by Belva Plain
“Oh, damn! I really loved him. I made him so happy, and he—I don’t know, Michelle. I think I’ll remember him every day of my life, the times we’ve had, it wasn’t the money, you probably think that’s all it was, but it wasn’t all. I loved him—”
“Then you’re just cutting off your nose to spite your face.”
“Honey, it’s too complicated. You don’t understand. You simply don’t.”
“I’m fifteen years old, and I understand more than you think.”
Someone was knocking at the door and calling, “Rosemarie, oh Rosemarie!”
“Go away, Grampa. I’m busy.”
“Open the door. I want to sing to you. Oh Rosemarie, I love you, I’m always dreaming of you—”
“Old fool,” Roxanne muttered, wiping her eyes. “I don’t want him to see me like this. He’ll go tattling all over the house.”
“He’s been drinking beer all afternoon,” Michelle said.
The doorknob rattled. “Unlock the door, I want to see you.”
“Go on, open the door a crack, Michelle, before he breaks the knob. Here, give him a donut to quiet him.”
The silly, pathetic face of the drunken old man grinned at them from the doorway. He drooled. “I only wanted to see you. They’re at it again down there, you know.”
Sure enough, the familiar strident bickering of Pop and his young wife came floating up the stairwell.
“So what’s new?” asked Roxanne.
“I didn’t have my supper, Rosemarie.”
“Give him a piece of chicken, Michelle. Take it and go away, Grampa. Be good, now.”
Michelle locked the door. Roxanne groaned. “God almighty, this is a loony bin if there ever was one. No, we absolutely have to get out of here.”
Michelle sat down on the bed again, regarding her sister with interest. “How’s that going to happen?”
Roxanne considered for a moment or two before replying. “Well, as you say, you’re old enough. I guess there’s not much you haven’t heard, so here goes. Look on my side of the closet, back against the wall.”
“These brown pants?” asked Michelle.
“Don’t you know riding breeches when you see them? Now look on the floor.”
“Boots.”
“Jodhpur boots. Your sister has become an e-quest-ri-enne. How does that sound?”
“So far, pretty crazy. You don’t know anything about horses.”
“Two weeks ago, I didn’t. Now I do. You’d be surprised how fast you can learn a thing if you put your mind to it. Sit down, and I’ll tell you.
“It’s this way. He’s got a brother. The brother—name’s Clive—is nuts about horses. When he’s not working or sleeping, he’s sitting on a horse. So one night when I was lying here thinking, I suddenly had a brainstorm. Why don’t I go meet the brother, I thought. I remembered him from the night I met him at that restaurant. You know I don’t forget faces. And besides, I heard so much about him that I could have practically drawn his picture. Short guy, about up to my shoulder, face not much to look at, and going bald, just starting. You’d never take them for brothers.” She reflected. “God, he must hate Ian. Him. Only natural, looking like that. I’ll bet he never had a love affair, and he must be thirty-five.”
“What is he, a fag?”
“Don’t talk that way, Michelle, it’s common.”
“Jeez, pardon me!”
“And don’t say ‘jeez,’ either.”
Michelle rolled her eyes upward. “Will you please go on with the story?”
“You interrupted me. I lost my track. Yes, well, I went downtown to a fancy store and bought the outfit—”
“Aren’t you supposed to have a jacket?”
“You keep interrupting me. Yes, when it’s cold. In the summer, you wear a shirt, the woman said. I bought two. They’re in the drawer. Now will you let me finish? So I decided to go out to the riding academy up near the Greys’ place and take a lesson. I figured I’d go on Sunday because if this guy’s so nuts about riding, wouldn’t he do it on Sunday? There was a kid there who gave me a lesson. I caught on without any trouble. It’s fun. So while we were walking the horses through the woods, taking it slow my first time, we were talking, and I just happened to mention that I thought Clive Grey rode here on Sundays. The kid said yes, he does, but he comes later, after church. So to make a long story short, I hung around ready to hire the horse for another lesson, but the kid said he was too booked up. And just then, can you believe it, Clive Grey walked over and said, ‘I see you’re disappointed. I’ll be glad to give you a lesson if you like.’ And the kid said, ‘Lucky you, Mr. Grey’s an expert.’ And that’s the beginning.”
