Chapter 3: Changes

Tom would have liked to sleep in on Saturday morning. He had not caught that much sleep, not with what was going around in his head and with the late night discussion with Iris. Yet, he woke from the noise Iris was making in the shower. The old pipes in the mausoleum always made a huge racket when somebody showered. He looked at his wristwatch. It was 7:15, Iris’s usual time on Saturdays. Was she going to work? Tom shook his head. What a great way to “work things out”, indeed.

Iris emerged from their bathroom not ten minutes later, and as usual, fully dressed in her professional get-up. Seeing him looking at her, she shrugged.

“Look, I need to be in my office for a briefing. I won’t be longer than eleven o’clock, twelve tops.”

“This is how you want to make things work between us?” he asked.

“Oh, come on! What we have to say will keep until after lunch, won’t it?”

“So why exactly did you want me to sleep in this room?”

“Well, not so you can jump my bones right away. We need to clear a lot of things before we can return to that,” she returned just a little snidely.

“Well, why then? Humor me. Why was it so important for you that I slept in this room with you? Appearances’ sakes? Keep up the happy couple front? Who do you think you’re kidding with that?”

She stomped her foot with impatience.

“Look, I need to go. I don’t have the time for this discussion right now. We’ll have the whole afternoon and evening. If it’s important for you to make your childish point, go move back into the guestroom.”

“Maybe I should move out then,” Tom said in a very low voice.

This finally shook her. “You can’t mean that.”

“What if I do? Last night, you were all about ‘working things out’. Not seven hours later you’re back to leaving us alone. I thought you’d at least have breakfast with us. You could’ve explained and apologized to Cor.”

“I can do that after lunch, can’t I? Really, Tom, I need to go. Walter has the newest numbers, and we want to go over my presentation next week. This is important.”

“And we’re not. I get it.”

“Damn it, Tom! Not everything is about you! How about this: I’ll keep tomorrow completely free. Hey, we can even make a trip somewhere.”

It was futile to argue further.

“Okay, go! But we’ll have that talk, and then there must be some changes to your schedules. I’m sick of being a single parent.”

Of course, come 12 o’clock, Iris had not returned. At 1 p.m. Tom told Mrs. Pound to pack a small weekend bag for Cor. He threw a change of clothes and his toiletries into another duffel bag, and when the clock struck 2 o’clock and Iris had still not returned, Tom had Cor buckle up in the passenger seat of his old Saab and drove off.

He was more or less flying by the seat of his pants with regard to plans, but once out of Philadelphia he took Route 55 heading for Cape May. His cell phone started to chirp when they were already past Millville. A glance at the display showed him that it was Iris. He took the call.

“Hold on a sec. I have to pull over,” he said. He exited onto an overpass and stopped the car on the shoulder. Picking up the phone, he started again. “Okay, I can talk now.”

“Where the hell are you, goddammit?” Iris’s angry voice assaulted his ear.

“We’re on that trip you mentioned this morning. A pity you couldn’t make it.”

“Where. Are. You?”

“Route 55. We’re heading for Cape May to see if we can find a motel room around Avalon or Sea Isle.”

There was a pause on Iris’s side. Her next question was asked in a soft voice. “Why did you go?”

“Because I’m sick of your shit. You said you’d be back by eleven, twelve o’clock tops. Guess what: we left at two and you still weren’t back. So I figured you weren’t that hot on being with us.”

“That’s not true. It was my idea in the first place. Can’t you cut me some slack?”

“If I cut you any more slack I can just as well cut you loose,” Tom answered pointedly. “You have to learn that there is a limit to what I’ll put up with.”

“Okay, listen, why don’t I hop in a cab and drive to the airport? I can rent a chopper and be in Cape May within an hour. You could pick me up at the airfield. Will you, please?”

Taking a deep breath Tom relented. “Okay, there has to be a restaurant where we can sit and watch planes starting and landing. We’ll be there.”

“I’ll call a cab right away. Thanks, Tom.”

She must have left the mansion at a dead run, Tom thought, for her to arrive barely 90 minutes after their phone call. The chopper swooped in from north-west, and two minutes later the blades had stopped rotating. Iris stepped out of the cabin a little unsteady, and Tom suspected that the flight had not been too peachy. He knew that she hated flying, and a quick dash in a helicopter would not agree well with her stomach.

