by Belva Plain
Robert had found the property on his initial visit to New York and had come home filled with nervous enthusiasm. Connecticut was the place! It had charm. It had atmosphere. The schools were good. The neighborhoods were safe. There were wonderful open spaces. Imagine three wooded acres on a narrow, rural road with no one in sight except for the house directly opposite, and that, too, a treasure out of Architectural Digest.
Of course, it was expensive. But with his salary and his prospects a mortgage would be no problem. She had only to read the items about his promotion in The Wall Street Journal and in Forbes magazine to know where he was headed. Besides, a house like this one was an investment, a setting for entertaining—to say nothing of its being an investment in happy living for themselves. Once Lynn had seen the place, and if she liked it, then she must get busy right away and furnish it well. There must be no piecemeal compromises; a first-class decorator must do it all.
She would fall in love with it, he was certain; already he could see her working in the flower beds with her garden gloves and her big straw sun-hat on.
So they got out a bottle of champagne and, sitting at the kitchen table, toasted each other and their children and General American Appliance and the future.
Now in late spring, the evening air blew its fragrance through the open windows in the dining room. And lilacs, the source of this fragrance, reared their mauve heads and their healthy leafage above the sills.
“Listen, a mockingbird! I can’t imagine when he ever sleeps,” Lynn said. “I hear him the last thing when I fall asleep, and in the morning when I wake, he’s still singing.”
Josie’s black eyes, too prominent in her thin, birdlike face, smiled at Lynn.
“You do love this place, don’t you?”
“Oh, I do. I know I felt in the beginning that the house was too big, but Robert was right, we really do spread out so comfortably here. And as for its being too expensive, I still have a few doubts, but I leave all that to him.”
“My wife is frugal,” said Robert.
“A lot of men would like to have that complaint,” Josie remarked. She spoke quickly, as was her habit. And again it seemed to Lynn that her remarks to Robert, however neutral, so often had a subtle edge.
Then again it seemed to her that whenever Bruce followed Josie in his so different, deliberate way, it was with an intention to smooth that edge.
“You’ve done a wonder with the house.” His gaze went over Robert’s head toward the wide hall in which rivers, trees, and mountains repeated themselves on the scenic wallpaper, and then beyond to the living room where on chairs and rugs and at the windows a mélange of cream, moss-green, and dusty pink evoked the gardens of Monet.
Lynn followed his gaze. The house had indeed been done to a refined perfection. Sometimes, though, when she was left alone in it to contemplate these rooms, she had a feeling that they were frozen in their perfection as if preserved in amber.
“As for us,” Bruce was saying, “will you believe that after two years we still have unopened cartons of books in the basement? We left St. Louis in such a hurry, we just threw things together, we never expected to be transferred, it was all so unexpected—” He laughed. “The truth is that we aren’t known for our neatness, anyway, neither Josie nor I.”
Josie corrected him. “When you have work to do for the company, you’re one of the most efficient people I’ve ever seen.”
Robert shook his head. “We were completely settled in a week. I personally can’t function with disorder around me. I’m internally compelled toward order. I know that about myself. If a sign says KEEP OFF THE GRASS, I have to obey, while there are other people who have to challenge the sign by walking on the grass.” He sighed. “People are crazy.”
“I can attest to that,” said Josie. “The things I see and hear in my daily work—” She did not finish.
“I wish you’d tell me some of them, Aunt Josie. I keep asking you.”
Everyone turned to Emily. There was a fraction of a second’s silence, no longer than a collective indrawn breath, as if the four adults had simultaneously been struck by an awareness of the girl’s beauty in her yellow dress, with her black silk hair flowing out under a cherry-colored bandeau and the shaft of evening sunshine on her eager face.
“I will, whenever you want. But so much is tragedy, sordid tragedy.” And with gentle curiosity Josie asked, “What makes you so interested?”
“You know I’m going to be a doctor, and doctors need to understand people.”
There was a fullness in Lynn’s throat, a silent cry: How lovely she is! How dear they both were, her girls! And she was thankful for their flourishing; they had taken the move so well and found their places in the new community.
