Belle City

by Penny Mickelbury

  "You read a lot, Jonas?"

  "Whenever I'm not working, Mr. Edwards."

  "I think, Jonas, under the circumstances, you can call me Horace." He stuck out his hand and gave a lopsided grin that gave him an almost boyish look. He'd removed his hat and his light brown, almost blond, hair fell forward. No money, then, for a haircut and a shave. "So, what do you like to read? Probably the same stuff as my daughter."

  Jonas shrugged. He'd revealed enough information about himself for one day. Now he wanted Horace to talk—about the land he owned in Carrie's Crossing and about his plans for it—and this Horace was happy to do, for unlike Jonas, Horace very much liked talking about himself. It followed, of course, that he also liked hearing himself talk, and Jonas noticed that he sounded not quite as uncouth and ignorant as he had when they'd met last. He was, however, every bit as annoying. He also clearly was a canny and astute businessman who had carefully, methodically—and brilliantly—watched and invested as Carrie's Crossing grew from a small country town a few miles down the road from the big city into its own city, a thriving, prosperous place populated almost entirely by wealthy white people. Wealthy, that is, until the stock market crashed and the banks failed. All the property that Edwards owned in Belle City and in Carrie's Crossing was, for all intents and purposes, worthless and would remain so until the financial tide turned. But when it did, Horace Edwards would become one of the wealthiest men in the entire state. So would Jonas.

  Horace put his briefcase on the counter and opened it. He inhaled deeply, then withdrew a stack of papers. Papers that would make Jonas a full partner in the H.L. Edwards Real Estate Company. He gave the papers to Jonas to read and sign. "Even though I'm not happy about having to do this, Jonas, I do appreciate it."

  "Believe it or not, I wish you didn't have to do this either. I know I wouldn't like it if I had to turn over half my business to another man, but I also don't think you'll be losing anything in this deal." Jonas looked directly at the older man as he spoke.

  Horace inhaled again. "You're wrong about that, but I won't argue with you." Then, at the look on Jonas's face, he took another breath and said, "My pride." He tapped the sheaf of papers. "This represents a great loss of pride to me, and not only because I need your money…how old are you?"

  "Twenty-nine."

  Horace gave a bark of laughter. "Five years older than my daughter. Who, by the way, had to leave school because I couldn't keep up with the tuition. She rides around with me, calling herself my secretary, but I know my wife put her up to it, to keep an eye on me because she—my wife, that is—is worried that I'll drink too much and run my car into a tree or a ditch." He made that noise again, but it was more sob than laugh. "I've got two kids saving my hide and you think I haven't lost anything?"

  "I'm sorry you feel this way."

  Horace waved him off. "Nothing for you to be sorry about. I'm just glad you've got so much money, Son, because this is gonna cost you a lot of your secret money." The arrogant, brash Horace Edwards, the one Jonas didn't like but whom he was beginning to understand, was back. "And I don't mind telling you I'd feel lot better about all this if I knew where you got all that money, boy, and why you wouldn't put it in the bank."

  "If I'd put it in the bank, I wouldn't be able to bail you out, would I?"

  "You would if you'd put it in the First National Bank of Belle City. Only bank in the entire state that's still in business."

  "Is that where you bank?" Jonas asked, and when Horace nodded Jonas said, "Then how is it you don't have any money?"

  "Because I haven't been able to make any money," he snapped. "I didn't lose any, but everything I had saved I had to spend to keep my business going, until I didn't have anything left. Answer your question, Jonas?"

  Jonas turned away from Horace and began to read the documents before him. His future partner stood still as a rock, watching and waiting, and Jonas knew what he was waiting for. He smiled inside himself and kept reading. Only two people in the world knew that on those days he drove over to Belle City to play golf, his real reason for the journey was that he was taking business classes at the state college. Horace didn't expect that he'd understand what he was reading. Jonas understood every word of it and was thinking that Horace Edwards had himself one heck of a good lawyer when the bell over the door tinkled.

