"Bruce Holland Rogers - Wind Over Heaven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rogers Bruce Holland)

Wind Over Heaven
by Bruce Holland Rogers
This story copyright 1996 by Bruce Holland Rogers. This copy was created for Jean Hardy's personal
use. All other rights are reserved. Thank you for honoring the copyright.

Published by Seattle Book Company, www.seattlebook.com.

* * *


Coming into the restaurant early one Monday morning, Eric found Sutherland in the main dining room.
One of Sutherland's massive arms rested casually, heavily on the open door of an antique china cabinet,
and Eric could imagine the delicate hinges tearing out of the wood. Sutherland was examining the
porcelain inside. No one had touched those porcelain pieces since Eric's mother had died and he had
inherited them.
"What are you doing here?" Eric said.
Sutherland smiled. In the full moon of his face, the smile seemed tiny, as if his mouth were two sizes
too small for him. "Hello, partner," he said. He handled the porcelain casually, turning the pieces over as if
looking for a price sticker. When he picked up a little gold-rimmed demitasse, there was a moment when
Eric imagined he was going to swallow it.
Eric stepped forward, took the demitasse from Sutherland's doughy hands. "This cabinet's supposed
to be locked," he said.
"It was locked," Sutherland said. "I found the key in your office. You know, Eric, antiques aren't
exactly an efficient use of capital. You could decorate a lot less expensively."
Eric felt the heat rise in his face. "In the first place, how the restaurant is decorated is part of what
makes it a success. And in the second place, those pieces are part of my personal collection."
Sutherland smiled again. "Come on, Eric. You can't start sheltering assets after the fact. If it's in the
restaurant, it's part of the restaurant. I think we need to talk about how we can cut overhead, reallocate
our resources. If we make full use of all of our equity"-- He reached into the cabinet and removed the
demitasse-- " then maybe we can get this cash flow turned around."
"You want a court fight."
"Of course not. That would ruin The Tarragon Leaf, put a lot of people out of work. I just want to run
an efficient business. Maybe if we can't agree on that, you should let me buy you out. You could start
fresh somewhere else."
Eric said nothing. He was thinking about Sutherland's neck, about how it would be impossible to get
one's hands all the way around it. You'd need a rope. Or piano wire.
"Here's my offer," Sutherland said, "and, believe me, it's better than your recent numbers warrant. I'm
being generous."
***


In the kitchen, after Sutherland had left, it was quiet. Monday mornings were always quiet, since The
Tarragon Leaf wouldn't serve dinner again until Tuesday evening. Eric had thought that this would be a
good time to come in and think about things, a time when he could expect Sutherland not to be in the
restaurant.
Now, at least, he and Gero had the kitchen to themselves, and Eric, watching the stove's blue flame,
could hear the hiss of the gas.
"Sutherland's a parasite," Eric said. "Why didn't I see that before it was too late?"
"Parasite," Gero said. He turned up the flame. "You think that is bad."
 Eric forced a laugh. "Could it possibly be good?"