Red Helmet (19 page)

“Thank you, Norman.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “You're welcome, Miss Hawkins.”

Song headed out again. Cable had broken her heart; Michael had broken her heart; every man she'd ever gotten close to except her father had broken her heart. But she wasn't going to let past history cause her to hate all men. Song was going to endure, and somewhere out there, she was certain there was a man for her, one that would love her for who she really was. She just needed to hang on and not settle for less of a man than she deserved. “Good-bye, Cable,” she muttered in the elevator on the way down to the street. “Good-bye, good-bye, goodbye, and good riddance!” This, she swore, would be her mantra until that man's undeniably handsome face disappeared forever from her mind. She recalled the song Jim Brickman had sung for her and Cable on the beach at St. John:

You and I were meant to be.
With all my heart and soul,
I give my love to have and hold.
And as far as I can see,
You were always meant to be . . . my destiny.

“Oh, sure, Jim,” she growled. “Easy for you to say.”

She hit the street and her limo pulled up to the curb, right on time. The driver must have been reading her mind because as soon as she slid into the back seat, he asked, “Want to hear some Brickman on the way out, Miss Hawkins?” She often requested him on longer drives. It always relaxed her.

But not today. Perhaps never again.

“I don't want to listen to anything. Just drive.” She slumped into the seat and stared morosely at the gray rain.

J
OE
H
AWKINS
'
S ESTATE
was in Long Island's toniest neighborhood, locally known as the Gold Coast. She considered calling him on the way out, then decided to give herself some quiet time. The gray clouds matched her mood, and she settled down to wallow in a little honest misery.

Her father met her at the door, hugged her, then walked with her into the great room and had her sit down, while snapping his fingers at the beautiful young maid who whisked out of sight, quickly returning with two steaming cups of coffee, well laced with brandy. “Thank you, Miranda,” he said, and provided her a wink as she curtsied and fled the room.

“You old dog,” Song said, to her father's healthy laugh.

“She's a very good maid,” he said, with an eyebrow cocked toward the door through which she'd disappeared.

“Russian?” Song asked.

“Hungarian, actually,” Hawkins said. “She hopes to make it on Broadway. She's also quite a good singer and dancer.”

“I'm sure,” Song said dryly. The coffee and brandy were excellent, perfect in the midst of the raging storm outside.

Through a huge, reinforced double-paned window, Song could see the ocean rolling beneath the wind, foam flying off the waves and hurtling across the sand. Song had a feeling that her father had something to tell her that was going to be as tumultuous as the sea. Something was up. Something big.

Hawkins sat across from her, smiled, and ran a finger across his silver mustache, then cleared his throat a couple of times.

“What is it, Dad?”

He cleared his throat again. He was nervous, something rare for him. “Rumor has it you're going through a tough time,” he said.

“Who've you been talking to?”

“The Delgossis.”

Song puffed her disdain. “Ah. I just had a little dust-up with Michael, that's all, and then the governor of West Virginia. It made their party that much more interesting, I'm sure.”

Her father rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner. He did that long enough she was about to tell him to stop it. Then he abruptly said, “I love you, Song.”

Song studied him. “Well, I love you too, Daddy. So what's this all about? You've got something to tell me. I'm here. I'm ready. Let's hear it.”

Hawkins stopped rubbing his chin. “Since you came back from West Virginia, you've been more successful than ever. It's amazing what you've done, all the money you've made our company. I'd like to celebrate. Stay for dinner. We'll have champagne.”

“I left a lot of work at the office,” she said. “I need to get back to it.”

“All work and no play makes my Song off-key.”

She smiled. It was something he used to say when she was a child. She was always so serious about everything she did, her studies, her violin lessons, her chemistry set.

“I'm not off-key,” she replied. “If you'd like to get into it—which I don't, really—I just feel unhappy with myself about what happened in Highcoal. I didn't handle it very well. Cable didn't handle it very well either, but . . .” She shook her head. “You know me, Dad, I understand business. But there I was, in a company town, and I not only didn't understand it, I made no attempt to figure it out. I just let my marriage unravel.”

