His voice was serious, but more controlled than a few moments ago, and again their eyes met directly.”I'd like you to reconsider. It could be that you've spoken hastily and made a judgment without weighing all the implications. Each of us here does similar things at times. I certainly have, and have had to swallow my pride and backtrack, admitting I've been wrong. If you were to do that now, none of us would think an iota the worse of you, and what happened here will end here. I promise that, just as I urge you to change your mind. What do you say?" She was silent, not wanting to rush into a commitment either way without considering it first. Sam had just offered her-easily, graciously, as was his way--a dignified route out. All she had to do was utter a word, a phrase, and the impasse would be over, a crisis averted as swiftly as it came. The offer was extraordinarily tempting. Before she could answer, Sam added, "You have a lot at stake personally.”
She knew exactly what he meant. Her appointment as corporate vice president of sales and merchandising had not yet been confirmed. And if what was happening here proceeded to its logical conclusion, it might never be. Sam was right. There was a lot at stake. She took a moment more to consider, then told him quietly and decisively, "Sam, I'm sorry. I have weighed everything. I do know what's at stake. But I must still recommend that we delay the introduction of Montayne.”
It was done. As Sam's face clouded, then suffused with anger, she knew that now there could be no turning back. "Very well," he pronounced tautly.”At least we know where we stand.”
He considered, then went on, "Earlier I said there would be no formal vote here. Cancel that. I want us to go on record. Seth, please take notes.”
The comptroller, his expression still sad, again produced his pencil and held it poised. 'I have already made my own position clear," Sam said.”I am, of course, in favor of continuing our introduction of Montayne, as planned. I wish to know who agrees or disagrees. Those who agree, raise their hands.”
Vincent Lord's hand shot up. Those of Dr. Starbut, Hammond, and two other vice presidents followed. Nicholson, apparently overcoming his doubts, raised his hand too. Bill Ingram hesitated; he looked at Celia in mute appeal. But she turned away, refusing to help him; he must make his own decision. After a second more, Bill's hand went up. Sam and the others were looking at Seth Feingold. The comptroller sighed, put down his pencil and waveringly raised his hand. "That's nine to one," Sam said.”It doesn't leave any doubt that this company will continue with the launching of Montayne.”
Once more there was a silence, this time awkward, as if no one knew what to do or say next. Amid it, Sam stood up. "As you know," he said, "when all of this began, I was about to leave to see my daughter and grandson at the hospital. I'll go there now.”
But the earlier joy had left his voice. Sam nodded to the other men, but pointedly ignored Celia as he left. She remained in her seat. Bill Ingram, now standing, moved toward her. "I'm sorry...”, he began. She waved him to silence.”It doesn't matter. I don't want to hear.”
Suddenly, unexpectedly, she realized that everything she had built up for herself within the company-her position, authority, reputation, future prospects-had come tumbling down. Could she even survive here now? She wasn't sure. Bill said, "I have to ask this. What are you going to do?" When she didn't answer, he went on.”Surely, now that you've made your protest, now that everyone knows where you stand about Montayne... surely you can go on directing sales?" Celia responded dully, not wanting to make decisions now, "I don't know. I just don't know.”
But she did know that, at home tonight, she would have to think her position through. Seth Feingold told her, "I hated to vote against you, Celia. But you know how it is-I don't understand anything scientific.”
She glared at him.”Then why did you vote at all? You could have said that, and abstained.”
He shook his head regretfully, and left. One by one the others followed until Celia was alone.
13
"I know something is wrong," Andrew said at dinner, breaking a lengthy silence, "and my guess is, seriously wrong.”
He stopped, and when Celia made no immediate reply, continued.”You've been quiet since I came in, and I know your moods pretty well, so I won't bug you. But when you want to talk, and need me... well, my love, I'm here.”
She put down her knife and fork alongside the meal she had scarcely touched, and turned to him, her eyes brimming. "Oh, darling! How I need you!" He reached out, covering her hand with his, and said gently, "Take your time. Finish dinner first.”
She told him, "I can't eat.”
Soon after, in their living room and sipping a brandy which Andrew poured, Celia described the past two days' events, culminating in her failure to convince Sam and others this afternoon that the launching of Montayne should be delayed. Andrew listened carefully, injecting an occasional question. At the end he told her, "I don't see what else you could have done.”
"There was nothing else," Celia said.”But what I have to decide is-what do I do now?" "Do you have to make a decision, at least right away? Why not take some time or I could get away too, and we'll take a trip somewhere.”
He urged, "Away from pressures, you could think everything through, then do whatever seems right when you get back.”
She smiled gratefully.”I wish it would keep that long. But it's something I can't put off.”
Andrew came to Celia and kissed her, then assured her, "You know I'll help in any way I can. But remember one thing. I've always been proud of you, and I'll go on being that, whatever you decide.”
Looking at her husband fondly, she thought: A lesser man would have reminded her of their argument in the hotel in San Francisco, when Andrew had refused to concede his doubts about Montayne, or the use of any drug by pregnant women. That was when Celia had suggested-maliciously, as she saw it now-that his medical reasoning might be prejudiced or outdated, maybe both. Well, Celia was now the one who had come around to having doubts, but Andrew was too big a person ever to say, "I told you SO.”
If she were to apply Andrew's standards to her own present dilemma, she wondered, which way would it be decided? She didn't even have to ask. She knew. She remembered, too, some advice given to her years earlier. "There is something you have: a gift, an instinct, forjudging what is righ t... Use your gift, Celia... When you have power, be strong to do what you believe... Don't let lesser people dissuade you. Emotion surged as she remembered Eli Camperdown. The longago president of Felding-Roth had spoken those words, near death, in his home at Mount Kemble Lake. Andrew asked, "More brandy?" "No, thank you.”
She finished what was in her glass, met Andrew's eyes, then declared decisively, "I cannot take part in marketing Montayne. I'm going to resign.”
In all of her twenty-four years at Felding-Roth, it was the most painful thing she had ever done. Celia's letter, handwritten and addressed to Sam, was brief. With the greatest personal regret I am resigning as Director of Pharmaceutical Sales and from Felding-Roth. This letter will terminate my connection with the company. You are aware of my reasons. It seems unnecessary to repeat them. I wish to say that my years of employment here have been pleasurable and privileged. Not least among the privileges have been your support and friendship for which I have been-and remain-most grateful I am leaving without bitterness. I wish Felding-Roth Pharmaceuticals and its people success in every way.
Celia sent the letter, hand delivered, to the president's office and followed it herself a half hour later. She was shown in immediately to Sam's inner office. Behind her a door closed quietly. Sam looked up from a paper he was reading. His features were set grimly and his voice was cold.”You asked to see me. Why?" She responded uncertainly, "I've been with the company a long time, most of it working for you. I felt I couldn't just walk out