Chapter 22

Cal was up before the sun the next morning, even though he hadn’t slept very well. It looked overcast as he stole a glance out the window, but the forecast had nothing about rain.

He had become part of an inner circle composed of George Lambe, Fred Sherman and himself and that was exciting. Their confidence meant a lot to him. It wasn’t easy, however, to contemplate the crumbling of the old order.

Cal didn’t know how many years Appleton and the County surrounding it had been in the hands of the political party to which he belonged. It was, at least, since the first moment that Cal knew what a political party was. Anyone who expected to be part of, or expected anything from, government joined The Party. Nearly everyone else didn’t bother to join any party.

The College people were the exception, of course. They made it a close call on an election night or two, but never quite broke through. To Cal, that was well and good, because the college people were there at one moment, and then gone.

They were only playing at politics, as though it was a game to help them pass the time until some better amusement came their way. To the real folks, local government was a lot more important to their families, their homes and work. So, Cal considered that the way things were served its purpose.

Jack Ross had been the chieftain of The Party for a long time—not in a formal, titled sense, but in all the ways that counted. There were names from the past, but Cal could barely remember them and recalled nothing about what they had done during their time. Jack had started as a lawyer, just like Cal. He served as Mayor for a short time years ago. Otherwise, he had never held an executive post. He was always legislative. He spent most of his time in Albany. That suited most people.

“Respect or fear, they’ve become the same thing,” Cal told himself, staring into the mirror as he shaved, “but that’s all going to start changing real soon.”

Of course, Cal recognized the desirability of respect. Ross seemed to do alright without it. Cal had known some who had a lot of respect but didn’t have enough fear of Jack Ross and they weren’t doing as well.

“I hope George knows what he’s doing.”

As County Executive George Lambe was the one official in the County who didn’t seem to have to fear Ross. He started his career as a civil engineer in the County Highway Department. After a stint with the State DOT he returned to Appleton and took over as Highway Superintendent. George just kept getting things done, and so did the people who worked in his department.

His background had taught him a lot of things about running a county, so anyone who thought they could buffalo him was setting himself up for a very hard lesson.

As far as Cal could tell, Jack Ross and George Lambe liked it best when they had a lot of distance between them. He thought about their differences as he drove from his house to the County Office Building.

“Come on in!” George yelled to Cal as he walked into the anteroom. The two men had arrived early, even before the secretaries. “I bootlegged a pot of coffee. Grab a cup.”

There was a carafe on George’s credenza and an extra cup. Cal filled it—black, no sugar.

“Let’s sit at the conference table,” George said. “I’ve got a draft report of the market appraisal for the Annex right here.”

Cal chose a chair at the table. George put one copy of the draft in front of him and kept the other for himself.

“You’ll see in a moment why we have to be careful with this,” George warned.

Cal opened the booklet to the Executive Summary. He glanced down the page, looking for the key number. When he found it he looked up at George.

“There will be a lot of people who won’t like this,” he groaned.

“You see what I mean?” George said.

“It’s not even half a million dollars,” Cal replied. “Are they sure of the number?”

“They used a three-way test,” George explained. “What you’re seeing on the Executive Summary page is the result is the Present Value of a hypothetical ten-year lease. They also did Comparable Sales as one of the tests and Replacement Cost as the other. This method gives the lowest value, but Bennett Associates thought it made the most sense.”

“How so?”

“Well, it would be impractical to think that a company like Midco would build a brand new site in Appleton. It wouldn’t make sense with so many vacant sites available. They’re only interested in this site because they can renovate it at low cost and move in fast.

The Comparable Sales test is really moot because nothing in this part of the state has sold in the last five years that is anything comparable to the Annex site. That leaves the Present Value Analysis as the most reasonable choice.”

“Then how did they come up with the lease payment estimates?” Cal asked.

“They got some comparable data for lease costs per square foot in similar sites and made an adjustment for Appleton factors. They also deducted Midco’s assumed cost of renovating the site from the present value. There you have it.”

“It seems so pat, George,” Cal protested. “What do you think?”

“In my view, it’s a sound analysis. It’s unfortunate for Appleton, but I can’t see a fault in the logic. If you worked for Midco, what would you pay? It explains why they’re so interested in moving here.”

“They’re going to be disappointed at City Hall,” Cal said. “I think they already had the money spent.”

“It’s not only that,” George added. “A lot of citizens are going to insist that it’s worth more and will make a laughing stock of any City Council member who accepts the number.”

“In the end it will have to be this or nothing,” Cal said. “There are no other prospects and there haven’t been for years. What do they expect?”

George shook his head.

“That’s the wrong approach,” he countered. “The City Council has to keep the big picture in mind. It’s the jobs, the supporting businesses and all the revenue that each will bring. They have to focus on that and not making a quick buck on selling the Annex to Midco.”

“We should get some numbers ready projecting the additional sales tax revenue and higher property tax base with the added jobs and businesses,” Cal added.

“Good thinking,” George agreed. “I’ll get someone on that right away. We’ll lowball a preliminary estimate and up the ante when decision time gets closer and our numbers are more refined...”

“That’s a hardball way to...”

“We could blow this whole thing,” George interrupted. “We can’t let that happen. We have to play this smart all the way, Cal. It’s up to us.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” Cal countered. “On top of the low price, Midco will want property tax concessions, and we haven’t even talked about the liability waiver.”

“With the Annex value at a lower value, there will be a smaller tax bill in play,” George said. “And we already know that Midco has got to give up the idea of the waiver.”

Cal reached for the carafe full of coffee and refilled his cup. He raised it to his lips without speaking and swallowed a good portion of the hot liquid, a morning bracer.

“I can’t believe this is all so complicated,” he complained. “It should be simple. What’s wrong with people?”

