Fear at First Glance

by Dave Balcom

  “That’s new, isn’t it? It’s gorgeous.”

  “It should be,” she said with a nod. “You’d flip if I told you how much this cost. I told Angie, and I thought she was going to faint.”

  “I’ll bet she’s really looking forward to seeing old classmates.”

  “I think she is, but I sense she’s more saddened by the ones she won’t see, like Margie Phillips. She was the senior class vice president and the valedictorian of our class. I remember her speech at graduation was a scandal for weeks.”

  “A scandal?”

  Jan had started to laugh at the memories of her classmate. “You would have had to know Margie. I thought she was drop dead gorgeous, but she was a wild one. She was so obviously smart and hip about everything from fashion to politics.

  “She made me feel so inadequate... it was just jealousy and envy on my part, nothing she ever said or did... well, she probably didn’t even know I was in the school.”

  “You are not very kind to yourself from those days...”

  She interrupted, “I’m not saying anything about me. I just don’t think Margie paid much attention to any girls. The boys on the other hand; well, she was way ahead of us in drugs, sex and even rock ‘n’ roll.”

  “Wild child?”

  “The wildest from what I kept hearing.”

  “So what was so scandalous about her valedictory?”

  “She called us – Stoney – the last refuge for losers who couldn’t hack it in the real world. She exhorted us to wise up, step up, and make a mark rather than hiding out from our pasts the way so many of our parents had done.

  “It caused quite a furor, believe me.”

  “What did she mean by that?”

  “I have no idea. I went back to the Truth today to see if they’d covered that commencement address, and all they had was...” I could see her searching her memory for the exact words. “... ‘Valedictorian Margie Phillips spoke to her classmates urging them to make a mark on the future.’”

  “But you remember the speech?”

  “I remember mostly listening and wondering what the hell she was talking about.”

  “So ol’ Margie hotfooted it out of town never to be seen or heard...”

  She interrupted again, “No, surprisingly enough, she came back at the tenth reunion; Angela said she’d kept in touch regularly – I think Angela was living the wild life vicariously through Margie.

  “She told me that Margie had gone to CMU after graduation but then transferred to Wisconsin after Madison had been named “party school of the Big Ten” for the third consecutive year. Then she dropped off the grid until she showed up in 1990 with a handsome and likeable guy named Phil she had met and married while attending Arizona.

  “Angela said they showed up about kickoff on Friday night, hung around awhile but left before it was over. They came to the banquet on Saturday, and she ended up in a debate over organized crime in Michigan with some other folks; they left early.”

  “Organized crime?”

  “It could have been holes in the ozone layer, hunting ethics, or politics in general – Margie was always well-informed, critical, and opinionated. Angela said she heard Margie raise her voice about something to do with ‘Detroit mobs.’ When the banquet broke up, Margie and Phil had gone, and that was the last she’d seen or heard of them.”

  I watched as she took the pizza out of the oven, and my mouth watered at the smell of it. “And that’s it?”

  “What?”

  “Nobody looked for her? Tried to contact her?”

  “With Margie, who wondered? Her mother hadn’t heard from her for years when she announced she was coming for the weekend; it was life with Margie I guess.”

  “You realize that makes four.”

  “Four what?”

  “Four of your classmates who just vanished without another word.”

  She was cutting up the pizza, and stopped, “I hadn’t been counting, I guess. You gotta wonder what number would be considered significant out of 83 grads.”

  She was nodding thoughtfully as she poured herself another glass of wine and held the bottle up towards me as an invitation. “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

  CHAPTER 21

  Jan’s phone rang while she was in the shower Thursday morning, and I answered it. Neither of us felt our phones were private to us, just handier than traditional land lines.

  “Jan Stanton’s phone,” I said in way of answering.

  “Jan?”

  “No, this is her husband, Jim; she’s in the shower.”

  “Oh, my name’s Tony Ralph, and I’m calling to see if I can meet you folks later today. I’m over at my parents’ house on Torch Lake. Can she call me?”