  He looked up from his reading, briefly alternating between being annoyed that he would have to stop reading the contracts and hopeful that a paying customer was at hand, and was struck speechless. The young woman who entered could have stepped directly from the pages of one of those New York fashion magazines. She was tall and lean and had clear blue eyes that sparkled all the way across the room. She wore a cloche hat and two-toned shoes and a dress that hugged her like somebody's arms. She looked around in delighted amazement.

  "Papa! This looks just like that market on Broadway. Why didn't you tell me that Mr. Thatcher was so au courant? Where is he? I want to meet him." She danced forward and grabbed Horace's arm. He melted like an ice cube on the sidewalk in August.

  "Jonas, this is my daughter, Audrey."

  "You're Jonas Thatcher?"

  Jonas stepped from behind the counter and extended his hand. "Miss Edwards. Pleased to meet you, sorry to disappoint you."

  She laughed as she took his hand. "I'm not disappointed. Not at all. It's just that I was expecting an old man. Or at least one as old as my papa."

  "Your papa's not old," Horace growled, trying to sound menacing, though his daughter knew better, knew him better.

  Audrey backed a step away from Jonas and gave him a frank, appraising look, one that made him flush. "But you're not as young as Jonas Thatcher," she said.

  Horace looked closely at his daughter and her reaction to Jonas. Then he looked at Jonas's reaction to his daughter: The boy was grinning like a circus clown, his cheeks and nose red, his eyes wide and staring. The sight put Horace at war with himself. The man who was the father of this girl was witnessing the reaction of a woman to a man, and he wasn't ready for that. She was his only daughter and his baby. The man who lived and breathed business, however, saw a deal in the making. His two sons were useless as tits on a boar hog—stupid as well as lazy. Audrey, on the other hand, was smart as a whip and was learning as much about his business as he was willing to teach her. He'd thought, more than once, that it would be his daughter who inherited his business—and if his daughter should marry Jonas Thatcher?

  "How'd you like to take a ride with us, Jonas, and see what's what?"

  Jonas looked at his watch. "I'd like that a lot, Horace. My sister and brother-in-law should be here any minute—"

  At that moment, the bell tinkled over the door, and Rachel and Cory entered the store. Jonas introduced them all to each other, hands were shaken all around, and Rachel assured her brother that everything would be well taken care of. He nodded and kissed her cheek, causing her to blush deeply. They had not grown up with such displays of love and affection, and while they both felt awkward about it, they also both wanted very much to be part of a family that had such strong feelings for each other and expressed it. They knew families who greeted each other with hugs and kisses every time they saw each other, which often was daily. But even though they did it—hugged and kissed each other—it was neither easy nor natural for them. Ever since he was a child Jonas had wished that he and his siblings loved each other the way Ruthie and her brothers loved each other. Now that he was grown, he understood that children learned how to love from their parents, and while he was certain that his mother had loved her children, she had not given out hugs and kisses with frequency, and the only time his father touched his sons was to smack them. As far as Jonas knew, his father had never touched his daughters.

  And as that thought crossed his brain, Horace Edwards put his arm across his daughter's shoulders and guided her out the door. Once outside, Audrey put her arm around her father's waist and they strolled toward their automobile—a two-year old, four door Packard. They stoppe
d and waited for Jonas to catch up.

  "Audrey'll chauffeur while you and me sightsee, Jonas." He opened the driver's side door for his daughter then walked around to the other side of the car. Jonas got into the back seat, Horace took his place up front, and Audrey started the car. The next hour left Jonas reeling. He'd thought of himself as a businessman, and a pretty good one—maybe even a better one than Horace Edwards, since the older man was borrowing his money. How wrong he was. Looking at the land that Horace had bought, and listening to his plans for developing it, Jonas realized that the man was purely brilliant. Some day soon—as soon as the depression was over—Carrie's Crossing would be as important as Belle City. It certainly would be richer, for Horace's plans didn't include making any provisions for anybody who couldn't afford his prices. No wonder he'd been furious at having to accept Jonas as a partner.

