The Mulligans of Mt. Jefferson

by Don Reid

  Chapter Seven

  His eyes were closed, and his face was pinched with pain. Nurses and attendants were hustling around him, prepping him for the operation. Nurse Kathy walked Cal to the middle of the room—to the white table that was the center of attention. She said quietly to Rev. Cal Vaxter, “I’ll come get you when the doctor is ready to start.” And then she left the two of them alone.

  Cal picked up his friend’s limp hand and held it in his. It was cold and rubbery. He instinctively began rubbing it with both his hands as if to bring some warmth back to the white, pallid fingers.

  “Harlan. Can you hear me?”

  Harlan’s eyes opened, and some hint of a smile crossed his lips.

  “What are you doing here, Cal? Does this mean I’m going to die?”

  “No, they would have sent in a priest for that. I don’t do last rites.”

  Harlan stifled an awkward laugh. And then, smiling through his pain said, “How about confessions. You do those?”

  “You still got the wrong boy. Remember I’m Protestant. You got a confession, you can go straight to the Big Guy all by yourself. You don’t need me in the middle.”

  Harlan smiled again. “I won’t lie to you, pal. I’m scared.”

  “That’s okay to be scared. I don’t think you have any reason to be, but it’s okay to admit what you feel. The doctor is on his way and says he can fix you up good as you ever were.”

  “Um. I was hoping for something better than that. How about something in a thirty-one waist and my old hairline? Maybe like I was in high school.”

  “He’s only a doctor. Not one of the twelve disciples. Although I admit it’s going to take a miracle to put you back in shape. And I’m not talking about your body.”

  Harlan grimaced and squeezed Cal’s hand as pain shot through some part of his torso. Then he looked up at him and smiled that big, familiar smile that had gotten him through every storm life ever threw at him. “Let’s get the old body fixed for now, and then we’ll work on my soul.”

  “I started working on that years ago, pardner. But right now you need to rest and quit talking.”

  “Is Buddy here?”

  “He’s in the waiting room with Darcy.”

  “Stay close to her, Cal. She’s going to need you if I don’t make it.”

  “You’re going to make it. So get those thoughts out of your head. But I can’t stay. Here comes the nurse who’s going to tell me to get out of here. I’ll be right outside with Buddy and Darcy, and we’ll all be praying for you. And it wouldn’t hurt for you to do that for yourself.”

  And with the most sincere look on his face—one Cal had never seen—Harlan looked at him and said, “Do you think I don’t?”

  “I think you do a lot more than you admit. Now don’t talk anymore. They’re motioning for me to get out. I’ll see you in the recovery room.”

  “Thanks, pal. Thanks for coming.”

  Cal released his grip on his friend’s hand, but Harlan wouldn’t let go. He lay there with his eyes closed, gripping harder with each passing second. Cal didn’t move until Kathy Foster came and took the patient’s hand and nodded to the preacher that it was time to leave.

  In the waiting room, Cal sat down on the other side of Darcy, and they hugged.

  “How is he? Can I see him?”

  “Not yet. Dr. Yandell came, and they’ve started surgery. But I talked to him, and he was doing just fine. Where are the boys?”

  “Boy Scout camp. I hate to call them so early.”

  “Yes, let’s wait for that. He’s going to be okay.”

  Buddy nodded in agreement. And he and Cal made eye contact over Darcy’s head.

  Chapter Eight

  Darcy Brennaman had not been a part of Harlan Stone’s high school life. She grew up on a large farm several miles outside of Mt. Jefferson and attended a county school. Her only contact with MJH was when her school, Harrison High, played them in a sports competition. She knew who Harlan was by reputation and admired him from a distance on occasion, but their eyes had never met. She had shopped at Stone’s with her mother all of her life and had gone in to pick out a special graduation necklace from her grandparents just days before her commencement exercise. But she never saw Harlan there. Her main remembrances of him involved the football field or the baseball diamond. But to him she was only a girl in the bleachers until that day at the post office. That was the summer after they graduated from their respective alma maters, but so much had happened in Harlan’s life before their fateful meeting.

  When H. V. Stone’s only child walked down the aisle to get his diploma that third of June, it was supposed to be the stepping stone to greater things. The University of Virginia. A starting position on the Cavaliers football team. An education that was never afforded to H. V. but that would make his son the first in the Stone line to be a college man. H. V. had planned for and looked forward to this day since he first held his boy in his arms in the maternity ward of Lenity General Hospital. And how ironic that this very hospital was where he would lie alone as his seventeen-year-old son walked across the gymnasium stage that night in a cap and gown. Esther had offered to stay with him, but he had insisted she go watch their son graduate. She gave little resistance, and he knew she wanted to be there as much as he did. But the even sadder fact that preyed on his mind in his lonely, stark room was what his illness and inability was doing to the two people he loved most in the world. The doctors told him he might never be able to resume the work schedule he had enjoyed all his life. He knew in the deepest recesses of his mind, just by looking at the dark, sunken eyes of his once lovely wife, that she was not capable of taking the reins for the sake of the family. He put his hands over his eyes in an effort to block out reality. He couldn’t stand to let in the thoughts that were prying at his conscience. There was only one person to take over the business, and in his aching heart he knew it.