Hawkins nodded. “I liked Cable. I liked him from the moment I met him. He struck me as strong and sincere, but I could tell he was not street smart. I think it would be pretty easy to pull the wool over his eyes and cheat him. Still, I was happy you married him. I looked forward to getting to know him better, then I was going to toughen him up mentally, maybe even get him involved in our business, and let him make some real money.”

“I'm sorry I messed up your plans for him.”

“So you're just going to let him go? I had hoped this annulment business was to force him to leave Highcoal.”

She leaned forward. “Daddy, please understand something. Cable doesn't want me. The only things that are important to him are his town and that coal mine. I don't even enter into his thinking. Better to just end this mistake now and get it over with.”

“But you still love him . . . ?”

The rain drummed on the roof, and the mist that had obscured the city was now hiding the sea. “He had my heart,” she said. “Completely had it. Nobody ever had it like that before. But he betrayed me.”

“Maybe he didn't see it as a betrayal. Maybe he thought you would understand what he had to do.”

“Stop taking up for him!” Song complained. “When I was with him in Highcoal, he treated me like I was nothing. He's never going to leave those hills, and I'm never going to leave New York. No amount of talk is ever going to change that. It's over. It's just over.”

“Still . . . ,” Hawkins began.

Song released a deep, exasperated sigh. “Still what, Daddy?”

There was a gleam in his eye. “There's Atlas Energy.”

“What about it?”

“It wasn't easy, since you're the one in charge of property and acquisitions, but I went out and bought it.”

Song thought she hadn't heard her father correctly. The storm
was awfully loud. Thunder crashed around the old estate, and jagged lightning plunged into the sea. “You did
what
?”

“Atlas consists of three coal mines—two in West Virginia, one in Kentucky—and a number of natural gas wells. One of the two mines in West Virginia is the Highcoal operation.” He smiled with satisfaction. “So I bought the company. It is my gift to you. You are now Cable's boss.”

Song could only hope she was having a nightmare. “No!” she wailed at her father. “
Sell it back!
”

Hawkins's smile faded. “What? I couldn't do that. I'd lose too much money. I paid top dollar. It was the only way they'd sell.”

“Daddy, why?” Song bleated.

Hawkins reddened at his daughter's obvious displeasure. “Because I got tired of seeing you mope around. That's why. Did you expect me to do nothing? Don't you get it? This way you can order Cable to New York. Or fire him, or do whatever you want with him. You're in the catbird's seat, darling girl. I did that for you.”

Song wasn't sure if the thunder she heard was real or just in her head. She commanded herself to settle down. Even this could be fixed if she kept a level head. “Does Cable know?” she demanded.

“No, I figured I'd give you the fun of telling him. Nobody at Atlas knows. The company was owned by a consortium of energy companies called Taurus. I happen to be a friend of the owner—Frank Stewart's his name, lives in Montana—and he agreed to let me quietly peel Atlas out of his holdings. Atlas has operated independently of Taurus for years, so its managers don't have to know for a few weeks anyway. So, what do you think?”

She nodded toward the fireplace. “I think if I didn't love you so much and didn't know this was well intended, I'd use that poker on you.”

“By purchasing Atlas, I've given you options,” Hawkins replied, defensively. “But hitting me with a poker isn't one of them.”

Song kept working to remain calm. “What you've done is your usual attempt to run and
ruin
the life of everybody who works for you.” She sat back. “Look, I don't want to have anything to do with this. Just don't fire Cable, that's all I ask. Agreed?”

“Song,” he said gently, “the truth is Cable is about to be fired anyway. Frank told me. Atlas headquarters intends to replace him with another man at the end of the quarter. Right now they're trying to find the meanest, most cold-hearted executive they can get to go to Highcoal and tear it apart and put it back together again. They intend to meet their orders,
all
their orders, even if they have to get rid of every man in that mine and start over.”

