I don’t like Wisconsin today, because they almost gave me a couple of heart attacks last night… I’m looking at you John.

This week we meet Jessica’s family

Next week we meet Tommy’s…

Cometh the Hour Cometh the Woman: Part 17

[***][***][***]

“That’s,” I said taking a sip from my soda to moisten my suddenly dry throat. “That’s an awful lot of money.”

“I’m glad you agree!” said the Oracle, amused at my discomfort. “Too many heiresses in my opinion get too jaded about money. Seems sometimes to be a sort of intellectual inflation, the more money they have the less value it has to them.”

“Is that what I am now, an heiress?”

“A hundred million would certainly seem to qualify,” he said with a warm smile.

“It just, it doesn’t seem real somehow,” I said still in a bit of a daze.

“It’s real enough, and as the governor pointed out to me earlier this week, it is merely your birthright. I don’t generally believe in inherited wealth, certainly my own children will only be merely comfortable. I always called such people members of “The Lucky Sperm Club”, but the Scotts by and large… were different. I don’t know how, maybe you just had better sperm?”

“And eggs,” I interjected sternly.

“And eggs,” he agreed kindly with a nod of his head as he looked me over, I felt uncomfortable under his inspection.

“How?” I asked softly at him.

“How what?” he asked taken aback.

“How are Scott’s different?” I questioned earnestly as I leaned forward in my chair. “Earlier you said trying to keep a Scott out of the Scott Company would be a losing proposition in front of an Omaha jury. Ever since I’ve come back from Exeter, I’ve heard little snippets about my Father and family and how great they were, but no one wants to tell specifics. HOW are they different?”

“I suppose,” he said appearing still a bit confused. “That it never occurred to people that you wouldn’t know. But then you were very young when he died. And he was the last of his generation. You had your uncle Ben, but he was you’re mothers brother and probably didn’t tell you many stories either?”

“No,” I said quite truthfully.

The Oracle stood up, brushing a few crumbs from his dress shirt as he did it. He then walked over to the windows of his corner office and opened the blinds to reveal a view of the downtown to the east. He stood looking out the window at nothing in particular for a good thirty seconds, but I didn’t begrudge him the time. We both needed to sort some things out in our heads, it appeared.

“Your father,” He eventually said while still looking out the glass. “Was the Prince of the City… the newspaper was pleased to call him so anyway, and few really disagreed. My friend, your grandfather, died young and left him a boy in his twenties, educated certainly, but untried. But he proved worthy of his ancestors, indeed foremost among them. In the 23 years he had control, the Scott Company grew tenfold. That was during a minor depression we had in late seventies.”

“The Scotts have been engineers in Nebraska since Thomas Durant first carved a railroad into the prairie. Your family built this city, other families have made like claims on other cities, but in your case, it is the literal truth. Most of the skyscrapers, half of the roads, ALL of the sewers. Done well, done early, and without even the usual graft. And generous! You should ask for a list sometimes of the charities, schools, museums and what not that have your name on it. Pardon me, your maiden name. I got to reach the top of the scrapheap on that Forbes list because I generally didn’t give away any of my loot while I was making it. But every time they had a good year, and they had a lot of good years… they would endow some noble cause always to the cities benefit.”

“When he died,” The Oracle said turning around slowly to face me. “This city wept… maybe not as much as you, but just as strong. There was a funeral march down 14th street, the Mayor ordered flags flown at half mast. Though he technically didn’t have that authority, no one questioned it. When that bridge gave way…”

He paused for a bit and left the window to walk to the far corner of his office, he got down on his knees and opened up a drawer next to the wall, pulling out a half empty bottle caked with dust. He blew on it, scattering particles all over the polished wood, then walked over to his desk and poured the amber liquid into a fresh glass usually reserved for his sodas. When he had finished a large gulp, he looked back at me from his chair and continued.

“I amassed the world’s greatest fortune by knowing the value of things. I am also accounted by some, a frugal man. I live in the same house I paid $30,000 for back in 1957. I drive my own car to work, not some paid driver, and I am proud of that. My lawyers tell me I shouldn’t, that sooner or later someone is going to win the lottery when I bump into their fender, but I’m a good driver and I begrudge the expense of a chauffeur. When I married my second wife, I bought the ring at jewelry store I own so that I could get the employee discount. So when I spend money on something, girl, I want you to understand that I know what it’s worth!” he said forcefully.