“Emily did incredibly on her PSATs,” Robert said. “Oh, I know you don’t like me to boast about you, darling, but sometimes I can’t help it. So forgive me. I am just so proud of you.”
Annie’s round face under its halo of pale, kinky hair turned to her father. And Lynn said, “Our girls both work hard. Annie comes home from school, goes right to the piano to practice, and then to her homework. I never have to remind you, do I, Annie?”
The child turned now to her mother. “May I have the rest of the soufflé before it collapses? Look, all the air’s going out of it.”
Indeed the remaining section of the chocolate fluff was slowly settling into a moist slab at the bottom of the bowl.
“No, you may not,” Robert answered as Annie shoved her plate under Lynn’s nose. “You’re fat enough. You shouldn’t have had any in the first place.”
Annie’s mouth twisted into the square shape of tragedy, an outraged sob came forth, she sprang up, tumbling her chair onto its back, and fled.
“Come back at once and pick up your chair,” commanded Robert.
In reply the back door slammed. Everyone took care not to look at anyone else until Emily spoke, reproaching gently, “You embarrassed her, Dad.”
“What do you mean? We’re not strangers here. Aunt Josie and Uncle Bruce knew her before she was born.”
“But you know how she hates being told she’s fat.”
“She has to face reality. She is fat.”
“Poor little kid,” Lynn murmured. A little kid who didn’t like herself, not her fat, nor the kinky hair that she had inherited from some unknown ancestor. Who could know her secret pain? “Do go after her, Robert. She’s probably in the usual place behind the toolshed.”
Robert stood up, laid his napkin on the table, and nodded toward the Lehmans. “If you’ll excuse me. She’s impossible.…” he said as he went out, leaving a dull silence behind him.
At the sideboard Lynn poured coffee. Robert had bought the heavy silver coffee service at Tiffany as a “house gift to ourselves.” At this moment its formality in the presence of Bruce and Josie made her feel awkward; it would have been natural to bring the percolator in from the kitchen as they had always done. But Robert wanted her to use all these fine new things, “Or else, why have them?” he always said, which, she had to admit, did make some sense. Her hand shook the cup, spilling a few drops. It was an uneasy moment, anyway, in this humming silence.
It was Emily who broke through it. At seventeen she already had social poise. “So you’re all going to the Chinese auction for the hospital tonight?”
“I’ve been racking my brains,” Josie reported, “and the best thing I can come up with is to offer three nights of baby-sitting.”
“Well, if you need references,” Emily said gaily, “tell them to call me. You and Uncle Bruce sat for us often enough, goodness knows.”
Lynn had recovered. “I’ll give a ‘dinner party for eight at your house.’ ”
“Dad’s offering three tennis lessons. He’s better than the coach we had last year at school.”
“What’s this about me?” asked Robert. He came in with his arm around Annie’s shoulder and, without waiting for an answer, announced cheerfully, “We’ve settled the problem, Annie and
I. Here it is. One luscious, enormous dessert, as enormous as she wants, once a week, and no sweets, none at all, in between. As a matter of fact, that’s a good rule for all of us, no matter what we weigh. Good idea, Lynn?”
“Very good,” she said gratefully. As quickly as Robert could blunder into a situation, so quickly could he find the way out.
He continued. “Annie, honey, if you finish your math homework tonight, I’ll review it tomorrow and then well go ahead to the next assignment so you’ll have a leg up on the rest of the class. You will surprise the teacher. How’s that?” The child gave a nod. “Ah, come, Annie, smile a little.” A small smile crossed the still mottled cheeks. “That’s better. You staying with Annie tonight, Emily?”
“Going to the movies, Dad, it’s Friday.”
“Not with that boy Harris again?”
“Yes, with that boy Harris again.”
Robert did not answer. Emily must be the only person in the world who can cause him to falter, Lynn thought.
“Eudora’s going to sit tonight,” she said. “Emily dear, I think I hear Harris’s car.”
“You can hear it a mile away. It needs a new muffler,” Robert said.