Hawkins shrugged. “You know what? My first thought was, too bad for Atlas my daughter's not available for the job.”

“That's not funny, Daddy.”

“I guess not. But it made me laugh anyway.”

Song puffed out an exasperated breath. “What a mess you've caused!”

Hawkins jutted out his chin. “No, you caused it by marrying Cable and then running away from him and coming back here where you've managed to depress nearly everyone in the company. Poor Norman is so nervous he tells me he has trouble sleeping. Since it was clear you intended to stay down in the dumps more or less forever, it was up to me to fix things. That's what I've done. I've given you power over Cable. So now I'm asking you, what are you going to do with it?”

“Nothing. I told you I want no part in this. You're on your own.”

Hawkins, clearly angry now, reddened even more. “I'll take that answer as my spoiled, ungrateful daughter's reply. But as my employee, I'm going to ask you something and I want a response. What in your considered, professional opinion, should I do with Atlas?”

“Don't tempt me to say something crude,” Song replied, then gave her father's question some thought. “All right. As your employee, I will tell you that your options are these. Do nothing, and let Atlas go about their business with uncertain results. Or send someone to Highcoal to figure out what the problem is, then fix it. In any case, my advice is to sell Atlas as quickly as you can. It's a turkey.”

“If it's a turkey, it's your fault I bought it,” Joe Hawkins growled.

Song stood up. “No, Daddy. You will not blame me for this.”

Hawkins jumped to his feet. “I'm president of Hawkins-Song and I'm your father. I'll blame you if I want!”

“Good-bye, Dad,” Song said over her shoulder as she strode to the front door. “I'm going back to work. Let me know what you want to do with Atlas. In the meantime, I'll be working on some projects that might make us some money, not lose it.”

Hawkins went to the window to watch her climb inside her limo. After a few seconds, her window rolled down and a silvery disc came sailing out of it, splashing into a mud puddle. Then the limo pulled away, disappearing into the gray rain.

Curious, Hawkins got an umbrella from the stand beside the front door and went outside and retrieved the disk. It proved to be a Jim Brickman CD titled
Destiny
.

A
LONE IN HER
apartment overlooking Central Park, Song suffered through the night. She kept looking at the telephone, wondering if she should call Cable and warn him his head was on the chopping block. But in the end, she just couldn't do it. Likely, it would only precipitate Cable's doing something stupid like flying to New York and confronting his bosses.
Men belong in a zoo
. Evolution had done them no favors. Modern life required a vastly more complex approach to problems than bulling your way through them. Maybe it came from prehistory, when men had to go out to slay the mammoth for meat while women stayed in the cave. Killing something was direct and brutal while taking care of the fire, the meals, and the children required more sophisticated thinking. The women who couldn't do it were chased off by the other women. The men, on the other hand, kept the simplest of their fellows in the clan, if for no other reason than because they were amusing and were good at telling dirty jokes while waiting for the animal herd to walk into an ambush. The result had been a dichotomy of the sexes, with women seeing every facet of a problem and a desire to fix it, while men sometimes couldn't see a problem at all, and if they did, they tried to fix it with a stone ax or its modern-day equivalent.

That morning she had shared the elevator with Woody and Soon Allen. Soon had smiled shyly at her and said something in what Song suspected was Korean. Perhaps she had mistaken Song for a fellow countrywoman. In any case, Song smiled and nodded. Afterward, as Allen and Soon walked into Central Park, Song watched them. Where else but the city could you ride an elevator with a famous director and his wife/daughter? But it also made her chuckle. New Yorkers made fun of Appalachia and its kissing cousins but Woody and Soon,
no problem
.

Song checked her cell phone. There were three apologetic messages from her father. At her office, there was a big bouquet of roses on her settee as more evidence of her father's remorse. Song had decided to let him stew, then she'd call in her team and figure out how to unload Atlas on some unsuspecting investor. Norman buzzed her. There was a call from West Virginia, he said, a doctor. Song picked up and heard Doctor K's familiar voice.