“Drink up, and let’s roll, Sport,” he nudged his son who was suitably impressed with his mother’s entry.

They met Iris in the lobby of the small airport. She was pulling a small carry-on trolley and she looked pale.

“Jesus! If I had known what I was getting into I would’ve been home in time,” she said with a weak smile. “Hey Cor. How was your birthday?”

Cor was shrugging. “Okay,” he offered giving his mother a reproachful look.

“I know, darling. I missed your party. I did not get done at work before eleven at night. Your daddy already gave me an earful over that, and I’m really sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She looked at Tom. “To you, too.”

“Gimme that case,” Tom said by way of greeting, smoothly avoiding her attempted hug. She looked hurt. “We have to clear a number of things before we can return to that,” he told her mockingly, making her blush.

“Why does one of us always have to be pissed off at the other?” Iris asked rhetorically.

That made Cor grin. “You said ‘pissed’, Mom!”

“Yeah, I guess I did. I’m not a good example for you these days. I don’t keep my promises, I’m always late, and I say bad words. I’ll try to be better, okay?”

Suddenly somber again, the boy nodded. Iris took his hand, and together they followed Tom who was heading for the parking lot. Seeing the Saab, Iris accelerated her steps until she caught up with her husband.

“You took the Saab? Why? It doesn’t even have a working air condition.”

Tom shrugged. “It’s the only car I have.”

“That’s nonsense, Tom. We have half a dozen better cars.”

He turned and looked at her. “We don’t have half a dozen cars. Villier has half a dozen cars.”

“What difference does that make? They’re company owned.”

Tom nodded. “Exactly. Not mine to use without authorization by management. Forgive me if I didn’t feel like asking.”

He unlocked the trunk and heaved Iris’s trolley into it. Cor had to move to the rear seats and Iris sat in the passenger seat. She smiled for the first time when she regarded the dated interior.

“I can’t remember the last time I sat in this car. But it looks like it has been cleaned since then,” she added with a touch of teasing.

Tom had bought a Saab900 when he first came to the US over ten years ago. It had been well used then, and its cluttered interior had been the topic of many good-natured taunts from her side.

“Complete overhaul three years ago. I told you about it, but I guess you don’t remember. The air condition works, too, but it’s nice today, so why use it?”

“No, I guess I don’t recall. I have to learn to listen to you again.” She shook her head. “Okay, where are we heading?”

“The Seaboard Inn motel. After your call I changed the reservation from economy lodging to the honeymoon suite. We’ll even have a whirlpool.”

“Will Cor...”

“He’ll be in our room. The woman at the reception said something about a fold-out bed, but I thought he should sleep between us.”

He could see Iris swallowing. “You’re making me eat my words, huh?”

Tom turned to her for a brief moment. He spoke low so that Cor in the backseat would not hear them.

“No. I just think that an eight-year-old should have a chance to cuddle with his mother maybe once in a year.”

They had made the most of the remainder of the day, walking the beach and having an acceptable dinner at a seafront restaurant. When they strolled back to their motel, Iris reached out to hold his hand. It was a simple gesture but Tom appreciated it and pressed her hand in response. Cor was running along the waterline giving them a modicum of privacy.

“I like this,” Iris sighed after a few steps of walking hand in hand. “God, that summer we spent on that island — what’s the name?”

“Schouwen,” Tom answered.

“Yeah, Schouwen. That was the greatest time of my life. I can’t believe what I did back then.”

For the first time that day, Tom had a genuine laugh. “What you did then would get you arrested anywhere in the States.”

“God, yes! You’re disappointed in me, right, because I’m not that carefree girl anymore.”

Tom shrugged. “Not really. I’m not that guy anymore either. I mean, two weeks ago I fired a guy who had twice violated procedure. Imagine that! My father would disown me if he knew. But you are beyond serious; you are anti-fun. Can you say that you enjoy your life?”

Iris gave that some thought before she shook her head. “Not really. It seems like I’m running full tilt all the time only to learn that the finish line is moving away from me faster than I can run.”