  None of this was ever discussed. Harlan graduated that night and partied with his friends into the a.m. hours, and then the next morning at eight thirty, he was in front of the store, under the sign Stones by Stone Jewelers, sweeping the sidewalk in his shirtsleeves. He spoke to a few other neighboring merchants, accepted their congratulations, and thanked them for asking about his dad—and then at eight forty-five he went back inside, put on his suit coat, opened the cash register, turned on the lights in all the glass cases, and began the business day as usual.

  * * *

  “Hello, Harlan. Good to see you. How’s your dad doing?”

  “He’s doing much better, thank you. Just taking it day by day.”

  “Do you think he’ll ever come back to work?”

  “That’ll be up to him and his doctor. But we can take care of anything you might be looking for. What is it I can help you with?”

  * * *

  “Harlan, I really like that necklace, but your daddy always gave me a twenty-percent discount on everything I bought. And I’ve bought a lot of jewelry from him through the years.”

  “I know you have, Mr. James. And I’m going to take care of you just like he did. I’ve already given you your usual twenty percent with that price right there. But I’ll give you thirty percent off if you decide to take the earrings that match the necklace.”

  * * *

  “Good morning, young man. I’m George Hanson with Stottlemeyer Wholesale Jewelry. I’ve been making calls on this store for over fifteen years. Is Mr. Stone in?”

  “Yes, he is. I’m Mr. Stone.”

  “Not the Mr. Stone I’ve been dealing with.”

  “No sir. But I’m the one you’ll be dealing with now. What can I do for you? And why don’t you show me the good catalog you have in the car instead of this overpriced one you have in your hands and save us both some time?”

  * * *

 
The coach from UVA wrote and phoned a number of times that summer, as did the registration office. But Harlan never took the calls or answered the letters, and to his knowledge, neither did his father. Esther divided her time between the hospital and the store, and after H. V. came home, she was seen less and less in the store or any other place about town. The routines changed drastically for all three of them, but in silence they each accepted their fate and lived quietly with the lives they had inherited. Some of the town pitied them; some admired them; a few even offered to help them; but they all were talking about them. And that just made Stone’s even more of a local landmark. If business was the bottom line, then business was good.

  The new Mr. Stone didn’t just learn the jewelry business—the business became a part of his breathing. Like his dad before him, he kept long hours and efficient books. He shook the hands and slapped the backs that kept the flow of traffic coming in the door. He gave discounts that were already figured in the profits to old familiar customers and enticed new ones with the same percentages. Everyone in town would brag about the “good deal” they could get at Stone’s, and they weren’t lying. Everyone got the same deal, but each one thought theirs was better than the other fellow’s. Women liked dealing with Harlan because of his charm and looks, and men liked dealing with him because he was the owner. He worked the floor constantly and spoke individually with each person who walked through the door. He flashed the smile at anyone who even hinted they might want to buy something and encouraged them all to “take their time and feel free to look around.” Maxine knew that no matter what her young boss said to the public, she wasn’t to leave a potential customer alone for over thirty seconds. That was the Stone way. Appear friendly, but keep the pressure on.

  And keep the old employees on. Harlan knew too much change too soon could change the whole dynamic of what had taken his father years to establish; Maxine was always in the front, and Fritz was always in the back. That combination had worked for H. V., and Harlan knew it would work for him. Even though Fritz had never been one of his favorite people, he realized how valuable he was to the operation. Not to mention how close he was to his father.

  “Good morning. Stone’s Jewelers.”

  “Harlan, is your father down there again?”

  “Hi, Mom. Yes, he is. You want to talk to him?”

  “No. I just wanted to make sure where he was. He leaves the house, and I never know where he’s going. He shouldn’t even be driving.”

  “I know. But being here makes him happy.”

  “What does he do? Just sit there in that back room all day?”

  “Not all day, usually. But he’s here most of it, I guess. He and Fritz sit back there and smoke and talk about the old days. He never comes out even when a customer asks for him. I went back yesterday and told him Bob Conyers was out here and wanted to say hi, and he just waved me off.”

  “And Bob is one of his oldest friends in the world. And I wish he wouldn’t smoke like he does. With a stroke and a heart attack, he’s going to kill himself yet.”

  “Mom, we can’t stop that. I think sometimes that’s why he does it. I’ve talked to him, but I haven’t had any luck.”

  “Well, talk to him again, son. He just walks away from me. See what you can do.”

  “I will.”

  “And tell him to come home for lunch. I have soup.”

  “I will.”

  “Good-bye.”

  “Good-bye.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Hello?”

  “Amanda,” Buddy said into the phone.

  “Oh, thank God. I was hoping you would call soon. What’s going on there?” Amanda asked with true concern.

