The Rebellion of Yale Marratt (69 page)

 

 

"Liz, catch your breath," Yale said. "I'm not in Midhaven. I'm in New
York. I'm not about to come right over. I just called you to find out
why you went over to the Langley house."

 

 

"I went over to talk with this Cynthia of yours. Barbara says she's
pregnant by another man. If she had any sense of decency at all she would
agree to an annullment. I know you are sympathetic, Yale. But that's
no reason to marry the girl. Imagine . . . saddled with another man's
son. Have you gone completely crazy? What do you think people will say
here in Midhaven? And that filthy old man you have living there. Pat
fired him years ago because he's such a lush. He was so drunk when I
asked him where your wife was, he asked me which one. . . ."

 

 

That's a break, Yale thought. One thing at a time. Wait until the whole
story leaks out, he thought. He heard the extension phone click. Pat's
voice thundered on the line.

 

 

"For Christ's sake, Yale, I thought that after three years in the Army
you would have acquired a little judgment! Get over here. Now! I want
to talk with you!"

 

 

Yale tried to control the anger in his voice. "Listen, Pat. I'm calling
you from New York, and the reason I am calling you is to tell you once and
for all that you are through planning my life. I'm also telling you to
leave my wife alone. You just about destroyed her once. If you ever try
anything like that again it will be the sorriest day of your life!" Yale
softened the harsh tone of his voice, and said: "The next time I come
to your house, Pat, it will be because you and Liz have invited Cynthia
and me together. When that happens I expect you'll behave yourself and
regardless of your feelings will act like a gentleman."

 

 

He heard Pat's gasp of fury. "My young friend, no one talks to me like
that! You can go straight to hell! Try earning your own money! Don't ever
come near me unless you're ready to apologize." Liz tried to interrupt
him. "Shut up, Liz! I mean it! I've put up with that ungrateful brat
altogether too long."

 

 

Yale heard the phone being slammed down. Slowly, he returned his phone
to the cradle. So that's that, he thought wearily. When he had placed the
call he had hoped to talk with Pat quietly. To let him down gently when he
told him that he wasn't going to work for the Marratt Corporation. Somehow
Yale had hoped Pat could see his need to develop on his own. The same
need that Pat must have had when he started the business. Why did some
men hope for immortality through their sons?

 

 

Yale lay on the bed despondent. What was he trying to do, anyway, he
wondered? If he persisted in what Pat would only label as "idealistic
nonsense," then this was only the beginning of the clashes between them.
You either travelled with the majority or you would be trampled by it.
Yale wondered whether basically he was emotionally able to live a life
based on challenging the fundamental concepts that men lived by. It would
mean constant rebuff, plus an ability to overcome the dark depression that
seized him when he was rebuffed. But there was no turning back. Something
in him, extraneous to any fearful ideas he might entertain, or any
rationalization he might evoke for stopping, compelled him to go on.
He only hoped that Anne and Cynthia had, or could acquire, his own strong
sense of mission. If they didn't no, why think about it . . . If you
considered negatives you gave them reality. The fact that Anne and
Cynthia were even considering living with him showed their lack of fear.

 

 

By Friday afternoon Yale had obtained the first draft on the charter
for Challenge, Inc. He read it over in the director's room of Higgins
Investments. He studied, carefully, the endless legal clauses. When
Sam introduced him to one of the firm's lawyers, Saul Angle, Yale
had laughed. "That's what I need, every single angle covered." Angle
evidently had heard the pun before in many variations. "My family name
was Anglemann. My father changed it," Angle said curtly. "I'm thinking
of changing it back. If you don't like it get yourself another lawyer."

 

 

Later Sam apologized. "Saul's a Jew. But you said you wanted a sharp cookie.
He's it."

 

 

He was very much it, Yale thought. In Angle's office, for the first time,
Yale outlined the idea he had in mind. Saul listened without comment.

