by Evergreen
Anna took a glass and handed another to Theo. "Come, drink! Every man's upset at his daughter's wedding. There's nothing wrong with you, in case you're thinking it's odd to be feeling depressed."
Theo grinned. "As a matter of fact, I was."
She patted his arm. "You've an awful lot to be happy about, Theo," she said, not meaning to lecture him.
She saw that he understood. They were both looking over at Iris, who was standing at the fireplace talking to Janet's parents and some others. She could have been photographed for one of those 'social' magazines in which gracious ladies stand before fire-
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places or under the curve of a stairway. How Iris would have been amused at that!
"What are you laughing at now?" Theo inquired.
"I was thinking about that woman who asked you one time why Iris didn't have her nose fixed, since you were 'in the business.'"
"I wouldn't have done it even if Iris had wanted it."
Yes, Ruth had been right, all those years ago. Now in middle age an authentic beauty had come upon Iris. It was at this moment almost astonishing and she understood that Theo was seeing it, too. Iris' dark hair, which had gone only a little gray, was parted in the center. She had worn it that way for so long that Anna couldn't remember when it had been different. . . . Her face was all pure curves: the high strong arch of the nose, the eyebrows, the fine mouth. When you looked away you wanted to look back again at her face.
Now people were crowding in from the garden, thrusting out hands to shake and cheeks to kiss, giving greetings and compliments.
Someone, some friend of Theo's?— (Too old.) Friend of Joseph's? (Too young. My memory certainly isn't what it used to be.)—paused for conversation.
' "What a marvelous house! And the grounds! One doesn't expect to see grounds like these so near New York these days."
"Ah, but it's changed! When we first moved here, it was so quiet you could sit outside at night and all you'd hear was katydids. Now you hear the traffic on the highway."
The man sighed. "I know. They're building a development in what used to be an apple orchard across the road from me. It's very sad," he said, and moved on.
For a moment she was left alone. When I die, she thought, they'll sell this property. No one wants these big houses anymore. They'll tear it down and build garden apartments or else turn it into some sort of business. There's an insurance company at the corner already.
It had been tactfully suggested that perhaps Anna might want to sell the house and take an apartment. It was the suggestion she had herself urged upon Joseph when he had the first heart attack. He had resisted as strongly as she did in her turn. No, the house was home; she was able to afford it and she wanted to stay in it. She had planted trees: birches, locust and firethorn. There were all those books in the library, and the things in Joseph's round room
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that mustn't be disturbed, his collection of pipes that would go to the grandsons. And what would she do with Albert? Such a big dog, in an apartment! No, it was unthinkable.
Iris was still talking at the far end of the room. She must have been saying something amusing, because people were laughing. Then she laughed too, clapping her palms together in a pretty gesture. How far she had come! Truly, truly, prayers are answered, Anna thought. Well, sometimes they are, at any rate.
But to think that Iris would be the one to manage things! No one else in the family had any idea of business. Dear Theo never knew whether he had a nickel or a dollar in his pocket. So it was Iris who had learned how to deal with property and investments for the estate. No doubt she would know what to do with this old house when the time came.
I hope it won't be torn down, Anna thought. Perhaps there will be someone who can use it. And there will be a child's swing under the ash tree again. They'll keep the feeders filled for the winter birds.
"Nana," Laura said, "have you met Robby's aunt? This is Aunt Margaret, his favorite. He talks about her so much, and I talk about you, so it's only right for you to meet and know each other."
"Margaret Taylor." A stout, friendly woman, with the dignity that large women can have, took Anna's hand. "Your little bride is darling. We all love her already."
"I'm glad. Sending them so far away when they get married, one can only hope they'll be loved."
"They're going to New Mexico, I understand. They'll adore it. The most marvelous colors, and all that space."
"I've heard. I've never been farther west than Pennsylvania." Strange. In all these years. And we could have afforded it. Why didn't we?
"You grew up in New York, Mrs. Friedman?"
"I came to this country when I was seventeen and I've lived in New York or near it ever since."
"Such an exciting city! I wish we could manage to come more often, but somehow one never finds the time. When I was young I used to visit; my older brother, fifteen years older than I, had a friend from Yale who was just wonderful to us all. For years, at Christmas, when we'd come for a week of shopping and opera, they'd insist that Mother and my sister and I stay at their house. Paul Werner, his name was, and they lived in the most sumptuous
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apartment on Fifth Avenue, near the museum. I've never seen such a place. Perhaps you knew the family?"
"I know who you mean," Anna said, and the woman sped on. "They had quite marvelous art. I was an art major at college and I was so impressed! It was all Hudson River School; it went out of favor for a while, but I needn't tell you how it's prized today. He had so much charm, Paul Werner. Young as I was, I sensed it. Too much charm for the woman he married. She was a fine person, but awfully dull, I thought."
