Rich Man, Poor Man (68 page)

‘I will not allow him in my presence,’ she said, quoting from some portion of her favourite reading. ‘I will close my door and Martha will serve my meals in a tray.’

‘You can do that if you want, Mom,’ Rudolph said quietly. ‘But if you do. I’m cutting you off. No more car, no more bridge parties, no more charge accounts, no more beauty parlours, no more dinners for Father McDonnell. Think about it’ He stood up. ‘I’ve got to go now. Martha’s prepared to give Billy dinner. I suggest you join them.’

Tears as he closed his mother’s bedroom door. What a cheap way to threaten an old lady, he thought. Why didn’t she just die? Gracefully, unwaved, unrinsed, unrouged.

There was a grandfather clock in the hallway and he saw that he had time to phone Gretchen if he made an immediate connection to California. He put in the call and made himself another drink while waiting for the call to come through. Calderwood might smell the liquor on his breath and disapprove, but he was past that too. As he sipped his drink he thought of what he had been doing the day before at just this hour. Entwined in twilit warmth in the soft bed, the red-wool stockings strewn on the floor, the sweet warm breath mingled with bis, rum and lemon. Had his mother once lain sweetly in a lover’s arms on a cold December afternoon, clothes carelessly discarded in lover’s haste? The image refused to materialise. Would Jean, old, one day lie in a fussed-up bed, eyes staring behind thick glasses, old lips rouged in scorn and avarice? Better not think about it.

The phone rang and it was Gretchen. He explained the afternoon as quickly as he could and said that Billy was safely with him and that if she thought best he would put Billy on a plane to Los Angeles in two or three days, unless, of course, she wanted to come East.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Put him on a plane.’

A tricky little sense of pleasure. An excuse to get to New York on Tuesday or Wednesday. Jean.

‘I don’t have to tell you how grateful I am, Rudy.’ Gretchen said.

‘Nonsense,’ he said. When I have a son I will expect you to take care of him. I’ll let you know what plane he’s on. And maybe one day soon, I’ll come out and visit you.’

The lives of others.

Calderwood himself answered the door when Rudolph rang. He was dressed for Sunday, even though his Sabbath duties were behind him, dark suit with vest, white shirt, sombre tie, his high, black shoes. There was never enough light in the frugal Calderwood house and it was too dark for Rudolph to see what sort of expression Calderwood had on his face as he said, neutrally, ‘Come in, Rudy. You’re a little late.’

‘Sorry, Mr Calderwood,’ Rudolph said. He followed the old man, who walked heavily now, a certain measured number of steps between him and the grave, to be economised, doled out.

Calderwood led him into the sombre oak-panelled room he called his study, with a big mahogany desk and cracked oak and leather easy chairs. The glassed bookcases were filled with files, records of bills paid. Twenty-year-old transactions that Calderwood still didn’t trust putting in the modest basement vaults where the ordinary business files were kept, open to any clerk’s prying eye.

‘Sit down, Rudy.’ Calderwood gestured towards one of the leather and oak easy chairs. ‘You’ve been drinking, Rudy,’ he said mournfully. ‘My sons-in-law, I regret to say, are also drinkers.’ Calderwood’s two older daughters had married some time before, one a man from Chicago, the other a man from Arizona. Rudolph had the feeling that the girls had picked their mates not out of love, but geography, to get away from their father.

That isn’t what I brought you here to talk about though,’ Calderwood said. ‘I wanted to speak to you man-to-man, when Mrs Calderwood and Virginia were not on the premises. They have gone to the movie show and we can speak freely.’ It was not like the old man to indulge in elaborate preliminaries. He teemed ill at ease, which also was not like him. Rudolph waited, conscious that Calderwood was fiddling th objects on his desk, a paper opener, an old-fashioned inkstand.

‘Rudolph’ Calderwood cleared his throat portentously, ‘I’m surprised at your behaviour.’

‘My behaviour?’ For a wild instant Rudolph thought that Calderwood had somehow found out about himself and Jean.

‘Yes. It’s not like you at all, Rudy.’ The tone was sorrowful now. ‘You’ve been like a son to me. Better than a son. Truthful. Open. Trustworthy.’

The old Eagle Scout, covered with merit badges, Rudolph thought, waiting, wary.

‘Suddenly something has come over you, Rudy,’ Calderwood continued. ‘You have been operating behind my back. With no apparent reason. You know you could have come to the door of my house and rung my bell and I would have been glad to welcome you.’