It was all I could do to gulp as quietly as possible and nod at him.

“There is just no way that it was his mistake, certainly he was there because there were problems, but he was the sort of leader who would help fix them himself. After that bridge collapsed, before even the dust had settled, already there were vultures picking over the carcass of your company. I smelled something funny, and I have a good nose for these things. I spent two million dollars trying to figure out what happened. PERSONALLY! Not my company, private investigators and structural engineers, retired government experts. Those were the same people, in many cases that they would use later to piece together what happened to the twin towers on 9/11.”

“What did you find?” I asked cautiously.

“Nothing,” he answered shaking his head and looking away from me. “It would appear I made a bad investment… The city bound up its wounds, they rebuilt that bridge… under a different contractor, and you’re stepmother--”

“Wicked stepmother,” I interrupted.

“As you say,” he said gestured at me with his free hand. “Wicked stepmother sent you off to Switzerland and started working hard at spending his money.”

“She was very good at it.”

“So I gathered…” he said dejectedly. “And now… now there are no Princes left, and soon enough no Oracles either… but before that day comes, you’ll have your money to do with as you please. Maybe make something of yourself, like your father and his before you, though that may be an impossible standard to meet…. DeGeas has all the specifics of my proposal; you should speak to him, and then decide on the deal. I hope to hear back from you by next week.”

I realized it was a dismissal, despite how sudden it was. I stood up out of my chair, smoothing out my skirt and made to leave. He didn’t move to get up, or offer me his hand on the way out. The energy seemed to have drained out of him, and for the first time, he looked every bit of his almost eighty years. I was almost to the door when I turned around to face him. He saw the movement and looked up from his drink to stare at me.

“What kind of car?” I asked him suddenly curious.

“Sorry?” he asked confused.

“What kind of car are you proud to drive yourself?”

He looked at me for a moment, and I was pleased when he smiled and nodded his head. “It’s a Cadillac, don’t trust them foreign rice machines…”

[***][***][***]

“Have you ever actually LOOKED at this list,” I asked DeGeas later that day in his office. “The Scott Research Center, The Scott Performing Arts Center, The Scott Medical Center, The Scott School of Engineering, The Scott Foundation, The Scott Natural History Museum, Peter K. Scott Jr. Sr. High School…who was he by the way?”

“Great Grandfather,” DeGeas said searching his memory. “Or great great, hard to keep track every other boy it seemed was named Peter or Martin so it gets a bit fuzzy.”

“The Scott Library,” I continued reading the sheet in front of me. “The Scott Conference Center, The Scott Arena, the Scott… The Scott Memorial Bridge… why not just rename this town Scottland and be done with it?!”

“Some nonsense about a prior claim on the trademark, they might have tried it in the nineties, but your father also wouldn’t pay for the change in stationary,” said DeGeas with a pleased grin on his face.

“I’m glad that you find this all amusing, Lawyer DeGeas, but I won’t have it!”

“Won’t have what?” he asked warily.

“This!” I stated boldly waiving the sheet of paper in front of him before slamming it down on the desk. “I won’t have it, it’s too much. I’m not… I’m just not… I CAN’T!!”

I broke down a bit there. Later I blamed it on my pregnancy hormones of course. And it would please me greatly if you went along with that. It helps me to think that it was not my will or my courage that was spent, but rather some bodily function outside of my control. However it happened though, it happened for a good five minutes in that office at the top of Woodman Tower.

DeGeas hugged it out of me, it was new experience for him I could tell from the stiff manner that he started. It was a new experience for me too, being wrapped in all that flesh. I suppose my own father must have done so at some point, but if he did, it was so far in the past that I have forgotten the specifics. There wasn’t anything sexual about it at all, it was just so comforting to be held by a much larger man who I knew cared for me.

“When I came back to this shithole of a town,” I said looking into his eyes while my lawyer held me. “I set off the alarm in my own home. I didn’t know the code for it. The police were sent and after finally believing me when I said I lived there, they left. But before they did, one of them turned to me and said ‘It’s good to have a Scott back in Omaha, we’ve missed you’. Well I don’t WANT to be missed. I’m not good enough to be placed on some pedestal and worshiped because of who my father was!”

.‘And wasn’t!’ I thought angrily

“Do you remember his name?” DeGeas asked softly.