"You haven't seen him since she died?"
"Oh, no, not since I was in my twenties. But my sister's kept in touch; she saw him just a couple of years ago, in Italy. He had a villa on Lake Maggiore, you know, an old house filled with Renaissance furniture and modern art. That's the style these days, to mix incongruous things, isn't it? Oh, Donald, come meet Laura's grandmother; this is my husband."
"And whom are you ladies talking about? Paul Werner? I couldn't help but overhear."
"I was telling Mrs. Friedman about him. I don't know how the subject came up; we just drifted into it."
"My wife never got over him. Her closest brush with royalty." .' "Oh, Donald, you're the worst tease! You know you were just as impressed as I was! One felt so alive with Paul, and he did have a touch of the regal, in a very nice way."
She turned to Anna. "But you said you knew him?"
"I was a maid in his parents' house," Anna said. Now, that's a shocker, isn't it?
They did look, for an instant, shocked; but they pulled their faces together and said pleasantly, almost simultaneously, "Well, it's a real American success story, isn't it, your life?"
"I guess you might call it that," Anna replied.
Her reaction was a slight one, not piercing-sharp as she might once have expected it to be, but a small painful twinge, and quite controlled.
Yet, without being noticed, she went upstairs to her room. The heavy earrings had begun to hurt. Iris had made her get all her jewelry out of the vault for the wedding. It was proper to be adorned for the wedding of one's granddaughter, and yet in a way it was silly to dress up such old hands and such a wrinkled neck. Sighing, she removed the earrings, easing the pressure, and leaned forward to look at herself in the mirror.
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Funny, when you get old your nose droops. My nose was never this large. Theo says it has something to do with cartilage. But I don't look too awful. I've held up well enough. I look calm. I always did. Faces deceive. Even after that conversation just now, I still manage to look calm. Only my head aches. She put her hands to her temples; there was a stronger beat there than usual.
The great diamond, Joseph's marvelous ring, lay like an oval teardrop on her finger. It had the pink fire of sunlight and rainbows. Strange to think that it had been torn out of the deepest, darke
st earth with all that light in it. When I'm put into the earth it will go on living in the light, its pink fire blazing on some other, living hand: whose? Not Iris', nor Laura's . . . neither of them would wear a thing like this or want it any more than I did. Joseph's marvelous ring.
She got up slowly and went back downstairs. People were moving through the lovely rooms in their bright dresses and white summer suits. It was the last time the house would glow like this. Philip was sixteen. She could give a wedding party for him too, but it would be amazing if she were still here when he was old enough to be married. And as for Steve, who knew?
From where Anna stood at the foot of the stairs she could see directly into the living room where her portrait hung. So young in the pink dress, with that faint look of surprise which she was certain she saw and which no one else had ever admitted to seeing! Wouldn't she really have been surprised if she could have foreseen the things that would happen! Yet how could she have foreseen what it was like to be seventy-eight years old? One never imagines oneself that old.
"Nana!" Jimmy cried. "Janet and I have been looking for you. Everyone's going in to eat."
"I've been admiring the house," Janet said. "Every time I come here I see more gorgeous things, your china, and all the silver-Well, someday."
"Someday what?" Jimmy asked.
"Someday we'll have it, too. With both of us working we'll be able to have a nice home," she said confidently, and quickly added, "I don't mean like this, of course, but nice."
Joseph would have approved of this girl. The work ethic, he always said. You worked and you were rewarded. A bright, practical girl, not lazy, not ashamed to say what she wanted. Two more years and she'd be a doctor. All that and a brand-new baby asleep
upstairs. She would love the diamond! She would wear it with joy. So she's the one who shall have it. Time to divest yourself, the lawyers said tactfully, which was a way of saying that you can't last much longer and you ought to be thinking about inheritance taxes.
"I'm going to leave you all the silver," Anna said suddenly.
Janet flushed. "Nana! I didn't mean—"
"Don't be silly, I know you didn't mean anything. But things like these should be enjoyed. Iris calls them dust collectors and Laura's going to be digging on a Navajo reservation, so she won't want them. That's why I want you to have them."
"You'd better keep some for Laura just in case," Janet said, adding mischievously, "they may get tired of archeology in a trailer and decide they really do want some of the things they've been scoffing at."
Anna smiled. "You may be right. Anyway, I'll start making my list tomorrow."
"What morbid talk at a wedding!" Jimmy protested.
"Not morbid at all. Just practical."
Jimmy took her arm. "Well, practical or not, we're going in where the food is."
At once her obligation as a hostess came to Anna's mind: the special menu for the Mexican twins, who were as strict in observance of the dietary laws as any of their ancestors had been. She summoned Celeste to check. The young men had been seated with Anna, all other guests being free to sit where they chose, which was yet another of Robby's and Laura's innovations.