‘Mr Calderwood,’ Rudolph said, thinking, old age here, too, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’

‘I am talking about the affections of my daughter Virginia, Rudy, don’t deny.’

‘Mr Calderwood’

‘You have been tampering with her affections. Gratuitously. You have stolen where you could have demanded.’ There was anger in the voice now.

‘I assure you, Mr Calderwood that I haven’t’

‘It’s not like you to Me, Rudy.’

Tm not lying. I don’t know’

‘What if I told you the girl has confessed everything?’ Calderwood boomed.

There’s nothing to confess.’ Rudolph felt helpless, and at the same time like laughing.

‘Your story differs from my daughter’s. She has told her mother that she is in love with you and that she intends to go to New York City to learn to be a secretary to be free to see you.’

‘Holy God!’ Rudolph said.

‘We do not use the name of God in vain in this house, Rudy.’

‘Mr Calderwood, the most I’ve ever done with Virginia,’ Rudolph said, Is to buy her a lunch or an ice cream soda when I’ve bumped into her at the store.’

“You’ve bewitched her,’ Calderwood said. ‘She’s in tears five times a week about you. A pure young girl doesn’t indulge in antics like that unless she’s been led on artfully by a man.’

The Puritan inheritance has finally exploded, Rudolph thought Land on Plymouth Rock, hang around for a couple of centuries in the bracing air of New England, prosper, and

go crackers. It was all too much for one day - Billy, the school, his mother, now this.

‘I want to know what you intend to do about it, young man.’ When Calderwood said young man, he was apt to be dangerous. Instantaneously, Rudolph’s mind flashed over the possibilities - he was well entrenched, but the final power in the business lay with Calderwood. There could be a fight, but in the long run Calderwood could get him out. That silly bitch Virginia.

‘I don’t know what you want me to do, sir.’ He was stalling for time.

‘It’s very simple,’ Calderwood said. Obviously he had been thinking about the problem ever since Mrs Calderwood had come to him with the happy news about their daughter’s shame. ‘Marry Virginia. But you must promise not to move down to New York.’ He was demented about New York City, Rudolph decided. Haunt of evil. ‘I will make you a full partner with me. Upon my death, after I make adequate provisions for my daughters and Mrs Calderwood, you will get the bulk of my shares. You will have voting control, I shall never bring up this conversation again and there will be no reproaches. In fact, I shall put it out of my mind forever. Rudy, I couldn’t be happier than to have a boy like you in the family. It has been my fondest wish for years and both Mrs Calderwood and I . were disappointed when we invited you to partake of the hospitality of our home that you seemed to take no interest in any of our daughters, although they are pretty, in their way, and well brought up, and if I may say so, independently wealthy. I have no idea why you thought you couldn’t approach me directly when you had made your choice.’

‘I haven’t made any choice,’ Rudolph said distractedly. ‘Virginia’s a charming girl, and she’ll make the best of wives, I’m sure. I had no inkling she had any interest in me whatever…’ ‘Rudy,’ Calderwood said sternly. ‘I’ve known you a long time. You’re one of the smartest men I’ve ever met. And you have the nerve to sit there and tell me . . ‘

“Yes, I do.’ The hell with the business. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll sit right here with you and wait until Mrs Calderwood and Virginia come home and I’ll ask her point-blank in front of both of you whether I’ve ever made any advances to her, if I’ve ever as much as tried to kiss her.’ It was all pure farce but be had to go on with it ‘If she says yes, she’s lying, but I don’t care. Ill walk out right now and you can do whatever

you want with your goddamn business and your goddamn stocks and your goddamn daughter.’

‘Rudy!’ Calderwood’s voice was shocked, but Rudolph could see that he had suddenly become uncertain of his ground.

‘If she’d had the sense to tell me long ago that she loved me,’ Rudolph went on swiftly pressing bi” advantage, reckless now, ‘maybe something would have come of it. I do like her. But ifs too late now. Yesterday evening, if you must know, in New York City, I asked another girl to marry me.’

‘New York City,’ Calderwood said, resentfully. ‘Always New York City.’

‘Well, do you want me to sit here and wait until the ladies come home?’ Rudolph crossed his arms menacingly.

This could cost you a lot of money, Rudy,’ Calderwood said.

‘Okay, it could cost me a lot of money.’ Rudolph said it firmly, but he could feel the sick quiver inside his stomach.

‘And this - this lady in New York,’ Calderwood said, sounding plaintive. ‘Has she accepted you?’