“Huh,” I said squinting at him.

“The policeman, do you remember his name?”

“No, I don’t think he ever said, and I never looked.”

“Probably not the same one anyway,” said DeGeas shaking his head. “He’d be retired by now, or promoted too high up to be on street patrol.”

“Who?”

“A Sergeant… Jones was his last name I remembered his first name at one point, but memory fades with age. When that bridge gave way and dumped your father into the Missouri, Jones dived in after him when he saw him floating downstream. He could see that your father wasn’t moving by himself. but he went in anyway. He swam after him, caught up, kept both their heads above water, and eventually after drifting two or three miles downriver, was able to win his way to the shore. Of course, it wasn’t in time. Autopsy said your father had hit his head and taken on too much water. By the time Jones was able to give him first aid, it was already too late. I’d heard afterwards that he had to take medical leave… a psychological one. I was just curious if it was the same man, and if he still blamed himself… but probably not. You’re father was beloved, and any officer who was an adult when he lived would likely have said what he said to you.”

I couldn’t help myself, my tears came back even stronger after that story.

“You could maybe use some good news now,” said DeGeas softly. “Though I’m not sure how I feel about it. That lawsuit I threatened Exeter with has borne fruit. They will let you do another project remotely and recover the points lost in your biology class, as well as grant you the degree you are due. With that piece of paper in hand, you can apply for colleges back east and be near your husband by spring semester.”

Well didn’t THAT just complicate things. Now I was faced with yet another choice! Omaha wasn’t exactly my dream city, but it was starting to become a comfortable home for me. I had set down roots and made friends. The academic plan at U.N.O. would see me finish much more quickly. And now it looked like I would be able to go to Georgetown after all?

Eventually, I was cried out, and my lawyer felt it was safe enough to release me. I was left with his monogrammed handkerchief, and a bottle of water to replenish lost moisture while he returned to his desk and dug out a series of files from the side drawer.

“If you’re feeling up to it?” he asked me softly. “We can go over the offer.”

I nodded at him wiped away at my eyes again.

“First off, you should tell him to go to hell. He’s an icon of capitalism, but that just means he’s a cheapskate. I would ask for 300 million, he’ll counter with 125...150 and eventually you will settle on the 200 it’s actually worth. If you ask for some of that in class A shares, it will make it easier for him to swallow. The tax implications of course---”

“You are presupposing DeGeas that I mean to sell,” I interrupted him.

“I… guess I was,” he answered totally flabbergasted. “But why wouldn’t you? Katherine, this is a dream come true for you. You’ll never have to work again. You or your baby, why wouldn’t you sell?”

‘Because it’s not mine to sell.‘

“I… just need some time to think. Please forward to my house the terms offered as well as every bit of intelligence you have been able to acquire on the Scott Company. It’s time I grew up and stopped letting other people tell me what is best and isn’t, and made my own informed decisions. I will look into things and… ask the advice of my husband. I will give you my answer in due course.”

“Certainly I will not advise against a full review. If you want to look things over, that is your right and perhaps even your duty. But Katie…. It’s a small mountain of paper. And at the end of it, besides dickering for price, I don’t see any other option for you. With this deal, your every need will be met, you could lead the life of a pampered princess forever.”

“I never asked to be a PRINCESS!!!!!” I shouted back at him. “All I ever wanted was to be a Marine.”

[***][***][***]

Ms. Hernandez took me to the partner’s washroom and helped me repair my makeup. I resolved then that if DeGeas wasn’t nicer to his assistant, his nose might start troubling him again. Eventually, I was fit to be seen and walked to the elevators that took me to the lobby. I called my driver of the day, Laura, feeling guilty while I did it. But reconciled it with my sore feet and the fact that all my girls needed the money. We came back home, and Caroline had made some pasta with meat sauce for dinner. JoAnn had quipped that she was expecting “Chinese food,” and narrowly ducked getting hit over the head with a ladle.

I was starting to like these girls.

I took more than my fair share, they were all smart enough not to comment on it. I escaped to my office with still edgy nerves and a face to face with my husband. He was now in the academy proper, firmly ensconced in Bancroft hall, the largest dormitory in the world. It housed the entire 4000 member brigade of midshipmen in one building, and was I always thought, supreme conditioning for the cramped quarters aboard ship. He had three other roommates, but with the promise of favors to be named later, was able to get them out of the room while he conducted his Skype call. The first time we connected with one another. It was awkward as all hell, looking at the computer screen at what used to be ourselves. After a few days now, it was merely weird.