 

 

"I'm not making it clear, am I?" Yale asked. He took some papers out of
his pocket. "Listen, any corporation has purposes. I've written the
purposes down in the best legal language I know. Here they are: 'to
foster, promote, carry on and conduct research into any and all the
problems that cause man's inhumanity to man, and to receive, administer,
and disburse funds for educational purposes in pursuit of this objective,
for the public welfare' -- that should be clear to you."

 

 

"You mean because I'm Jewish?" Saul asked sarcastically.

 

 

"My wife is Jewish."

 

 

"That's your hard luck," Saul said coldly. "Okay, let's go. I'm a lawyer,
not a moralist. It's your head to bang against the wall."

 

 

In the ensuing days, as they worked out the details of Challenge, Inc.,
Yale broke through Saul Angle's hard shell. He even captured moments of
infrequent enthusiasm from him.

 

 

"You want this set up as a non-profit foundation, and you are turning over
to it two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That much is all right,"
Saul said, "Then you want the stock control put in the hands of one Anne
Wilson Marratt, and one Cynthia Carnell Marratt. Who are they?"

 

 

Yale looked at him seriously. Saul was going to be the first person
he would have to tell. "Remember, you are my lawyer. This is in
confidence. They are my wives."

 

 

"Your wives!" Saul expostulated. He threw his pencil down. "Now at the
age of forty-six I've heard everything."

 

 

He listened while Yale explained. He shook his head in complete disbelief.

 

 

"You can stop worrying about the legal problem," Yale said. "By United
States standards, I am only legally married to Cynthia."

 

 

"Look," Saul said. He decided not to worry Yale about the possibility
that a court-of-law would consider his Hindu marriage valid. "I won't
ask you any more questions. I'm scared to death of what I might find out
next. Just promise to keep in touch with me. When this daydream of your
explodes I'll hold my hat reverently in my hand and watch the souvenir
hunters gathering pieces of the former Yale Marratt."

 

 

Reading the fifteen closely typewritten pages of the charter for
Challenge, Inc. Yale chuckled. Saul had done a thorough job. While he
had objected and pointed out to Yale that he would be at the mercy
of two women . . . two wives who could get into bitter disagreement
. . . for his livelihood, Yale pointed out to him that it either worked
or it didn't. He explained to Saul that he was pursuing a fundamental
psychology. Anne and Cynthia would be co-directors at Challenge, Inc.
As co-directors they would receive a salary of at least $5000 each annually
or a joint income not to exceed 10 percent of the gross earnings from
investments and contributions.

 

 

"Anne and Cynthia will support me." Yale grinned. "You'll have to admit
it's sound thinking."

 

 

"I've known of men with such sound thinking," Saul said gloomily, "who
ended up in twenty-five-cent-a-night flophouses while their wives drove
Cadillacs in Miami." He pointed out to Yale that since the foundation
would have only $250,000 to start with, even if Yale managed to keep
the money earning ten per cent return, by the time his co-directors
were paid, there would be only $2500 left to accomplish the purpose of
the corporation.

 

 

Yale decided not to tell Angle that his plans were eventually to create
a working fund of at least twenty million dollars. He had already tested
Saul's credulity too far. Anyway, if Saul had asked him how he proposed to
get hold of so much money he would have had to admit that at the moment he
didn't have the faintest idea. To Saul that certainly would have smacked
of childish idealism, with a fairy story quality to boot. At times,
Yale felt that his plans were unrealistic, but an indefinable sense of
mission always overcame his fears. He was certain . . . positive of the
bare outlines of what he was attempting to do; the minor problems would
work themselves out as he went along.

 

 

Approvingly, he read over the details of the Membership Plan as Saul had
worked them out. When he had originally discussed this as a part of the
basic charter, Saul had looked at him in wonder.

 

 

"I really think you are slightly cracked, Yale. You expect to have members
who contribute to the support of the Foundation's activities by paying
ten dollars a year. Do you honestly expect to get many members? What
will a member get out of it?"

 

 

"Ten dollars to save mankind." Yale had beamed. "How's that for a slogan,
Saul? When you send me your bill, I'll deduct ten dollars and make you
a charter member."