“Beginning?”
“We’ve been out five times, two Sundays and three evenings after work while it’s still light.”
“Hmm,” said Michelle. “So what’s next?”
“Whatever I want. I can make anything happen. He fell for me. He looks at me and giggles like a baby.”
Michelle made a face. “He sounds gross.”
“He isn’t really. He’s awfully smart, sometimes like a genius, a whiz kid, I heard. And very friendly, very nice. You can’t help feeling sorry for him.”
“If you feel so sorry for him, why are you kidding around with him? It’s kind of cruel, I think.”
Roxanne got up, sat on Michelle’s bed, and put her arm around her, pleading, “I’m not cruel. I wouldn’t hurt anybody, not even a ladybug, would I? Remember a couple of nights ago when I found two in the bathroom and went downstairs to put them out on the grass? I want nice things for you. You’re smart and you’re pretty. I don’t want you growing up and going to work at Grey’s like the rest of us. I want to send you to a good boarding school—”
“Boarding school! Where’d you get that idea? Who goes to boarding school?”
“People do. They’ve got a sister or cousin in that family who went when she was younger than you.” She paused, and went on, “He was willing to send you.”
“Seems you’ve got a lot of ideas from him. So now you think this one will do it, too, is that it?”
“Only if I get him to marry me, and I’m sure I can.” She paused again. “God! That’ll be the surprise of Ian’s life. It’ll kill him.”
Michelle’s eyes were wide with astonishment. “Only you,” she murmured, “only you, I swear. Who else would think of a scheme like this?”
“Plenty of people. Up there on the hill in those big houses, don’t you think they know darn well what they’re doing when they marry? Hey, don’t you think Diana did plenty of scheming to get hold of Charles?”
“Well, I hope whatever you do, it turns out better than that.”
“It will. I’ll give him the best time in bed, I’ll do whatever he wants, I’m good-natured and easy to get along with. I’ll make him the happiest man alive. Why wouldn’t it turn out?”
Michelle gave a little shudder. “But the way he looks, the way you described him.”
“He’s clean. Immaculate. That’s all that matters. As for the rest, I don’t have to stare at him.” A sudden thought made Roxanne spring up and go to the closet. “Here, I’ve got new shoes for you. I only wore these black patents once. You’re an A width, aren’t you? I’m double A, but you can have them stretched. And these whites from last summer are spick-and-span. My present to you. Might as well throw the old ones out, unless you want to keep a pair for the rain.”
“What the hell are you doing this for?”
“Because he’s half a head too short.” Roxanne laughed. “Or you could say I’m half a head too tall. So I’ll wear flats from now on. By the way, watch your language. You don’t have to say ‘hell’ all the time, Michelle.”
“Oh, pardon me!”
“I’ll pardon you. I mean it, though. I’ve noticed he don’t—doesn’t—talk that way. He has nice manners. So watch yourself, please, when he comes. I don’t care what they do downstairs because I’ve already explained to him about them.”
<
br /> “When he comes?”
“He’s taking me out to a movie and dinner on Saturday.”
“He’s calling for you here? In this dump?”
“He won’t mind. He’s that type. Things like that aren’t important to him.”
After the movie, they went to dinner.
“There’s a good place out on Summer Street. Christie’s,” Clive suggested. “It has a great circular salad bar, lobster, giant shrimp, and the best desserts in town. How does it sound to you?”
“Oh, I’d love it. I’ve been there. There’s only one problem. An ex-boyfriend of mine goes there a lot. We broke up on bad terms, and it would be awfully embarrassing to meet him. Do you mind if I pick a place where we won’t see any of the crowd he goes around with?”
“Not at all. Just tell me where.”