  "My hat's off to you, Horace. I've lived here all my life and I never would have seen what you've seen, to say nothing of having what it takes to bring a dream to life."

  "You've done all right for yourself, Jonas. Better than all right, especially for such a young man." Horace looked out at the empty field at the back end of Carrie's Crossing, his eyes seeing much more than the waist-high weeds and wild flowers and stands of pine, all lush and green thanks to the narrow trickle of Carrie's Creek that ran through it. He tapped the rolled up blueprint against the palm of his hand, the drawings that would transform the field into an exclusive residential enclave. "In fact, you've got something that I don't have, something that I need."

  "What's that?"

  "You can hold on to a dollar and I can't for the life of me. I make a lot of money, but I spend it soon as it comes in the door. But you—I'll bet you've got the first dollar you ever made. Am I right?"

  Jonas wasn't certain that he wasn't being made fun of. It was Audrey's smile that let him know that wasn't the case. "Pretty much," he answered.

  "That's because we're opposite sides of the same coin, you and me."

  "How's that?"

  "We both came from nothing. Oh, don't get your back up, boy. I asked around about you and learned all about your pa, and if you asked about me up around Mountain View way, you'd know that my pa was worse than yours by miles. At least I hear good things about your ma. Mine wasn't much better than the old man. And at least yours left you something, gave you a start. Everything I have, I got on my own, usually with somebody standing in my way, trying to stop me."

  "I thought you were from Belle City."

  Horace gave a nasty bark of laughter, reminding Jonas who lived inside the man. "Naw, I'm a backwoods, country boy. I didn't even have a pair of shoes until I was just about a grown man, and I stole them. I couldn't run away all the way to Belle City on my bare feet." He laughed again, but there was no humor in it. He looked at his watch. "Come on. Got something else to show you."

  They climbed back into the car. Horace didn't speak. Remembering his past, it seemed, brought on a dark moodiness. Audrey, who seemed to know her father very well, kept the conversation going, asking Jonas about himself, telling him about herself, all the while handling the vehicle smoothly and surely.

  "How long have you been driving?"

  "Since I was nine. Pa was teaching H.J. and Gil—that's my brothers—and I threw a fit until he taught me too."

  "And she's the best driver of all," Horace said, literally shaking himself out of his dark place. "She's the smartest one in the family."

  "No, I'm not," Audrey said. "Mama is."

  Horace turned around and looked at Jonas. "She's right about that. Her ma—my wife—she's the first thing I ever fought for and won. And she's the reason I've fought for everything else I have 'cause her pa sure didn't want her to marry me. He said I came from nothing and would amount to nothing, and I have spent my life proving him wrong."

  "Papa," Audrey said, drawing his attention back to the road as she drove into the lot of Carrie's Crossing High School. She parked beside a new Cadillac, and Horace was out of the car before she turned off the engine.

  A tall, thin, slightly stooped man got out of the Cadillac, and Horace hurried over to him and shook his hand. It took a moment but Jonas recognized the man and he, too, hurried over, hand extended.

  "Mr. Allen."

  "Why if it isn't Jonas Thatcher." His eyes narrowed as he looked from Horace to Jonas and back again. "I think I know who your new partner is, Horace, and I approve."

  Horace looked from his banker to his new partner, uncertain how to feel about the obvious warmth between the two men. "How is it you two know each other?"

  Grady Allen ignored the question and pointed to the land adjacent to the school's parking lot. "Did Horace tell you what we're doing here, Jonas? Tell him, Horace."

  Horace Edwards swallowed and did as he was told, the pecking order between the two men clearly established: Grady Allen was the founder and principal shareholder of the First National Bank of Belle City, the only financial establishment in that town not to fail, primarily because Allen's personal wealth was sufficient to prop up his bank's stock and guarantee the safety of the deposits. When his customers realized that he'd put up his money to protect their money, not only did they leave their money in place, but people from as far away as North Carolina brought money to deposit with Grady Allen. It is said that he'd open an account for a person with as little as a dollar. Grady Allen's new bank, the First National Bank of Carrie's Crossing, was to be built next door to the elementary and high schools on land owned by Horace Edwards.