“There’s nothing wrong with them,” George admonished. “They just need someone to get behind. It might be you and me, or we can hand them over to Homer Barlow and Jack Ross.”

“ ... or Wesley Ingram,” Cal added.

George shook his head.

“No, Wes is just a sideshow,” George said.

“Then why did you...” Cal started to ask.

“To get him to go public in favor of the project,” George answered. “If he gives the project a public blessing, then he won’t be able to renege later. Don’t forget, that access road has to go through Miller’s Marsh. By stipulating that his sole objection is the waiver he takes any access road issue off the table. Do you want to do battle with him over that, too?”

Cal laughed.

“You do like to play hardball,” he said.

“Only when I have to,” George corrected. “You have to come through for us with Midco, Cal. Make them drop the demand for the waiver. The whole project balances on that. It’s up to you.”

Cal left his car in the Municipal Lot and walked the two blocks to his office. It was mid-morning on a nice day in late summer. It was nice to be able to walk from one office to another. Small town life had its advantages at certain times. He was happy to leave behind the pressure in George’s office.

Cal arrived his office building and climbed the stairs to the second floor. He opened the outer door of his office. Delores was at her desk.

“You had a call while you were out,” she announced. “It was someone who wants an appointment tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning? Tomorrow is Saturday. We don’t do appointments on Saturday, except as an occasional favor for special clients.”

“That’s what I told him,” Delores confirmed. “This man said he was sure you would see him. It was an Asian-sounding name. Here, I wrote it down.”

Dolores handed Cal a pink telephone memo slip. Cal read it.

“Koichi Kondo-Midco Associates,” Cal read out loud And then turned to Delores. “It’s one of Mr. Tanaka’s assistants. What time does he want to meet?”

“Eleven.”

“Did he say what it was about?”

Delores shook her head.

“It can only be about the Annex Project,” he declared.

Cal handed the slip back to her.

“Can you call him back and confirm for eleven, please?”

“Do you want me to work tomorrow, too?” Delores sighed.

“That won’t be necessary,” he answered.

He poured a coffee for himself and headed toward the inner office. He stopped before going in.

“Going to the Fair this weekend?” he asked.

“Maybe tomorrow night for the fireworks,” Delores answered. “What about you.”

“I’m going both nights,” Cal said. “Tonight is politics. Everyone in the County Legislature agreed that we’d do a ‘meet and greet’ tonight. Tomorrow I’m going to the fireworks with Roxie.”

Delores huffed.

“Don’t think I forgot about that,” she snapped. “I guess that you’ll just have to get her out of your system before you can move on.”

Cal didn’t answer. There was work waiting in his office and he didn’t feel like arguing with Delores over something that wasn’t going to change.

He closed his door and began to look through his mail. One of the first things he saw was the Letters Testamentary that would allow Roxie to function as executor of her aunt’s estate. He began to draft a letter with instructions to send to her along with those papers.

“This should be easy enough,” he thought. “If she gets in a bind, she can call me. I’ll give her the name of a real estate agent who can sell the property.”

He began thinking about how much he would charge her. Given the size of the estate, the usual retainer seemed out of line. He knew what Delores would say when she saw the charge-off. He had to put her on the clock because Delores would look for the billable hours when she typed the letter.

“This is tricky,” he muttered to himself.

He felt guilty. Part of it was putting Roxie on the clock when he didn’t want to. The other part was not putting her on the clock for enough hours. A legal practice was a business, after all.

The most perplexing part was why he didn’t want to put her on the clock. He tried to tell himself that it was glorified pro-bono work.

“It’s probably the biggest chunk of money she’ll ever see at one time. Let her keep it.”

For some reason, that bell sounded hollow as he tried to ring it. He thought some more and failed to come up with a better answer.

“Well, the fact is that I don’t want to put her on the clock and I’m not going to.”

He spent about forty-five minutes drafting the instructions. He finished the letter and set it aside and put a token ten minutes on the billing card, which he fastened it to the letter. The task was done and he felt better. He would deal with Delores later.

With Roxie’s work finished he began to think about his appointment the next day with Kondo. Even the purpose was a mystery. Did he have news from Midco? Perhaps he sought news. It had been a long time since Cal last corresponded with Mr. Tanaka.

“I’ll certainly have some news to tell him. I’ll tell him everything, except I’ll hold back the part about the waiver. For that, I need to talk with Mr. Tanaka direct. I’ll keep silent on the property appraisal, too.”

He wondered about Mr. Tanaka. He’d heard nothing from him in a while. Perhaps Tanaka was no longer with Midco. More likely, he’d handed the reins to Kondo having tired of waiting for Cal to come through.

“Maybe Kondo is coming here to tell me that Midco has lost interest in the whole project.”

The whole train of thought made him shudder. The Annex Project was his. He was the project. Failure would mean a huge loss for the community, but it would mean a lot more than that.

He wouldn’t have blamed them if they quit. If it had been up to Cal the whole matter would have been resolved as soon as Norman Shad had promised the waiver. It was water over the dam. Whatever it was would have to wait as he would find out the next morning at eleven.

Cal looked into the mirror as he was shaving the next morning. The stint at the County Fair had gone on longer than he had expected. At the end it seemed to him that the politicians were socializing with one another more than the public. He accepted it. He’d learned to accept many things about politics that didn’t seem to make much sense.

In addition to that, thinking about his meeting with Kondo kept him from getting much sleep. He wondered about the secrecy. It was an unusual way to ask for a meeting. The normal way would have been to state the purpose and set up a time a week or so in the future.

He thought to himself that he was unready. With some notice he could have prepared a nice presentation that Kondo could have taken back to Mr. Tanaka. He would have been impressed. It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t prepare for a meeting for which he did not know the subject.