An instant later Emily admitted Harris. He was a tall, limber youth with a neat haircut, well-pressed shirt, and a friendly, white-toothed greeting. It seemed to Lynn that health and cheer came with him. Now he was holding by the collar a large, lumbering dog whose long, ropy hair was the shape and color of wood shavings.
“Hello, Mr. Ferguson, Mrs. Ferguson, Mr. and Mrs. Lehman. I think your Juliet’s got something in her ear. She was wriggling around outside trying to rub it on the grass. If somebody’ll hold her, I’ll try to take a look.”
“Not in the living room on the light carpet, please,” Robert said.
“No, sir. Is it all right here in the hall?”
“Yes, lay her down.”
It was not easy to wrestle with Juliet. Emily held her legs and Robert pressed on her shoulders. Harris probed through the hairy tangle of her ear.
“Be careful. She may snap,” Lynn warned.
Harris shook his head. “Not Juliet. She knows I’m trying to help.” His fingers searched. “If it’s inside the ear—no, I don’t see anything, unless it’s something internal, but I don’t think so—if it is, shell have to see the vet—sorry, poor girl—am I hurting you? Oops, I think I felt—yes, I did—hey, I’ve got it, it’s a tiny burr stuck in the hair—ouch, that hurts—wait, old lady—I’ll need a scissors, Mrs. Ferguson. I’ll need to cut some hair.”
“She won’t miss it,” Lynn told him, handing the scissors. “I’ve never seen such a hairy dog.”
“You’d make a fine vet,” Bruce said, “or M.D., either one.”
Harris, still on his knees, looked up and smiled. “That’s what I plan. Emily and I are both in Future Doctors of America.”
“Well, you’ve certainly got a way with animals. Juliet even seems to be thanking you,” Bruce said kindly.
“We’ve always had animals in our house, so I’m used to them,” Harris explained, stroking the dog’s head. “Just last week we lost one old dog. He was sixteen, almost as old as I am, and I do miss him.”
Bruce nodded. “I know what you mean. What kind was he?”
“Just Heinz 57, the all-American dog.”
“Juliet is a Bergamasco,” Robert said. “I had a hard time finding one, I can tell you.”
“I’d never even heard the name until Emily told me what she was.”
“Not many people have. It’s a very rare breed in this country. Italian.”
Lynn laughed. “I don’t think she gives a darn about being rare, do you, Juliet?”
The dog yawned, settling back under the boy’s stroking hand. Harris spoke to her.
“You feel a lot better now that you’re rid of that thing, don’t you?”
“Oh, Juliet, we do love you, you funny-looking, messy girl!” Emily exclaimed, “Although I always did want an Irish setter.”
“Everybody has an Irish setter,” Robert said. He looked at his watch. “Well, shall we go? Leave your car here, Bruce. You can pick it up on your way home. And, Emily, don’t be too late.”
“That’s a nice boy,” Bruce remarked as always, when they were in the car.
Lynn agreed. “Yes, he’s responsible and thoughtful. I never worry about Emily when he drives. Some of the others—”
“What others?” Robert interrupted. “It seems to me that she’s always with him. And I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”
“You read too much into it,” Lynn said gently. “They’re just high school kids.”
“Emily is not ‘just’ anything. She’s an exceptional, gifted girl, and I don’t want to see her wasting her time. Yes, the boy’s nice enough, and his family’s probably respectable. The father’s a policeman—”
“Is that what you object to?” Josie said bluntly. “That his father’s a policeman?”
Lynn cringed. Intimate as she was with her old friend, the secret of Robert’s and Josie’s dislike for each other remained unacknowledged between them. Neither woman wanted to open this particular Pandora’s box.
Bruce gave his wife a mild rebuke. “Of course he doesn’t mean that.”
It seemed to Lynn that Bruce and she were too often called upon to smooth rough passages. And she said impatiently, “What a waste of words! A pair of seventeen-year-olds.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Bruce said somewhat surprisingly. “Josie and I fell in love when we were in high school.”
