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Author's note: If you are looking for wall-to-wall sex, look elsewhere. 
This book is a romance with a business setting. Beyond that, the sex is 
comparable to - or less than - what one would find in almost any work of 
popular fiction.

Permission is granted to post on any free site, as long as the copyright 
statement is included. Please advise the author of any such postings.

Comments are welcome and encouraged. Please address me at 
morg105829@aol.com.

I hope you enjoy the book. My plan is to post a chapter each weekday; it 
will take about three weeks for it all to be up. This is chapter 8 of 
16.

Six-Month Turnaround

Copyright 1992, 1998 by Morgan. All rights reserved.

Chapter 8

On the following Monday, Sandy came into Cliff's office carrying a stack 
of papers and looking puzzled. "Cliff, there's something wrong here. I 
need help. I've been going over the Stores Division local-store accounts 
and I can't figure it out."

"Let me guess," Cliff replied, "We've got too much money in the store 
accounts?" She looked at him, amazed. He just grinned and continued, 
"We've got about seventy-five stores around the country, each with its 
own account. They're run on an imprest basis at amounts ranging from 
$2,000 to $5,000. That means they run like petty-cash accounts. The 
balance we carry on our books is fixed, and we balance it against 
deposits and payments. I guess the large majority are around the $2,000 
level, so our total book balance on the accounts is around $200,000 or 
so. Am I close?"

"It's $225,000," Sandy said, still puzzled.

"Okay," he continued, "Each store deposits its receipts into its account 
each day. We clean out the accounts from here. So I guess you're puzzled 
because you found about $25 million or so in accounts that are supposed 
to have about one-tenth of that?"

Sandy looked stunned. "It was over $30 million! Didn't I do something 
wrong?"

"Not at all. You just found the money to pay for reconditioning our 
production equipment and then some." His smile widened into a grin. "Now 
what do I get for solving your problem? Something nice, I hope?

"Sandy, I've been teasing you. I did a little checking awhile ago and 
expected about what you found. It works this way: First, the $2,000 
level is fixed. The people in accounting who balance our bank statements 
never look at the absolute numbers, they just reconcile them. Our 
typical store does about $50,000 a week in volume but we only clean out 
the accounts and bring the money in once a month. Assuming four-week 
months - and there are 4.3 weeks, actually - an account with a nominal 
$2,000 has about $200,000 at the end of the month. Then with the usual 
accounting delays, it's probably mid-month in the following month before 
a check is written to bring the account back to its imprest level. But 
by that time, there's another two week's deposits, or $100,000. Keep in 
mind, I'm rounding low. First, there are 4.3 weeks, not four, and I'm 
not allowing for clearing times. We could easily be three weeks into the 
new month before the check hits the bank. So, when our accounting says 
an account is back to $2,000 it is really still greater than $150,000. 
How does that sound?"

"It sounds like I hope our children get their brains from their father, 
not their mother!" Suddenly, Sandy glared at him. "Clifford Fitzpatrick, 
you are a beast! You can access all my data on your computer screen and 
probably did. You knew I was going over and over these numbers, and you 
never said anything! You just wanted to see me suffer. I hate you!"

"Golly!" Cliff said with a grin, "You didn't hate me last night. In 
fact, I would have to say you were... quite affectionate."

She put her nose in the air. "That was different. I was so frustrated, I 
needed some affection. You lured me to your bed under false pretenses! 
It doesn't count."

He tried to look puzzled but his grin kept breaking through. "Lured? 
Gee, I sort of remember being attacked by a slim young woman who wasn't 
wearing many clothes... any clothes at all, as a matter of fact. I guess 
it must have been someone else."

She gave him a light kiss. "It had better have been me! Anyway, Clifford 
Fitzpatrick, back to the mundane. Given the glint I saw in your eye, 
there's an easy way to handle the problem. What is it, so I don't have 
to reinvent the wheel?"

"There are a couple of things we need to do first. Number one: How are 
we coming on the proposals from the big banks? Number two: I've got to 
check with Steve Muller on that West Coast store chain that's interested 
in buying our units."

