Seasons of the Heart

by Cynthia Freeman

  “It’s—lovely,” exclaimed Ann, unable to be blasé.

  Don Cook smiled. “You know that the house was extensively renovated. The current owners put the drawing room here to take advantage of the view, and installed the French doors and built the terrace. So it’s not absolutely in period.”

  Ann shrugged, too thrilled to quibble. The doors and terrace only added to the beauty of the house. She stepped out and admired the white wrought-iron table and chairs.

  As the two of them walked around, the plan of the renovations became apparent. The previous owners had gutted the third floor, which had originally contained maids’ quarters, and put the main living rooms there, because of the view. In addition to the drawing room and library, there was a master suite, and two more bedrooms, one of which could be Evie’s.

  Below, on the second floor, was a dining room, sitting room, and kitchen. Much of the ground floor was now taken up by a two-car garage. However, the renovations had been beautifully done, preserving the magnificent foyer and virtually all of the architectural moldings and paneling, as well as the fireplace mantels, different in every room, and the Tiffany glass.

  Ann wandered about in a dream. The house was perfect. She could move in without changing an ashtray. She came to a decision immediately.

  “Mr. Cook, if my husband agrees, I am prepared to make a bid for the house, complete with furnishings. Two hundred thousand dollars—cash.”

  Don Cook was taken aback. “Well, as you know, the house alone is being offered for one ninety-five. I can’t imagine that the owners will take two hundred thousand and include the furnishings. There are some priceless antiques here.”

  “You may as well know that I’ve looked into the situation pretty carefully already. The owners are going through a nasty divorce, and the wife is anxious to get rid of the place. From what I hear, she will be glad to dispose of all reminders of the marriage. Now, two hundred thousand dollars may seem low, but I’m offering cash. Why don’t you see if the owners agree?”

  “Yes … I’ll convey your offer to them,” Cook murmured uncertainly. Mrs. Coulter’s pretty face apparently concealed a steely determination as well as a sharp mind. But as Ann sat back in the comfortable, silk-covered armchair, she began to tremble. What if Phillip didn’t agree?

  This time she didn’t make the mistake of rushing down to his office. She waited until they were going to bed that night before describing the house and explaining how they could afford it.

  “Can you come with me to see it tomorrow before you go to work?” Ann finished.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Phillip said with an odd smile. “I’m sure I’ll love it, Ann. You never make a bad move. Why don’t you just go ahead and bid. If you get it I’ll look at it then.”

  Ann put in her bid the next day and began to pray, but it was seventy-two hours before she heard from Mr. Cook, and those three days seemed like an eternity. The more she thought about the little jewel-box house, the more she wanted it.

  As the days passed, Ann became almost frantic with worry, convinced that this time she had miscalculated, aimed too low. That house, with contents, was worth at least $250,000, probably much more. Someone else would snap it up. She had lost her chance.

  Then, when she was ready to give up hope, the telephone rang.

  “Ann Coulter speaking.”

  “Mrs. Coulter, Donald Cook. I’ve spoken to the owners, and they have made a counteroffer. They’re willing to accept two hundred twenty-five thousand dollars in cash.”

  Relief coursed through her. It didn’t matter what they demanded, she would pay it! Gripping the receiver tightly, Ann exclaimed, “That’s fine! I’m ready to sign the papers as soon as they’re ready.”

  When Ann opened the door and Phillip and Evie walked into the soaring foyer, bathed in rosy light, Evie squealed, “Holy smokes, Mom, are we going to live here?”

  Ann answered, a lilt in her voice, “I guess so, honey. I’m just hoping you and Daddy like it.”

  She was watching Phillip closely, anxious to see what his reaction would be. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked over at her, a funny half-smile on his lips. “It’s magnificent.”

  He began to wander about the foyer, taking in the marble floors and the silk-covered walls, the beautiful furniture with its faint smell of beeswax, the airy, swirling staircase. He had almost forgotten that he had been born in a house even more imposing than this one. For a moment, he felt he had been transported back to Sea Cliff. He was brought back to the present by Evie’s shout. “Oh, keen—an elevator! Does it really work?”

