A Woman of Independent Means (24 page)

The Baltic cruise you and Dwight are planning for summer sounds delightful, but what will you do about the house in Vermont?

Tell Dwight that Arthur says there is a fortune to be made in South American silver mines for anyone willing to take a risk. Unfortunately I am not in that position—yet.

Je t'embrasse,
Bess

May 1, 1920
Dallas

Mr. Eben Stone
Tophill Farm
Devon Road
Woodstock, Vermont

 

Dear Mr. Stone,

My friends Mr. and Mrs. Dwight Davis have informed me that they will not be renewing their lease on the farm we occupied so happily last summer. In the hope that it is still available, I am enclosing a check for the first month's rent. I trust this will be a sufficient deposit to reserve the farm for my family's enjoyment for the months of June, July, and August.

Sincerely,
Bess Alcott Steed

June 1, 1920
Dallas

Dear Papa and Mavis,

We leave for Vermont at the end of the week and when we return to Dallas in September, a new home will be waiting for us. I am now the owner of a spacious, two-story brick house with attached garage. Since the fire I have never felt safe in a frame house, and though I know your house was considered a showplace in its day, I cannot help worrying about your safety.

I bought my house from an elderly couple looking for a place to retire. Dallas has become too large a city for their taste, so I suggested they think about East Texas and persuaded them to accept my title to Mama's cotton farm outside Winnsboro as a down payment on the house. Since I could never oversee this property personally, I am happy to exchange it for an investment more suited to my immediate needs.

Farming is an occupation that will never hold much interest for me, since I am a city dweller at heart (though it took eighteen years of my life and marriage to an ambitious man to realize it). I cannot imagine Dallas ever becoming too large a city for my taste, so I have never looked upon the cotton farm as a possible setting for my old age. When I reap my final harvest, I hope to have a lot more than cotton to show for my effort in the fields of life.

Annie has decided to enter nursing school in the fall and I have agreed to supplement her savings so she can meet the cost of tuition. Her decision came as a blow to Hans who had hoped financial necessity would succeed where Christian charity had failed, forcing her to forgive him and welcome him back as head of the household. But Annie is determined to make her own way and I can only applaud her resolve. Frankly, now that Hans has agreed to pay a fixed amount of his income each month for child support and to commit a certain number of hours each week to their care, Annie feels better provided for than she did when they were living together as man and wife.

Manning and Lydia moved to Denton last month. They will begin academic life in the fall—he as a graduate student and college instructor, she as a high-school teacher—but I have persuaded them to spend at least part of the summer in Vermont with us. Mother Steed declined the invitation, preferring to stay home alone. I have missed them since they moved—and regret that we wasted so much of the time when we were all living in the same city. Life causes estrangement enough—why do we add to it out of misplaced pride? I am glad we will be sharing the summer.

Much love,
Bess

June 3, 1920
Dallas

Dear Cousin Josie,

Miss Saunders has been writing me at regular intervals to keep me informed of your condition, and I was delighted to learn from her last letter that you had regained consciousness long enough to inquire about me.

The children and I are well—and on our way to Vermont for the summer. I was disappointed we never got a chance to see you last summer and I would like to stop in Syracuse next week and pay you a brief visit. In the meantime, I trust your condition will continue to improve so that we can have a nice talk when I arrive.

Your devoted cousin,
Bess

June 15, 1920
Woodstock, Vermont

Dear Papa and Mavis,

Forgive me for not writing sooner but there has been so much to do since we arrived last week.

In New York City I parted ways with Manning and Lydia and the children. They took the first train for Vermont while I made a brief excursion to Syracuse for what I fear was a farewell visit with Cousin Josie.

When I learned that she had regained consciousness, I had hoped we might have a real visit, but what passes for consciousness in that place is a far cry from my definition. I did all the talking and Cousin Josie sat across from me dozing. I didn't think she had any idea who I was, but when I stood to leave, she suddenly opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a handsome gold locket which she thrust into my hands.

I fumbled with the catch but finally succeeded in opening it —and found myself staring into my own face. Cousin Josie had taken an old photograph I had sent her years ago and fitted it into the locket. Upon examining the locket further, I discovered my picture had been placed over a picture of her dead parents. A sort of justice, I suppose. They took care of her at the beginning of her life and I took care of her at the end. But what did she do with all those years between? Was there ever another picture in the locket? A friend? A lover?

Cousin Josie made it clear I was to take the locket with me. It was the only thing left for me to inherit and would have been sent to me automatically at her death but I was touched to receive it directly from her. I kissed her good-bye and thought I saw a tear rolling down her cheek, but the nurse assured me it was a chronic allergy for which there seems to be no cure.

I had planned to stay the night in Syracuse, but once I left Cousin Josie I was determined to keep moving. I feared anyone who fell asleep there would awaken like Rip Van Winkle—twenty years older and nothing to show for it.

So I boarded an early evening train for Vermont. There were no Pullman accommodations, but it did not matter since I was in no mood to be alone. There were many stops, and I did not reach my destination much sooner than I would have if I had waited till morning for an express, but the motion of the train and the presence of the other passengers was very reassuring.

I so seldom travel alone I had forgotten how it feels to be surrounded by people and yet separate from them. I cannot imagine ever being lonely in such circumstances. There are so many possibilities for contact—knowing this and yet choosing to ignore all of them gives me a consoling sense of power. Alone on a train, I feel my life could go in any direction and at journey's end when I rejoin my family, I am filled with elation at the wisdom of my choice. Though they never know it, I have considered every possibility and once again chosen them. Of course I realize I am only playing a game; my choices were made long ago. I wonder how many other times when I truly thought the choice was mine I was playing the game without realizing it.

My excursion to Syracuse spared me the work of getting the farmhouse in order and by the time I arrived Manning and Lydia had everything well under control. All four children are bunking happily in the loft and the adults have the two downstairs bedrooms—a happy arrangement which affords me more privacy than I have known since we left St. Louis. How I look forward to moving into our spacious new home when we return to Dallas in the fall.

I hope your summer proves to be as pleasant as ours promises to be.

Much love,
Bess

June 25, 1920
Woodstock

Dear Arthur,

I accept with pleasure your invitation to join you in Boston for the July 4 weekend. It was kind of you to include the children but they cannot be coaxed into forsaking the country for even a day in the city. However, my sister-in-law and her husband are here with them so I am free to leave for a few days and I doubt that I will even be missed.

I am in ecstasy at the thought of all the theater and concerts awaiting us. I bought a Boston newspaper and have already written to make reservations. I know you must be occupied with all the business details of the trip, so I thought I would spare you the inconvenience of arranging our entertainment. Also please let me assume the responsibility of reserving our hotel accommodations, since I am so much closer to Boston.

I look forward to celebrating our country's independence in the city where it was conceived—and to enjoying a few days of freedom myself.

Fondly,
Bess