Which was not of course helped by my selection of opening statements.

“I got offered a hundred million dollars today,” I said to his smiling, then suddenly not smiling face.

“Is this one of those indecent proposal situations? Am I going to have to punch out Robert Redford? I could never see what other girls saw in him, anyway, but then he was ancient by the time I started watching his movies.”

“The Oracle of Omaha wants to buy the Scott Company,” I said in a solemn tone. “DeGeas thinks we can get more… I… I thought I should ask you what you want to do. It was YOUR fathers company after all.”

“Not anymore, I think it’s safe to say that I gave up that claim along with my body.”

“Jess! Why did you never tell me about your father, about your whole freaking family! It’s like the people in this town expect me to be a scion of a noble fairytale dynasty! That I am here to save them at last from the degradations of the evil and cruel world!”

“I thought my name is Thomas now,” he asked peacefully.

“Is that why you did this?” I said waving down at my body for the camera. “So that you could escape this… this DESTINY?”

“No,” he said harshly. “Well… NO! I was sort of thinking about other things at the time Katie! But I will say that… whenever I think about the swap, in the back of my mind I’m sort of grateful to be out from under all that local history. It’s a bit stifling isn’t it?”

“More than somewhat,” I agreed folding my head in my arms on the desk and letting my hair hide me from view. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but, I want my Daddy.”

“Your…” he said confused. “You mean the General?”

“Yes!” I said looking up at the screen. “All of them, I miss my family Je… Thomas. I’ve gotten over losing my body, but I can’t and WON’T get over losing them too.”

“Then we tell them,” he said firmly. “About the baby and the marriage at least.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t imagine it’s going to be fun, but I’ll do it,” he said nodding his head stiffly. “Though I don’t know how.”

“We’ll do it together, and all at once, strength in numbers and all that. We’ll invite them all to Omaha for Thanksgiving. It’s the first leave where you will be able to get away, anyhow. And this is something that needs to be done, face to face.”

“That’s still three months out.”

“I know, and I’ll be about ready to pop, but that can work to our advantage. My father gets a bit old fashioned about pregnant woman. He’s less likely to cut your head off in front of me, if it would send me into early labor. And it gives the family enough time to gather from all over. I should have at least 4 bedrooms free, most of my roommates have families local. The rest we can put up in area hotels. When you invite them all say, that I’ll pay for it, it appears I can afford it now.”

“Just like that, invite them to Thanksgiving with my ‘girlfriend,’” he said with air quotes.

“Speak to Mother first, mention my desire to meet all of ‘your family’ play up the fact that we are getting serious and thinking about getting married.”

“THINKING!” he barked back at me amused.

“Well we are thinking about it aren’t we? I think about how our state of wedded fucking bliss happened all the time...” I paused to sigh and tried to calm myself. “Mother is old Virginia landed aristocracy. When she calls me, I’ll be all refined and gentile, pretend to be refined and gentile anyway. I’ll play up my poor waifish orphan angle, how I have all this room and how Omaha is conveniently located as a rendezvous point for all of ‘my beloved Tommy’s relatives.”

“Careful,” he said smiling. “You’ll give yourself diabetes.”

“I can sell it, is the point I’m trying to make. When they start arriving, we won’t be able to hide the whole pregnant thing, of course. But we’ll tell them the married part of it after dinner when they are safely digesting, and before serious alcohol has been imbibed.”

“Just like that?” he asked annoyed.

“No, not just like that! But we've got three months to figure out all the angles, and we have put this off long enough. We send out the invitations, it will force the issue and we won’t be able to run away from it. Much as both of us might wish… I’m just not a Scott. It’s time I started working on becoming a Ryan again.”

“I think you would have made a great Scott,” my husband said softly with a half smile. “Much better than I ever would have.”

“Jess, you’re not being fair,” I said trying to comfort him.

“No,” he said shaking his head. “I am being fair, I was never that strong. I can’t imagine Martin Scott or any of my honored ancestors doing what I did to you.”

“I thought we were past that?”

“And yet,” he said looking away from the camera. “We keeping coming back to it.”

