E. Godz Read Free Page B

then all would be right with the world.
    E. So there.
    "I blame myself," Edwina muttered, crumpling up the papers and tossing them away.
The parlor wastebasket sprouted cherub wings and zoomed in to catch the discarded
transcriptions before they hit the floor, then fluttered back to its place, only pausing long
enough to trade high-fives with the fireplace-ash broom. "A little. On second thought, no,
I don't blame myself at all. Why should I? I always did what was best for them. I sent
them away from home as soon as I could manage it, legally and financially. So I'm the
Great Earth Manager, not the Great Earth Mother: So sue me. Which is worse, raising
your kids yourself, come hell or high water, when you darn well know that it's not your
scene, or sending them to the finest daycare centers and boarding schools and colleges
that money can buy? Money which, might I add, we never would have had in the first
place if I'd been tied down wiping runny noses and kissing boo-boos and baking
cupcakes instead of being free to build up the business. I think I did damn well by those
kids. If it's anyone's fault that they can't get along, it's theirs."
    She put the family photo back on the table and made herself a fresh pot of tea, but
despite a brew containing enough St. John's wort to turn Attila the Hun into a tree sloth,
Edwina found herself unable to release her troubles and go with the cosmic flow.
    The cosmic flow didn't have children.
    She made an impatient sound with her tongue and sat up straight on the sofa. She had
reached a decision:
    "It may not be my problem if Dov and Peez want to wear each other's guts for garters,
but if I don't want E. Godz, Inc. to go down the corporate tubes, I'd better be the one to
fix it," she said. "The question is—how?"
    She settled back among the cushions, took a deep draught of tea, and closed her eyes
while she brought all the powers of a mind Machiavelli might envy to bear upon the
present sticky wicket. Music from an unseen source wafted gently through the parlor, a
medley of New Age hits that she had conjured up to help her think. At last, when it
seemed as though she would burst out of her house stark naked and foaming at the mouth
if she had to listen to one more meandering flute trill, Edwina's eyes popped open, the
light of inspiration shining bright within.
    "Of course," she said aloud. "It's the perfect plan: simple, elegant and practical.
Excellent." A sharklike grin—her father's corporate lawyer heritage at work—spread
itself across her face as she told the air: "Take a letter."
    Three more ensorcelled fountain pens floated up from the green baize-lined leather
box atop Edwina's desk. The left-hand top drawer opened of its own accord and three
sheets of blank paper like three white miniature flying carpets arose to take their places
beneath the waiting nibs. The top right-hand drawer opened and two envelopes slithered
out to await developments. A ghostly file cabinet hovered on the edge of materialization,
pending the completion of the letter under composition. Ever the consummate
businesswoman, Edwina never failed to make a copy of all correspondence for her
personal records.
    "My dearest children," she began her dictation, to the accompanying scritch-scritch-
scratch of the three animate pens. "It is with a heavy heart that I write this from what will
be, in the inevitable course of time, my death bed. There is no cure for the ailment that
has so suddenly come over me and my doctor tells me that I have, at most, a few months
more to live. I admit that I've been toying with the idea of retirement for a while now, but
this news has forced my hand.
    "Thus I find myself compelled to make a decision which I have been putting off,
namely determining who shall succeed me as the new chairperson of E. Godz, Inc. My
deepest desire has always been to be able to turn over cooperative control of the business
to the two of you, but I realize that this