He stirred restlessly.
Chapter 18
Hardly anyone came down for breakfast in Rudbek. But breakfast in bed was not in Thorby’s training; he ate alone in the garden, luxuriating in hot mountain sunshine and lush tropical flowers while enjoying the snowy wonderland around him. Snow fascinated him — he had never dreamed that anything could be so beautiful.
But the following morning Weemsby came into the garden only moments after Thorby sat down. A chair was placed under Weemsby; a servant quickly laid a place. He said, “Just coffee. Good morning, Thor.”
“Good morning, Uncle Jack.”
“Well, did you get your studying done?”
“Sir? Oh, yes. That is, I fell asleep reading.”
Weemsby smiled. “Lawyerese is soporific. Did you satisfy yourself that I had told you correctly what they contained?”
“Uh, I think so.”
“Good.” Weemsby put down his coffee and said to a servant, “Hand me a house phone. Thor, you irritated me last night.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“But I realize you were right. You should read what you sign — I wish I had time to! I have to accept the word of my staff in routine matters or I would never have time for policy . . . and I assumed that you would do the same with me. But caution is commendable.” He spoke into the phone. “Carter, fetch those papers from Rudbek’s apartment. The garden.”
Thorby wondered if Carter could find the stuff — there was a safe in his study but he had not learned to use it, so he had hidden the papers behind books. He started to mention it but Uncle Jack was talking.
“Here is something you will want to see …an Inventory of real property you own — or will own, when the wills are settled. These holdings are unconnected with the business.”
Thorby looked through it with amazement. Did he really own an island named Pitcairn at fifteen something south and a hundred and thirty west — whatever that meant? A domehouse on Mars? A shooting lodge in Yukon — where was “Yukon” and why shoot there? You ought to be in free space to risk shooting. And what were all these other things?
He looked for one item. “Uncle Jack? How about Rudbek?”
“Eh? You’re sitting on it.”
“Yes . . . but do I own it? Leda said I did.”
“Well, yes. But it’s entailed — that means your great-great-grandfather decided that it should never be sold . . . so that there would always be a Rudbek at Rudbek.”
“Oh.”
“I thought you might enjoy looking over your properties. I’ve ordered a car set aside for you. Is that one we hopped here in satisfactory?”
“What? Goodness, yes!” Thorby blinked.
“Good. It was your mother’s and I’ve been too sentimental to dispose of it. But it has had all latest improvements added. You might persuade Leda to hop with you; she is familiar with most of that list. Take some young friends along and make a picnic of it, as long as you like. We can find a congenial chaperone.”
Thorby put the list down. “I probably will. Uncle Jack . . . presently. But I ought to get to work.”
“Eh?”
“How long does it take to learn to be a lawyer here?”
Weemsby’s face cleared. “I see. Lawyers’ quaint notions of language can shock a man. It takes four or five years.”
“It does?”
“The thing for you is two or three years at Harvard or some other good school of business.”
“I need that?”
“Definitely.”
“Unh . . . you know more about it than I do –”
“I should! By now.”
“– but couldn’t I learn something about the business before I go to school? I haven’t any idea what it is.”
“Plenty of time.”
“But I want to learn now.”
Weemsby started to cloud, then smiled and shrugged. “Thor, you have your mother’s stubbornness. All right. I’ll order a suite for you at the main office in Rudbek City — and staff it with people to help you. But I warn you, it won’t be fun. Nobody owns a business; the business owns him. You’re a slave to it.”
“Well . . . I ought to try.”