“We’ll become reconciled to it someday, baby,” I said trying to present a comforting face to him. “If you… if you think you can go through it, I’d like to hear about him. Father Scott, and how he died. I’ve gotten by with ‘oh, but you were very young of course,’ but that is going to work for only so long. You never really talked about your childhood in Omaha. I think it would be good for both of us if you did.”

“All right,” he said pausing for a minute to rub his chin and then becoming annoyed. “You and your damn testosterone! You realize they make me shave twice a day, here. One of my roommates gets by with once every TWO days.”

“Thomas!” I warned him.

“Fine, OK then,” He said giving in. “My first memory as a little girl was being short.”

“Huh?”

“It’s the first thing I remember, OK? I understood it years later when I tried thinking about it. I remembered being short because for the first part of my life, I never went anywhere without my father carrying me. I would be in his arms, over his shoulders, in a little harness he had for his front. Carried everywhere and everywhere he went, even on worksites. There are pictures; they should be in the house somewhere, of me in front of rivers and mines, all over the world. So when I finally started walking on my own, I couldn’t understand why everything was now so low to the ground. I didn’t have a mother until I was six. She hardly ever qualified, anyway. So he was both parents at once, and he was great at it. I loved him… I’m sorry, but I loved him more than I ever loved you. I’m not saying that to hurt you, please believe that! But I wanted to tell you the truth.”

“Maybe if he hadn’t died when and how he did, I would have grown up to hate him or at least been able to let a little girls love for her daddy mature into what I should be. But he did die, and I never got over it. Could be that’s why I was… why I was so angry and scared with the idea of you going off the academy without me, it was like it was happening all over again… I was in 2nd grade when it happened. I knew something was wrong when the principle came into Mrs. Burgoyne’s room to speak to her. They both looked at me, and I thought I was in trouble! I hadn’t done anything, of course, but they were sort of good at making you feel like you had done SOMETHING wrong. Later that day, they sent the rest of the kids to lunch, I thought I was in for it. I thought I was REALLY in for it when the Archbishop came into the classroom.”

“There he was… tall, white haired, with the face of a vengeful god, and said face trying to put on a comfortable smile, and failing. The Mayor and the Police Chief were with him, but I didn’t know who they were at the time. The Archbishop though, HE I remembered being scared of at my first communion service. They let him take the lead, I guess the mere civil servants figured a priest should know how better to break the news to me, but I’m sure they could have done a better job. He didn’t have any kids of his own, of course, had never spent any time around them. He never worked in a school or anything like that, and it showed. It was shambling, ham handed and dragged on, I couldn’t understand what he was saying for the LONGEST time. Then he closed with, and I remember it exactly, ‘your Daddy is building a bridge to heaven now, and when it’s done we’ll all meet him on the other side’.”

I could see the utter sorrow on his face as he remembered the death of his, now my Father, and I began to feel it as well as my new body reacted in sympathy to the news. It was a bonding that let me mourn a Father that I never had as my own.

“I was in 2nd grade, but I wasn’t a baby, I knew what a euphemism was, even if I couldn’t precisely define it. I knew he was dead, and the last memory I had of him was some mumbling bumbling Vatican stooge telling me how he had gone on to better place. I knew my Daddy, if he was going to a better place, he would have taken me with him! So I kicked him in shins, I wasn’t tall enough to get much higher. The Mayor and the Cop didn’t do a thing while I kept working on him. It was Sister Joan who finally got me off him, though I think she took her time too. They didn’t do anything to me of course, I guess I could have gotten away with just about anything that day. Mrs. Burgoyne drove me home that afternoon and stayed with me the next two days. W.S.M. was out of the country at the time, and only arrived just in time for the funeral.”

“She tried being a mother for a bit, she just wasn’t very good at it, and I wasn’t in the mood at the time to make it any easier. So I was sent off to Saint Trinian's in Switzerland before the year was out… you can’t sell Tommy!”

“What,” I said surprised by the sudden change in conversation. “Why?”

“It’s the last piece of him that is still alive. The buildings will all fall apart eventually or get renamed when someone else donates money. All that he has left is that company and his daughter, who never amounted to much.”

“Jess that’s not true.”