  They all stepped in, and the elevator glided to the third floor.

  As they walked into the drawing room, Phillip and Evie stopped short, overwhelmed by the view. It was even lovelier than it had been the day Ann had first seen it, the panorama of the Bay and the Golden Gate glittering brilliantly in the late afternoon sunshine.

  “Isn’t it gorgeous, Phillip?” Ann whispered.

  “Yes, honey.”

  “Do you think you could be happy here?”

  He looked at her. “As long as you are, Ann.”

  “Well, of course I am. But don’t you think it’s the most wonderful piece of luck that we could actually buy it?”

  “Yes, honey. I’m very proud of you.”

  Ann remained calm. Phillip’s enthusiasm didn’t seem to quite match her own, but perhaps that was only natural. Women were usually interested in their homes more than men.

  Evie’s enthusiasm, on the other hand, was all that Ann could have wished for. Just wait until her friends saw the house! “Which room will be mine, Mom?”

  “I don’t know, honey—whichever you like. The blue room has twin four-posters, which would be nice when you have friends over to spend the night, but the white one has the big canopy bed with the organdy ruffles.”

  Evie thought for a moment, then announced, “I’ll go look at them both again!”

  She ran off down the hallway, and Ann and Phillip were left alone. She tried to divine what Phillip was really thinking. She wasn’t sure that he liked the house, despite his reassurances. All she wanted was for him to be happy here.

  She took his hand and they slowly walked out onto the terrace. The short winter day was ending, and even as they watched, the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge began to twinkle.

  We’re going to live here, with this view, every night of our lives, until it becomes as natural to us as Bay Street, Phillip thought. Too bad I wasn’t able to give her all this. Instead, she’s giving it to me.

  He was careful to keep any trace of self-pity from his voice as he told her again how much he liked the house. After all, she deserved to live here. He was lucky to be along for the ride.

  Ann tried to believe that Phillip meant what he said, and that he no longer cared whose money had bought the house, but she couldn’t help asking one last question.

  “Phillip, you don’t mind that I bid on the house without asking you to see it?”

  Phillip turned to her, smiling gently. “Ann, sweetheart, you always do what is best for us. How could I possibly mind that?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  THE DAY THEY MOVED in, Ann felt that she would never ask anything more of life. Evie was happy, Phillip actually seemed content, and she herself came home from work with a sense of joy and renewal.

  Although she didn’t have time to entertain much, she did throw one big housewarming party for their friends. While chiding herself for the petty triumph, she couldn’t help smiling at the astonished expressions on Ruthie’s and Kenny’s faces when they were ushered into the foyer. Then she remembered that whatever Kenny’s faults, Ruthie was a good friend and she had her own problems these days. Kenny had been fooling around with his receptionist, and from Ruthie’s drawn face it was possible that she had found out. Ann hugged her and walked her over to the bar.

  Still, she couldn’t help but be proud tonight, in her own lovely home, with her handsome husband by her sid
e.

  Life soon fell into a pleasant pattern for the Coulters. Phillip no longer seemed bitter about his mediocre career or jealous of Ann’s success, and both parents were happy to see Evie growing into a lovely young woman. She was happy in her new school, and the house was constantly filled with her friends.

  It was just after her sweet sixteen party that the nursing home called to tell them that Simon was dead. He had seemed the same the last time they had visited, but looking back, Ann realized that he had adopted a new air of tranquility. It was almost as if he welcomed the end.

  Much as they loved him, it was impossible for either Ann or Phillip to wish him back; he had spent his last years trapped in a body which had betrayed him. Evie, however, reacted differently. Ever since Simon had been put into the nursing home, she had visited him faithfully several times a week. There had been times when neither Ann nor Phillip could make it, but Evie had hardly missed once in the two years her grandfather had been there. In fact, she had seen him just the day before he died.

  When she heard the news, she stared at her mother in horrified disbelief. “No! He can’t be dead! He simply can’t be!”