The twinkling lights of a sign alongside the road a few miles from the city spelled out BOBBY’S BAR AND GRILL, and Roxanne said, “Bobby’s. This’ll be fine. They have good steaks, that is, if you want steak?”
“Well, sure. I thought I’d take you to something more—more gala than this.”
“I know it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but the food is the thing, isn’t it? And the company,” she added, giving him the warm flash of her smile.
From their booth, as far away as was possible from the thump of the three-piece band, they had a clear view of the dance floor, where girls in cutoffs and jeans were gyrating with fellows in shirtsleeves.
“A blue-collar place,” Roxanne said. “Maybe you don’t like it?”
“Why shouldn’t I? It’s interesting.”
“Well, you being a Grey, and all. I was just thinking maybe I’ve made a mistake. You’re not used to places like this, and I am. I’m blue collar.”
“You don’t know me, Roxanne. What does it mean, ‘being a Grey’? It means that I have more money than these people have, which is no credit to me. I was just smart enough to pick the right grandparents.” He laughed. “No. Great-grandparents.”
“That’s what I like about you, Clive. Your honesty. You’re plain and straightforward.”
“And that’s what I like about you, among other things.”
The lighting was blue, but not too misty to hide the gleam of Roxanne’s eyes and her teeth, or the glitter of the rhinestone pendant that lay between the round breasts under the red satin blouse. A strong scent of flowers drifted across the table.
“I like your perfume,” Clive said.
“Do you? It’s French. My one extravagance. I love perfume. It makes me feel happy when I wear it.”
“I imagine you feel happy most of the time.”
When she leaned toward him, the pendant swung outward, revealing a half inch, a mere glimpse, of cleavage.
“Do you? What makes you imagine so?”
“Oh, everything about you. The way you took to riding, for instance. You loved it right away.”
“Oh, I did, I do. It’s so free, being out there in the wind. It must be wonderful to have your own horse, the same one every time. I guess you get to know each other, almost like friends.”
“You do,” Clive said gravely. “Maybe someday you’ll have your own horse.”
“I hope so. How’s your steak?”
“Good. Just right.”
“And the fries? Not greasy?”
“No, no, everything’s fine.”
“I’m glad because I feel responsible for bringing you here. I’d feel terrible if I spoiled your evening.”
“Spoiled? I’m having a marvelous time, Roxanne. You know something? I have a definite feeling that I’ve seen you once before. I can’t remember where or when, but I’m good at recalling faces, and, of course, yours is the kind of face that a man remembers. Have I ever seen you?”
“Not that I know of. But thank you, anyway. You’re very gracious, Clive.”
The music went wild. On the dance floor they were whirling and sweating. Roxanne pointed out a couple whose twists and bumps, in perfect rhythm, were professionally expert.
“Would you look at them! Aren’t they great? I wish I was that good. I love to dance,” she said, tapping her foot.
“I’d like to oblige, but the fact is I hardly ever dance. Almost never, really. I’m afraid I’d step all over your feet.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“Besides, to tell you the truth, I don’t know how we’d look together. I’m short, too short for you.”
“Are you? I didn’t notice. Anyway, even if you are, what’s the difference?”
“Women don’t like men to be shorter. On the dance floor,” he amended.
“What has height got to do with dancing or anything else? Napoleon was short, and women were wild about him. Come on, let’s dance.”
“Okay. You’ll have to teach me the steps, though,” he said as they left the booth.
“There are no steps. You’re on your own. Just hang loose and move to the music, any way you want. Watch me.”
She was as lithe as a whip, with her feet coming down hard right on the beat, her hips and her arms swinging free.
She encouraged him. “That’s the way, Clive. You’re getting there. Come on, grab my hands, turn me. That’s it. Say, you’ve got it, that’s the way. Do it again, you’re great.” She smiled. Her bright face sparkled at him. “Didn’t think you could do it, did you? Who said you don’t know how to dance?” She grinned at him. “Isn’t this fun?”
