George Mills (78 page)

“To take over his duties,” Mills said softly.

“Well,” he said, “my sister normally hires the staff.”

It was just that he’d gotten along so well with Mrs. Glazer, Mills said, had been so close to her that last month, had grown so fond of her and respected her so much. He said he felt he knew the family almost as well as he knew the daughter.

He tried to say the rest of it lightly as he could. He realized, he said, that it wasn’t usually the place of the employee to furnish the employer with “character references,” but his feelings about Mrs. Glazer were so strong that he’d be happy to testify to them.

“You mean swear an affidavit?”

“If that’s what’s required.”

“Uh huh,” Claunch said. “I already got seven hundred seventy thousand dollars in tax-deductible affidavits lying around the house signed by a psychiatrist. I don’t think I need another one. Everyone knows what Judy was. Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Mills?”

Look, George Mills, he knew no one owed him anything, that he’d been paid well for his services, but his back was acting up, he was getting on, feeling his age. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to horse furniture around. Would Claunch help him?

“You want me to move furniture?”

“I want you to get me a job as an elevator operator in one of your buildings.”

“Why?”

“I think it might be interesting work. You get to know all those people. They give you tickets to the games. You get to exchange the time of day with them. There’s probably pretty fair money in it. Tips, gifts at Christmas. I never thought about it before. It’s not the loftiest goal in the world, but I think it’s something I’d enjoy doing.”

Claunch considered for a moment. “No,” he said, “I don’t think so. I don’t want to help you. Tell you what though,” he added amiably, “hold on to the job you got. Because if you lose it you won’t be collecting any unemployment insurance. Not in this state you won’t. You’re still a few years away from Social Security, am I right?”

“Yes,” George Mills said.

“That’s good,” Claunch said. “Because I’m making a note. I’m having you jerked off the Social Security rolls.”

“Can you do that?” George Mills asked. “Why?”

“Sure I can do it. As to why, I don’t know. You’re a guy gets a kick out of other men’s power. Maybe I’m doing you a favor by showing you mine. Now don’t bother me again. Stop calling my lawyers. There’s unsolved capital crimes. You bother me or my people I’ll see to it you get convicted of some of them. Nice to hear from you.”

Laglichio said he was just the man he wanted to see. He was starting a new service he said. Federal law required that trucks that hauled food be thoroughly scrubbed down before a new load could be placed in them.

“It’s this nuisance, make-work, government-on-our-backs sort of thing, but shit, kid, the job’s yours if you want it. I’d kind of like to see you in the crew.”

“The crew,” George Mills said.

“The bucket brigade in the trailer,” Laglichio said.

“And the pay?”

“Every bit as good as you make right now.”

“I see,” George Mills said.

“Money isn’t everything. There are other advantages,” Laglichio said.

“Yes?”

“The niggers would see your white ass and think you’re foreman. I wouldn’t tell them otherwise, George,” Laglichio said. “Look,” he said, “it’s up to you what you do with your life.”

Messenger phoned. “It was this roll of fast color film they do in Japan,” he said. “It was this roll of super fast film he brought back with him. It’s not on the market here in the States. It retails for maybe three or four dollars,” he said, something manic in the edge of his voice. “Talk about your mess of pottage, hey Mills? The horror, the horror, huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well you were
wrong,
” Messenger said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well it wasn’t any gold goddamn lighter, it wasn’t any pen-and-pencil set. He didn’t touch the place settings. He never stole the silver.”

“I don’t——”

“It was
film,
” he said. “It wasn’t any damn souvenir. It didn’t have any damn royal crest on it. That was just your idea. It was this roll of fast film with an ASA rating of several thousand. On a cloudy day you take sharp color pictures of the dark side of the moon or something.”

“He stole the chancellor’s film?”

“No,” Messenger said. “That was your idea too. It was Claunch, Sr.’s film. He was passing it around. He saw Sam pocket it.”

“That’s why he was shouting!” Mills said, everything clear to him. “The son of a bitch set him up!”

“No,” Messenger said, “that’s your idea too. What is he, a mastermind? How could he know Sam would slip the roll of film into his pocket? You’re one of these conspiracy suckers, Mills. Things happen, that’s all. This was just simple, honest, innocent rich man’s show and tell. And Sam, Sam was so mad at how they’d been treating him he pulled this dumb kid’s trick. It wasn’t even theft. It was vandalism.”

