"Like that Montayne?" Winnie pointed to a copy of that morning's Newark Star-Ledger spread open on a countertop, a news story about Montayne prominent on the front page. Dully, Celia nodded. "Me doctor give me some samples an' told me to take it," Winnie said.”I would have, too. I was always bein' sick in the mornin's. 'Cept She glanced at Andrew.”Is it okay to say, Dr. Jordan?" He assured her, "Yes.”
'Cept, before you both went away, Dr. Jordan told me- 'e said it was a secret between us-if I was given any of that Montayne, not to take it, but flush it down the loo. So that's what I did.”
Winnie's eyes, brimming with tears, went to the newspaper, then to Andrew.”I'd an 'ard enough time gettin' this baby. So... oh, God bless you, Dr. Jordan!" Celia, relieved and grateful, took Winnie in her arms and held her.
5
Sam Hawthorne had the appearance of a walking ghost. The sight of him, during her first day back at Felding-Roth, so shocked Celia that she found it impossible to speak. For that reason, Sam spoke first. "Well, how does it feel to return in glory, proved right and virtuous when all the rest of us were wrong and evil? Pretty good, eh?" The unfriendly words, in a rasping voice she scarcely recognized, added to her shock. It was seven months since Celia had seen Sam. In that time he appeared to have aged at least ten years. His face was haggard and pale, with flesh around his cheekbones hanging loose. His eyes were dull and seemed to have receded; beneath them were dark, baggy rings. His shoulders drooped. He had lost weight dramatically so that the suit he was wearing was ill-fitting. "No, Sam," Celia said, "I don't feel good. Only sad for all of us, and I'm desperately sorry about your grandson. As to coming back, I'm simply here to help.”
"Oh, yes, I thought you'd get around to being She interrupted.”Sam, can't we go somewhere more private?" They had encountered each other in a corridor where others were passing as they talked. Celia had just come from a meeting with Seth Feingold and several directors. The president's office was a short distance away. Without speaking, Sam walked toward it. Celia followed. Inside, with the outer door closed, he swung toward her. The rough, sour voice persisted.”What I started to say was-I thought you'd get around to being sorry. That's so easy. Now, why don't you go on to say what you're really thinking?" She said quietly, "You'd better tell me what you think I'm thinking.”
"I know damn well! That I was criminally irresponsible in giving Montayne to Juliet when the drug wasn't even approved. That I'm the one, I alone, who caused Juliet and Dwight's baby, my grandson, to be the way he is-a useless mockery of a human being, nothing but a Sam choked on the final words and turned away. Celia stood silently, torn by sorrow and compassion, weighing what to say. Finally she spoke. "If you want the truth, Sam-and this seems to be a moment for it-yes, I did think that. I suppose I still do.”
Sam was looking at her directly, hanging on her every word, she realized, as she continued. "But then there are other things you get around to remembering. That it's easy to have twenty-twenty hindsight. That all of us make mistakes in judgment...”
"You didn't make them. Not this one. Not a whole series of mistakes as big as mine.”
Still the bitterness. "I've made others," Celia said.”Everyone with responsibility does. And it's often bad luck that makes some mistakes turn out worse than others.”
"This is one of the worst.”
Sam moved behind his desk and slumped into a chair.”And all those other babies, including the unborn ones. I'm responsible...”
"No," she said firmly.”That isn't true. As far as the rest, you were guided by the lead of Gironde-Chimie and by scientific advice. You weren't alone. Other responsible people felt the same way.”
"Except for you. What made you so special that you weren't taken in?" She reminded him, "I was, to begin.”
Sam put his head in his hands.”Oh, Christ! What a mess I've made.”
He looked up.”Celia, I'm being unfair and rotten to you, aren't P" "It doesn't matter.”
His voice became lower, losing its edge.”I'm sorry, and I Ynean that. I suppose if I tell the truth, I'm jealous of you. That, and wishing I'd listened, taken your advice.”
Disjointed words followed.”Haven't been sleeping. Lie awake hour after hour, thinking, remembering, feeling guilty. My son-in-law won't speak to me. My daughter doesn't want to see me. Lilian tries to help us all, but doesn't know how.”
