Schmidt Steps Back (22 page)

The house, a two-story white clapboard affair with black shutters, stood in a field, in the fenced portion of which grazed
Aberdeen cattle belonging, as he found out later, to the nearby farmer who had sold the property to Charlotte and Jon. Charlotte met him at the front door. Less than two months had gone by since he last saw her, in the Tuileries. That chic and svelte young woman had undergone a transformation. Here she was, in a blue-and-white-striped gingham dress that was not designed to conceal the huge belly. Would the baby be huge, too? She was actually smiling. He kissed her on both cheeks and then once again, for good measure.

I am so very happy, he told her.

When they sat down in the kitchen after the tour of the house, she asked him what he thought.

It’s lovely, he answered, very well renovated, in the best taste, exactly what I would expect from you. And I think the baby’s room is just right. He will like it.

Actually, she said, Renata deserves ninety percent of the credit. She has a good eye and knows how to deal with workers.

I’m not surprised, Schmidt answered. I recall that their apartment on Fifty-Seventh Street is very handsome, very well done.

You’ve only been there once!

He wasn’t sure whether that was to be taken as a taunt or an expression of regret. It was better not to inquire. Instead he asked whether he could have a drink: a bourbon or a gin and tonic. There was no bourbon, but the gin and Schweppes tonic water were produced. Since she told him to help himself, he made it strong. By the time he got back on the road, it and whatever else she gave him to drink at lunch would have been metabolized, and if not he would pull over to the side of the Taconic and take a short nap.

There is something I would like to ask you, she said, and I hope it won’t make you fly off the handle.

Go ahead. I’ll try to control myself.

I’d like to hire a live-in combination baby nurse and housekeeper. Someone flexible and experienced, who could help me out now just with coping and would be good with the baby when he comes. I’ve got someone with good references, who I think would be right. I wonder if you would pay her salary and social security and the rest of that stuff.

I think it could probably be managed.

Then he added, he really couldn’t help it: Did you get her through Renata?

If you must know, yes. She called the agency in New York she has always used. I suppose that nixes it. I mean if something has to do with Renata or Jon, it’s immediately verboten.

Not necessarily, he answered, it depends on what they’re up to. What salary does Mary Poppins command?

Live in, both here and in the city, six thousand. She gets one month of vacation, so I’ll need someone to cover.

I think I can swing it, said Schmidt, both her and the substitute. Provided, of course, she is also selected by Renata. When can Poppins start?

Next Tuesday, right after Memorial Day, if I let her know today.

Go ahead and tell her she’s on. I’ll give you a check for the first month’s salary right now.

He drew his wallet out of his pocket. There were always two blank checks in it, evidently just for this sort of occasion. His head felt just a bit light: effect of the second gin and tonic he was working on, or of check writing? No, it came
from the exquisite clarity of the situation. First, Jon makes the big grab: Listen up Albert, it’s time to set up a trust for little Myron. That tanks, so master tactician Renata decides to go for the smaller stuff: a mere six thousand per month! That’s just the first step. But he would give twice as much, with good grace, if Charlotte explained her and Jon’s mysterious finances, if she asked him nicely, if the Rikers could keep their mitts off his dealings with his daughter. He handed her the check. While she examined it, he felt in his coat pocket the present he had for her: a turn-of-the-century French pendant in the shape of a butterfly, suspended on a chain. Give it to her right now? He decided to wait. There was no telling how the visit would end.

After what seemed like a long silence, she said, Thanks! I will tell Renata to call this woman. Do you mind if I call her?

He shook his head.

There must be a special number for Charlotte’s personal use that rings in Renata’s consultation room. At twelve-thirty, she should be in the middle of some patient’s fifty-minute hour. But she picked up at once. Schmidt heard her say, Hello sweetie! How is it going? OK, his daughter replied, he’s given me the check. You can call Yolanda when you get a chance. Yes. Love yah!

“Love yah” indeed, Schmidt remarked silently. The high intelligence, its mysterious disappearance has already been noted. And the good manners, so carefully instilled by Mary, by Aunt Martha, and even, believe it or not, by him! Where had they gone? It would be hard to say that some sort of street smarts had taken their place, because a truly street-smart girl would know better moves than this dropout from the upper classes.