“He was caught red-handed. They were shouting. They made him resign.”

“Yeah, well,” Messenger said, “they worked it out.”

“The trust,” George Mills said.

“The works,” Messenger said gleefully. “The car is back.”

“It’s Harve,” he said when he phoned again.

“What is it?” Mills asked. “Has something happened to your son?”

“Who is it?” Louise asked. “Is it Cornell?”

Mills nodded. “It’s his kid,” he told her.

“Oh my God,” Louise said, “what happened?”

“No, no,” Messenger said. “Tell her it’s all right.”

“What is it, George?” Louise asked.

“I don’t know,” George Mills said. “He says it’s all right.”

Messenger was laughing and talking at once. Mills could barely understand him.

“But he says he’ll be all right?” Louise said.

Mills handed his wife the telephone. “You talk to him. I can’t carry on two conversations at once.”

“Cornell, it’s Lulu,” she said. “George tells me Harve’s going to be all right. That’s the important thing. Listen,” she said, “kids that age have incredible powers of recovery. I saw it all the time in the lunchroom. They’d bang their heads open on the slippery floors, get into fights. A few days later they were completely—What? Oh,” she said. “—Oh.—Oh.”

“What?” George Mills said. “What?”

Louise looked at him crossly and shook her head. She put her finger to her lips. “What? What’s that, Cornell? Oh,” she said smiling, and began to nod. George Mills watched her nod and smile into the telephone. Messenger might have been courting her. She looked seductive, almost coy. “That’s wonderful,” she said at last. “I certainly will.” She replaced the phone.

“What?” George Mills said. “What?”

“It was the alphabet,” she said.

“The alphabet,” Mills repeated. “The kid’s learned the alphabet.”

“That’s just it,” she said, “he never did.”

“That’s what’s so wonderful?”

“Well yes,” she said, “in a way. I mean they didn’t know he
hadn’t
learned it. He sang that song when he was a little kid.”

“What song?”

“You know,” she said. Louise started to sing. “ ‘ABCDEFG, HIJKLMNOP.’ You know,” she said.

“Oh yeah,” George Mills said.

“I mean Cornell says that was practically his favorite song when he was a kid, so naturally they assumed …They didn’t know he didn’t understand the connection between the sounds and the letters. Now they think that when they taught it to the kids in preschool that must have been the month he had strep throat. And that when they reviewed it in kindergarten that was when he had his tonsils out.” Mills stared at her. “They just caught it,” she said. “After all those years. Can you imagine? They just caught it.”

“Was he high?” Mills asked.

“Cornell? No. I can tell.”

“You can?”

“A woman knows,” his wife said.

“I see.”

“He’s been sight reading,” Louise said. “All these years. He’s been sight reading. Do you know how hard that is? Cornell says it’s as if we were set down in Japan or Russia or anywhere else they have those peculiar alphabets, and could read only the words we’d had some experience with. Stop signs or the word for ‘bakery’ if we see cakes in the window.”

George Mills nodded.

“Once they caught it they were able to do something about it. He learned it in a day and a half. You know Cornell says he’s been through two readers this week? They’re color-coded. He finished the orange, he finished the red. He starts on the blue one,
Let’s Read
five, tomorrow. Cornell says it’s confidence. Isn’t it queer, George? Isn’t it queer how things work out?”

Messenger dropped in again at the house. He had phoned first to make sure that George would be home. “You don’t have to phone,” Mills told him at the door. “Just come when you feel like. I acted a little crazy is all.”

“No no,” Messenger said. “That’s all right. I want to see the both of you.”

“You want something to eat? Lulu’s fixing lunch.”

“How’s the back?”

George shrugged. “Comes and goes. Comes and comes, comes and stays. You know how it is. It acted up some today so I knocked off early.”

Messenger nodded.

“Say, that’s great news about the kid,” Mills said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

“Thanks,” Messenger said. He smiled.

Louise came into the living room carrying a tray. “Oh hi, Cornell.”

“Louise,” Cornell said.

“I thought it was you. It’s good to see you again. I opened a large can of Spaghetti-O’s.”

“You’ll love it,” George Mills said.