  “He’s in surgery right now. He was awake and talking to Cal. But, really, we won’t know much till he comes out. How about you? What have you heard from Shirley Ann?”

  “I called her, and she’s doing fine. No pains this morning. Said she was just feeling fat. And she said to tell you hi and that she loved you.”

  “Every time I think about her living in that little apartment above that garage with that boy, it makes me want to …”

  “That boy, Buddy, is your son-in-law. And he has a name. If you say ‘that boy’ again to Shirley Ann instead of ‘Louis Wayne,’ you’re just going to make matters worse.”

  “I’m not going to say it to her. But …”

  “Just don’t worry about all that now. Let me handle this end.”

  “Well, where is that … Louis Wayne? Is he with her?”

  “No. He’s already gone to work.”

  “And you don’t think he should be with his wife when she’s eight months pregnant?”

  “If he had stayed home, you would have said he should be out making a living for them. If he goes to work, you say he should …”

  “Okay, I get the point,” Buddy said, resigned.

  “I know you do, honey. You just can’t always admit it. Remember where you were when I was eight months pregnant? You were on a ship heading for Europe.”

  “Yeah, thanks to Uncle Sam. But I would have been there if I could have. You know that.”

  “Of course I know that. But nothing is ever exactly the way we plan it to be and you know that. This is not our plan, but we have to see it through on their terms. It’s their life. Shirley Ann and Louis Wayne’s. We’ll be here for them when they need us and stay out of their way when they don’t.”

  There was a long silence on the telephone line between the phone booth in the lobby of Lenity General Hospital and the Briggs household. Amanda’s words lingered and died before Buddy finally picked up the conversation again.

  “Are you that much smarter than I am?”

  Amanda laughed.

  “No. You say what’s on your mind, and I say what’s on your heart. You just find it difficult to put your heart’s feelings into words. I love you, you big galoot.”

  Amanda always made him smile—even at the most awkward times.

  “Right back at you, girl.”

  “Now tell me about Harlan. Did you find out any more about what happened?”

  “An intruder, like I told you. He had on a mask, and he broke in the back door.”

  “Oh, no! That scares me just thinking about it.”

  “Darcy is here if you still want to come on over to the hospital.”

  “Sure. Tell her I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Are you going to be there?”

  “Probably not. If Cal can be with him when he comes out of recovery, I think I’ll go over to their house. We’ve got an officer on duty over there, and they’re combing every inch of the neighborhood. I want to look around the place and see if there’s anything to be seen.”

  “Were they robbed?”

  “Well, that’s one of the things I’ll look for. But right now, according to Darcy, I don’t think so.”

  “Okay. Well, be careful. And I love you.”

  “Yeah, love you, too.”

  Chapter Ten

  How Mt. Jefferson’s only jewelry store stayed in business during the worst depression this country had ever experienced was a mystery to all the other businessmen who were losing their shirts, not to mention their socks and pants. Banks were going under; factories were closing; mom-and-pop grocery stores were nowhere to be found. Empty storefronts lined the streets of every city in the U.S., and Mt. Jefferson was no different. And for nearly a decade after Harlan Stone took over the family business, he watched the town’s Main Street dwindle to just a few stores per block. The five-and-dime stores stayed. One department store weathered it pretty well, and a local hardware store and a small florist were able to keep their doors ajar if not completely open. A couple of grocery-store chains and two locally owned restaurants, Mulligans and Drakos, fed the prudent needs of the sensible cit
izenry, and Mt. Jefferson managed to keep itself on the map. The entire state of Virginia was hit with less force in those depression years than most of the other states. There was no steel and automobile production; no major industries to fold around the lives of its citizens. Virginia was producing the sort of necessities that even poverty-stricken folks still had to have, such as food and clothing and a popular product they weren’t willing to do without—tobacco. So consequently, the Old Dominion’s economic recovery was faster than that of the rest of the country.

  And for the same reason that Hollywood flourished during this period, Stone’s jewelry store persevered. People needed a little comfort from all the misery, and they tended to find it in a darkened movie theater or in a small piece of jewelry. Harlan adapted with the times and carried a much cheaper line than his dad had carried in the thriving years before. He set up credit plans that allowed his customers to pay as little as fifty cents a week for the engagement and wedding rings they had to have or the watch they needed or the bracelet they just couldn’t do without. He didn’t make the staggering profits that his father had seen, but he kept his head above the water and the doors firmly open. During this time, Mt. Jefferson went from a one-movie-house town to a two-movie-house town. However, Harlan saw to it that no one opened up a competing jewelry store across or down the street. He controlled it all with charm, hard work, and good business sense.

  In 1937, just a few short years after high school graduation, young Harlan Stone was the catch of the town. He had his own white-collar business. He was handsome. Smart. Single—but still making and maintaining the reputation of the cavalier bachelor. The other two-thirds of the triangular friendship had taken off for college. Although they had gone their separate ways, Cal Vaxter and Buddy Briggs would return home often for holidays and seasonal breaks, and the old trio would remain as close as they had always been since childhood.