‘No.’

‘Love, by God!’ The insanity of the tender emotion, the cross-purposes of desire, the sheer anarchy of sex, was too much for Calderwood’s piety. In two months you’ll forget her and then maybe you and Virginia.’

‘She said no for yesterday,’ Rudolph said. ‘But she’s thinking it over. Well, should I wait for Mrs Calderwood and Virginia?’ He still had his arms crossed. It kept his hands from trembling.

Calderwood pushed the inkstand irritably back to the edge of the desk. ‘Obviously you’re telling the truth, Rudy,’ Calderwood said. ‘I don’t know what possessed my foolish daughter. Ah - I know what my wife will say - I brought her up all wrong. I made her shy. I overprotected her. If I were to tell you some of the arguments I’ve had with that woman in this house. It was different when I was a boy, m tell you that Girls didn’t go around telling their mothers they were in love with people who never even looked at them. The damned movies. They rot women’s brains. No, you don’t have to wait, I’ll handle it alone. Go ahead. I have to compose myself.’

Rudolph stood up and Calderwood with him. ‘Do you want some advice?’ Rudolph asked.

‘You’re always giving me advice,’ Calderwood said petulantly. ‘When I dream it’s always about you whispering in my ear. For years. Sometimes I wish you’d never showed up that summer at the store. What advice?’

‘Let Virginia go down to New York and learn to be a secretary and leave her alone for a year or two.’

‘Great,’ Calderwood said bitterly. ‘You can say that. You have no daughters. I’ll see you to the door.’

At the door, he put his hand on Rudolph’s arm. ‘Rudy,’ he said, pleading, If the lady in New York says no, you’ll think about Virginia, won’t you? Maybe she’s an idiot, but I can’t stand to see her unhappy.’

‘Don’t worry, Mr Calderwood,’ Rudolph said ambiguously, and went down to his car.

Mr Calderwood was still standing in the open doorway, lit by the frugal hall light, as Rudolph drove away.

He was hungry, but decided to wait before going to a restaurant for dinner. He wanted to return to the house and see how Billy was doing. He also wanted to tell him that he had talked to Gretchen and that he would be going out to California in two or three days. The boy would sleep better after hearing that news, the spectre of the school no longer hanging over him.

When he opened the front door with his key he heard voices in the kitchen. He went silently through the living and dining rooms and listened outside the kitchen door. There’s one thing I like to see in a growing boy -‘ Rudolph recognised his mother’s voice - ‘and that’s a good appetite. I’m happy to see you appreciate food, Billy. Martha give him another slice of meat and some more salad. No back talk, Billy, about not eating salad. In my house, all children eat salad.’

Holy God! Rudolph thought.

‘There’s another thing I like to see in a boy, Billy,’ his mother went on. ‘Old as I am, and I should be beyond such feminine weaknesses - and that’s good looks combined with good manners.’ The voice was coquettish, cooing. ‘And you know whom you remind me of - and I never said so to his face for fear of spoiling him - there’s nothing worse than a vain child - you remind me of your Uncle Rudolph and he was by common agreement the handsomest boy in town and he grew up into the handsomest young man.’

‘Everybody says I look like my father,’ Billy said, with the bluntness of his fourteen years, but not aggressively. From his tone he was obviously feeling at home.

‘I have not had the good fortune ever to meet your father,’ the mother said, a slight chill in her speech. ‘No doubt there must be a certain resemblance here and there, but fundamentally you resemble my branch of the family, especially Rudolph. Doesn’t he, Martha?’

‘I can see some signs,’ Martha said. She was not out to give the mother a perfect Sunday night supper.

‘Around the eyes,’ the mother said. ‘And the intelligent mouth. In spite of the difference in the hair. I never think hair makes too much difference. There’s not much character in hair.’

Rudolph pushed the door and went into the kitchen. Billy was seated at one end of the table, flanked by the two women. Hair flattened down wet after his bath, Billy looked shining clean and smiling as he packed into his food. The mother had put on a sober-brown dress and was consciously playing grandmother. Martha looked less grumpy than usual, her mouth less thin, welcoming a bit of youth into the household.

‘Everything all right?’ Rudolph asked. They giving you enough to eat?’

The food’s great,’ Billy said. There was no trace of the agony of the afternoon in his face.

‘I do hope you like chocolate pudding for dessert, Billy,’ the mother said, hardly looking up for a moment at Rudolph, standing at the door. ‘Martha makes the most delicious chocolate pudding.’