"As far as the banks are concerned, I've received proposals from all 
except one," she replied. "As it stands now, the best offer by far is 
from Bank of Chicago. They're committing to a $50 million line of 
credit, as well as being prepared to work with us on our cash management 
program."

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Cliff said. "We'll get depository 
transfer checks and shift the store accounts to deposit only. When the 
store manager makes his deposit, the form he uses combines a deposit 
slip with a no-signature transfer check. There's a postage-paid envelope 
he uses to mail the check to a regional clearing bank. The regional bank 
wires each day's collections to our principal bank. This way the full 
amount of the deposit is taken out each day. We could even fine-tune it 
after it's up and running, by running a negative book balance with the 
deposit banks depending on how good or bad the mail service is. But that 
comes later.

"Miss Treasurer, it sounds like you just picked up about $30 million. 
There's one more thing. For any local payments the store manger writes 
checks on a zero-balance account at Bank of Chicago; for payroll, we'll 
do something similar, although we'll need local paying banks to cash the 
pay checks. Several states don't look kindly on what they see as playing 
games with their voters' paychecks." He looked at her and smiled. "How 
does it sound to you?"

"It sounds like we're in some money," she replied.

Just then there was a knock on the door. Bill Stevens came in with a 
load of papers. "Cliff, I got the information you asked for. The machine 
tool company's estimate just came in. It came to just under $6 million! 
Now where in hell are we going to get that kind of money?"

"Our esteemed treasurer has already taken care of your problem. The key 
question now, Bill, is how long is it going to take for repairs, 
particularly for the five operating machines?"

"Cliff, you're serious about the money, aren't you?" Bill said. Sandy 
and Cliff both nodded in unison. "What do I need to do to get the 
authority to move ahead? I've got a couple of my guys working on an 
investment proposal, but as financial writers, they're pretty good 
operating people."

"What investment proposal?" Cliff asked. "Those guys will take more time 
writing the proposal than it will take to overhaul the equipment! Have 
you combed through the estimate? Do you have other quotes?"

"Yes, sir! The estimate is complete. The one we want to accept is from 
the people who built the machines. We got four other prices, three of 
which were higher. The fourth is a little lower but we're not satisfied 
the company knows how to handle the equipment we have. It's at least 
semi-custom stuff, and I don't think this is a time to learn-while-you- 
earn, particularly when they would be learning on us."

"What do you say, Sandy? Go for it?" Cliff asked.

She put her thumb up. "Let's do it. Bill, could you get me the name of 
Micronics financial type? That's the company isn't it? I may be able to 
save a few more dollars on payment terms. I understand they're about 
three times our size and very highly rated for credit. You wouldn't have 
any problem with at least a partial prepayment, would you?"

"Not at all! Anything that moves the project along faster has to help. 
I'll be right back." Bill went back to his office, made a phone call and 
came back with a slip of paper which he gave to Sandy. She looked at it 
and went to her office. Thirty minutes later she came back with a big 
grin on her face. Bill and Cliff were reviewing the staffing proposals: 
Neither were happy with the picture that emerged. They both looked up 
when Sandy returned.

"I think I just saved between $120,000 and $150,000," Sandy said 
proudly. "I agreed to a $2 million payment up front, in return for a 
four-percent credit. Then we're getting 2 percent for cash on the 
balance. I agreed to pay invoices within ten days by Federal Reserve 
wire. And I was invited to join the Association of Corporate Treasurers. 
Bill, the slip you gave me said M. A. Kahn. It turns out the M is for 
Marcia." She glared at Cliff and added, "And as for you, you have been 
holding out on us again. It seems Marcia is a fan of yours, having read 
several cash management articles you wrote... which, of course, you 
neglected to mention." The glare changed to a grin. "She asked me to 
give you her very best wishes for a great success at Murphy, and she's 
delighted we're working with her company again. Incidentally, Bill, 
she's going to get her people on this right away. It seems there's 
nothing like a chunk of cash up front to stimulate a supplier's 
interest. A crew could be here as early as this afternoon. Are you ready 
for them?"

