Seasons of the Heart

by Cynthia Freeman

  They had argued and argued, but in the end Ann had acquiesced. She had no idea where she would have gotten the money to pay him anyway. Phillip had been right. The renovations had cost twice her original estimate, but how could she explain that Guido had worked for nothing? It was impossible and Ann just smiled guiltily when Phillip commented, “You’ve done a wonderful job.”

  “It’s beautiful, Mommy,” Evie enthused. “Can we come and live here?”

  Ann caught the little girl up in her arms and kissed her, grateful for her enthusiasm. “No, silly goose. We have a house of our own.”

  The ads went into the paper the next day.

  That evening there were no calls. The next day, Ann received one, but the woman hung up as soon as Ann told her the address. “Western Addition? No, thank you.” The next day was equally frustrating, and by the end of the week, Ann was more than discouraged, she was downright frightened. What if the apartments didn’t rent? She was asking $75 per month, which was cheap for the apartment, but expensive for the neighborhood. She was grateful for Phillip’s silence. She didn’t want to admit that perhaps she had miscalculated.

  At the end of two weeks, Ann ran a second ad. She changed the wording slightly and dropped the rent to $70—which just about killed her. She was becoming desperate. The next mortgage payment was due shortly, and there was no rent money coming in at all. She dreaded having to confess to Phillip that her plan was floundering.

  Somehow she had to let the world know that her apartments were at least worth considering. If people saw them, they might appreciate their attractive layout and convenient location. In the end, she decided to give an open house. It was going to be expensive, but she had to make one last effort.

  The invitations went out the next day for a champagne party in showplace Victorian flats at the former home of tycoon James Hampton. Ann included everyone on her client list, as well as all her friends.

  When the first guests arrived Saturday morning, they found the Hampton house sparkling. Guido, looking handsome in his rented tuxedo, circulated with champagne, while his cousin Gina played a violin softly in the background. In less than three days Ann had even managed to furnish one of the apartments with a few charming pieces borrowed from friends’ attics. She had talked to some of her friends in the Marina and found clever little accessories to fill in the gaps. Simple lace panels hung in the bay windows, and as a finishing touch, she had rented big Victorian parlor palms.

  The result, coupled with the champagne and the music, was so inviting that the people entering the apartment wondered why they had never considered a remodeled Victorian before—and they were so close to downtown. By evening three of the four flats were rented, and a young Chinese couple was going to let Ann know the next day about the last.

  Ann’s triumph would have been complete if Phillip had only stayed to share it. He had stopped by earlier in the afternoon, but soon left, and when Ann recounted her success that night he merely nodded and said she must be relieved. Ann realized she would have to enjoy her success alone. It wasn’t as much fun, but it was still rewarding.

  She continued to study hard for her brokerage exam and began thinking about opening her own office. Then, one day in May, she heard that the house next door to Hampton House—as it was now called—was up for sale. While working on the renovation, Ann had occasionally gone over to use old Hazel’s phone, and had seen most of the interior. It consisted of four apartments, somewhat smaller than those in Hampton House, but considerably less dilapidated. They had been unattractively modernized, but in her mind’s eye, Ann was already seeing the ugly paneling stripped from the walls, the fireplaces restored to working condition, the cheap modern fixtures replaced by pedestal sinks and claw-footed tubs.

  Hazel informed her that the owner had died and the estate was being liquidated. Ann quelled her rising excitement. This was not like a foreclosure, where a house could be had at a bargain. Unless the beneficiaries were in immediate need, they could afford to hold out for their price in an estate sale. And any beneficiaries of this Mr. Coleman were probably already well-to-do.

  But just thinking about the house made her eager to try her hand at another renovation, even though she knew she didn’t have a spare penny to invest. Still, she started looking around the neighborhood again and a week or two later, found another Victorian for sale. It was painted an awful purple, and it was in terrible shape, but it had been foreclosed, so it might be had for a song.

