Promptly at 7:30, Susan opened her door at a knock and was confronted with Frank, in a white dinner jacket, and a room service cart, piled high with pillows and cushions and draped with satin.
Frank bowed. "Your chariot awaits, milady."
She laughed aloud. She was dressed in a black dress he'd never seen before, one with flowing lines and a low neckline. It was floor-length, but when she moved, he realized that it had a thigh-high slit in one side. He would have never connected a dress like that with the conservative Susan Andrews he knew. Or did he really know her? Her hair had also been done, in a loose, attractive style that flattered the angularity of her face. The overall effect was totally alien to the Susan he knew. But somehow, the thought that he now had the chance to get to know the real Susan, and not just the office manager, was exciting.
There was also the chance, of course, that he wouldn't like the real Susan; that the woman he loved was the conservative office lady. He got the feeling that her outfit tonight was meant as a warning that he would not be dealing with the Susan he knew, but an entirely different woman.
He grasped her waist with both hands, and with a single motion, swept her five-foot-four, 135-pound frame onto the cushioned cart. Only a single muted grunt testified that it was a strain for him.
She looked at him with a broad but quizzical smile. "A room service cart?"
He nodded. "The desk offered me a wheelchair, but that carries too many unpleasant connotations."
She laughed aloud again, and was answered by an enthusiastic smile from Frank.
She shook her head. "You're crazy!" she said, smiling widely.
It was Frank's turn to shake his head. "Nope. When you're as rich as I am you're not crazy, you're 'eccentric'. I've been an 'eccentric billionaire recluse' for years now."
He pushed the cart the fifteen feet down the corridor to his suite, where he lifted her down and then bowed her inside.
Frank had pushed most of the furniture in the room to the walls. In the middle of the room sat a small table with a linen tablecloth and candlestick, lit by a spotlight on the ceiling. Closed draperies insured that the rest of the room was dimly lighted, creating a small, intimate oasis of light. A small stand next to the table contained a bucket with a wine bottle and the stems of two glasses protruding. Soft, "easy listening" music surrounded them from the room's built in stereo speakers.
"Wow," Susan said. "You really know how to set a scene. What do you call it, 'Early '70's seduction'? The only thing missing is the round bed with a mirror in the ceiling!"
Frank grinned. "Ah, but you haven't seen the bedroom, yet. No," he added hurriedly, "I'm kidding."
She smiled gently. "I know. You're an old-school gentleman. It's really quite quaint."
Frank winced visibly as he seated her and took his own seat. "That's a terrible thing to call a man, you know. We all want to be known as the wild, sexy, dangerous bad boy your mother warned you about."
She laughed again. "Well, I'm afraid you've totally ruined that image by acting like a sweet, considerate, nice guy." Her expression turned mischievous. "The jury's still out on the 'sexy' part, though."
"Humph," Frank grumped. "Well, be sure to let me know when the verdict is in."
"We'll see," she said primly, the calm, confident office Susan surfacing for just a moment. But as quickly as she appeared, the office Susan was gone. The real Susan just looked at him expectantly, letting Frank know that the ball was in his court.
He sighed deeply. "Susan, I know you think I'm a paranoid nut, but you haven't lived in my world, and I think we have to deal with this before our relationship can move on. I'm a businessman. That means that all I really want is to be left alone to do business. Over the last thirty years or so, that has become increasingly difficult, with the government coming to view business as an enemy to be conquered and a money tree to be plucked. I didn't mean to imply that the U.S. government is corrupt, or that its agents are dishonest. They sincerely think they are keeping us rapacious billionaires from stealing the money that rightfully belongs to the poor, downtrodden workers.
A certain amount of oversight is necessary, of course. But the increasingly anti-business attitude of the government has led them to impose ridiculous requirements on business. In self-defense, business has had to adopt ways to avoid government interference. The government is forcing businesses to close every day, without once realizing that every time they do it, jobs are lost. At the moment, I have very few business investments in America, and I'm moving them out as quickly as I can. By the time the government seizes my assets in a few months, they will be very surprised to find there are none to seize."
Susan looked distressed. "But the government has to protect the people. Look at Madoff, or Enron. Everyone knows that Wall Street caused the big recession. The government has to keep them under control."
Frank shrugged. "I've had you do research for me for years. This time do it for you. I think you'll find that the big recession started during the Clinton administration as an effort to make sure that the 'poor' could find affordable housing. A couple of senators decided that the big, bad banks were refusing to loan people money because they were racist, so they pushed through a law that forced the banks to loosen their loan standards. When that didn't do everything the senators thought it should, they put pressure on the banks through Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae, and those agencies began refusing to buy mortgages from banks who weren't making enough 'sub-prime' loans.
"It got to the point where the banks would issue a mortgage to anyone, at ridiculous 'adjustable' rates, just so they could meet Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac requirements. They weren't even allowed to ask for income information, because somehow that was 'racist'. So, people who didn't even have a job were buying $250,000 homes. A few entrepreneurs began to buy up these sub-prime mortgages, and began trading in them. Then the buyers started defaulting by the thousands, of course, and Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, as well as the entrepreneurs, were stuck with billions of dollars in worthless loans. They ran to congress, and demanded more money.
"Congress decided that it was the big, bad banks' fault, of course, for making such poor loan decisions. That was when the banks and Wall Street really became the targets of class warfare. And of course, through their Wall Street connections, anyone who had 'too much' money became one of the hated 'one per centers'. I started moving my investments overseas when I saw that the wealthy were going to be targeted this time."
Susan looked unhappy. "You told me that running away was not a way of dealing with the problem. It sounds to me as though you're grabbing your money and running."
His expression became guilty and troubled. "I know, and I often feel the same way. But this is a problem I can't solve. I cannot take on the entire U.S. government, or change the attitudes of the American people."
"You can use your money to apply pressure to change American policies. You can back candidates who share your views. You can . . ." She stopped as she saw he was shaking his head.
"No, I can't, Susan," he said in an anguished tone. "I'm no George Soros, who thinks he has all the answers and is smarter than the American people, and as a result is hated by half the population of the U.S. I'm just a computer nerd who managed to hit it big. I don't claim to know 'the answer' to the country's problems; I doubt there is a single 'answer', and besides, that's the voters' responsibility. Believe me, I hate having to leave the country I served with pride, and if the business climate in the U.S. improves, I'll move my investments back there in a heartbeat. But when the President of the United States is promising to make sure I pay my 'fair share', by which he means seizing my assets, I'd be a fool not to move them out. Please, Susan, do the research. But do it with an open mind. Check into the reporting, tax, and licensing requirements imposed by the federal and state governments. Run a 'what if' scenario. What if you wanted to start a small business in California? Plan on, say, fifty employees. We'll be here for a few days. Please, Susan," he repeated, "do the research."