"I'll call my guys who are sweating on that investment proposal and 
liberate them. We should be all set. Sandy, I think you ought to know 
what we've been talking about. There are going to have to be major work 
realignments on the shop floor. Over the last few days a junk dealer has 
been taking away that dead inventory. It'll mean an asset write-down on 
the balance sheet, but actually, we're way ahead. Incidentally, you'll 
be getting a big check from the scrap company. We don't have the final 
numbers, but they've been hauling it out as fast as they can load 
trailers. We're getting about 30 tons to a trailer, and I suspect we're 
already over 500 tons. The price isn't bad at all.

"The problem, though, is all the quality checkers. Believe it or not, it 
turns out we really do have two people checking for every person making! 
It is far worse than anyone thought. Cliff and I agree there will have 
to be a major layoff. There's just no way normal attrition will take the 
work force down to where it needs to be. Cliff, how about if Sandy calls 
a meeting of the Grievance Committee? Normally, we only have the regular 
meetings plus any the union asks for. But we have the right to call for 
one ourselves, although I don't think we ever have."

"It makes a lot of sense to me, Bill," Cliff replied. "Sandy, why don't 
you check with Max and explain what we want to talk about. He may want 
to bring a somewhat different group of people with him." Sandy agreed 
and went off in the direction of the shop floor.

When she returned, Cliff was alone in his office reviewing customer 
reports and planning on a trip to visit key customers starting with 
Magna Motors. He didn't like what he was seeing. A major change from the 
Flood days was that the sales reports read very differently now. It was 
clear Flood didn't like to receive bad news. As a result, the sales 
reports used to read as if they had been written by Pollyanna: "Every 
day, in every way, things are getting better and better!" Following the 
planning meeting, it was clear the sales force had taken the need for 
accurate market intelligence to heart.

There had been a sudden and dramatic change in the tone of the reports. 
The one on Magna, particularly, scared him. The list of product 
complaints was too long, particularly coupled with Murphy's prices, 
which, while a bit lower than Ajax's, were not low. Before turning to 
Sandy and the union, he called Bill Stevens again. "Bill, it's Cliff. 
I'm going to visit Magna Motors in the next couple of days. What can I 
tell them about product quality? How soon will we be able to make 
promises?"

"I'm not sure, Cliff." Bill replied thoughtfully. "What does Sandy say 
about meeting with the union? It's largely up to the workers... and I'm 
not confident about their morale at all!"

"Last question," Cliff continued: "When will the revamped cafeteria be 
ready? With the upcoming layoff, it's more important than ever."

"With a little overtime, we can be all set on Monday. How's that?"

"That's great, and do it. I'll get back to you after Sandy and I talk."

Sandy was seated in a chair waiting for him to get off the phone. When 
he hung up, she said, "Cliff, they can meet at four this afternoon, and 
I set it up. I heard you ask about the cafeteria. Could we hold the 
meeting there? I'd like to get the workers as comfortable as possible 
because the subject matter is going to be rough."

Cliff called Bill again. "Can the cafeteria be in shape for a union 
meeting at four? We could start with a little show and tell. If we can 
reopen formally on Monday, we ought to be in pretty good shape now."

"Can do, Cliff. You might pass the word to the union folks though so 
they don't bother to dress up."

Sandy made the call and was back quickly. "What are we going to tell 
them, Cliff? There are some people who are going to be very upset."

"I wish I knew." He smiled at her. "Trust me? I don't have the faintest 
idea what either of us is going to say. I *do* know the situation we're 
looking at is real. We're not trying to pull a fast one on anybody. Care 
to wing it with me?" Instead of answering, she climbed on his lap, put 
her arms around his neck and gave him a long, lingering kiss.

* * *

They were waiting in the cafeteria when the union representatives came 
in. Clarence Budd was obviously nervous, not knowing what to expect from 
the meeting. Bill and Janet Simmons gave a tour of the revamped 
facility. Since it had been in operation while the renovation was in 
progress, Janet focused on the behind-the-scenes changes that they were 
less likely to be aware of. Kaufman liked what he saw and said so. 
Janet's people had set up a table for them in the back of the room, and 
they all sat down while Janet went in back to rejoin her staff.

