Fine things Read Online Free Page A

toward that end.
    “That's a hell of a waste of time.”
    Bernie was shocked, although he liked the man. He was quiet, elegant, a sharp businessman, and he was interested in what everyone said. He was the grandson of the original Mr. Wolff.
    “Russian literature was my major, sir,” he said respectfully.
    “You should have gone to business school.”
    Bernie smiled. “You sound like my mother.”
    “What does your father do?”
    “He's a doctor. A throat surgeon, but I've always hated medicine. The thought of some of that stuff makes me sick.”
    Berman nodded. He understood perfectly. “My brother-in-law was a doctor. I couldn't stand the thought of it either.” He frowned as he looked at Bernard Fine. “What about you? What are you really going to do with yourself?”
    Bernie was honest with the man. He felt he owed him that, and he cared enough about the store to have written the memo that had brought him here. He liked Wolffs. He thought it was a terrific place. But it wasn't for him. Not permanently anyway. “I'll get my master's, apply for the same jobs again next year, and with luck, the year after that I'll be teaching at some boarding school.” He smiled hopefully and looked terribly young. His innocence was touching in a way, and Paul Berman liked him a great deal.
    “What if the army grabs you first?” Bernie told him about being 4-F “You're damn lucky, young man. That little unpleasantness in Vietnam could get damn serious one of these days. Look what happened to the French over there. Lost their shirts. It'll happen to us if we don't watch out.” Bernie agreed with him. “Why don't you drop out of night school?”
    “And do what?”
    “I have a proposal for you. You stay with the store for the next year, and we'll train you in different areas, give you a taste of what's here, and if you want to stay with us, and if you can get in, we'll send you to business school. And in the meantime, you can do a sort of training on the job. How does that sound?” They had never offered anything like it to anyone, but he liked this kid with the wide honest green eyes, and the intelligent face. He wasn't a handsome boy, but he was a nice-looking man, and there was something bright and kind and decent in his face which Paul Berman liked a great deal and he said as much to Bernie before he left his office that day. Bernie had asked to think about his proposal for a day or two, but admitted to being very flattered and very touched. It was just a big decision to make. He wasn't sure he wanted to go to business school, and he hated to give up the dream of the country school in the sleepy little town, teaching eager ears about Dostoevski and Tolstoi. But maybe that was only a dream. Even now, it was growing dim.
    He spoke to his parents that night, and even his father had been impressed. It was a marvelous opportunity, if that was what he wanted to do. And the year of training at the store beforehand would give him plenty of time to see if he liked Wolffs. It sounded as though he couldn't lose, and his father congratulated him, as his mother inquired how many children Berman had …how many sons …how much competition there was in other words … or daughters …imagine if he married one of them!
    “Leave him alone, Ruth!” Lou had been firm when they were alone that night, and with great effort she had restrained herself, and Bernie had given Mr. Berman his answer the following day. He was delighted to accept, and Berman recommended that he apply to several business schools at once. He chose Columbia and New York University because they were in town, and Wharton and Harvard because of who they were. It would be a long time before he heard if he was accepted or not, but in the meantime he had lots to do.
    And the year of training flew. He was accepted at three of the business schools where he had applied. Only Wharton turned him down, but said they might have room for him the following year, if he wished to