  “Sure. She’ll be excited to know you called. Did we trap your number on this phone?”

  “No, it’ll just say ‘not available,’ and then he rattled off his number for me while I scrambled for a pencil and paper.

  “Hold it, just a second.” I dug a notebook and pen out of Jan’s purse, “Okay, give that to me again.”

  “Sorry about that, I’m so used to being recorded I forget my etiquette,” and he recited the number.

  I read it back to him, and promised I’d give Jan the message as soon as she was available.

  “Look forward to meeting you, Jim.” And he hung up.

  Jan was wearing some shift-thing; her hair was bound up in a towel as she stumbled around the kitchen securing a cup and pouring coffee before plopping into a seat at the table.

  “You are the picture of ravishing good looks and good health this morning, dear.” I deadpanned the pitch, and received a wrinkled nose and pout for my troubles.

  I placed toast and jelly in front of her, along with her phone and Tony Ralph’s number, and then took my coffee to the little porch to resume my daily ritual of watching Judy try to catch minnows around the dock.

  “We’ve been invited to lunch at Torch Lake,” Jan said with a little awe in her voice.

  “When?”

  “Noon or so; very casual, very relaxed is Mr. Ralph and family.”

  “You have directions?”

  She held up her notebook. “He said it’ll take 40 minutes or so there, and gave me the directions.”

  “What do you want to do until then?”

  “Why don’t you come in here and think of something?”

  I whistled up Judy, put her in her crate on the porch and went thinking.

  We pulled up in front of the address Ralph had given Jan just a few minutes after noon.

  “Wow!” Jan let her comment out in a soft puff of her cheeks.

  “Nice crib.”

  She giggled, “I repeat: Wow!”

  I pulled into the driveway which was long enough and wide enough to park nine cars, but there were just two at the moment. As I shut off the motor, the door next to the garage doors opened and a tall, thin man in a swimming suit and flip flops came out with a smile from ear to ear. “Hello!”

  I climbed out of the car, and we met at outstretched hands. “You must be Jim Stanton. I’m Tony Ralph.” He pumped my hand once and turned his best smile on Jan, “Jan, I’m so very happy to see you again after all these years. I’d have known you anywhere.”

  Jan started laughing, “I’d heard you were a successful attorney, Tony; not some bullshitter on the midway at the fair.”

  They met at the front of our truck, and Tony reached for her out-stretched hand and pulled her into a brief hug. “Bullshit is often an attorney’s stock and trade, madam; but I’d heard from others that our duckling from 1980 had become a swan, and that’s all true.”

  He had turned his body away from Jan to include me, “Come on, I want you to meet my clan.”

  He led us through the three-stall garage which housed only one vehicle. There was a small, mastless sail boat on davits, and the third stall was dedicated to woodworking equipment and materials.

  “My dad is restoring that little boat; it’ll be raffled off at
a fund raiser for the Torch Lake Protection Society.”

  We stepped out of the garage to a terraced lawn that led down to what could only be termed a “boat basin.” There were three boats – a center console, deep vee bay boat, a 20-something-foot pontoon boat, and what looked to be a 20-foot day-sailor – tied up to the docks with room for three more.

  To our left coming out of the door was a three-step climb to a deck that spanned the entire width of this house. There were three seating groupings. Two tables with umbrellas, a giant gas grill and a six-foot diameter fire pit arranged neatly inside the boundaries of the deck. There were three separate entrances via French doors to the home, and one stairway that led to the walk down the middle of the yard to the docks.

  The lake stretched away both north and south from this vantage point.

  I noted that Tony was used to watching the impact of this place on newcomers, and stood patiently as Jan took her time to absorb the entire scene. There were six adults and a four teenage boys on the deck, and two young girls on the dock below. Jan’s eyes seemed to be drinking in all the details. “Like I said,” she finally whispered, “wow!”

