by Dean Hughes
“Harp about it? I don’t harp about it. I’d like to talk to the girl, but she won’t discuss the matter without getting upset.”
“Are you sure that she is the one who gets upset? It was your voice I could hear through your office door the last time you two tried to talk.”
But this was the wrong thing to say. Al looked away, unwilling to argue the point, but obviously not pleased with Bea’s little jab.
Bea didn’t want that. She took hold of his arm. “So what are you going to show me?” she asked. She knew that he had come into her office excited about something, and now—as she did far too often—she had dampened his enthusiasm.
“We don’t need to go today. It might be better some other time.”
“No, no. That’s fine.”
But he didn’t respond, and clearly he was deflated. The two walked to the parking lot without saying a word. But at the car, Bea apologized, told him she really did want to see whatever it was he had intended to show her. Some of the life did come back to his voice when he said, “It’s something very exciting, if you’ll take it right. But you can’t make up your mind without hearing me out first. So maybe this isn’t the right time, with you in a hurry to get home.”
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s go.”
Al drove as though he were heading home, south and then up Twenty-First South. But then he turned south again on Eleventh East, in the center of Sugar House, and drove out beyond the end of the pavement and the last houses, past some farms and orchards. Eventually he stopped the car on the side of the dirt road. “Let’s get out of the car, where it’s not so hot,” he said, “and where we can see a little better.” He opened the door on his side.
Bea didn’t wait for him to come around to open her door even though he was on his way to do it. She got out and looked about. “I’ll bet you want to buy this land, don’t you?” she said.
“Bea, please. I asked you not to make up your mind until—”
“I’m not making up my mind. I’m just guessing what this is all about.”
“All right. But give me a chance—okay?”
For the first time Bea was a little irritated. She knew what this was all about. He didn’t have to “explain” anything. And this wasn’t really about gaining her permission. She knew very well that he had already made up his mind. “Have your say. I won’t speak a word.”
He looked down for a moment, and she could see that he understood the same thing she did: that this was the wrong time for this conversation to take place. But there was also no stopping it now.
They stood on the west side of the road, in front of the car. “A man called me this morning and said this piece of land was coming on the market. It’s not just this orchard. It’s all the land stretching from here up toward the foothills and about half a mile farther south.” He pointed east and then motioned with his hand in a big swinging motion. “It’s two hundred acres, and there’s a good chance we could get another big section next to it, which is about the same size. We could get our hands on an area that could turn into more than a thousand building lots.”
“And cost us a fortune, Al. You’ve never bought land in such big parcels.”
Al looked down at the ground again. He had left his hat and his suit coat in the car, and now he was standing there in his white shirt, his black suspenders, and his brown necktie, with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. She watched the thinning hair on the top of his head stir in the breeze. “I can get a loan,” he said. “That’s not a problem.”
“Did you check on that already?”
“Not officially, Bea. All I did was chat with my friend Nelford Backman. He’s the one who worked out that last loan for me and Dad. He said he couldn’t see a problem.”
“But do you want to get into that much debt?”
“Bea, we could turn it over fast. Once we draw up the plans, clear the trees, and put in the sewer lines and streets, we could sell off those lots in no time. We can make more money in three or four years than we could the rest of our lives selling cars and making washing-machine parts.”
“Why would we want that much money, Al?”
“I knew that’s exactly what you would say.”
“Then why did you bring me up here? You know what you’re going to do. So just go ahead and do it. Don’t pretend you want my opinion.”
She watched him take a long breath, could feel that he was weighing his words carefully when he said, “Bea, what do you want from me? This is something I would like to do. But I won’t do it if you’re against it. You tell me that you want me to include you in these kinds of decisions, and then, when I do, you tell me I’m not really sincere about it. I don’t know what else to do. You suspect me of the worst, no matter how I deal with it.”
Now Bea was the one taking a breath. And it was she who considered for several painful seconds before she said, “I’m sorry, Al. You’re right. But it scares me—such a huge debt.”
“It’s the surest thing in the world, Bea. This is where Salt Lake is going to grow. If we don’t develop this land, someone else will. There’s not even a question about that.”
Bea told herself the truth. It wasn’t really the debt she feared the most. “Al, I feel like our lives are changing too much. I don’t want to be rich. I just want life to settle down and be a little more simple.”
Al turned away, looked back toward the orchard, the land he wanted to buy. “I understand what you’re saying, Bea. I really do. But I keep thinking about the depression years, when everyone had it so hard. I want to open the way for our kids—get them all on solid ground—so I won’t have to worry about them if hard times come again.”
“Is that the best thing, Al? Wouldn’t our kids be better off making their own way, without us doing everything for them?”
Al pulled a folded white handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the sweat off his forehead and then off the back of his neck. “I don’t see that as a problem, Bea. I’m opening up some doors, but they still have to work hard to make a go of things. I just hope they can gradually take over, and that would simplify our lives more than anything.”
