The Scarlatti Inheritance (12 page)

“Did you really?” Chancellor was very serious.

“Yes, I did.… I took a lot of papers out to the island with me. Reports and things I picked up at mother’s office. We do a lot of work with that bank downtown, don’t we? What in hell is the name?”

“Waterman Trust. They execute all Scarlatti commitments. Have for years.”

“Maybe I could start there.… Informally. Couple of hours a day.”

“No problem at all! I’ll arrange it this afternoon.”

“Another thing. Do you think you might phone Mother.… Just as a favor. Tell her I’m on my way over. I won’t bother to call. You might mention our discussion. Tell her about Janet, if you like.” Ulster Scarlett stood up in front of his brother. There was something modestly heroic about him, about this errant who was trying to find his roots.

The effect was not lost on Chancellor, who rose from his chair and extended his hand. “Welcome home, Ulster. It’s the start of a new life for you. Mark my words.”

“Yes. I think it is. Not overnight, but it’s a beginning.”

Elizabeth Scarlatti slammed the flat of her hand down on the desk as she rose from her chair.

“You’re sorry? Sorry? You don’t fool me for a minute! You’re frightened out of your wits and well you should be! You damned fool! You ass! What did you think you were doing? Playing games! Little boy games!”

Ulster Scarlett gripped the arm of the sofa in which he sat and repeated to himself over and over again,
Heinrich Kroeger, Heinrich Kroeger.

“I demand an explanation, Ulster!”

“I told you. I was bored. Just plain bored.”

“How involved are you?”

“Oh, Christ! I’m not. All I did was give some money for a supply. A shipment. That’s all.”

“Who did you give the money to?”

“Just—guys. Fellows I met at clubs.”

“Were they criminals?”

“I don’t know. Who isn’t these days? Yes, I guess they were. They are. That’s why I’m out of it. Completely out of it!”

“Did you ever sign anything?”

“Jesus, no! You think I’m crazy?”

“No. I think you’re stupid.”

Heinrich Kroeger, Heinrich Kroeger.
Ulster Scarlett rose from the sofa and lit a cigarette. He walked to the fireplace and threw the match on the crackling logs.

“I’m not stupid, Mother,” replied Elizabeth’s son.

Elizabeth dismissed his pouting objection. “You only supplied money? You were never involved in any violence?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Then who was the ship’s captain? The man who was murdered?”

“I don’t know! Look, I told you. I admit I was down there. Some guys said I’d get a kick out of seeing how the stuff came in. But that’s all, I swear it. There was trouble. The crew started fighting and I left. I got out of there as fast as I could.”

“There’s nothing more? That’s the extent of it?”

“Yes. What do you want me to do? Bleed from my hands and feet?”

“That’s not very likely.” Elizabeth walked around the desk and approached her son. “What about this marriage, Ulster? Is it, too, because you’re bored?”

“I thought you’d approve.”

“Approve? I wasn’t aware that my approval or disapproval concerned you.”

“It does.”

“I approve of the Saxon girl, but I doubt for the reasons Chancellor thinks I should. She seems to be a lovely girl from what I’ve seen of her.… I’m not at all sure I approve of you.… Do you love her?”

Ulster Scarlett looked casually at his mother. “I think she’ll make a good wife.”

“Since you avoid my question, do you think you’ll make a good husband?”

“Why, Mother. I read in
Vanity Fair
where I was New York’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Good husbands and eligible bachelors are often mutually exclusive.… Why do you want to be married?”

“It’s time I should be.”

“I’d accept that answer from your brother. Not from you.”

Scarlett walked away from his mother to the windows. This was the moment. This was the moment he had planned, the moment he had rehearsed. He had to do it simply, say it simply. He’d pull it off and one day Elizabeth would recognize how wrong she was.

He wasn’t stupid; he was brilliant.

“I tried to tell Chance. I’ll try again with you. I do want to get married. I do want to get interested in something.… You asked me if I love the girl. I think I do. I think I will. What’s important to me now is that I get straightened out.” He turned from the window and faced his mother. “I’d like to learn what you built for us. I want to know what the Scarlatti family’s all about. Everyone seems to know but me. It’s a place to start, Mother.”