  Ann had put her arm around her, saying sympathetically, “I know it’s a great shock to you, honey, but you know, Simon is far happier this way. He was ready to go, darling.”

  She squeezed Evie’s shoulders comfortingly, but there was no response.

  Finally, Evie said, “Okay, Mom. I understand what you’re saying. I think I’ll go to my room for a while.”

  Ann frowned. She had thought Evie was prepared for the inevitability of Simon’s death. But this was Evie’s first experience with death, so she was bound to be upset. Maybe some cocoa would be comforting. Ann fixed a tray with a steaming mug and a plate of Oreos. Knocking gently at her door, Ann called softly, “Honey, I’ve brought you some hot chocolate.”

  Turning the knob, she pushed the door open. Ann had expected Evie to be weeping; instead, she sat near her window, staring into the night.

  “No, thanks,” Evie murmured as Ann set the tray down.

  “Why don’t you try to eat a little something, sweetheart? It might make you feel a little better.”

  Evie shrugged. Ann touched her shoulder. She couldn’t think of what to say to ease the pain. After a minute she left the room, hoping Evie would feel better later, but she refused dinner and spent the night in her room, saying she was tired.

  Evie went to school the next day, but when she came home, she went straight to her room and flung herself down on the bed. When her parents came home from work she heard them talking in the living room. She knew that they were worried about her, but somehow she couldn’t reassure them. They thought that she had prepared for Grandpa’s death, just because he was old and sick, but she had had no idea how totally final death was. The idea that she would never again see his face or hear him say, “My little Evie,” devastated her. If Grandpa could die, one day Mom and Dad could die, too. It was a notion that Evie was unwilling to face. The three of them were so close, Evie knew she wouldn’t survive if anything happened to either of them, and she was terrified.

  Ann came up later with some supper, but didn’t try to force her daughter to eat. Instead, she put down the tray and handed Evie a little package wrapped in candy-striped paper.

  “Sweetheart, I know you will miss Grandpa a long time, but I thought this present might cheer you up a bit.”

  Evie tried to smile. “Gee, thanks, Mom.”

  “Well? Open it, darling.”

  Evie unwrapped the box to find a lovely pale-pink angora sweater. A lump rose in her throat as she stared at it, then at her mother. All she could think was, Someday you’re going to die too—and I won’t be able to bear it! Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Ann sighed. Poor Evie. Maybe they were taking the wrong approach. She tried a rallying tone.

  “Evie, honey—please. You must not carry on like this. You know, Grandpa wouldn’t have wanted you to feel this way.”

  But Evie’s tears at that moment were not for Simon.

  The next day was Saturday, and although Evie came out to breakfast, she picked at her food, saying little, then retreated to her room.

  Ann usually worked Saturdays, but today she hesitated to leave. She went in to see Evie and once again tried to comfort her. “I know how much you loved Grandpa, Evie. We all did. But his time had come, don’t you see that?”

  Evie just nodded.

  Ann came out and sat down across from Phillip at the table. “I don’t know, Phillip. Nothing I say seems to help. I don’t know what to do for her. I had been planning to go in to the office, but I don’t like to leave her. Maybe she would like to go to a movie or something. What do you think?”

  “I don’t think a movie is quite what she’s in the mood for. Listen, Ann, if you need to go to the office for an hour or two, why don’t you go? I’ll be here, and maybe I can talk to Evie.”

  “I don’t know …” Ann protested, but in the end, she decided that an hour or two wasn’t going to make much difference. She would stop and get scallops for dinner on her way home. Evie loved those. And maybe a chocolate cake as well.

  When Ann had gone, Phillip put aside his paper. Knocking on Evie’s door, he said, “Princess? It’s Daddy. May I come in?”

  “Yes,” came the muffled response.

  Evie was lying on her bed. Phillip sat down next to her without saying anything. The misery and loss reflected in the clouded violet eyes pierced his heart. He longed to pick her up and cuddle her as he had when she was little, but she was no longer a little girl.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered.

