The Night Letter

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Back in the office Vanderpoel kept trying to call Lisa. There were no cubicles so everyone could see each other's desk. On Ted's desk was a rock on which his daughter had painted, "You Rock!" He had taped family photos to his three monitors. There were also sticky notes on the monitors with three and four letter trading symbols of stocks he was following. Buys and puts on the left, sells and calls on the right. They weren't labeled as such but Vanderpoel figured out the system.

When he finally got through to Lisa, she was in Kansas for the bank's quarterly board meeting. Most of the board was family but that didn't mean she liked them any better. At least the steaks were good. Vanderpoel pictured her eating one. When she made up her mind to eat she did it with the penitential abandon of a flagellant. The social gatherings would be insufferable were it not for her brother, George. Since her dad died, he may have been the only member of her immediate family who really understood how the bank worked. Lisa was proud of how much finance she had managed to teach herself in a short period of time but she always voted with her brother. He brought his British wife with him, probably the only person who felt more out of place than Lisa. Vanderpoel had never been to Kansas but he had met George. years of living abroad had not so much broadened him, certainly had not refined his manner, but gave his eye the somewhat lost look of a being without place or origin. It was a family trait like the Hapsburg lip. They were somehow too apologetic; it was not their world, you see; they had just been plopped down in it, shoved a fistful of cash, wished good luck, and were now just trying to get along in it. The unnecessity of work had cut them off from understanding the ordinary motives and designs of others and they were not quite sure whether to pity other people, distrust them or both. Vanderpoel actually liked George, despite the awkwardness of trying to compete with the man bearing the aura of the family savior and despite not knowing if he were being pitied, distrusted or, more likely, both.

"I have been to Kansas at countless times and I never knew it could get this hot. And humid. The moisture just hangs in the air like a mist but it doesn't block the sun; it's more like a magnifying glass," her voice came over the phone. Even processed over thousands of miles, through countless chips and cables, it was undeniably her and a smile spread over his face he was glad she couldn't see.

"And you're the ant? I know, Kandahar is similar. But we don't get good steaks. We get the freeze dried stuff. The meat is purple inside. The lamb is good, though; it's fresh. They get that local. Sadiqullah takes good care of us.

"We have a rodeo tonight."

"They play bushkashi here. Up north."

"What?'

"Have fun at the rodeo," he said. When he was abroad the things he missed most about the United States were things typically associated with it even if he didn't associate them with it such as rodeos and endlessly rolling plains. He had no memory of those things but he wanted to be there now, especially to be with Lisa. That she was unhappy there and he could be of no help made it worse.

"It's not fun; it's just more of being treated like an outsider. I know I don't fit in; I don't want to. They complain about government interference and then defend corn subsidies to the death. And these redneck promise keepers think women are stupid; it's like going back in time. My uncle keeps making veiled insults about my father. You know they never got along. I told you about that," she said. When she lived in Europe she dreamed of being an ordinary American and now that she was there she felt out of place. He had comfort to offer her misfit agony but it just got deferred to later.

"What's going on with the bank; any progress?" Vanderpoel asked. He was going to talk about his own problems, to the extent he was able, but he didn't want their problems to compete. He found her local color descriptions a distraction from her troubles. If he was going to change the subject he could have at least changed it to something more pleasant, he thought.

She described the bank situation but there was little change. It was all the same controversies of dividend versus growth, management versus shareholders and selling versus retaining that were no closer to a resolution that would unfreeze the assets of the bank. Vanderpoel was desperately trying to remember something from law school to be of some use or comfort to her.

"The laws of closely held corporations are complicated and different in every state and I'm just not familiar with Kansas. I could try to research it for you."

"No, I trust Jaffe," she said. Jaffe was the lawyer her brother hired. Vanderpoel told her once she should get her own lawyer, in case her interests and her brother's ever diverged. The best he could do was offer advice he knew it was impossible for her to take. He knew she was right; more lawyers would only put another strain on an already strained situation. She would never go against her brother. A woman's beloved father or brother always seemed to complicate his romantic entanglements. For a moment, the idea of him providing for her out of his meagre salary appealed to him more than the idea of her getting her millions.

"You sound very on your own out there. I know you have your brother but he has his own wife."

"You're sweet. I know you make a decent living and I don't need to be covered in diamonds but just enough to be indecent would be nice.

"So you have no use of me now and it will be even less if this thing ever gets resolve. Is just my concern for you enough?"

"What, are you concerned about, my health?"

"I'm a promise keeper."

"Don't worry; all the steak isn't going to my hips. It's going in the toilet about five minutes after I eat it."

"And you expect me not to be concerned? You should go home. As long as all your interests are covered."

"You should go home."

"Only one of us has the choice."

"How much longer?" Lisa asked. he thought for a moment. He did not, as some did, count the days like a prisoner. He found that distracting. He realized he let the silence go on for too long and she struck before he could fill it. "You're a man a few words," she said.

"You're welcome to find a man of more," he said. "You love your dogs probably more than you ever loved a person and they don't talk so maybe words aren't what you need."

"You're jealous of the dogs; I knew it."

"I love the dogs, too. Where are they? Did you bring them with you?"

"Yes, I brought them; at least someone likes Kansas."

"Feed them your steak if you can't make any better use of it," he said. The call didn't end there but it may as well have. He was upset it had not gone as planned and she was distracted by the business with the bank. When he hung up he somehow had the desperate feel of a gambler who played his highest card knowing it would be trumped.