“Call me Thomas!” he shouted at me. “Please,” he continued more softly. “I can’t be Jessica anymore. If you sell it now, they’ll strip it to pieces and sell it for parts. Even if someone else is in charge, as long as the company is still a going concern, a part of Daddy is still alive…. Please, we can get by fine on what’s left. I don’t mind getting by on just my officer’s pay if it comes down to that. Plenty of people get by on less.”

“Thomas think abou--”

“Hey RYAN!” came a loud voice over the computer speakers followed by some pounding. “Are you through sexing up your girl in there? Some of us have to study.”

“Just a minute,” he shouted back.

“No, now!” said the intruder as I heard the sound of a door opening and a positively HUGE black midshipmen come into view who I very much hoped had been put on the football team.

What… don’t look at me like that. BEAT ARMY!!!!

“Well, hellooooooooo nurse,” the linebacker said when he got a look at the screen, I quickly made sure that he only had a headshot of me and not a look at my midsection. “Mr. Ryan you have been holding back on me.”

“Stop drooling over my girl, Reeves,” demanded Thomas. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Well, you can finish it while I’m in here, some of us aren’t lucky enough to keep a girl who will tolerate four years of monastery life.”

“I should go anyway,” I said moving to disconnect the call.

“Not yet Katherine,” said my husband who was much more careful with names now that we had an audience. “I left you a set of keys before I went to the academy. Do you remember that?”

“Yes,” I said though they had been inside of what used to HER purse at the time.

“My Mom and Dad are waiting for you to visit. When you get to the OLD FAMILY HOME, there is a subbasement, it’s not hidden, just not very advertised. The second key on that chain opens it up. The entranceway is on the far west of the basement. That’s where all the family photo albums are, I think what you are looking for is there…when you go to visit… If you find any embarrassing baby pictures of me, please destroy them in the best interests of the service.”

“Hell no,” said Reeves interrupting. “Mail em to me girl, we can split the blackmail money.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” I said laughing, despite myself.

“Goodbye Katie,” said Thomas while trying to force him roommate out of the camera’s view. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[***][***][***]

The door to the subbasement had a tricky lock, but I was able to force my way through. I had wondered about this door my few times in the basement, but thought it was just a linen closet, and I never had the time to find out what was past the lock. The light bulb was burnt out, but the Engineer Scott’s it would appear, liked to be prepared. There was a mechanically powered flashlight at the top of the stairs which gave off enough light for me not to kill myself or cause a miscarriage on the way down. There were rows and rows of shelves, unlike the library upstairs, these were in no way beautiful, merely functional. In addition, instead of being filled with books by the yard, there was a staggered madman like cataloging involved. There were little artifacts with handwritten cards attached to them as well as stacks and stacks of leather-bound journals.

I spent the whole weekend down there. Well… after the girls and I had replaced the lighting, and given the whole place the first proper seeing to that it had probably seen in a few generations. During that Saturday and Sunday, I got to know my new family, and if I didn’t come to love them like I did my original one. I had come to respect them. There were these little jars of dirt, souvenirs of past glories and personal accomplishments. There was “Boulder Dam, Frank Scott, 1933.” Boulder Dam I knew was the name Roosevelt had originally insisted the Hoover Dam be called, because he didn’t want to honor his disgraced predecessor. Then I found a bit of steel labeled “South Tower: The Golden Gate, Peter. M. Scott 1937." Hopefully it wasn’t an important piece! The oldest item I found was a tin dipper with little flakes of gold speckled about inside the dirt. It had a card that said simply “Snatched from the Witch’s Snatch. Hieronymus Scott, California 1849.” THAT was a story I would have paid good money to hear told.

Something that also struck my fancy was unopened fifty pound bag of government concrete in the corner with “Leslie Groves is a horse’s ass. Major Roger Scott U.S.A.C.E. 1942, Arlington Virginia”, written on it in a grease pen. These people had helped build the freaking PENTAGON! There were international jars too, from China and South America and even some places that didn’t even exist anymore. Like Ceylon and Siam.

And finally, in pride of place on the west wall there was a map of the United States with little pins in it, and EIGHTEEN separate jars of earth stacked on a table below. The map was headed “General Eisenhower Interstate System 1956.” and handwritten in the margin with an almost illegible scrawl was “FINISHED the fucker, Nebraska was the first! William Scott and son Martin I-80, October 17th, 1974.”