  It was the sorrow in his own eyes as much as the sympathy in his voice which shattered her defenses. Her lower lip quivered, and at the sight Phillip forgot that his daughter was almost grown up. He reached over and pulled her to him, cradling her gently.

  “Oh, Dad, it’s so awful!” she wept.

  Rocking her back and forth, Phillip murmured over and over, “It’s going to be all right, sweetheart. Daddy’s here.”

  It was all Evie could do not to sob, It’s not just Grandpa, Daddy. It’s you and Mom. Please don’t die, don’t die!

  As the storm began to subside, Phillip spoke softly. “I know how much Grandpa meant to you. You and he were buddies, weren’t you? When Mom and I were both working, he took you everywhere, didn’t he? School, and the playground. You know, Mom and I had kind of forgotten how much time you spent together when you were little. It’s no wonder that you feel sad.

  “Now, I’m not going to try to talk you out of feeling that way. Right now I’m sure you don’t want to hear that someday you’ll feel lucky that you had him for as long as you did. But it’s true.

  “And you know, Evie,” Phillip continued, his voice tender, “you were the most important thing in the world to him. More important, even, than I was. It was as if he got Eva, your grandmother, back when you were born. I remember how happy he was that day.”

  Evie heard her father’s voice tremble on his last words and, wrapping her arms around his neck, she whispered, “Daddy, I love you so much.”

  “I know, honey,” he whispered. “And I’m still here for you, even if Grandpa’s not.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  SOMEHOW, THROUGH SOME DIVINE Providence, life got back to normal in a fairly short time after Simon’s death. Evie was feeling her old self again, and for that Ann was greatly relieved.

  Life at the office was as hectic as ever. It seemed everyone wanted to buy a house or trade into a bigger one. It was after a particularly lucrative November that Ann sat at her desk and pondered a proposal sent in by a broker friend in the city.

  The sound of it intrigued her: an invitation to participate in a series of real estate syndication deals, put together by a consortium based in New York. They took unimproved parcels and created office parks and suburban shopping centers all over the country.

  It was relatively safe, because the risk was di
spersed, yet the potential gain was enormous. Ann had studied similar proposals before, but had always held back, unwilling to dive into something over which she would have no direct control. It took a fair amount of financial savvy to sift the wheat from the chaff. The real estate field, like any other, has its share of shady dealers and outright con men.

  But each passing year had bolstered her confidence, and now she felt she was ready to take a closer look. Adam Gayne was the man behind this syndication, and her broker friend had assured her he was tops in the field—a lawyer, investment adviser, real estate financier. “It would be impossible to list all the pies he has his finger in, Ann,” her friend had said. “You have to meet him—he’s quite a guy.”

  Well, why not? Ann thought, intrigued. She had dealt with most of the big names in San Francisco; there shouldn’t be anything so very different about this New York attorney. She had money to invest and clients who would follow her advice. She would just have to see what it was he was proposing.

  Ann was happy that Phillip was spending so much time with Evie these days: it would make it easier to be away from home for a while. When they saw her off at the airport, Ann felt she could leave them with an easy heart.

  New York was exhilarating. The discomfort of the December chill was offset by deep blue skies and clear, pale sunshine. Ann left her suite at the Plaza and walked down Fifth Avenue, then east, to her appointment, excited by the prospect of her first syndication deal. The properties were in a boom area—Dallas—and seemed virtually fail-safe.

  As she stepped into the soaring atrium of the steel and granite skyscraper, she felt a tingle of anticipation. Today she would meet Adam Gayne. She pictured him as a man of medium height, portly, with thinning gray hair and steel-rimmed spectacles. He was probably quiet and self-effacing; contrary to popular belief, real estate tycoons tend to be the opposite of flamboyant, though there are notable exceptions.

  The doorman showed her to a green-carpeted elevator, which shot silently and swiftly to the 47th floor. For a moment Ann’s heart hammered against her chest and her hands began to perspire. She would have liked a few extra minutes to compose herself. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped out into a cold-looking, uncarpeted foyer. Above the only doors appeared the name ADAM GAYNE, ATTORNEY.