“Is that the next step in this plan—to send me home to an empty house?”
“If that’s what you want, that’s fine, Bea, but that’s not what I was thinking.”
He still wouldn’t look at her, and Bea tried to think what he meant. “So what do you want me to do?”
“Well, a couple of things.” He stepped over to the Hudson and leaned back against the fender. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at Bea. “First off, if we did go into this, we’d need to reorganize the management of all of our businesses. I’ve been trying to develop the land we already own and keep the dealership going at the same time—and it’s just too much. Someone has to be in charge of our land development projects, full-time.”
“If you’re thinking of Alex, I’d forget it. He’s set on going to college, and he’ll be starting in another couple of weeks.”
“I know that. But maybe Richard could take over the plant, and Wally could move over to the dealership, the way we talked about before. I think Richard might finally get excited about the business if he was the man in charge. I’ve been thinking that Heinrich Stoltz could move into the office and do some of the accounting and paperwork you’ve done.”
Bea was getting too much sun. She backed up to where she could feel the shade from a ragged old cottonwood tree behind her. “Al, I see where all this is leading. You’re figuring out a way to send me home. I guess that’s all right, but—”
“That’s not what I was thinking.” He shook his head firmly, his arms still tight across his chest.
“Then what?”
“Bea, I know better than to try to send you anywhere. It’s your decision. I just have an idea that I want to run past you.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “What if you took over this project—ran the development company?”
“Me?”
“Y
es. You’re the best manager in the family, better than I’ll ever be, and way ahead of any of the kids. I don’t say that to blow smoke at you. It’s just true. If you ran this operation, I’d be able to sleep at night because I know you’d keep on top of everything, make sure that things happened right. I can’t really hand the dealership over to Wally until he learns that business, and he’s planning to go to school part-time, which will take a lot of his concentration. If I try to do both, I don’t think it would work. I’ve thought about the three boys, and I just don’t see any one of them taking over something this big. Not yet.”
“Al, thank you. I really am pleased that you would put that much faith in me. But I don’t want to do this.” She came out of the shade, walked to him, and put her hand on his arm. “When I went to work at the plant, I felt like I was doing something that had to be done. But how can I get excited about clearing off all this pretty farmland and filling it up with houses?”
“Can’t you think in terms of putting our family on a sound footing?”
“No. Because you’re doing a lot more than that. You’re the one who wants to build a big house up by the country club. It won’t be long until the kids will think they’re better than the people they grew up with. And what will our grandchildren think of themselves? I don’t want all that.”
“Bea, it doesn’t have to be like that.”
“Let’s go home, Al. It’s too hot out here.”
She watched him prepare another argument, get set to speak, and then give it up. He stepped to the car door and opened it for Bea, and she got in. The car was like an oven inside, and Bea was frustrated. Why couldn’t he understand? She didn’t want life to change. She wanted things to be the way they had been before the war, before people started to think they had to have so much. All this time, since Al had shown up at her office, she had been holding back, but she was getting angrier by the minute. When he got into the car, she said, “Al, you want me and the boys to run everything so you can go off and play politics. That’s your next move—to run for mayor or Congress or something like that. You’re getting too big for your britches, making so much money.”
Al didn’t start the car. He put his arm over the steering wheel and turned and looked at Bea. “I’m not running for anything. I’ve made up my mind about that. I couldn’t give a good political speech if I had to. I bored the people in my stake for almost a decade. They only listened to me because they had no choice.”
There was something to that, and Bea knew it. He had always known how to call people to repentance, but he never had been one to grease them up and entertain them the way politicians did. The truth was, she was rather impressed to think that Al knew that much about himself, and she was softened a little by the discouragement she heard in his voice, but she was still angry. “It’s one of our boys you’ll try to send off to Congress.”
“I’d love that, but the boys aren’t interested.” Al started the car, stepped on the clutch and shifted into first, and then drove forward to a place where he could angle into a little side road and get turned around.
Bea tried to stop herself, but she couldn’t resist saying, “Why do we need all that power, Al? What’s it good for?”
And now she finally heard his anger. “Bea, to hear you tell it, anyone who has success turns into some snooty socialite, and anyone who wants to run for office is only out for himself. I’m sure glad everyone doesn’t think that way. I happen to think some things need to be changed in this country, and I’d like to see Alex lead the way—instead of moping around licking his wounds.”
“Don’t talk that way about him, Al. You know what he’s been through.”
“What I know is that it’s time for him to get over it.”
“That’s easy for you to say. While he was ducking bullets, you were home making money off the war.”
Suddenly Al veered off the road and stopped the car. He twisted toward Bea and barked into her face, “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’ve listened to Alex cry about the war. Maybe we should have lost it, and you’d both be happier.”
“I respect the way Alex feels.”
“And our money is blood money. Right?”