  Gil Cooley raised his eyebrows expressively when Ann came into the bank the next day and began describing the property, extolling its hidden potential.

  “You’re determined to become a tycoon, aren’t you, Ann?”

  Ann’s face fell. “Well, I’m not really looking seriously, Gil, of course. We’re pretty much stretched to the limit with the payments we have.”

  Gil rocked back in his chair. “You know, Ann, I was thinking about you the other day and wondering if you had considered rolling over Hampton House. Have you had the property appraised?”

  Ann shook her head.

  “Well, I suspect the value has appreciated considerably. Remember, rental property is essentially valued at a multiple of the rent. When you bought the house, it was renting two apartments at fifty dollars each. Now, it’s—what? Seventy-five times four?”

  “Seventy.”

  “Okay, seventy times four is two hundred eighty a month.” He calculated briefly on paper, murmuring, “Three thousand three hundred sixty a year. You could probably sell it for twice what you paid.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to sell it yet, Gil!” Ann said, startled.

  “Okay. You’re probably right; after all, you’re getting most of the interest deduction the first few years. But how about leveraging? Get a second mortgage on Hampton House and buy something else.”

  “Could I, Gil?”

  He looked at her pretty face, alight with enthusiasm, and for the second time, swallowed his usual banker’s caution. “I think so, Ann.”

  Phillip hit the roof when Ann broached the topic. “Goddamn it, Ann! We already have one nice piece of rental property. Isn’t that enough for you? Look, I’m willing to admit that you were right about Hampton House. It’s turned out well for us; our taxes—I’ll admit it, it’s our taxes now—will be lower this year because of your deductions. And it looks like we’ll make money when we eventually sell. But now you want to take our security and throw it out the window once again! This crazy pyramid scheme could bury us in debt.”

  “Phillip, I don’t know why you’re so unwilling to take a few chances! I keep telling you that we don’t have any real security yet!”

  For several weeks, Phillip angrily refused to consider the matter, even though Ann patiently explained the leveraging concept that she and Gil had worked out. One night as they were going to bed, the tension thick between them, Phillip snapped, “All right, Ann. I’ve heard enough. You know how I feel. You make your own decision and let me know.”

  They went to sleep without another word. Phillip thought, even though he was not the kind of man to tell his wife, “I forbid you,” that he had made his stand perfectly clear. Surely Ann would abandon the project.

  Consequently, when she told him the next day that she had applied for the loan, he stared at her in disbelief. “You went ahead, despite my saying I was opposed?”

  “Phillip, it’s just too much of an opportunity to pass up. Your objection didn’t make sense. Please don’t be angry.”

  But Phillip had already decided that Ann was so consumed by ambition that she no longer cared if she hurt him. It was too late to argue. He bit back the harsh words that sprang to his tongue. He would keep the last remnants of his dignity intact. “As you wish,” he finally said in a cold voice.

  Three weeks later, the purple mansion was theirs and Guido and Ann went to work again, stripping, sanding, painting, and fixing. With all their experience, she expected the renovation to be finished faster, but nearly three months passed before she c
ould schedule their open house.

  This time the response was tremendous. Restored Victorians were coming into fashion, and the five apartments at $65 a month were taken by the end of the week.

  Ann’s eye next strayed back to the empty house next to her first investment. She was surprised to find it was still on the market, and decided that the cheap modernization which had destroyed most of the gingerbread trim kept buyers from seeing its essential charm. Still, she hesitated inquiring again until Gil Cooley called on her at the office one day to ask, “Your units are still rented, aren’t they, Annie?”

  He was the only one who had ever called her Annie. “Yes, Gil. With no problem at all. Why?”

  “Well, the people who inherited the house next to the Hampton are getting pretty restless. Two of the units are vacant, and they’re sick and tired of playing landlord. I think they will take almost anything to get it off their hands.”

  “How much?”

  “Hey, Annie.” Gil laughed. “Are you ready to take on more debt?”