“Yes, it’s a place to start. But I should caution you. When you speak of Scarlatti, don’t be under any illusions that your name guarantees you a voice in its management. You’ll have to prove your value before you receive any responsibility—or authority. In that decision, I am Scarlatti.”

“Yes. You’ve always made that very clear.”

Elizabeth Scarlatti circled the desk and sat down in her chair. “I’ve never been wedded to the idea that nothing changes. Everything changes. And it’s possible you have talent. You are the son of Giovanni Scarlatti and, perhaps, I was a damned fool to change the surname. It seemed right at the time. He was a genius.… Go to work, Ulster. We’ll see what happens.”

Ulster Stewart Scarlett walked down Fifth Avenue. The sun was out and he left his topcoat open. He smiled to himself. Several passersby noticed the large, striking-looking man with the open coat in the February cold. He was arrogantly handsome, obviously successful. Some men were born to it.

Ulster Scarlett, seeing the looks of envy from the little people, agreed with the unspoken thoughts.

Heinrich Kroeger was on schedule.

When Horace Boutier, president of Waterman Trust Company, received Chancellor’s request for an indoctrination program for his brother Ulster, Boutier knew immediately who to make responsible,

Third vice-president Jefferson Cartwright.

Cartwright had been called on previously for duty with Ulster Scarlett and with good reason. He was, perhaps, the only executive at Waterman Trust who did not instantly irritate Ulster Scarlett. In a large measure this was due to Cartwright’s unorthodox approach to his work. Quite unbankerlike.

For Jefferson Cartwright, a blondish, large, aging man, was a product of the playing fields of the University of Virginia and learned early in his career that the qualities that made him famous on the gridiron—and on the campus—served him extremely well in his chosen profession.

Briefly these were to learn the formations so thoroughly that one was always in the right position at the right time when on the field and always to press an advantage with the sheer bulk of one’s size.

Off the field was merely an extension of the playing principles. Learn the surface formulas, wasting as little time as possible on complexities beyond one’s grasp, and, again, impress everyone with the size—and attractiveness—of one’s physical being.

These principles—when combined with an easy, outgoing Southern charm—guaranteed Jefferson Cartwright’s sinecure at Waterman Trust. They even put his name on department letterheads.

For although Jefferson Cartwright’s knowledge of banking hardly approached an expert vocabulary, his ability to commit adultery with some of the wealthiest women in Manhattan, Long Island, and southern Connecticut brought many excellent accounts to Waterman. Yet the bank’s directors knew that their prime social stud was rarely a threat to any relatively secure marriage. Rather, he was a temporary divertissement, a charming, quick, and complete roll in the hay for the bored.

Most banking institutions had at least one Jefferson Cartwright on the executive payroll. However, such men often were overlooked when it came to club memberships and dinner parties.… One could never be sure.

It was the vague sense of ostracism that made Cartwright acceptable to Ulster Scarlett. Partly because he knew why it existed and it amused him, and partly because Cartwright—outside of a few mild lectures about the state of his accounts—never tried to tell him what to do with his money.

The bank’s directors knew this, too. It was right that someone should advise Ulster Scarlett—if only to impress Elizabeth—but as no one could change him, why waste a committed man?

At the first session, as Cartwright called it, the banker discovered that Ulster Stewart Scarlett didn’t know the difference between a debit and an asset. So a glossary of terms was prepared to give him a basic language to work with. From there another lexicon of stock market phraseology was written for him and in time he began to master it.

“Then, as I understand it, Mr. Cartwright, I have two separate incomes. Is that correct?”

“Indeed it is, Mr. Scarlett. The first trust fund, which is comprised of stocks—industrial and utility—is for your annual livin’ expenses. Houses, clothes, trips abroad, purchases of any sort.… Of course, you certainly could invest this money if you wished. You have durin’ the past several years if I’m not mistaken.” Jefferson Cartwright smiled indulgently remembering a few of Ulster’s extravagant withdrawals. “However, the second fund—the open-faced bonds and debentures—is designed for expansion. For reinvestment. Even speculation. That was your father’s wish. Of course there’s a degree of flexibility.”

“What do you mean flexibility?”