It pleased her to see that so many of the young, including the bride and groom, had already settled themselves at her table. All these beautiful young people in their astonishing variety! Robby, pink-cheeked, frank and not too unlike Jimmy. Raimundo and Rainaldo, looking positively Spanish, and just three generations out of the Polish village; how to explain that? The reserve, that was it; that Latin formality which made them seem so much older than these American boys, although they were the same age.
What irony! Vain, good-hearted, ambitious, clever Eli; all his line had been eradicated, while Dan the schlemiel, the humble, lived on in these handsome boys and many more. Landed in Mexico with nothing, in an unknown country which these his descendants take for granted, no doubt, as though it had always been theirs. And those who come from me take this America for
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granted, too, instead of seeing the miracle it is. My mind wanders. Strange, timeless people, I think, so contradictory, so tenacious.
Fragments of conversation float like balloons above the table. Young people are so earnest these days. In my time you danced at a wedding. How they love to talk! Well, fashions change, round and round. That much I can see from my vantage point; it's one of the rewards, the very few rewards, of being old. Everything passes. The revolution of only a few years ago, the dirt, -the fury, even the beards all gone or going. So something else will take its place to worry and confuse us!
Jimmy was saying, explaining to one of Robby's friends, "Janet and I don't observe all that." (They are talking about Rainaldo and Raimundo.) "But we do think the religious tradition should be selectively maintained. One doesn't step out and away from such a long, gallant history. Besides, it's important for children to have a sense of identity."
High talk, fine talk. They have to analyze everything, give reasons for everything. It's the disease of the times. But never mind their reasons, as long as some of them stay with the tradition.
Robby said, "I've been learning a lot from Laura about the immigrant generation. It's fascinating to think that when they came here at the start of this century they were really skipping two or three hundred years in one stop. Out of the late middle ages, actually. Some hadn't even seen a railroad!"
Quite true. I was ten years old before I saw one, nice boy. Nice boy with bright green eyes, so serious and interested in everything! Only I do hope you decide to buy a suit sometime. You can't apply for a job wearing slacks and a shirt. Or maybe you can these days?
A very pretty girl spoke from the far end of the table. "There'll have to be changes. We can't just go on exploiting people and destroying the environment. It's simply too late for 'every man for himself.' Otherwise there'll never be any peace on earth."
As if there ever could be, anyway! But no, I shouldn't say that. What do I know of the future? One has to try. Maybe the vision and energy of these young will do what we didn't do, didn't even try to do or concern ourselves with. For us it was enough to take care of ourselves!
So I don't know. It's all for them to solve if they can.
Rainaldo—it must be he, because he spoke a little English-caught Anna's eye. How rude of her. She'd been neglecting them.
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She smiled. He smiled back and, by way of making conversation, pointed to the candlesticks.
"Very beautiful silver, Aunt. Very old. Two hundred years, I think."
"You're right. They belonged to my great-grandmother. That's your—let's see, great, great, how many greats, four, no, five?"
Rainaldo threw up his hands. "Fantastic! It does something—" he pointed to his heart—"to think about it."
"Yes," Anna said, "it does."
"In Mexico we also have very fine silver. I am used to see it. That picture—portrait, painting? That is Uncle Joseph, I think? My grandfather told me about him."
The portrait hung behind her. From his end of the table Joseph had always faced himself. She turned.
"Yes, it's a good likeness. I mean, he really did look like that."
Not when he was young. In youth he had had an anxious look. But here in this portrait he was confident, a little stern perhaps. A patriarch presiding at the family table.
"Laura talks about him so much," Robby said. "I wish I could have known him."
"He was a simple man," Anna explained, as if she had been asked to sum him up. "All he wanted, really, was to keep the family together. I think that everything else was just a means to that end."
There was a little flurry of voices and laughter. A group stood up and came over to Anna's table. Theo called out. "I want to ask everyone to drink to my mother-in-law. May she live a hundred and twenty years!" The glasses touched and he added, "It isn't every man who can wish his mother-in-law long life and mean it." His eyes met Anna's and stayed in a long look.
"And I would like
to drink to the memory of Papa," Iris said softly. "On a day like this especially we remember him."
It was inevitable, at any and every gathering, that the resemblance game be played.
"Do you look like him, Iris?" Doris Berg inquired. "Standing there beneath his picture it seems to me perhaps you do look a little like your father."
Iris asked, "Do you think I do, Mama?"
She wants to be told she looks like him. "I'm never very good at seeing resemblances. I always think everyone looks like himself."
Doris Berg persisted. "Oh, I don't think so! Some people are
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carbon copies of each other. Jimmy looks just like Theo, and Philip looks like Iris. Iris does have a high forehead, something like her father's, but still," doubtfully, head on one side, "still it's hard to say . . . maybe you don't look like him. You are a mystery, Iris."
