stand up.
“Wait—” Don implored. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to get back to the office …”
“No! Stay!” He seemed to be trying to make a joke out of his desperate plea. “You’re my secretary, right?” he grinned. “Well,
today we’re working outside of the office.”
“Oh, Don,” she said, uncertain. “I’m not sure it would be appropriate.”
“Suzy, I just need somebody to be with,” he said. “You know how that can be, don’t you?”
“Yeah …” she said after a moment. “I know…”
So what if she didn’t go back to work today, she thought? The other girls could cover the telephones for the rest of the afternoon,
and she didn’t have to be home at any specific time for her son, who today was out sailing with his uncle.
Her brother Steve had always shown an interest in Robbie, but never more so than during this month’s leave from the Air Force.
For her part, Susan had encouraged her son’s relationship with his uncle. Now that Robbie was becoming a young man, she was
grateful that the boy had a strong father figure to whom he could relate. Her father spent as much time as he could with his
grandson, but his schedule was hectic, and anyway he was getting on in years. Even when he’d been younger Herman Gold hadn’t
been the type to go running on the beach, or play catch, or do any of the other things that amused a ten-year-old, although
Robbie did look forward to flying with his grandfather in his private plane.
“… You just wait here,” Don was saying. “Maybe make us some coffee, while I shower and shave. Then we can go out. We can go
for a drive along the coast. Wouldn’t that be nice? Out by the water, where everything’s cool and clean and fresh …”
He took hold of her hand and squeezed it gently. Susan thought,
How good to be held again, even that little bit
. Don was looking at her with such need in his eyes, and wasn’t that what
she
needed: to be held and cherished?
“Okay,” she said. “You get cleaned up. I’ll make us some coffee.”
CHAPTER 6
----
(One)
GAT
7 April 1955
Herman Gold’s huge corner office was located on the top floor of the main building. It had a commanding view of GAT’s sweeping
airfields, and the majestic, tawny California hills beyond the factory complex’s boundaries. The office had wall-to-wall,
moss green carpeting, and was furnished with sofa and armchair groupings upholstered in supple, burgundy leather. Custom-built
display cases laden with mementos highlighting Gold’s decades in the aviation business lined the oak-paneled walls, beneath
his collection of commissioned oil paintings of GAT airplanes in flight. Gold’s desk chair was a wine-hued, leather throne.
His oak, marble-topped desk was the length and width of a dining room table. Gold had been surrounded by these—and other—trappings
of wealth and power for so long that he scarcely noticed them. If pressed, he would have admitted that he took them for granted;
that he’d had so much for so long that he’d become jaded.
Today, however, was different. Today he was as excited and happy—and goddamned
grateful
—as a kid on Christmas morning over what good fortune had seen fit to present him.
When his secretary told him over the intercom that she’d located Don Harrison and had him on the line, Gold snatched up the
telephone.
“Don, it’s me. I’ve just got off the phone with my son—”
“Oh, how
is
Steve these days?” Don asked a trifle coolly, Gold thought.
“You should know as well as I do that he’s doing just fine in Washington.” Gold laughed. “You’ve been spending so much time
with Suzy and Robbie; whenever
I’m
with my grandson he never shuts up about his Uncle Steve at the Pentagon …”
“Yes, that’s true,” Don admitted. “But when Robbie gets off on that kick of his about Steve I suppose I just shut it off.”
What an odd thing to say
, Gold thought. “Well, anyway,
“Wait—” Don implored. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to get back to the office …”
“No! Stay!” He seemed to be trying to make a joke out of his desperate plea. “You’re my secretary, right?” he grinned. “Well,
today we’re working outside of the office.”
“Oh, Don,” she said, uncertain. “I’m not sure it would be appropriate.”
“Suzy, I just need somebody to be with,” he said. “You know how that can be, don’t you?”
“Yeah …” she said after a moment. “I know…”
So what if she didn’t go back to work today, she thought? The other girls could cover the telephones for the rest of the afternoon,
and she didn’t have to be home at any specific time for her son, who today was out sailing with his uncle.
Her brother Steve had always shown an interest in Robbie, but never more so than during this month’s leave from the Air Force.
For her part, Susan had encouraged her son’s relationship with his uncle. Now that Robbie was becoming a young man, she was
grateful that the boy had a strong father figure to whom he could relate. Her father spent as much time as he could with his
grandson, but his schedule was hectic, and anyway he was getting on in years. Even when he’d been younger Herman Gold hadn’t
been the type to go running on the beach, or play catch, or do any of the other things that amused a ten-year-old, although
Robbie did look forward to flying with his grandfather in his private plane.
“… You just wait here,” Don was saying. “Maybe make us some coffee, while I shower and shave. Then we can go out. We can go
for a drive along the coast. Wouldn’t that be nice? Out by the water, where everything’s cool and clean and fresh …”
He took hold of her hand and squeezed it gently. Susan thought,
How good to be held again, even that little bit
. Don was looking at her with such need in his eyes, and wasn’t that what
she
needed: to be held and cherished?
“Okay,” she said. “You get cleaned up. I’ll make us some coffee.”
CHAPTER 6
----
(One)
GAT
7 April 1955
Herman Gold’s huge corner office was located on the top floor of the main building. It had a commanding view of GAT’s sweeping
airfields, and the majestic, tawny California hills beyond the factory complex’s boundaries. The office had wall-to-wall,
moss green carpeting, and was furnished with sofa and armchair groupings upholstered in supple, burgundy leather. Custom-built
display cases laden with mementos highlighting Gold’s decades in the aviation business lined the oak-paneled walls, beneath
his collection of commissioned oil paintings of GAT airplanes in flight. Gold’s desk chair was a wine-hued, leather throne.
His oak, marble-topped desk was the length and width of a dining room table. Gold had been surrounded by these—and other—trappings
of wealth and power for so long that he scarcely noticed them. If pressed, he would have admitted that he took them for granted;
that he’d had so much for so long that he’d become jaded.
Today, however, was different. Today he was as excited and happy—and goddamned
grateful
—as a kid on Christmas morning over what good fortune had seen fit to present him.
When his secretary told him over the intercom that she’d located Don Harrison and had him on the line, Gold snatched up the
telephone.
“Don, it’s me. I’ve just got off the phone with my son—”
“Oh, how
is
Steve these days?” Don asked a trifle coolly, Gold thought.
“You should know as well as I do that he’s doing just fine in Washington.” Gold laughed. “You’ve been spending so much time
with Suzy and Robbie; whenever
I’m
with my grandson he never shuts up about his Uncle Steve at the Pentagon …”
“Yes, that’s true,” Don admitted. “But when Robbie gets off on that kick of his about Steve I suppose I just shut it off.”
What an odd thing to say
, Gold thought. “Well, anyway,
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