Sandy opened the meeting. After the formal segment, she turned her notes 
face down on the table. "Max, we've got a problem. Its dimensions just 
became clear this morning and we wanted you and your people to hear it 
from us as soon as possible. This is the Grievance Committee, and I'm 
not even sure it's the right forum. That's why I talked with you this 
morning about the subject matter." Sandy had already noticed that the 
union group had five more people than it had had the previous time. 
"It's not a grievance, it's a layoff. Bill will explain it to you."

Stevens reviewed for the union people the findings of the planning 
session. They had all seen the stale product being trucked out and a 
crew from Micronics was already busy dismantling one of the good 
machines. This brought Bill to individual responsibility and 
inspections. "Guys, believe it or not, we really do have twice as many 
people inspecting as we have making. There are some companies that brag 
about things like that. We are no longer among them. What we want to do 
is make each person responsible for his own quality. We're building up 
the maintenance staff so we're not going to have the equipment problems 
we have all been living with for so long. Things should be a lot better 
for all of us."

Then he explained how the statistically-based quality control system 
would work, and finally came to the layoffs: "What it means is nearly 
half the work force is looking at a layoff. We can't figure out a 
productive way to use them. What we've been doing is living with poor 
raw-materials utilization and terrible scrap rates, combined with lousy 
delivered quality. The company can't survive that way." Bill looked very 
unhappy as he said, "How do you want to proceed now?"

Kaufman looked around the table at his people. They were visibly shaken 
by the news they had just received. He asked if they could meet alone at 
the table for a few minutes.

Cliff rose to his feet, followed by the other management participants. 
"Max, we're going to get some coffee and take it out on the floor. Why 
don't you ask one of your people to come and get us whenever you're 
ready? There's no rush: Take as much time as you want. Come on folks."

He got a cup of coffee in a paper cup and left followed by the others. 
He was amused to see Budd scurry off in the direction of his office. "I 
wonder who he's going to call," he said. "I'll bet it's the estate 
trustee, Ezra Stiles. Sandy, what about Stiles? We've still got about 
five months to go."

"I don't know, Cliff. I don't think he's going to like what he hears, 
but I think your contract is solid. I don't think there's anything he 
can do."

They walked around the plant and spent some time watching the 
technicians from Micronics working on a machine tool. Bill talked with 
the crew chief and came back to report they had found the machine in 
better shape than they expected so the price would be adjusted downward, 
at least on the first unit. Then they just continued to walk around the 
floor. At one point they were near the cafeteria and could hear the 
sound of angry voices coming from inside. "I don't like the sound of 
that," Bill said.

Cliff shrugged his shoulders. He didn't, either, but there was nothing 
he could do. Sandy was looking very worried. "I'm scared," she said 
finally. "It's taking much too long. They've been going at it for over 
an hour." They walked out to the parking lot in time to see Clarence 
Budd scurrying towards his car. Cliff noted it was well back in the line 
indicating he hadn't arrived very early that day. "I don't like to see 
that, either," Sandy said. "And he doesn't look like he's going home." 
She turned to Cliff, "I hope your agreement with Stiles is as solid as I 
think it is!" Suddenly, she grinned at Cliff and added, "Just because I 
own this joint is no reason you need to pay any attention to me, but I 
think Mr. Budd is about to be numbered among the missing, too."

Bill Stevens had looked at her in astonishment when she referred to her 
ownership. He knew it, of course, but didn't know Cliff did. "How long 
has this young man known about you, Sandy?"

"Since he was here about a week," she replied with a smile. "Jane 
spilled the beans, and frankly, I'm delighted she did." She took Cliff's 
arm in hers and squeezed. "I've developed a close working relationship 
with my new chief executive officer!"

Bill kissed her on the cheek. "I noticed the way your eyes glow whenever 
Cliff's in range. And I always assumed the way he looked at you was a 
function of a weak mind. But I guess love is like that sometimes." He 
looked at the couple standing arm in arm. "You know, the Murphys would 
be very proud. The two of you are going to be taking this company 
places... very good places." He put out his hand to Cliff. 
"Congratulations. I assume this is your secret, so of course I'll 
maintain it. Nevertheless, I think you're a very lucky guy. She's a very 
special girl. But looking at you, I think you already know that."

