Alex murmured uneasy agreement. Like Lewis, he was aware that First Mercantile American shares, listed on the New York Stock Exchange, had fallen five and a half points since news of Ben's illness. The death of the last Rosselli a name which for generations had been synonymous with the bank coupled with uncertainty about the course of future management, had caused the most recent drop. Now, even though illogically, publicity about the funeral could depress the stock still further.
"Our stock will go up again," Alex said. "earnings are good and nothing's really changed."
"Oh, I know that," Lewis~agreed. "It's why I'll cover my short position tomorrow afternoon." Edwina looked shocked. "You shorted FMA?”
"Sure did. Advised a few clients to do the same. As of right now there's a tidy profit."
She protested, "You and I know I never discuss anything confidential with you, Lewis. Others don't. Because of my connection with the bank you could be accused of insider trading."
Alex shook his head. "Not in this case, Edwina, Ben's illness was public knowledge."
'When we eventually make over the capitalist system," Margot said, "selling short on the stock market will be one of the first things to go." Lewis raised his eyebrows. "Why?"
"Because it's totally negative. Short selling is: disruptive speculation that requires someone else to lose. It's ghoulish and a non-contribution. It creates nothing." "It creates a handy capital gain." Lewis grinned
broadly; he had crossed arguments with Margot many times before. "And that isn't easy to come by nowadays, at least with American investments."
"I still don't like you doing it with FMA stock,', Edwina said. "It's too close to home."
Lewis D'Orsey looked at his wife gravely. "In that case, my dear, after I've covered my shorts tomorrow I will never trade in FMA again." Margot glanced over sharply. "You know he means it," Alex said.
Alex wondered sometimes about the relationship between Edwina and her husband. Outwardly they seemed ill-matched Edwina elegantly attractive and self-possessed; Lewis, scrawny, unimpressive physically, an introvert except with those he knew well, though the personal reticence never showed in his roaring-lion financial newsletter. But their marriage appeared to work well, and each showed respect and affection for the other, as Lewis had just now. Perhaps, Alex thought, it proved that not only did opposites attract; they tended to stay married.
Alex's Cadillac from the bank car pool moved into the lengthening line outside the cathedral and the four of them walked toward it.
"It would have been a more civilized promise," Margot said, "if Lewis agreed not to sell anything short."
"Alex," Lewis said, "what the hell do you have in common with this socialist broad?"
"We're great in the sack," Margot told him. 'Isn't that enough?" Alex said, "And I'd like to marry her soon."
Edwina responded warmly, "Then I hope you will." She and Margot had been close since childhood, despite occasional dashes of temperament and outlook. Something they had in common was that in both branches of their family women were strong, with a tradition of involvement in public life. Edwina asked Alex quietly, "Anything new with Celia?"
He shook his head. "Nothing's changed. If anything, Celia's worse." They were at the car. Alex motioned the chauffeur to remain seated, then opened a rear door for the others and followed them in. Inside, the glass panel separating the driver from the passenger seats was closed. They settled down while the still assembling cortege inched forward.
For Alex, the mention of Celia sharpened the sadness of this moment; it also reminded him guiltily that he should visit her again soon. Since the session at the Remedial Center in early October which had so depressed him, he had paid one other call, but Celia had been even more withdrawn, gave not the slightest sign of recognition, and wept silently the entire time. He remained dejected for days afterward and dreaded a repeat performance.
The thought occurred now that Ben Rosselli, in the coffin up ahead, was better off than Celia because his life had ended conclusively. If only Celia would die… Alex quelled the thought with shame.
Nor had anything new developed between himself and Margot, who remained adamantly opposed to a divorce, at least until it became clear that Celia would be unaffected. Margot seemed willing to go on indefinitely with the arrangement they had. Alex was less resigned.
Lewis addressed Edwina. "I've been meaning to ask what the latest is about that young assistant of yours. The one who got caught with his arm in the cash drawer. What was his name?"
"Miles Eastin," Edwina answered. "He appears in criminal court next week and I have to be a witness. I'm not looking forward to it."
"At least you got the blame where it should be," Alex said. He had read the audit chief's report about the embezzlement and cash loss; also that of Nolan Wainwright. "What about the teller who was involved Mrs. Nunez? Is she okay?"
"She seems to be. I'm afraid we gave Juanita a hard time. Unjustly, as it turned out."
Margot, only half listening, now, sharpened her attention. "I know a Juanita Nunez. Nice young woman who lives at Forum East. I believe her husband left her. She has a child."
"That sounds like our Mrs. Nunez," Edwina said. "Yes, I remember now. She does live at Forum East."
Though Margot was curious, she sensed it was not a time for further questions.
As they sat, briefly silent, Edwina pursued her thoughts. The two recent events Ben Rosselli's death and Miles Eastin's foolish wrecking of his life had come too close together. Both, involving people whom she liked, had saddened her.
She supposed she should care more about Ben; she owed him most. Her own rapid rise within the bank had been due to ability; however, Ben had never hesitated as many employers did to allow a woman the same opportunity as men. Nowadays Edwina resented the parrot cries of women's lib. As she saw it, women in business were being favored because of their sex, giving them an advantage Edwina had never sought or needed. Just the same, across the years she had known Ben, his presence was a guarantee of equal treatment. Like Alex, Edwina had been moved to tears in the cathedral as Ben's body passed by on its outward journey.
Her thoughts returned to Miles. He was young enough, she supposed, to build another kind of life, though it would not be easy. No bank would ever employ him; nor would anyone else, in a position of trust. Despite what he had done, she hoped he would not be sent to prison.
Aloud, Edwina said; "I always get a guilty feeling about ordinary conversation at a funeral."
"No reason to," Lewis said. "Personally, at mine I'd like to think there was something solid being said, not just small talk."
"You could make certain of that," Margot suggested, "by publishing a farewell edition of The D'Orsey Newsletter. Pallbearers could hand out copies." Lewis beamed. "I might just do that."
Now the cortege began to move onward more purposefully. Up ahead the motorcycle escort had rewed up and was rolling; two outriders shot forward to halt traffic at intersections. The other vehicles following increased their speed and moments later the procession left St. Matthew's Cathedral behind and was passing through city streets.
The snow which had been forecast was beginning to fall lightly.
"I like that idea of Margot's," Lewis mused. "A 'Bon Voyage Bulletin.' And I have a headline for it. 'Bury the U. S. Dollar with Me! You Might as Well It's Dead and Done For.' Then, in what follows, I shall urge creation of a new unit of currency to replace the dollar the 'U. S. D'Orsey.' Based, of course, on gold. Later, when it's happened, the rest of the world will hopefully have the sense to follow suit."
"Then you'd be a monument to retrogression," Margot said, "and any picture of you should have the head facing backwards. On a gold standard, even fewer people than now would own most of the world's wealth, with the rest of mankind left bare-assed."
Lewis grimaced. "A distasteful prospect at least, the last one. But even that price would be worth a stable money system." "Why?"
Lewis answered Margot. "Because when money systems break down, as is happening now, it's always the poor who suffer most."
Alex, on a jump seat ahead of the other three, half turned to join the conversation. "Lewis, I try to be objective and sometimes your gloom about dollars and the money system makes sense. But I can't share your total pessimism. I believe the dollar can recover. I can't believe everything monetary is falling apart."