And it was fun. Nobody here knew him, nobody would be able later to gossip about how foolish he must look, jumping and spinning in his dark blue suit and proper striped tie, with the music crashing on his eardrums. His blood was pumping. It felt good. He let himself go.
All at once, he began to cough, the cough catching him in mid-spin so that he stumbled and lost breath. He had to break loose and sit down, gasping, until his eyes teared. Alarmed, Roxanne followed.
“You all right? All right?”
He nodded, wiped his eyes and, still unable to speak, pointed at the ashtray, which was full of cigarette butts.
“Ah, so that’s the reason!” And when finally the cough subsided, she said seriously, “Hey, you should quit that. Have you tried wearing a patch?”
He nodded again. “Tried everything, and it’s no use. So I’ve decided to smoke and cough. This only happens now and then,” he apologized.
“The more you smoke, the more it’ll happen.”
“So they tell me. My whole family keeps at me, and I know they’re right, but I’m not going to listen to them. I hate being nagged about it.”
“Okay, I won’t say another word.” She regarded him seriously. “You only have a father and some brothers, right?”
“One brother. And a cousin, who grew up in the house, so he’s like a brother.”
“That’s nice. And you all get along very well. Very nice.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, you’re all in the business together, so I should think you must get along.”
“Oh, we do, well enough, although they’re not like me. Or I should say, I’m not like them. I’m a loser. They’re not. My brother, especially, is not. He’s good-looking, popular, travels, gambles, has fun. Not like me.”
Roxanne reached across the table and touched Clive’s hand. “That’s too sad.”
“No, just realistic.”
“People are different, Clive. You’re very attractive. You could travel if you wanted to, you could gamble if you wanted to, but it’s plain you’re not the type, and you can have all the fun you want, in a different way. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you, about your head for math. I really admire that. Math was always my worst subject. Why, you could be a big genius at Harvard or someplace, teaching—”
“Who told you that?”
“I—people in the company talk, you know,” she said hastily. “Even as far down as the shipping department, we hear things from the top. Harmless gossip, you know. In your case, compliments.”<
br />
“You’re a sweet person, Roxanne.”
“Why, thank you, and the same to you.”
“I feel at home with you. I can talk to you as if I’d known you a long time.”
“I’m glad, Clive.”
“I hope I’ll be able to see a lot of you.”
“Anytime you want. I feel honored.”
“Don’t feel honored. Just feel that you’ve found a friend.”
“Oh, I feel that already.”
“Would you like to skip our ride tomorrow and drive to the country with me instead? I’ll show you the cottage I’m building on Father’s place at Red Hill.”
“But your family … I don’t want to go if any of them will be there.”
“Why? What difference would that make?”
“I don’t know. I’d feel awkward, that’s all.”
“You’re the last person in the world who’d need to feel awkward anywhere, Roxanne.”
“I can’t help it. I’ll only go if you promise me no one else will be there.”
“I promise. Father’s in Boston, and Ian’s at his sister-in-law’s wedding.”
“That’s okay, then. I’ll go. I’d love to.”
“Okay. Tomorrow I’ll call for you around noon. Don’t dress up. Wear sneakers. It’s out in the woods.”
The foundation and two walls had been completed in a stand of oaks that must be, Clive explained, at least seventy-five years old, perhaps a hundred. Drawing a blueprint out of the glove compartment, he described the house that he had designed.
“Nothing fancy, just a house in the woods. A private little place that belongs only to me. I can come and go when I want and do what I want.”
They got out and walked through rough, knee-high grass.
“I’ll probably have a scrap of lawn to hold some chairs and a hammock to read in. Other than that, the woods. There’ll be a great big room with a stone fireplace at either end, a kitchenette, a little bedroom for me, and another for a guest. My cousin Tina will be the first guest when it’s finished. I promised her. My beautiful cousin Tina.” And Clive smiled, enjoying his little mystery. “You don’t ask about Tina?”
“Am I supposed to ask? All right, tell me about her.”