“That was different,” Robert grumbled. “Emily’s different. She has a future in the world, and she can’t afford to play with it.”
“I thought you were still one of those men who think women are better off in the house,” Josie told him.
Again Lynn had to cringe. It was a relief that before Robert could reply, the car arrived at the entrance to the country club.
The membership had gotten behind the hospital’s gigantic fund drive. Actually, it had been Robert who had brought about the liaison between the club and the hospital’s trustees. It was remarkable that after only two years in this community, he had become well enough known for at least ten people to stop and greet him before he had even passed through the lobby.
The auction, in the long room that faced the golf course, was about to begin. Flanking the podium, two tables held sundry donations: glass candlesticks, dollhouse furniture, and an amateurish painting of ducks floating on a pond. On one side there hung a new mink jacket, a contribution from one of the area’s best shops.
Robert paused to consider it. “How about this?” he whispered.
Lynn shook her head. “Of course not. You know how I feel about fur.”
“Okay, I won’t force it on you. On second thought, if you should ever change your mind, I wouldn’t buy this one. It looks cheap.” He moved on. “How about the dollhouse furniture for Annie?”
“She hasn’t got a dollhouse.”
“Well, buy her one for her birthday. Let her fix it up herself. Annie needs things to occupy her mind. What’s this? Do I recognize a menorah?”
“You do,” said Bruce from behind him. “I inherited three from various relatives, and since we hardly need three, I thought I’d contribute one. It’s a Czech piece, about a hundred years old, and should bring a very good price.”
“I doubt it. There are no Jews in this club.”
“But there are some in the neighborhood, and they always give generously,” Bruce said, sounding unusually firm.
“That’s well known,” Lynn offered, worrying that Robert’s remark might have sounded too brusque.
Robert moved on again. “Hey, look here. Two Dickenses from 1890. Bleak House and Great Expectations. These are finds, Lynn.” He lowered his voice. “We have to buy something. It wouldn’t look right if we didn’t. Anyway, I want these.”
With the appearance of the auctioneer the audience ceased its rustle and bustle. One by one, with approva
l and jokes, various offers were made and accepted: Josie to baby-sit, Robert to give tennis lessons, Lynn to give a dinner, and a few dozen more. All went for generous prices. A delighted lady with blue-rinsed hair got the mink jacket, the doll furniture went to the Fergusons, as did the two volumes of Dickens. And Bruce’s menorah brought three thousand dollars from an antiques dealer.
Robert said only, “I could use a cup of coffee,” as the crowd dispersed into the dining room, where dessert was to be served.
Robert and Lynn saved places for the Lehmans.
“It gets a little sticky,” he whispered as they sat down. “We should be mingling with people here, and yet I should be with Bruce too.”
“He seems to be doing all right,” Lynn observed, for Bruce and Josie were standing in an animated little group. “They make friends easily,” she went on.
“Yes, when he makes the effort. He should make it more often for his own good. Well, I’m not going to waste time sitting here waiting for them. There are a dozen people I ought to see, and I want to get the tally besides. We must have made over twenty thousand, at least. I want to get hold of a local editor, too, and make sure that my name is in the write-up and that General American Appliance gets credit.”
Robert’s fingers drummed on the table. “No. Tomorrow morning will be better for that. A few private words over the telephone away from this crowd will accomplish more.”
Josie, Bruce, and another man had detached themselves from their group and now came over to the table. Bruce made introductions.
“This is Tom Lawrence, who bought your dinner offer, Lynn, so I thought you two ought to meet.”
Robert said cordially, “Please join us, Mr. Lawrence, you and Mrs. Lawrence.”
“Thanks, I will. But there is no Mrs. Lawrence. Not anymore.” The man’s smile had a touch of mischief, as if he were amused at himself. “You assumed I had a wife, or else why would I be bidding on a dinner party? I can’t blame you, but the fact is that although I keep a bachelor’s house, I like to entertain.” He turned to Lynn. “Bruce told me that you’re a fabulous cook and I ought to bid on your dinner. So I did.”