"Thanks, Bill. I appreciate it. As far as being lucky, I certainly know 
that, too." He looked around, saw they were alone, and kissed her 
soundly. She ignored Bill, wrapped her arms around Cliff's neck and 
melted into his arms.

Bill tapped them on the shoulder: "Someone's coming."

Cliff checked his watch. It was five-thirty; the union people had been 
meeting for nearly an hour and a half. He saw it was Max, coming alone. 
The union leader looked like he had been through a fight, and from the 
sounds they had heard, he had. He joined the three of them. "Can we find 
a place to sit for a few minutes? I want to rest, brief you and let my 
guys cool off." They found a couple of small stacks of lumber to sit on, 
and Cliff noticed that Sandy didn't even bother to look before she sat 
down. Obviously she felt this was no time to be dainty.

Max wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and looked at the three of 
them. "Where's Budd? Is he going to be in the next meeting?"

Sandy said, "No, Max. And - for you, alone - I think he'll soon be 
numbered among the missing. Does that bother you?"

The union leader smiled for the first time. "Not at all! It makes it 
simpler, in fact. I'm going to level with you. The people trust Bill and 
they trust Sandy. Cliff, you're the new kid: We don't know you. On the 
other hand - and I said this to you at the time - you sure started off 
right. They're prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt. But they 
don't trust Budd nearly as far as they can throw him... and at about 250 
pounds, that's not very far.

"I've got a deal to offer. It's not a very good deal, but it's the best 
I could get. I guess you know we had a war in there. It was the 
old-timers like me against the kids. You know unions: They are political 
organizations. I'm kind of proud of our local. We are pretty democratic. 
But there are times - like right now - when I wish we weren't. I trust 
you people. I'm convinced we are on the same team.

"The problem is talking to my people. On seniority rules, they say it's 
easy for me to trust you. I've got more than enough seniority to keep my 
job. The kids don't. They want to hit the bricks. We said the only thing 
that would get them is the prospect of being the highest-paid people in 
the unemployment line. Mr. Fitzpatrick, there are some of us who have 
learned to read financial statements, too. We also see the conditions: 
the lousy product we ship, the machines that are so worn out they can't 
maintain tolerances. Yes, and the absurdity of two people inspecting a 
single person's work. We know we can't survive that way.

"We heard a lot about what went on in the planning meetings. It wasn't 
supposed to be a secret was it?" Cliff shook his head, no. "Everything 
we heard made sense. If this can be made to work, this company is going 
to survive and then prosper. It will be a much better place for us to 
work, and for the next generation, too. I don't disagree with a single 
damned thing you're doing. I only wish it had been done years ago. The 
kids don't understand, though. Some of them don't know the difference 
between a real job and make-work. Worse, many of them are economic 
illiterates. If they see a number on a balance sheet in seven digits or 
more, it's more money than the Mint. They don't realize how fast it can 
blow away in a big company. Anyway, you know there's been a fight in 
there.

"The best I could come up with is this: We will allow you to address a 
general meeting of the membership, any way you want. Give a speech, make 
a presentation, answer questions, whatever. It's up to you. Then we put 
it to a vote and see what happens. What do you think?"

Bill Stevens was the first to speak. "I guess that's what we'll do then. 
Max, I'm going to impose on you one more time. Who do you think should 
speak?"

"Bill, I think you all should. Look, I know there are only a few of us 
who know who Sandy really is. I'm going on what you've told me. The 
company's back is to the wall. I believe you. The kids think this is an 
impersonal big corporation like Magna Motors and Ajax Industries. I 
think we just have to let it all hang out. Let them know there is a 
Murphy that owns this company. Let me ask you, what are the risks of 
doing it?"

Sandy swallowed hard. "Max, when is the meeting? You're putting me on 
the spot, you know? This is for your ears only: The problem is I don't 
control the Murphy stock formally until October 1, and that's almost 
four months away. Right now, Ezra Stiles votes it as trustee. While you 
were meeting, Budd scurried out to his car and went off... somewhere. 
We're pretty sure it wasn't home, and our guess is it was to see Stiles. 
I know Charles Purcell was a Stiles informant in the company. He and 
Budd were as thick as thieves, so I wouldn't be surprised if he is, too.