  "We're going to have a bank?" Jonas was asking a question though it didn't sound like it. He was flabbergasted. "Your bank?"

  "As I recall, you told me eight or ten years ago that I should put a bank here. Have you changed your mind?"

  Jonas shook his head. "No, sir. I just…I didn't think…" He shut his mouth, annoyed with himself for being so tongue-tied. He sounded like an ignorant kid, and Horace noticed. Grady Allen seemed not to.

  "I knew you were right. I just didn't know it would take me so long to get around to doing it."

  "But the Depression," Jonas said.

  "I think maybe we've turned Hoover's corner—"

  "I know we have!" In his exuberance, Horace failed to notice the old banker's displeasure at being interrupted.

  "Thanks to Mr. Roosevelt," Allen said and waited for the response he obviously knew was coming.

  "It's got nothing to do with Roosevelt," Horace all but shouted.

  "It's got everything to do with Roosevelt," Allen said quietly. "If Hoover were still the president we'd all be in the poorhouse by now, me included. Hoover was dead wrong about the government not being responsible for fixing the mess we're in. Only the government could fix it, and with Roosevelt putting people back to work, we'll soon get back on track."

  Horace looked sour, but he didn't say anything.

  "How does that help us, Mr. Allen? Mr. Roosevelt's public works projects, I mean," Jonas said. "Us here in Carrie's Crossing, I mean." He wanted to kick himself for sounding so childish, but Grady Allen gave no hint that he was talking to a child.

  "I understand that a major road construction project is due to start up right around the first of the year out at the end of the county, out Stevensville way, run around to the old Colored Town Road, and connect up to the Belle City Road."

  "That's a big project," Horace exclaimed, his pique forgotten. "A lot of workers. And they'll have to spend their money somewhere." He looked at Jonas. "Good thing you kept the food market open, and you might have to open up the furniture store."

  "And we'll have the only bank—only open bank—for miles around."

  Jonas listened and nodded his agreement to all that was said. "They're going to need somewhere to live, all those workers, aren't they?"

  There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Grady Allen gave a hoot of a laugh and clapped him on the back, but addressed Horace. "I like the site, Horace: Next to the schools. People drop their children off, make a deposit, go on to wo
rk. Yessir, I like it a lot. I like your new partner, too. Yessir, I like a man with ideas. We can do the paperwork tomorrow at my office if that's all right with you boys."

  "But I thought you needed to have the money today," Horace said.

  "If it was anybody but Jonas Thatcher I would need it today. But if he says he'll be in my office first thing in the morning with the money, then that's all right with me. We can get the contracts signed and notarized and get you back in business, Horace. Besides," and he gave Jonas a sly grin, "I don't have time to wait around while he digs up all that money." He laughed and clapped Jonas on the back again.

  Horace was back to being deeply morose by the time they settled into a booth in the Crossing Café, but Jonas was too hungry to focus on anything but eating. Besides, he had a pretty good idea what was stuck in Horace's craw and it wasn't meat loaf, mashed potatoes and string beans. Horace Edwards could pout all he wanted, but Jonas had not the slightest intention of telling him that Beau Thatcher, a Colored man, had introduced him to the richest man in Belle City more than ten years ago. Instead, he and Audrey focused their attention on each other. He liked talking to and listening to her. She was smart and funny and she had traveled—to Philadelphia and New York and Boston and to Europe. She'd been to Paris and London!

  "I've only traveled in my mind. Through books and magazines. You're lucky," Jonas said.

  "I know, believe me. Especially now, with everything so…so…I'm just glad I had a chance to see some of the world when I did, in case…in case…"

  "You'll go again, Audrey. This depression won't last forever."

  "It's already been five years. It feels like forever."

  "I know. But men like Mr. Allen and your father wouldn't be building a new bank if they thought otherwise. And don't forget that road construction project. I don't think a man like Mr. Roosevelt would be spending so much money—"

  Horace cut him off with a snarled, "Taxpayers' money."