Bea almost said yes, almost shouted it, but she stopped herself, knew better than to stick that knife into him, even knew it wasn’t fair. She waited a moment before she said, “No, Al. I’m not saying that. But so many people paid so much, and it just feels wrong that we came out so far ahead.”
“I thought we built those weapons so America could win the war. And I thought that was what good Americans tried to do. But I guess I’m wrong.”
“The war killed Gene, Al. And we got rich. How can you put those two facts together and not feel . . . dirty?”
“I see no logic in that, Bea. None whatsoever.” But his anger was gone. He turned away, and then he shifted gears and drove back onto the road. Bea had won, had emptied the air out of him—but suddenly she felt sick. The car was so hot.
It took Bea a few minutes to understand her own regret, but she gradually admitted to herself that she had no right to act so pure and high minded. She had enjoyed the fruits of their newfound wealth as much as anyone in the family—loved all her new furniture. She had been thinking about remodeling the house, fixing up her kitchen. Was that so different from building a new house?
“I’m sorry, Al,” she finally said. “I’m just mixed up about what’s right and wrong these days. I see the paper every night, and I know that little children in Europe and Japan don’t have enough to eat. And then I wonder why we have so much.”
“Look, Bea, I think about that too. I’m not such a bad person as you think I am.”
“Don’t say that. I didn’t mean it that way.”
He drove for a minute or so, not saying a word, but when he stopped at the light on Twenty-First South, he looked over at Bea. “Let’s do something for those kids,” he said.
“What kids?”
“The ones you were talking about. In Germany and Japan. We could make a bigger donation this year—through the Church. The Brethren have been asking for more help so they can carry out some of these relief projects they have going. We could certainly do more than we’ve done in the past.”
Bea didn’t respond immediately, but she thought about the idea all the way home. She didn’t want to live like a princess and then salve her conscience by throwing scraps to the poor. What did appeal to her was the idea of using their resources to make a real difference somewhere in the world. As Al drove the car into the driveway, she said, “What if I managed the land development company and also managed our charitable giving—and we started to do a lot more for people in need? Not just in Europe but here in Salt Lake, too.”
Bea was surprised by his quick response. “I like that idea, Bea.”
“Why? Would we just be buying off our consciences?”
He opened his door but still sat behind the steering wheel, and he looked out the windshield, not at Bea. “A lot of people in this country made money off the war. Almost everyone is better off financially because of it. I don’t know what to say about that, exactly, but I’ve known for a long time that we could be doing more good with our money than we’ve done so far. I told myself I had to worry about our family first, but I’ve had some of the same thoughts you’ve had, and I feel good about trying to do something for people who lost everything, through no fault of their own.”
“If I develop that land, I want to create some beautiful neighborhoods, not some ugly row of houses, all alike, the way some of these new companies are doing.”
“That’s good. That’s why we should do it. We care about this city.”
Bea wondered. There were so many ways to justify the very things she had just said she didn’t want to do. And yet she knew that Al was right. Someone was going to build houses on that land soon, and maybe she would do it right—and do something good with the profits. Or would she let the money change her? “Al, I sound like I think I’m better than yo
u, and I’m not. You could probably build a new house and just enjoy it—and not worry what other people thought. I think of it as showing off because that’s exactly what it would be for me.”
“Oh, Bea, you’ve never shown off in your whole life. You hate wearing a new dress because you think someone might notice.”
He got out of the car, and once again she got out before he could come around. “Al, that’s not true,” she said. “I’ve spent more money on clothes this last year than I ever thought I would in my life. And I like these nice things from ZCMI and Auerbach’s. You never do that. You buy something plain
and practical and you use it until it’s worn out.”
He tried to smile, but she could see that he was still disheartened. “Even your compliments sound like insults,” he said.
“No, no. I’m sorry. Al, I’m way too hard on you. You’re a good man, through and through, and I’m the one who puts
a bad light on things that you do so innocently.”
“The fact is, I just follow my instincts, and all too often they aren’t the best. You’re my conscience, Bea, and I need one.”
“But you’re the energy that keeps us moving forward. I’m glad I’m not married to some dud who never dreams.”
They were standing in front of one another, looking into each other’s eyes, and Bea was surprised by the thought that came to her mind. She loved this man more now than she ever had. She had put up quite a fight these past few years, taken her stand over and over, and what he had done was listen and learn. She told herself she needed to do a lot more of that herself.
That night Bea called Alex. When he came to the phone, he sounded tired, maybe even a little blue. “How are you doing?” she asked him.
“Oh, fine. I wish I knew a little better how to be a daddy. I think Gene is pretty mad at me tonight.”
“You didn’t spank him, did you? If you did, I’ll be over there with a switch of my own.”
“No. I didn’t spank him. But I got after him. Anna says he’s pretty good all day, and the minute I walk through the door, he starts acting up. He was jumping on our couch—and I’ve told him a hundred times he can’t do that.”