"The problem is, we don't know what Stiles *could* do! Frankly, the 
answer could be nothing, but it could be a lot. I had my personal lawyer 
review Cliff's contract. He con siders it unbreakable. However, it *can* 
be litigated, and that could be just as bad, or possibly worse. If 
Stiles got some friendly judge to issue a restraining order, even if we 
ultimately win in court we're tied up in the meantime. And we can't 
afford to be distracted right now, let alone tied up. Max, it's the 
company I'm worried about, not me. Can I think about it and talk it over 
with these guys first?"

"When is the meeting, Max?" Cliff asked. "I would like to get it over 
with as soon as we can."

"How about Thursday evening? I think that's about as soon as we could 
schedule it. Sandy, please think about what I said. Everyone knows and 
trusts you. I understand your problem. I just hope you'll be able to 
find a way." The group went back to the cafeteria. It was obvious to the 
three management people that tempers on the union side had not 
completely cooled down. They had a very brief meeting with Max formally 
presenting the union offer of a meeting which was accepted for Thursday 
evening.

The meeting adjourned and the three went back to Cliff's office. "May I 
ask Janet to join this seance?" Bill said. "It seems to me there are two 
things to think about: The first is how important Sandy's participation 
will be to the workers. I think Janet could be a big help. She has a 
good feel for things like this. The second is Stiles, and neither of us 
can comment on that one."

"It makes sense to me, Bill." Cliff replied. "What do you think?" he 
asked Sandy. She nodded agreement and Bill went off to get Janet.

Then Sandy picked up the phone and called Ezra Stiles. As she guessed, 
he was still in his office. "Hi, Uncle Ezra!" she said. Although her 
voice was bright, she made a face to Cliff. "We had an interesting 
meeting with the union today." She listened for a few moments. "My, you 
get your information quickly! I'm impressed." She made a thumbs down 
sign to Cliff as Stiles continued to talk. Finally he stopped speaking 
and she continued, "The reason for the call concerns my inheritance. I 
haven't said anything, but you know quite a few people know that the 
Murphy family is only me. Is it supposed to be a secret? I can't recall 
ever asking you before?" She had earlier motioned to Cliff who had 
picked up the phone on her desk. When Bill returned with Janet, on 
impulse he turned on the speaker feature on the phone so all three could 
listen. The speaker was on as Sandy asked her last question.

"No, Sandy," Stiles replied. "There's absolutely nothing in the will or 
anything else I know of regarding maintaining your inheritance as a 
secret. It's just something we've done going back to when you went to 
work for MacDougal. If I remember correctly, it was your idea, wasn't 
it?"

"I think so, Uncle Ezra. As a matter of fact, I'm sure of it now. I only 
wanted to check to see if there was a more compelling reason, and you 
say there's none at all, right?"

"That's right, Sandy. There's none at all."

She concluded the conversation and hung up as the others came into the 
room. "I'm glad you were listening. Did you all hear his reply?" she 
asked. They all had and said so. "I don't know why, but I have a feeling 
it's important that you all heard it. Particularly Bill and Janet: 
you're impartial. That's one thing out of the way, though. I can talk. 
Now should I?

"Cliff, I'm most concerned about you. I would rather cut off my arm than 
do anything that would be seen as undermining your authority. What do 
you think?"

"None of us have had a chance to talk about what Max said, but 
personally, I agree with him. I would like you to speak. You're a real 
person: the owner. I'm the boss: hired help. I think they'll listen to 
me, but I think you can swing them. My vote is for you to speak. Janet, 
Bill had the excellent idea of asking you to join us. What do you 
think?"

"Sandy, I agree with Cliff. Bill told me some of what Max told you 
earlier. You can't believe how economically ignorant some of these kids 
are! If an amount is more money than they ever carry in their *pocket*, 
for heaven's sake, it's more money than the Mint. 'The union will take 
care of me. We have a contract!' As if the contract will magically 
produce the money to fund it. I think you should." Janet continued, "I 
have a question, though. What's the risk? Aside from Stiles, I mean. 
Maybe I'm missing something."

Bill spoke up: "I think Janet has said it all, and raised the real 
question: Why not?"