You want to eat? she asked.

Yes, he replied, but perhaps it would be easier if I took you out. Some place in Claverack or Hudson?

I’ve got some food ready.

She put dishes, glasses, and forks and knives on the table, leaving it to him to organize them, brought from the pantry a half-empty bottle of a California red, and from the fridge a bowl of Niçoise salad. There was bread on the sideboard, and she put it on the table as well.

Charlotte, said Schmidt, audibly choked up, this was your mother’s favorite summer dish, and you’ve followed her recipe. Thank you!

You’re welcome. I suppose you thought I’d order in a pizza. Of course, I’m not nearly as good a cook as your girlfriend Carrie.

Ah, that meal Carrie prepared so generously the one time they met has stuck in her craw, mused Schmidt. How too damn bad.

I don’t know, he answered, I haven’t tasted enough food that you’ve prepared. But I do see that you haven’t kept up with developments. Carrie has married a lovely guy who runs a marina in East Hampton, and she expects a baby next month.

That must have burned you up!

Not really. As I said, he’s a lovely guy, he’s the right age for her, and I think they’ll have a good life together.

That’s a new generosity, Dad. Wow! I haven’t noticed your being so broad-minded and kindly about Jon’s and my marriage.

Goodness, replied Schmidt.

What was he to do? Talk about Jon’s cheating on her and his unethical or, if not unethical, then surely reckless behavior
that led to his expulsion from W & K, not to mention his disgraceful refusal to return her rightful property when they broke up? Remind her that Jon, who owed to Schmidt’s support his partnership at W & K, never passed up an opportunity to needle the old man? Talk about how, in a grotesque replay of the story of Ruth, she had ostentatiously turned away from him to follow her mother-in-law? Or her and Jon’s truly remarkable lack of gratitude for the tons of money she had already received from him? What use would any of that be?

Goodness, he said once again. We mustn’t have a debate about that while I’m eating your delicious salad. I don’t suppose you drink coffee these days?

She shook her head.

If you don’t mind making it, I’ll have some. Very strong, and at least one big cup.

Soon afterward he left, the gold and lapis lazuli butterfly still in his pocket. His mind was made up: he would give it to her, but only when he came to see his grandson for the first time.

It was after six when he reached Bridgehampton. Sy was in the house, which was as it should be; he had recommended that Bryan shut the kitty door so that he couldn’t go out when Bryan wasn’t there to answer cries of distress. The enthusiasm of Sy’s welcome, however, was at such a high pitch that Schmidt sensed that something had gone awry. Indeed, the kitty litter box, on the cleanliness of which Bryan prided himself, had not been changed, and without question Sy was starved. First things first: he picked up the cat and assured him of his devotion, fed him, and took care of the litter. Recompensed
by grateful purring, he opened the kitty door and watched Sy’s infinitely prudent exit into the garden.

Only then did he check the telephone messages. The red light was blinking. He pressed the play button. Jason’s instantly recognizable Boy Scout troop–leader voice told him that Carrie’s water had broken early that morning while she was still in bed; contractions began a couple of hours later; he had taken her to the Southampton hospital. The message had been left at twelve-twenty, while he was in Charlotte’s kitchen, drinking his gin and tonic. He’s probably still at the hospital, thought Schmidt. Jason’s cell phone number was posted on the kitchen bulletin board. No answer. Schmidt tried Bryan next. Carrie’s in the room where they keep them while they’re in labor, Bryan told him. She’s been there since noon. Jason is mostly with her. She’s doing real well. He had to go back to the marina to help out the two other guys but was now going to keep Jason company.

Schmidt reflected. Have you and Jason eaten?

The answer was yes; he had brought a pizza and some beers, and they ate on the back of the truck.

I wonder whether I should head over, he said. Jason will want to stay until the baby is born, but you should call me, at any hour, if there is something new to report, or you have to go back to the marina. A first child can take very long to come out. So be sure you call me. I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t mind—I really don’t mind—if you wake me up. So, anything new, or if you or Jason need to be relieved, you call me. All right?

