.”
By the time Mrs. Campbell returned, he’d left. The Secret Service agents on hand were only too happy to guide the blitzed Mr. Volkov out of the White House. Helen made her apologies. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I am with your choice, Elaine,” she said. “We have a couple more weeks before a solid decision must be made. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
“Helen,” Mrs. Campbell said, warning in her voice.
“I know how much Sean’s death has affected you. Perhaps it was wrong of us to push you so soon after he died. Just take your time. I believe you’ll see our point if you just give it a little time.”
“It isn’t just Sean-”
“Please,” Helen said. “Just promise me you’ll think on this again.”
I could tell Mrs. Campbell was torn. Stick to her convictions, or give her old friend some comfort? “I won’t change my mind,” she finally said.
Helen reacted as though given a great gift. “I know. I know. But as long as you give it more thought, I believe we have a chance to find agreement.”
Helen said good-bye and was escorted out. Senator Blanchard remained. “A moment of your time, Elaine?”
They returned to their seats. A moment later, Jackson refilled both coffee cups and stood just outside the dining room. I was cleaning some of our utensils, and listening hard above the clatter from Cyan’s dish washing.
“Volkov is a loose cannon,” Blanchard said. “You need to be careful.”
From what I could tell, Mrs. Campbell’s voice sounded weary. “If I didn’t believe I was following our fathers’ wishes, I wouldn’t be holding on so tight.”