Sam stopped, hesitated, then went on, "And there's something else. Something you don't know.”
"What don't I know?" He turned his head away.”I'll never tell you.”
"Sam," Celia said firmly, "you have to take hold. Nothing will be gained, for you or anyone, by torturing yourself" ' As if he had not heard, he said, "I'm finished here. You know that.”
"No. I don't know it at all.”
"I wanted to resign. The lawyers say I mustn't, not yet. I have to stay in place.”
He added dourly, "The facade must be preserved. To protect the company. So as not to provide more fodder for the jackal-lawyers with their damage suits, closing in. That's why I'm still to be president for a while, sitting in this chair, for the sake of shareholders.”
"I'm glad to hear it," Celia said.”You're needed to run the company. He shook his head.”You're going to do that. Haven't you been told? The board decided.”
"Seth just told me some of it. But I need you.”
He looked at her, unspoken anguish in his eyes. Making a sudden decision, Celia went to the outer door. It could be locked with a bolt. She turned it. There was a similar bolt on a door to the secretaries' office. Celia locked that too. Lifting up a telephone, she said, "This is Mrs. Jordan. I'm with Mr. Hawthorne. We are not to be disturbed.”
Sam was still at his desk, unmoving. She asked him, "Since this happened, have you cried?" He seemed surprised, then shook his head'.”What good would that do?" "Sometimes it helps.”
She came close, leaned down, and put her arms around him.”Sam," she whispered, "let yourself go.”
For a moment he eased away, peering into her face, uncertain, wavering. Then suddenly, as if a dam had broken and like a child, he laid his head on her shoulder and wept. Following Celia's first-day session with Sam, it quickly became evident that he was a tragically broken man, his former spirit shattered, and that he would contribute little to the top-echelon running of the company. While caring deeply, Celia was obliged to accept the situation as it was. Sam came in each day, still driving his silver-gray Rolls-Bentley and parking it on the garage catwalk level. Occasionally he and Celia would arrive there at the same time, Celia in her chauffeured company car, for which she was grateful since it enabled her to work, reading papers, during her journeys to and from home. At such moments she and Sam would walk together to the main headquarters building, using the glassed-in ramp to reach the special elevator to the executives' eleventh floor. Between them there might be some small talk but, if so, it was Celia who started it. Once in his office, Sam mostly stayed there. No one inquired exactly what he did, but apart from a few innocuous memos, nothing of any consequence emerged. At management conferences though informed of them in advance-Sam was noticeably absent. Thus, from the second day after her return, there was not the slightest doubt that Celia was in charge. Top-level issues requiring policy decisions were referred to her. Other problems, which had been hanging in abeyance, were brought to her attention for solution. She dealt with them all, using the promptness, common sense and strong purpose that had always been her hallmark. Conferences with lawyers occupied much of her time. The first lawsuits were being filed as a result of publicity concerning Montayne and the drug's withdrawal. Some of the lawsuits appeared genuine. A few babies, among them premature ones, had already been born in the United States with deformities similar to those in other countries where the mothers of defective children had taken Montayne during pregnancy. Inevitably, this list of genuine cases would increase. A confidential, in-house estimate of the total number of U.S. babies who would be born malformed because of Montayne was slightly more than four hundred. This figure had been reached using statistics coming in from France, Australia, Spain, Britain and other countries. It took into account the length of time Montayne had been on sale in those countries, the quantity of the drug sold, and comparative figures for the United States. Of the other lawsuits, some were filed on behalf of Montayne taking mothers who had not yet given birth; these were based on fear of what might happen and, for the most part, charged Felding-Roth with negligence. A small remainder were believed frivolous or fraudulent, though all would have to be dealt with formally-the whole involving enormous legal time and cost. As to cost overall, Celia-who had had to learn quickly about a subject entirely new to her-discovered that Felding-Roth carried product liability insurance amounting to a hundred and thirty-five million dollars. As well, the company had an internal reserve, for the same purpose, of another twenty million dollars. "That hundred and fifty-five million sounds a lot, and might cover all the claims we'll settle," Childers Quentin, a lawyer, told Celia. Then he added, "On the other hand, I wouldn't count on it. The likelihood is, you'll need to raise more elsewhere.”