  Tony’s smile dominated his face and his eyes. “Pretty terrific, right? Come on, meet the architect and his boss.”

  He led us to the chairs around the fire pit, and a stately man with a great deal of gray hair stood as we approached. “Jim, Jan? Please met my dad, Paul Ralph.” As the older man extended his hand, Tony continued, “and his boss, my mother, Betty. Folks, this is Jan and Jim Stanton whom you’ve heard so much about.”

  I shook Mr. Ralph’s hand and it was firm. Jan reached for him, and then to Mrs. Ralph who remained seated.

  “Forgive me,” Mrs. Ralph said, “it’s the arthritis; getting out of a chair takes help.”

  “Sit still,” Jan said politely. “You have a beautiful home here, thank you for inviting us.”

  Tony then introduced us to his wife, Anita, and then walked us over to another couple, “And here, Jan, is someone you might have known.”

  “Hi!” The man said standing, “I’m Mark Decker, do you remember me, Jan?”

  “No!” Jan said flustered. “I remember you from high school, but that couldn’t be you!”

  That earned a huge laugh from everyone.

  “Only fair,” Decker said with a bright smile; “I’d never recognize you, either. This lady is Alex, my wife.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Alex said, rising to shake Jan’s hand.

  Tony kept the introductions moving, “And this is Jim Stanton, Jan’s husband.”

  I found Mark Decker’s grip to be as firm and businesslike as Tony’s, and I nodded to Alex, “Ma’am.”

  She responded by putting her hand on my arm, “I’m a huge fan, Mr. Stanton. I’ve read every one of your books.”

  Then she turned to Jan, “And you, Jan, are my hero. I’m very active in the Kent County Women’s Enterprise Association, a group that works to educate young women about the opportunities for self-development that exist beyond marriage and child-bearing – especially as it pertains to abuse and neglect. Your success in business is often held up as an example to our girls.”

  Jan blushed, but recaptured her composure immediately, “It’s nice to know, but I didn’t do anything so idealistic. I found a need and filled it, both for the community and for me.”

  Alex was all smiles, “Exactly! And as we teach our girls, they can do it too if they’re willing to put their brains to work instead of thinking their bodies are their only assets.”

  “She’ll talk your arm off if we let her,” Mark interrupted.

  “That’s true,” Alex said with a sheepish look, “I’m sorry, but when I heard you were coming today, I guess I just revved up...You going to offer these folks something to drink before lunch?” She asked Tony.

  “If I can work a word in edge-wise, I will do just that. First, however, I’d like the kids to meet the Stantons.”

  He led us over to a table where a board game was in progress and introduced us to four young people who turned out to be their son, Anthony Jr. and the three “Decker boys.” All four were polite, but we moved on quickly to let them resume their game.

  “Junior and the boys are like family. The Deckers live just down the block from us in East Grand Rapids; all four are in high school, and were allowed these days off by special request – and they had to do work ahead, and homework while they’re here.”

  He pointed down to the dock. “The taller girl there is our elder daughter, Phyllis or just Phil, she’s a senior at Michigan; and her younger sister, Rachel, who is a sophomore at the University. They never miss a chance to come visit Gram and Grampa, and they know how important this weekend is to me. I haven’t missed a reunion since 1995.”

  As we were talking, a camera flash went off, and startled us. “Hope you’re not opposed to taking a place in the Ralph family scrap book.”

  Tony Jr. put a digital 35 mm camera down on the floor beneath his chair while smiling at us, “Just preserving the event for posterity, dad.”

  Ralph chuckled and said, “You guys will be pleased to know that my son has designs on a career in the journalism field.”

  “I’d break bones in his writing hand if he were mine,” I said with a smile.

  His father chuckled again, “I’ve thought about it, but, you know? My dad didn’t try to steer me into law or steer me away from it; I think I’ll just let Junior find his own way with whatever help I can provide.”

  Jan gave up a sigh, “Just like Jim did with his children.” She gently dug an elbow into my ribs, “How’d that work out for you, Jim?”