 

 

Relaxing in the back of a taxi, the charter of Challenge, Inc. in his
brief case, Yale congratulated himself on a good week's work. All that
was required now were the signatures of Anne and Cynthia. Saul could
take care of the details of incorporation. Yale decided that as soon as
he got back to the hotel, he would call Cynthia and Anne and persuade
them to come to New York. They needed the car and he certainly didn't
need it. They could drive back. They would have to bring the baby. He
would have to decide whether to reserve one room or two rooms. Cynthia
and Anne were sleeping together, but that wouldn't he possible when he
was with them. How would they sleep?

 

 

Taking the elevator to his room, he noticed the operator looking at him
queerly. He must have been muttering aloud. Having two wives, he reflected
with a grin, was not a simple problem. He was already beginning to talk
to himself.

 

 

When he unlocked the door to his room, he heard the shower running in the
bathroom. He looked quickly at the number on the door, thinking he had
somehow entered the wrong room. The number checked with the key. Then
he saw women's clothing on the bed. Either Anne or Cynthia, or both,
were here in New York.

 

 

Opening the bathroom door, he cautiously peeked behind the shower
curtain. Anne facing the shower spigot, a bathing cap on her head,
was soaping herself vigorously.

 

 

"Hey," he said, with a feeling of delight at the sight of her shapely
buttocks and long slender legs.

 

 

She screamed, turned, and slipped in the tub. Yale put out his arms and
caught her. He held her wet and soapy against his suit.

 

 

"You!" she said disgustedly. "You scared me out of my wits."

 

 

He let her go. "Stay there, I'll be back. I need a shower too." He stripped
off his clothes, returning in time to catch her as she was getting out of
the tub. "Oh, no you don't! Get back in, woman! You're taking a shower with
me. You can wash my back."

 

 

Reluctantly, she stood in the tub while he turned the shower on again.
"Come on. No messing around in the shower!" she said as he tried to hold
her. "Give me the soap. I'll wash your back, and that's all!"

 

 

"Where's Cindar?" he asked, feeling Anne's fingers tickling his shoulder
blades.

 

 

"I suppose you'd like to have her here, too. All of us taking a shower
together." Anne pinched his buttocks.

 

 

"The idea has its charms," Yale admitted. "Where is she?"

 

 

"She's in Midhaven," Anne said. "We decided that it wasn't good sense
to leave you in New York on a weekend. You might get some Mormon ideas
and come home with a third woman. We'd tear her hair out and yours,
too! Don't you forget it, Yale! You've got yourself in a spot where if
you so much as look at another woman, I personally will cut your throat,
and Cindar probably would hand me the knife."

 

 

Choking with laughter, Yale asked how they had decided which one would
come to check on him.

 

 

"We tossed a coin," Anne said.

 

 

"And you won?"

 

 

"No, Cindar won."

 

 

Yale looked at her, puzzled. Water streamed over his face.

 

 

"Cindar insisted that I come. Her argument, and I couldn't shake her,
was that she was with you last and I hadn't seen you for nearly a year.
. . ." Anne got out of the tub. She started to dry herself. "I'm afraid
that we are going to kill ourselves trying to be fair to each other.
A you-first-Alphonse-arrangement that could end in a stalemate -- for
you, chum!"

 

 

Yale took the towel from her. "Here, I'll dry you. You look very lovely,
Anne." He kissed her breast.

 

 

"Be serious a minute," Anne said. She repressed a desire to pull his face
hard against her breasts. "There's more to it than that. The plan is that
next weekend Cindar will come. But I don't think she will."

 

 

"Why not?"

 

 

"If this works out, Yale, you are going to learn a great deal more about
women than you know now. I think that Cynthia feels that being pregnant,
she isn't desirable to you. All women get to feel that way, but most
women don't have competition from a non-pregnant dame right under their
own roof."

 

 

"She's silly," Yale said. "She's not showing too much, yet."