In reflection he berated himself. He should have stayed indifferent, dominant, and in charge. The words from his past echoed in his memory, “Only the weak apologize.” He reconsidered waking her, fulfilling the indifferent domineering qualities that would prove he wasn’t weak. Then he saw her peaceful expression and thought of her giving and surrendering herself over and over. Quietly, he got out of bed, put on his trousers, and left her suite. Stepping into the corridor, he decided to work out.

  There is something perverse about more than enough.

When we have more, it is never enough. It is always somewhere

out there, just out of reach. The more we acquire,

themoreelusiveenoughbecomes. —Unknown

 Chapter 17

Clawson tried one more time. “It is very easy. Textiles have made you a fortune, a fortune you can now plant and invest to grow a lot more. This is 1977. The real money isn’t in creating. It is in owning and selling. See these figures?” He handed Nathaniel the reports. “You have capital not only in profit margins but also in secured retirement plans. That money is just sitting there, waiting for those employees to get old. Hell, many of them won’t be eligible for retirement for another twenty years. Use that money, invest it. Grow it. Right now, it’s just rotting away in these accounts.”

Samuel stayed quiet as long as he could. His father’s dark eyes were starting to flash dollar signs. “Clawson, the problem with your plan is that our employees own that money, not us. They’ve entrusted us to keep that money for them so it will be available when they retire. And it is growing interest.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Rawls, have you seen the interest rates? Your employees will have their money because you aren’t going to lose it. You’re growing it. Then when the day is done, they’ll have their retirement and Rawls Corp. will have additional profits.” Clawson spoke to Samuel, but hoped Nathaniel was the one listening.

He was. Nathaniel said, “Jesus, Samuel, have you looked at these reports? Where are the figures on Hong Kong Industrials? Since the exchange-trade options change of seventy-three, it’s a cake-walk to manipulate these options.” Clawson handed Nathaniel the reports. “We set our strike price. If the stock price starts to move out of the option near expiration, we set the cap.”

Clawson smiled. The old man was finally getting it. “You have the capital to do that.”

Samuel threw a report on the table. “It isn’t our capital.”

Looking first to the suddenly disorganized stacks of papers, then to his son, Nathaniel’s dark eyes darkened. “Like hell it isn’t. It is my goddamn company. I built it from nothing. Do you think those employees you’re so damned concerned about would have a job if I didn’t work my ass off thirty years ago?”

  Who will tell whether one happy moment of love or the joy of breathing or walking on a bright morning and smelling the fresh air is not worth all the suffering and effort which life implies. —Erich Fromm

 Chapter 18

A week later, they flew to Chicago. Tony absorbed himself in his work and laptop as Claire sat quietly and thought about the city. It had been a frequent haunt during her college days. Valparaiso is only an hour and twenty minutes from the Loop. She and her sorority sisters would spend entire afternoons or evenings enjoying the sights. They would shop, dine, or go to the theater. They knew their way to all the best deals.

Claire remembered the fun as they rode the L and the train around the city. Sometimes they would go with guys to a baseball game, usually the Cubs. She enjoyed watching people at Wrigley Field. Not really a baseball fan, she liked warm evenings with a group of friends, enjoying hot dogs and beers. They would all pile into someone’s vehicle and road-trip. It really didn’t get better than that. They were even known to blow off classes for a day at Wrigley. Claire rationalized it as academic research, her major being meteorology and baseball held outdoors, it all made sense.

Friends made baseball fun. To Claire, the guys, all from the same fraternity, were more like brothers. After a brief romance her freshman year she decided to concentrate on school instead of love. Suddenly, Claire realized that her reminiscing made her sad. She wondered where those friends were today. She became so busy concentrating on her career. She lost touch with most of them. Maybe if they’d stayed connected they would have noticed her missing last March.

As the jet approached the private airport, Claire saw the skyline against the blue of the lake. She told herself to put the sadness away. Compartmentalize. She should concentrate on great times in Chicago. But she wondered, when driving there in an old minivan, she knew fun times were ahead. Now leaving the private jet and entering the backseat of the leased limousine, what was in store?

Eric chauffeured the limousine as they drove toward the lake at seven thirty in the morning. Claire could see the buildings, smell the exhaust, and feel the vibration of the road as the car turned north on Lake Shore Drive. She felt more at home than she had in months. Filled with excitement, she wanted to talk about everything they passed: McCormick Place, Soldier Field and Grant Park. As they approached Millennium Park, she thought about the concerts that took place all summer long.

She didn’t speak. Tony was occupied on his cell phone. He’d been in a conversation with someone since they landed. His voice sounded amicable but she could see his body language. It told another story. Listening to Claire give a tour of Chicago wouldn’t help his disposition. She also worried that he may not approve of her comfort level with Chicago. Originally she didn’t want to join him on this trip, now she couldn’t wait to enjoy the city.

The limousine pulled up to the Reliance Building and Tony gathered his briefcase, laptop, and cell phone. Eric came around and opened the door. Still talking on his phone, Tony nodded to Claire and got out. She found herself in the familiar situation, being chauffeured to a completely unknown destination.

Before they arrived, Tony informed her she could rest at his apartment. He hadn’t mentioned the location or when he would return. She took a deep breath and waited while Eric moved the car through the crowded streets. In a short time the limousine idled in a line approaching the front entrance to the Trump Tower.

Eric lowered the window that separated the two compartments and gave Claire the first information on her destination. “Ms. Claire, Mr. Rawlings’s apartment is the eighty-ninth floor of Trump Tower. Security has your name and will allow you access. As you enter the main doors, walk around to the left. You will see a security desk. They will help you reach the apartment. I will park the car and bring your and Mr. Rawlings’s bags up as soon as I can. The staff of the apartment will be available to assist you once you reach the eighty-ninth floor. Do you have any questions, miss?”

“No, thank you, Eric. I will be fine.” Then she waited while he stopped the car and came around to open her door. Only having five hours sleep, Claire felt like a mouse placed in a maze. Would she be able to find the cheese?