  “Won’t the bank go for it?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked at her curiously. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you already have two apartment houses to manage, a job with Violet Cunningham, and a husband and child? Isn’t your time already pretty well filled?”

  “How much, Gil?”

  “You’re a glutton for punishment!”

  “Gil, look at how well the other two houses have turned out! I just raised the rent on Hampton to seventy-five, eliminating the negative cash flow there. We’re actually making money on Guildford, and that’s not even taking into account the tax benefits for Phillip and me.”

  “You are turning out to be one heck of a businesswoman, Annie Coulter. Before you know it, you’re going to own half the property in town.” He waved his hand. “Buy the property. I’ll get the bank to back you.”

  “Thanks, Gil. You’re a good friend.”

  She wished Phillip had as much confidence in her judgment. They certainly were doing well thanks to her investments and hard work, but he almost seemed to resent her success. Maybe someday she wouldn’t care so much about his approval, but right now his lack of praise really hurt. In her depressed or angry moments she sometimes even dreamed of telling him off: How can you be content with so little? Don’t you care anything about your daughter’s future, or mine? But she couldn’t bring herself to make the bitter accusation. She had married him in 1941 for better or for worse—and Phillip was a man who had been crippled by the war in ways far more devastating than his limp or the scar on his cheek. A piece of his soul still dwelt in the leech-infested jungles of Bataan and Burma, among horrors she couldn’t even imagine. Since he’d come back to the States, he’d done the best he could. In fact, better than Ann might have expected. Some of the men who were liberated in Burma were still in Letterman Hospital.

  On the way home Ann picked up steaks and Phillip’s favorite—artichokes. She washed the dishes and brought him coffee before she broached the subject of the house.

  “Phillip,” she said, hesitating. “You know the Victorian for sale next to Hampton House? Gil tells me it can be bought for a song and that the bank would finance almost one hundred percent. What do you think we should do?”

  The request had a familiar ring to it, and she was sure Phillip would again respond angrily. But when he replied, she got the shock of her life.

  “Darling, I don’t think you should ask me. Your instinct has proved golden. At this point, if you think it’s right, go do it! Whatever you do, I’m with you all the way.”

  Ann wondered if Phillip noticed her jaw drop. Was there a note of resignation in his voice? Quickly, she admonished herself. Damn you, Ann Coulter, you’re always looking for ghosts to chase. Can’t you be satisfied?

  She got up, sat in his lap, and put her arms around his neck. “I love you, Phillip.”

  “And I love you.” Ann knew that Phillip wasn’t really happy about buying another house, but at least he’d agreed. He was probably as tired of fighting as she was.

  That night they made love for the first time in a month. Bells didn’t ring and the earth didn’t move, but the feeling of closeness seemed more meaningful than just sex.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  WHEN ANN APPROACHED THE owners of the house, they were as anxious to get rid of it as Gil Cooley had suspected. With Gil’s help, Ann was able to start her third renovation by early spring.

  Phillip was as good as his word. He listened to Ann when she described how she and Guido were getting along, but made no disparaging comments, and nights or weekends when she was busy, he went out of his way to keep Evie amused so she did not miss her mother.

  By the time the new house was finished, Ann decided the whole family deserved a treat, and on Labor Day she planned an elaborate picnic.

  Armed with blankets, pillows, and a huge basket of food, they drove up the steep, winding road and parked the car near the top of Mount Tamalpais, from where they could look out over the Bay Area. The bright sunshine, Evie’s joy at the outing, Phillip and Simon’s relaxed pleasure, all conspired to make the day a special one. We’re a family, and a united one, Phillip thought, and as he and Ann looked down at the city below, he put his arm around her waist, pulled her close to him, and told her how happy he was.

  He was taken totally unaware when she said, “Oh, Phillip, I’m so glad you don’t mind my working anymore. Now that I’ve finally got my broker’s license, I want to go out on my own. But I was afraid you’d disapprove.”