Sandy looked at Cliff speculatively. "I don't think it will change the 
way you feel about me. I guess there is no reason. I just had this idea 
of playing secretary to try to learn how a company works. I guess I 
ought to see about joining the Junior League or something. Okay, I'll do 
it." As she said the words she looked very dejected.

Cliff thought the time had come to let the cat out of the bag a little 
more. "Darling, I hope you'll stay. You are not just Assistant to the 
President, you're the assistant general manager. Everyone sees it. I've 
heard it said that we seem to be two people sharing a single brain. I've 
had the eerie experience of starting a sentence and having you finish 
it... in the same words I would have used. Do we have to cripple the 
company? Can't the Junior League wait awhile?"

She had been looking at him as he spoke. By the time he finished, she 
was beaming. Instead of answering, she put her arms around his neck and 
kissed him slowly and lovingly.

When they finally broke, Janet gave Cliff a kiss and then kissed Sandy. 
Cliff was surprised to see tears in the older woman's eyes. She had her 
arm around Sandy's waist as she looked at Cliff and said, "I've been a 
widow a long time, Cliff. I remember when Sandy's parents were killed. 
My God! That was nearly fourteen years ago. You probably gathered that 
Sandy grew up at the plant. I tried to be a mother to her, and I still 
think of her as my little girl. She even used to bring her report cards 
to me. I've been waiting so long for the right guy to come along. Cliff, 
she's really a one-man woman, and I think you're the lucky man. I think 
of her as my daughter, and I'm so proud of her... of both of you."

"Mom," Sandy said after kissing the woman, "When are you going to let 
Bill Stevens make an honest woman out of you? Will you do it if I tell 
you Cliff and I are going to be married? We are."

"Looking at the two of you together, that's certainly no surprise! 
Cliff, please take care of my little girl."

"Little girl, indeed!" Sandy said, feigning indignation. "I'm a 
five-foot eight-inch woman!"

"I certainly will," Cliff replied to Janet. "I guess we're agreed, then. 
Sandy will give her talk. Now the question is what kind of talk do we 
give? My thought is we keep it simple. I think anything elaborate - a 
slide show, for example - will make the suspicious ones think we're 
trying to put something over on them. I think we do it best by keeping 
it as simple as possible. What do the rest of you think?"

"Let's do it!" Bill and Sandy said in unison. Everyone laughed at that 
point.

Cliff and Sandy went home to Sandy's apartment. Cliff had moved in, but 
had installed an unlisted phone number of his own. The phone in his 
apartment used the call- forwarding feature to divert any calls for him 
to his phone in Sandy's apartment. He used to tease Sandy about "his and 
hers" telephone answering machines.

In bed that night he noticed Sandy was more relaxed. He asked her about 
it. "I guess it's the fact that more things are coming out into the 
open, Cliff. I'm beginning to understand that, deep down, it's bothered 
me to have to play a role."

"Does that extend to playing wife?" Cliff teased.

She ran her hands over his body, and snuggled closer. "I can live with 
that," he heard her murmur, "And I plan to, for a long, long time!"

* * *

Thursday morning there was more news from Max Kaufman. The meeting was 
scheduled for eight in the evening. And in spite of their differences, 
the union people had united in keeping the subject quiet. They didn't 
want the press to hear of it. It was scheduled at a nearby hall the 
union often used for membership meetings.

Bill, Sandy and Cliff went over to the hall together. Sandy had given a 
lot of thought to her clothing for the evening, and finally wore a 
simple beige dress that looked very good on her. Max called the meeting 
to order. They had agreed that Bill would speak first, followed by 
Cliff, and ending with Sandy.

Bill explained the situation in the plant quickly and succinctly. Then 
Cliff got up and spoke about the layoffs. He finished his speech by 
saying, "I'm sorry about this. It's certainly not your fault, but it 
isn't mine, either. I came in and found the mess. We just can't survive 
if we try to have one person producing and two people inspecting what 
he's produced. We're going back to the way things used to be. You people 
are crafts men! You're good. You know how to do it right, and we're 
upgrading the equipment to make it possible. Why in hell do we need 
*two* people looking over your shoulders? It wasn't that way when John 
Murphy, Sr., founded this company. And it's not going to be that way 
when his granddaughter, Sandra Donnell, gets control of her stock. 
Ladies and gentlemen, I think you all know Sandy. Not many of you know 
she *owns* this company! Or at least, two-thirds of it. Sandy?"