The contrast struck me as significant. My father was a Marine, and his father before him. They defended this country, and I was proud of that. And STILL AM! But when it came right down to it, my original family was in the hurting people and breaking things business. While they had been spending their lives, fortunes and sacred honor defending the republic, the Scott's had been quietly building and making it something WORTH defending.

I never found my new father’s journals. Perhaps they were still upstairs in the office and never made it down to the archives. Or maybe Wicked Stepmother had them destroyed? I did, however, find the newest ones present, including the last journal of my new grandfather which ended up being a last will and testament of sorts.

By the time you read this boy I’ll be dead, the big casino. The doctor’s tell me I’ll be in the ground by the time you get back from Persia. I haven’t told you sooner because there is nothing that you can do and I wanted your first independent project to be a success. And by the way I don’t want you going back there, if that drunk Emperor doesn’t get himself deposed the commies will invade more than they have already. When that happens American companies will be left holding the bag and I don’t see this Ford schmuck (how Liner Henry would HATE to share his name with him!) pulling our chestnuts out of the fire. I don’t see ANY American president sending out troops far foreign absent an actual invasion threat again, not after Vietnam.

Concentrate on American operations for the next few years, there is still plenty of pie to be had at home. Ewing down in Texas (he’s a prick I know, but can be worked with) has wildcatters all over his territory and he needs a steady man to sink oil wells. It’s not noble work, but it will pay the way while you get your feet under you. I’ve signed tentative contracts already, and I’m fairly sure he’ll honor them. He can at least be counted on to see to his own best interests.

I’m not going to tell you to trust no one, like my father did me. A man has to be able to trust someone. Me, I trusted your mother Katherine, and I think you need to marry and trust that girl you have on a string as soon as possible. Who knows, I may move in myself if you dawdle, and graft on another son and heir to cheat you out of some of your inheritance. The genealogists tell me one of her ancestors is Isambard Brunel. You can’t get any better than that! Trust your brother too. He doesn’t have the fire, but he has a good heart. Trust DeGeas, his father helped mine through the depression, and our family his through the First World War. Our families owe each other too much to turn our backs on each other now.

When I’m gone, the other partners will try to take the company away from you, they are not evil men it’s just their nature. They’ll be sly at first, say how young you are, how much better it would be for the company for you to gain some more experience before taking the top slot. And how one of them should be president for a while, first. Well tell em to go to hell!! Though Frank Winsor has already bought a summer cottage there, so for him, it’s superfluous. And that wife of his has to be some sort of lesser demon… but I ramble. I find I’ve been doing that a lot these last few days.

After my death, I leave into your keeping a great company, seldom the biggest, never the richest, but always the best. I had it from my father who had it from his, and one day you will hand it over to your son. And may god have mercy on you boy if it is not intact when you do so. This is the SCOTT Company, it doesn’t just hold our name, but our blood, our sweat and generations of our tears… wrote pretty for an Englishman, I hope he won’t mind I crimped his lines. I expect I’ll be meeting him soon, he had a reputation of knowing where the best booze was.

Burn it to the ground boy, before you let it be taken from you… this is the will of your father.

[***][***][***]

“I hope you will excuse me Mrs. Ryan,” said the Oracle as he welcomed me back in his office. “My display of emotion last week. I don’t usually get in a blue funk like that unless the Cornhuskers had totally botched a game.”

“That’s quite all right, sir. It’s been an emotional week for all of us,” I said to him kindly refusing his gesture for a chair. “I won’t be staying long, I’ve come to say I am refusing your offer. I thought you deserved the curtsey of a personal reply.”

“Are you,” he seemed totally surprised and then mildly annoyed. “May I ask why?”

“Well… partially because Mr. DeGeas said that I should counter with 300 and then settle for the 200 you would eventually pay.”

“The DeGeas… is very well informed," he grumbled at me. "Very well then 200 Million.”

“No,” I stated firmly.

“What do you mean no,” He said angrily. “You just said you would agree to 200?”

“I said DEGEAS, agreed 200 was fair. I won’t sell at that price.”

“What price then?”

“No price.”

“There had to be something Katherine, everyone has their price.”

“Some things cannot be had with money,” I said calmly, feeling at the moment like I was dealing with a spoiled child and not a multibillionaire.

“Well, what do you intend to do, then!”

“I have chosen to stay and fight,” I said coldly, my eyes narrowed at him. “I mean to take back my father’s kingdom.”

[***][***][***]