  Phillip didn’t know what to say. He hated to ruin their holiday, but he had hoped that with her three houses all fully rented, Ann would finally be content. He had tried over the past year not to resent her success, but each new triumph underlined his own sense of failure.

  “Do we need to discuss it now?” he said, holding her tighter. “It’s so peaceful here. Look …” And he pointed in the direction of the Pacific.

  Ann too hated to break the spell, but she had waited so long to approach Phillip, and she felt pressured by the fact that a rare vacancy had come up in a storefront on Chestnut, two blocks from Violet’s. It would be perfect for what she had in mind, and if she didn’t grab it, someone else would doubtless snatch it up, on a long lease.

  In Ann’s opinion it was definitely the moment to strike out on her own. A lot of exciting things were about to happen in real estate. She decided to test Phillip’s mood.

  “Honey, I’ve been thinking about leaving Violet ever since I passed the broker’s exam. My certificate came in the mail last week.”

  Phillip was silent. Once again, Ann hadn’t confided in him. She had gone ahead and made her decision without him.

  “It’s always nice to be your own boss,” he said, trying to maintain a neutral tone. “What plans have you made?”

  “There’s a great location on Chestnut available. I think it would be ideal for an office, don’t you?”

  Phillip had no illusions that she was soliciting his advice. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing, dear. You usually do.” But despite the edge to his voice, Phillip really couldn’t begrudge her the satisfaction of being her own boss. Heaven only knew, he would have loved to have his own law practice—had he been able to make the grade. No, it was a dream come true for her. And there was no reason in the world to doubt that she would be a success.

  Ann studied his face. She wasn’t so wrapped up in her career that she had failed to recognize the conflicting feelings that tormented her husband. She knew that her business triumphs disturbed him profoundly; threatened him even. And she loved Phillip and couldn’t bear to watch the rift that was forming in their marriage. But she had an idea.

  “Phillip—why don’t you leave Kenny and help open the real estate office with me?”

  To Ann, the plan made sense. Phillip had no future with Kenny, or in the law, for that matter. Ann had begun to take Kenny’s measure. On the surface, he was affable and easygoing, but underneath was a barely conc
ealed hostility and ruthless competitiveness. In the end, no one counted with Kenny Newman but Kenny Newman. And Phillip was being victimized by him. Ann held her breath, waiting for Phillip’s answer.

  Slowly, Phillip’s arm dropped from her waist. He didn’t need more than a moment to reflect: Ann needs me just about as much as Kenny does. “No, thanks,” he said coldly. “There’s no house big enough for two mistresses.”

  Ann felt a knot in her stomach at his flat rejection. It was my fault—maybe I should have phrased it differently.

  As they walked back to Simon and Evie, Ann hoped that he might eventually reconsider. They could still be a team. Maybe they would even be happy….

  Chapter Thirty

  STANDING ON THE CURB, Ann watched the sign painter putting the finishing touches on the name, ANN COULTER REALTY.

  “There it is, lady. All finished.”

  “Finished?” Ann asked. It was only the beginning. “It looks wonderful, Mr. Petroni.”

  She and Guido had been working like demons. People had been demanding his services ever since they had seen his work on Ann’s houses, but he had shoved aside his other projects to do Ann’s new office. As they worked, other merchants in the area dropped by to welcome her. Their support helped make up somewhat for Violet’s hostility. She had become resentful ever since Ann announced she was leaving. Seeing Violet’s cold expression, Ann had impulsively reached across the desk and clasped the older woman’s hands.

  “Violet, I will never be able to thank you enough for giving me my first job. You were the first person to have faith in me. You gave me my chance. I’ll never forget it, or how much I’ve learned from you.”

  Violet had tried to control her envy. Good God! Little Ann Coulter was about to become her primary competitor. And to think that when Ann had applied for the job, she had been an insignificant housewife in a dowdy, pale pink suit, clutching her handbag as though she were afraid it would be snatched from her. Violet sighed. She never lied to herself. Ann had always had the magic touch. If she hadn’t hired her, someone else would have.