  “Point well taken.”

  With that Tony rubbed his hands together, “Lunch today is Mexican food; how ‘bout a Mojito? Sangria? Cerveza? We have Pacifico or Dos Equis or we have non-alcoholic beverages of nearly any description.”

  “What’s everyone else drinking?” Jan asked looking around the deck.

  “I’m having a beer; Decker and our wives are drinking Mojitos. Mom’s doing sangria... it’ll always be a buffet of sorts with this crew...”

  “Dos Equis, por favor,” I said.

  “Bueno,” he nodded and looked to Jan.

  “Sangria, por favor.”

  “Perfect, now mingle and I’ll come back to you.”

  “Mr. Stanton,” Mrs. Ralph called out to me, “may I speak with you a minute?”

  Jan walked over to the Deckers as I headed to the parents. “Of course.”

  “I’ve been reading your work for years. Tell me, why did you wait so late in life to start your writing career?”

  Lunch was served by a woman who, it turned out, was part of the household staff.

  “This is Maria. She has been part of our family for two years now. Her husband, Fred, is also part of our staff. Maria was born in Mexico, met Fred in Mexico City in the late ’90s and they were married in 2001. Fred had worked for us since 1999, and we couldn’t live here as well as we do without them.” He waved his hand in her direction, and she bowed slightly at the waist.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced, “lunch today is being served buffet style inside. You’ll find an assortment of small plates from my mother’s kitchen which are as authentic as I can make them here.

  “There’s a card before each entree indicating the contents and the spice level. There are condiments that you may want to increase the spice levels as well. I’ve learned since coming here that it is much easier to add peppers than to take them out.”

  There was polite laughter to that and then, with a wave of her arm into the home, “Lunch is served.”

  “Let’s let the boys go first so we aren’t trampled,” Mr. Ralph said quietly, and the four young men headed in just as the two girls from below joined us on the deck. Tony quickly introduced us, and then we all joined the procession except Mrs. Ralph.

  “Maria will bring her lunch,” Mr. Ralph whispered in Jan’s ear, loud enough for anyone to hear.

  We final
ly pulled out of the Ralphs’ driveway as the sun started painting long shadows down to the lake.

  “That was really fun,” Jan said as we drove away.

  “I kept thinking that we needed to go before we wore out our welcome.”

  “I know, but I think Tony and Mark were really enjoying meeting you and seeing me. I had hoped to see that ‘look’ when they saw you, but it never happened.”

  “I think those are two really balanced men,” I said musing on my wife’s rare show of ego.

  “I know what you mean. Those are wealthy men with beautiful families who are living well, but they have not adopted those ‘airs’ that you see so often and read about even more so.” She turned to look directly at me. “They’re genuine, you know? All of them. The kids, the parents, all of them.”

  “Breeding, education, temperament... that’s no accident. Somebody made a conscientious decision to avoid superficial snobbishness in favor of liking themselves.”

  We drove home, and I immediately took Judy for a brisk walk. I never go three days in a row without revisiting my forms, focusing on my core, and measuring my ability to control my pulse and breathing.

  Judy was elated at the opportunity to hustle around in the woods, but it was nearly full dark as I stretched and practiced my forms in the rear reaches of the resort’s grounds.

  “What is that stuff you’re doing?” Greg Blake asked from a shadow.

  I hadn’t heard him approach. Judy hadn’t either; or at least hadn’t alerted me to his presence.

  “Tai chi chuan,” I said as I finished one last movement that took more than twenty excruciating seconds to make my right foot travel a three-foot arc around my left.

  “I’ve heard of it; you been working at that long?”

  “Most of my adult life.” I was doing a final routine of stretching.

  “That looks like simple stretching exercises there.”

  “It is; my workout is over.”

  “How long was your walk?”

  “I’m guessing three miles.”

  “And it took more than an hour?”

  “I stopped to work on my tai chi several times during the walk.”