“It’s hardly conceivable, Mr. Scarlett, but should your livin’ expenses exceed the income from the first trust we could, with your power of attorney, transfer capital from the second fund to the first. Of course, this is hardly conceivable.”

“Of course.”

Jefferson Cartwright laughed and gave his innocent pupil an exaggerated wink. “I have you there, haven’t I?”

“What?”

“It did occur once. Don’t you remember? The dirigible?… The dirigible you purchased several years ago?”

“Oh, yes. You were upset about that.”

“As a banker I’m responsible to the Scarlatti Industries. After all, I’m your financial adviser. I’m held accountable.… We covered the purchase from the second fund but it wasn’t proper. Not proper at all. A dirigible could hardly be called an investment.”

“I apologize again.”

“Just remember, Mr. Scarlett. Your father’s wish was that the monies due from the open-faced securities were to be reinvested.”

“How could anyone tell?”

“Those are the releases you sign semiannually.”

“The hundred-odd signatures I have to sit through?”

“Yes. We convert the notes and invest the capital.”

“In what?”

“Those are the portfolio statements we send you. We catalog all investments. We make the selection ourselves as you have not—with your busy schedule—ever answered our letters with regard to your preferences.”

“I never understood them.”

“Well, now, that can be overcome, can’t it?”

“Suppose I didn’t sign the releases?”

“Well … in that unlikely event the securities would remain in the vaults until the end of the year.”

“Where?”

“The vaults. The Scarlatti vaults.”

“I see.”

“The releases are attached to the securities when we remove them.”

“But no releases, no securities. No capital, no money.”

“Exactly. They can’t be converted. The releases are just what the name implies. You release to us with your power of attorney the right to invest the capital.”

“Suppose, for imagination’s sake, you didn’t exist. There was no Waterman Trust. No bank at all. How could those securities be turned into money?”

“By signature again. Made payable to whomever you designated. It’s all clearly set forth on each document.”

“I see.”

“One day—when you’re more advanced, of course—you should see the vaults. The Scarlatti family occupies the entire east wing. The two remaining sons, yourself and Chancellor, have cubicles adjacent to each other. It’s really quite touching.”

Ulster considered. “Yes, I’d like to see the vaults.… When I’m more advanced, of course.”

“For God’s sake, are the Saxons preparing a wedding or a ceremonial convocation for the Archbishop of Canterbury?” Elizabeth Scarlatti had brought her oldest son to her house to discuss the various newspaper articles and the stack of invitations on her desk.

“You can’t blame them. Ulster is hardly an ordinary catch.”

“I’m aware of that. On the other hand the rest of New York can’t stop functioning.” Elizabeth walked to the library door and closed it. She turned and looked at her older son. “Chancellor, I want to discuss something with you. Very briefly and if you’ve got a brain in your head you won’t repeat a word of what I’m going to mention.”

“Of course.”

Elizabeth kept looking at her son. She thought to herself that Chancellor was really a better man than she ever gave him credit for. His problem was that his outlook was so terribly provincial and yet so totally dependent. And his perpetual vacuous look whenever they had a conference made him seem like an ass.

A conference. Perhaps there had been too many conferences. Too few conversations. Perhaps it was her fault.

“Chancellor, I don’t pretend to be on intimate terms with young people these days. There’s a permissiveness that was absent from my own youth and, God knows, that’s a step in the right direction, but I think it may have gone too far.”

“I agree completely!” interrupted Chancellor Drew
Scarlett with fervor. “Today it is self-indulgence and I’ll not have my children infected, let me tell you!”

“Well, perhaps it goes deeper than righteous indignation. The young, as the times, are what we shape them to be—willingly or unknowingly.… However, this is only an introduction.” Elizabeth crossed to her desk and sat down. “I’ve been watching Janet Saxon during the past few weeks.… Watching, perhaps, is unfair. I’ve only seen her on half a dozen occasions starting with that absurd engagement party. It strikes me that she drinks quite heavily. Quite unnecessarily heavily. Yet she’s a lovely girl. An intelligent, alert girl. Am I wrong?”

Chancellor Drew Scarlett was startled. He had never thought such a thing about Janet Saxon. It never crossed his mind. Everyone drank too much. It was all part of the self-indulgence and although he disapproved he never took it very seriously.