“That’s the impression I have, yeah. So, what can we do about it?”

“We need to spend more time like this. Recharging, talking, walking barefoot on the sand.”

“That’s easy. Just tell your secretary to decline weekend meetings. Get organized. Decline any meetings where you’re not needed. Make it clear that your workday has ten hours and that anybody who makes you work longer gets on your shit list. How do you think I can juggle being a line manager and having time for Cor?”

“Tom, I mean no insult, but that’s not comparable.”

“It’s the same, only on a lower level. The people working on my lines had to learn to use their own brains. Your VPs and other senior staff can be expected to do the same. Make a decision, and if it’s important enough, report it during the weekly meeting. Instead they always come to you. Hell, you’re not even allowed to interfere with Moran and Gunderson’s divisions. Why listen to their problems? If it’s important enough, let them file a report. I bet you’ll hear a lot less bad stuff about me if Gunderson has to file his griping over his own signature.”

“Okay, I can see your point, but that won’t close the distance between us.”

“On the contrary! Once you’re not on call for each and every trivial complaint or suggestion, you’ll be at home at a decent hour. We can have dinner together, imagine that. I cannot remember the last time we had dinner on a weekday. You could bond with Cor again. He’s a great boy, but you’re missing out on him growing up. After dinner we could talk, take strolls, even have sex if that’s not too repulsive for you these days.”

“Mrs. Newnam won’t be a help,” Iris sighed.

Mrs. Newnam was her secretary. She was old school, a secretary, and she’d been around for three decades. She took dictation, she served coffee, but she was not an office manager.

“Get rid of her,” Tom shrugged. “She’d mesh well with Hiram Gunderson. Get a real corporate assistant to run your office. A good assistant can take away some of the workload, too. You know, scan reports and highlight the important stuff, get information about visitors. Hell, get two of them so one is always at hand.”

Iris stopped walking and looked at him. “Hey, I thought I was the pampered heiress.”

“You’re the de-facto owner of the company. Your time is wasted doing stuff that somebody else can do for you who was trained for it. You’re an engineer. They don’t allow you to meddle in production and finances, so get involved in R&D. Provide vision, give encouragement.”

“I’ll think about it. You’re not just saying this so I’ll spend less time with Walter?”

“Let’s not talk about the man. I don’t like him, I don’t respect him, but you are convinced that you need him. Maybe I’m wrong about him.”

“I believe you are, but let’s drop it. Any other ideas?”

“Yes. We are married, but you don’t treat me like your husband at work. The impression that you give is that you are ashamed of me. It’s been like this ever since you started as your grandfather’s gofer.”

Iris scrunched up her nose. She looked so cute doing this that he wanted to kiss her. She could read him, obviously, because she smiled coyly. “What do you have in mind? Public displays of affection?”

“Maybe just taking our lunch together. The other married couples do that, too. Just the two of us.”

Again, she scrunched up her nose thinking about his suggestion. Then her face cleared and she smiled.

“You’re right. Thinking of it I don’t know why we haven’t done it all along. When can you get away for lunch usually? You know, we could even go to an off-site diner from time to time. That would give us more privacy and time.”

“Think you can do it? I mean, won’t your VPs go through withdrawal?” Tom teased.

Iris grabbed for his second hand and looked up into his face. “I’m not ashamed of you, Tom. Well, sometimes I was. Listen, I called Hiram Gunderson during a break this morning. I confronted him about that story with the replacement laser. He hemmed and hawed, and then he said that he’d never claimed it was your fault, only that the line was your responsibility. Then I told him about your purchase request being nixed by Finance, and he just mumbled something about the need to cut expenses. I promise, Tom: from now on I’ll have any complaint about you put in writing so he can’t weasel out of it. Maybe we need to look for a fresh man to head production when Hiram’s contract runs out year after next.”

“That would be great. Besides, this will be a moot point soon. I made up my mind, Iris. I’ll leave Villier.”

“I don’t want you to leave. I want to make things work for us. I thought that maybe I could get a production VP from outside and give you the deputy position. That way you could prove yourself and learn, and then maybe be the next in line for the job.”