“No, you two go ahead. I’m not much on Italian cuisine.”

“Hey,” George Mills said, “ain’t you enhanced?”

“Me?” Messenger said. “No.” He looked embarrassed.

“I’ll fix you a sandwich,” Louise said.

“No thanks, Louise. I’m not very hungry.”

“What’s new?” George asked. “Are Max and Ruth still parked in front of the dean’s house?”

“Well, for the time being,” Messenger said. “Jenny Greener told them they’ll have to find someplace else.”

“Jenny Greener?”

“When she moves in with Sam. When they’re married next month.”

“Jenny Greener and Sam?”

“It surprised all of us,” Messenger said.

“Jesus,” Mills said, “your friend must be devastated.”

“Losey?”

“The doctor, the paste asshole. Yeah, Losey.”

“No, he’s taking it very well.”

“He is?”

“Very well.”

“I thought he loved her so much.”

“He loved her grade point, he loved her blueprints.”

“Well still,” George Mills said.

“She dropped out,” Messenger said.

“She dropped out of school? Nora?”

“Jenny Greener. Sam says she felt guilty.”

“Guilty? About the love affair.”

“Well, that too, I suppose. But mostly about Nora. Going to school, she couldn’t devote enough time to Nora.”

“Her own schoolwork came first. Even Losey said so.”

“That’s right. Losey said so. Jenny didn’t feel right about that.”

“This isn’t clear.”

“They’re best friends. She wasn’t satisfied just to get Nora off academic probation. Now she’s able to spend more time with her. Losey doesn’t mind. Already there’s been incredible improvement. She’s shown Nora certain tricks. Well,
she
says they’re tricks. But you know? Nora has as much to do with it as anyone. She’s making tremendous strides. Jenny’s dropping out must really have motivated her.”

“But what a sacrifice,” George Mills said, shaking his head. “A brilliant career down the drain.”

“Down the drain?” Messenger said. “No, I don’t think so. She’s, what, seven or eight years younger than Nora? When Nora graduates next semester Jenny can just pick up where she left off.”

“She’ll have been out of school a year.”

“Sure. Getting a fresh slant on things. With the pressure off she’s come up with all sorts of new ideas. Helping Nora, she’s been able to rethink basic principles. Sam says her concepts are better than ever.”

“I see,” Mills said.

“She’s never been happier,” Messenger said.

“Jenny.”

“Jenny of course. The business with Losey only confused her. She says Sam’s the only man she’s ever really loved. So Jenny, too, of course. And Sam. Sam’s a new man. With the dean thing settled and Jenny in his life he looks fifteen years younger. But Nora. Nora too. She’s quite proud of herself. You can guess how her husband must feel.”

“Losing a genius?”

“I told you. The man’s a surgeon. He fixed up his marriage. Jenny would only have been a transplant. But Nora, Nora’s a whole new scientific reconstruction. Some from-scratch Galatea.”

“It must be tough on the kids,” George Mills said, “their daddy taking a new wife so soon after their mother died.”

“Oh,” he said, “Sam’s kids. That’s a whole other story. Gee,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I’ve got to run. Nice to see you, Louise. George, I hope your back feels better.”

“That’s a kick in the ass about Ruth and Max!” Mills shouted after him. “Getting booted into traffic!”

George Mills was in bed. Again Messenger had phoned first. Louise had taken the call. “Is he high?” Louise shook her head. “Let me get dressed first,” Mills said.

Messenger rapped lightly on the closed bedroom door.

“Jesus,” Mills whispered.

“Come in, Cornell,” Louise said.

“Hello,” Cornell said. “Louise said you were indisposed. There were a couple of extra trays. I brought them over for your lunches.”

“We’ve eaten our lunches,” Mills said.

“Sure,” Messenger said. “You can warm them for dinner.”

“That’s sweet, Cornell,” Louise said.

Messenger pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. “You were right,” he said. “They
were
upset. At least Milly was. Mary too, I suppose, but Milly made the rumpus. She called her grandfather. She’s the one who caught them in bed together.”

“Really?” George Mills said. “At her age that sort of thing can get to you for life.”

“When Milly told him what happened, Claunch did some hard thinking.”

“This is the part that gets me,” Louise said. “Oh,” she said, “I heard some of this on the phone.”