Sandy got up and went to the podium. Cheers, particularly from the old 
timers, rang out in the hall. She had no prepared speech, so she just 
waited for the hall to quiet down. Finally, it did. "Ladies and 
gentlemen, I'm here tonight for two reasons. First, to say that I've 
been involved every inch of the way in the decisions Bill and Cliff 
reviewed with you. I don't like it any more than you do.

"But my job is to save this company! We are in tough shape right now. If 
our competitors had the slightest hint of how bad things are, I would 
fear for *all* your jobs. Some of you think owning a company is easy: 
All the owner does is cash the dividend checks. It's never that easy. I 
started to work in this plant ten years ago when I was only sixteen. I 
have a union card. I operated machine tools... although not even Cliff 
knows that. I've personally performed just about every job there is in 
this plant, certainly all the grubby ones. There are a lot of familiar 
faces here who can tell you that what I just said is true.

"Well, what I'm telling you now is true, too: We have to have these 
layoffs. It's why managers get paid what they do. It's not to make the 
easy decisions. It's to make the hard ones. This is a hard one, believe 
me. It's got to be. For those of you directly affected, I'm sorry. With 
luck, we'll build this company back to where it ought to be and you'll 
all be rehired. That will be one of the happiest days of my life.

"Until then, let's hope. Let's work to make it happen! Let's work to 
re-create all those jobs!" There were tears visibly running down her 
cheeks as she finished.

She stood up straight looking out over the hall as some men rose and 
started to applaud. The applause spread. Soon, the entire hall was on 
its feet applauding the young owner. There were no cheers, no whistles. 
They were applauding someone they felt was on their side.

They had been prepared to spend most of the time fielding questions. Max 
joined Sandy at the podium and waited as the applause wound down. "Are 
there any questions?" he shouted. There was silence in the hall. "This 
meeting is adjourned!" he declared.

As he held Sandy's arm to guide her back to the others, he could see the 
tears still rolling down her cheeks. She went into Max's arms and he 
held her. "Sandy, thank you. No one else could have done what you just 
did. It worked because there are too many guys out there who know you 
and know it's true. I had forgotten, but now I remember you on your 
hands and knees scrubbing wash rooms. You did do all the grubby jobs. 
Did you ever wash dishes in the cafeteria, though?"

Sandy smiled through her tears and held up her hands, "How do you think 
they got this awful?"

Max took them in his. "They look awfully good to me. I guess you 
recovered." He looked at the others. "We scheduled a vote for tomorrow 
but I think you won it tonight. Sandy, let's get those jobs back. Okay?"

Cliff had loaned her a handkerchief, and she was drying her eyes. She 
gave him back his handkerchief and put her hand out to Max. "It's a 
deal! Let's make it happen quick."

The vote the next day was a formality. The strike vote was heavily 
defeated. Subsequently, Sandy got a call from Ezra Stiles. He pointed 
out to her that she had revealed herself as the Murphy heir, and that 
was contrary to the spirit, if not the letter, of the will.

Again, Cliff was listening as she responded, "Mr. Stiles, that's 
interesting. I asked you that very question a few days ago. You said 
there was no problem. It's curious, too, Ezra. There were three other 
people who heard you tell me that, so I would suggest you not try to 
make an issue of it. Incidentally, it has become necessary to terminate 
Mr. Budd as personnel director. We were planning on giving him 
six-months pay in lieu of notice. Do you think that's fair enough? 
Stiles agreed that it was. He hung up, obviously miffed that his plan 
had been thwarted.

Cliff pretended to be stern. "Miss Donnell, hiring and firing are the 
prerogatives of the chief executive. Are you presuming to encroach?" 
Before she could say anything, he had her in his arms, and kissed her. 
She could feel her knees buckle as she clung to him. When they 
separated, her eyes were glazed. Although Cliff tried teasing her again, 
all he got from her was a loving murmur.



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