There was a silence, then Lilian said, "No. Let me stay here for a while. I need to be alone.”
Her voice sounded remote and disembodied, as if coming from another planet. She had suffered already and now would suffer more. What women have to bear, Celia thought. Lilian said, "After a while I'll go to Sam. You'll let me know where he's been taken, Celia?" "Yes. And I'll either come to get you or meet you there.”
"Thank you.”
Celia attempted to phone Juliet, then Juliet's husband, Dwight, but could not reach either. Next she summoned Julian Hammond, the public affairs vice president, to her office and instructed, "Issue a press statement immediately about Sam's death. Describe it as a tragic accident. I want the word 'accident' stressed, to head off other speculation. You might say something about the probability that his accelerator jammed, causing the car to go out of control.”
Hammond protested, "No one will believe that.”
Wanting to weep, controlling her emotions by a thread, Celia snapped, "Don't argue! Do it the way I say. And now.” The last service she would do for Sam, she thought as Hammond left, was-if she could-to save him the indignity of being labeled a suicide. But to those closest to him, suicide it plainly was. What seemed most likely was that Sam, finally overwhelmed by his burden of despair and guilt about Montayne, had seen the parking garage wall ahead, thought suddenly of a way to end his life, and floored the accelerator pedal, steering for the relatively fragile wall. It would be typical of Sam, his friends said privately, to have remembered the vacant lot below and therefore the absence of danger to anyone else. Celia had some questions and guilt feelings of her own. Had Sam, she wondered, contemplated on previous occasions doing what he did, but allowed sanity to prevail? Then, seeing Celia that day as his car topped the ramp--Celia confident and in control, wielding authority which would have remained his had circumstances not reversed their roles so drastically-had Sam then... ? She could not bring herself to complete the question, the answer to which she would never know. One other thought kept coming back to her: The occasion in Sam's office, the first day of Celia's return, when he had said, “.
...there's something else. Something you don't know.” And a moment later, "I'll never tell you.” What was Sam's other secret? Celia tried to guess, but failed. Whatever it was must have died with him. At the family's request, Sam's funeral was private. Celia was the only company representative. Andrew accompanied her. Seated on an uncomfortable folding chair in an undertaker's chapel, while an unctuous clergyman who had not known Sam intoned religious platitudes, Celia tried to blot out the present and recall the richer past. Twenty-two years ago-Sam hiring her as a detail woman... Sam at her wedding... Her selection of him as the one to follow on the company ladder... At the New York sales meeting, risking hisjob in her defense- "I'm standing up here to be counted. If we let Mrs. Jordan leave this way, we're all shortsighted fools"... Sam, overcoming opposition, placing her on the fast track... promoting her to 0-T-C, later to Latin-American Director.- "International is where the future is.”
....Sam, on his own promotion and his two secretaries.- "I think they dictate letters to each other.”
....Sam the Anglophile, who was farseeing about a British research institute: "Celia, I want you as my right hand.”
....Sam, who had paid for a judgmental error with his reputation, and now his life. She felt Andrew move beside her. He passed a folded handkerchief. Only then did Celia realize that tears were streaming down her face. Again at their request, only Lilian and Juliet accompanied the coffin to the graveside. Celia spoke to both briefly before leaving. Lilian was pale; there seemed little life left in her. Juliet's face and eyes were hard; she appeared not to have cried during the service. Dwight was conspicuously absent. In the days that followed, Celia persisted in her effort to have Sam's death officially declared an accident. She succeeded, mainly because-as she explained to Andrew-"No one seemed to have the heart to argue otherwise. Sam didn't carry life insurance, so financially it didn't matter.”
After a decent interval of two weeks, the Felding-Roth board of directors met to elect a new president. Within the company it was assumed this was a formality only, and that Celia would be appointed.
Seth Feingold came to tier office a few minutes after the directors' meeting ended. His expression was grim. "I've been deputed to tell you this," he said, "and I hate doing it. But you aren't going to be president.”
When Celia failed to react, he went on, "You may not believe this and, by God, it isn't fair, but there are still some men on the board who don't like the idea of a woman heading the company.”
"I believe it," Celia said.”Some women have spent their lives discovering it.”
"There was a long argument, heated at times," Seth said.”The board was split, and there were several who spoke out strongly in your favor. But the objectors wouldn't budge. In the end, we had to compromise.”
A president pro tempore had been appointed, Seth revealed. He was Preston O'Halloran, a retired bank president who for many years had been a member of the Felding-Roth board. He was seventy-eight and nowadays walked with the aid of a cane. While respected and a financial expert, the new president's knowledge of the pharmaceutical business was limited and largely confined to what he learned at board meetings. Celia had met O'Halloran several times, though without knowing him well. She asked, "What's with the pro tem?" "O'Halloran has agreed to serve for six months at the most. Sometime between then and now the board will make a permanent appointment.”
Seth grimaced.”I may as well tell you there's talk of looking for someone outside the company.”
"I see. 11 "I suppose I shouldn't say this. But frankly, Celia, if I were in your position I'd say, 'To hell with 'em all!' Then I'd walk out of here-right now.”
She shook her head negatively.”If I did, someone else would say, 'How like a woman!' Besides, I agreed to come back to do a cleanup job, and so I will. When it's finished, though... well, let's wait until then.”
The conversation reminded her of one she had had years before with Sam, when Celia had been made assistant director of Sales Training instead of director, because-as Sam expressed it at the time-"There are some in the company who can't swallow quite that much. Not yet.”
Plus qa change, plus cest la meme chose, she quoted silently to herself. The more things change, the more they remain the same.
"Do you feel terribly hurt?" Andrew asked at dinner. Celia thought before answering.”Yes, I suppose so. The injustice gets to me. Yet in another way, strangely, I find I don't care as much as I would have a few years ago.”
"That's what I thought. Would you like me to tell you why?' She laughed.”Please do, Doctor.”
"It's because you're a fulfilled woman, my love. Fulfilled in every way. You're the best wife any man could have, and a superb mother, and you're smart, responsible and competent at work, and can run rings around most men. You've proved a thousand times how good you are. So you don't, anymore, need the trappings and the titles because everybody who knows you knows your worth including those chauvinist boobs on the Felding-Roth board, not one of whom is worth your little finger. That's why what happened today shouldn't cause you a second's anguish, because those who made the decision are the losers, and sooner or later they'll find out.”
Andrew stopped.”Sorry. I didn't mean to make a speech. I just wanted to state some truths and maybe cheer you up.”
Celia got up from her chair and threw her arms around him. As she kissed him she said, "As, indeed, you have.”
Winnie's baby-a healthy son-was born the following day. The event delighted not only Winnie and Hank, but the entire Jordan family, Lisa phoning Winnie enthusiastically from California, Bruce from Pennsylvania. Winnie, as usual, took everything in stride.”Looks like I 'it the jackpot," she contended happily from her hospital bed.”Now p'raps 'Askan' me should try fer twins.”