It had slowly become clear to Schmidt that he must not step out of his present role. And what was that? Carrie’s former lover—but so was Bryan—and her and Jason’s friend and
benefactor. That was all. The fact that he had given Carrie a handsome dowry changed nothing. No, most certainly he wasn’t her father. The paradox was that he now had a father’s love for her. The memory of the sex between them—the ecstasy that had lifted him so high that he felt he had been transformed by it—was as vivid as ever, and he thought it would never wane. At the same time, he was convinced, he knew, that if he were alone with her, and she signaled, in one of the numberless ways that were her secret, that she wanted him, he would recoil from violating the taboo. It came down to this: he would now no more sleep with her than with Charlotte. His love for his Hecate had become paternal. The heartbreaking other side of the paradox: he foresaw that this sallow-skinned enchantress, whose body he had so passionately and lovingly explored, would be a better daughter to him than Charlotte, just as he might be a better father to her. Yes, there was a place for Bryan at the hospital as Jason’s best friend and business partner, and none at all for Schmidt. It was time for him to step back. Unless something terrible came up: some change in Carrie’s condition or a problem with the baby. Later, when he called Bryan again, there had been no developments; Jason was still with Carrie. I might go out, Schmidt told him. If I don’t answer at home, would you please call me on my cell.

He made himself a martini and drank it slowly. The
New York Times
lay on the kitchen table. It didn’t interest him. There might or might not be enough food in the fridge for his supper. He didn’t look and he didn’t care. The waves of emotion washing over him were too strong for the solitude of his kitchen. He whistled for Sy. The kitten, dignified and unhurried, came in through the screen door that Schmidt held
open and received his award. Half a slice of Oscar Mayer ham, cut in little pieces. That transaction concluded, Schmidt shut the kitty door for the night, shaved, took a bath, put on fresh clothes, and drove to O’Henry’s. It had crossed his mind that he could call Gil Blackman and see whether he was in Wainscott and happened to be free. If Elaine had made good on her threat to install the Mummy in the house, there would probably be nothing in the world he’d like better. It was also possible that Elaine or Gil might think of asking him to have dinner with them. No, calling Gil was a bad idea. He didn’t want to relate his visit to Claverack: not yet, anyway. And he didn’t see how he could share with Gil his feelings about Carrie. They were too tender, too important. And how to keep them from becoming conflated with Gil’s Sturm und Drang over DT?

He hesitated about ordering a martini—what if he had to rush to the hospital?—but with a shrug he ordered one anyway and drank it too fast, waiting for his steak. A compromise was called for. One glass of wine with his meal would have to do.

Mary had been in labor for almost thirty hours with Charlotte. He couldn’t understand how she bore it, and he had pleaded with the obstetrician for a cesarean. The brute—Schmidt still remembered his name, Dr. Bubis—refused. Finally Bubis got the baby out with forceps. No injury to the baby or to Mary, thank God. It was pure luck. Schmidt couldn’t bring himself to believe that any skill had entered into it. There were many explanations for Mary’s not wanting another child, but that long agony must have been a major one. Who could blame her, especially as Bubis had talked her into the Lamaze technique and administered an epidural only
a couple of hours before the forceps? Schmidt hadn’t asked who was delivering little Albert. Now he wished he had. He might have had him or her checked out. Too late for that. But probably it was just as well not to rock the boat. She was young, and in the best of health.

The call came just after three in the morning. It was Jason. Do you want to speak to Carrie? he asked. She’s right here.

Schmidtie, she whispered, he’s an ugly big bruiser with red hair. I think you’ll like him. I love him already.

D
IES IRAE
.

Mike Mansour’s plane touched down at Le Bourget, the airport north of Paris where almost all private aircraft bound for Paris land, on Wednesday evening, a few minutes after seven. Alice was expecting Schmidt at her apartment at nine-thirty. Passport and customs control at Le Bourget was almost nonexistent, and Mr. Mansour’s Paris Rolls was waiting on the tarmac. Even if they hit heavy traffic going into Paris there would be plenty of time to shower and change before going to Alice’s; he might even call and ask to come early. Having slept through most of the eight-hour trip, he felt rested. He would see her in two hours! His body tingled from excitement.