Barnegat Bay - 25. Chapter 25

As it happened, Spence’s new job worked out. In fact, the better Claire’s father got to know him, the more comfortable her dad was with shifting some of his work to Claire and Spence. Spence told Mary and me about it one Friday night.

“He’s usually pretty quiet – very private – at least around Claire and me. But we’ve both seen him relaxed and joking with his friends. Then the other night, when Claire needed to leave before he and I did, and after we’d finished some long, boring paperwork, he asked if I wanted a drink. Of course, I said ‘Yes.’ I might have, anyway. But it’s the first time he’s asked.”

“You almost couldn’t say ‘no,’” Mary pointed out.

“And I think we both knew that,” Spence said, grinning. “Anyway, as we were sitting in his office, he began to talk.”

‘I always imagined my sons would do this,’ he started. ‘And I’ve tried to figure out which jobs I’d give to which one. Instead, I find myself dividing them between you and Claire. And I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.’

‘She’s very good at what she does,’ I told him. “But he simply sipped his whiskey. He’s not a fast drinker.”

‘I know that,’ he went on. ‘Maybe I always have. And that may be why her mother and I let her go to college. We pretended to fight, but there was never any way we would have stopped her. Still, we figured she’d marry as soon as she graduated – and marry well, because going to college would let her meet the right men.’

‘She sort of thinks they’re jerks.’

‘A lot of them are,’ he admitted. ‘But they’d still make decent husbands.’

“I wanted to laugh at that,” Spence told us. “But I didn’t dare.”

“He has a sense of humor,” Mary advised.

“Maybe. But I don’t know him well enough yet. In any case, he went on.”

‘We never thought she’d want to use what she’d learned.’ he said.

I simply told him, ‘She likes to work.’ And he laughed

‘That’s what I don’t understand,’ he conceded. ‘I inherited the lumber yard – the first one – from my father. He’s still alive. He just stopped working as soon as he could and let my brothers and I support him and our mother. But the three of us – my brothers – knew the lumber yard couldn’t feed us all. So we drew straws.’

‘Did you win?’

‘It’s funny you should ask that – almost no one does. No, I lost, of course – none of us wanted to spend our lives in the boring family business. My father got it from his father. And I can’t remember where my grandfather got it from, but he didn’t build it.’

‘Maybe he won it in a poker game,’ I suggested. Spence told us that, grinning. “Of course, I was thinking of you, Doc. And your boat.”

“The poor – underused – ‘Oh, Me!’”

We all laughed.

“We’ve got to take it out more this summer,” I vowed. And no one disagreed.

“Anyway, he continued,” Spence said.

‘I had to run the lumber yard while my brothers made the plans they wanted. At the start, I hated them for it. But then I began to like the place – and the people who came in, both to buy and sell. And after a dozen-or-so years, I got the chance to buy a second yard, and I found a way to do that. And I built that one up – it was pretty much ruined – and expanded the first. I still own that with my brothers, but the second one’s mine.’

‘Will you split it among your kids?’

‘My older daughter doesn’t care. She married well, as we expected. And my sons think they can do better after this depression’s over. Like you, they’re young and feel they can last it out. And Claire would happily take it – right now. But I have to see what happens first. I still want her to get married.’

“He looked at me strangely for a moment – like that was the reason I was there. I really wanted to assure him, ‘I like the job.’ But it might have seemed ungrateful.”

Neither Mary nor I had an answer to that.

“After that moment, he went on.”

‘Of course, anyone in my family – maybe everyone – would take the yard as an investment. And I never really expected either of my sons to run it – not after a while. I figured we’d get them an education – better than my brothers and I had. We mainly had a low class business school. Then I’d let them get some experience – running the yards. Then I’d encourage them to move on to larger companies – in Philadelphia or New York.’

‘And what would happen to the yards?’

‘I’d sell them. Everyone would be happy to take their share of the money, and I’d go fishing with my dad.’

‘This was before the Depression?’

He nodded. ‘Yes – everything changed with the crash. I didn’t lose anything – except a little business. My customers suddenly didn’t have money because they didn’t have customers. But I came out of it personally all right. And I protected my family.’

“Again, he’d looked at me before resuming.”

‘You know about Claire, and I think you know about her older sister. And my older son will be in law school for the next three years, and the younger one has two more years of college. And it seems they’ll be all right afterward because of this damn Mr. Roosevelt.’

“He kind of sneered when he said that,” Spence told us. Then he continued.”

‘I don’t like the man,’ he admitted. ‘I didn’t vote for him, and I won’t – ever – if he’s lucky enough to run a second time. But even I have to accept that while he destroying democracy, he’s giving people jobs.’

‘Do you think law school’s important?’ I asked. “I did that partly to distract him,” Spence explained. “But more because I was curious.”

‘Oh, yes,’ he agreed. ‘It’s what I would’ve done myself – if I’d had the college.’

‘Did your brothers...’

‘Become lawyers? No – they’re not bright enough. They both work for companies – one in the garment business and the other in shipping.’

‘Do they enjoy it?”

‘They like the money – we all do. And they’re still small town enough – like me – to know not to risk any of that in stocks. So they didn’t lose anything, either. Though damned if the market hasn’t come roaring back. Do you follow it?’

‘Only as I did in classes – as something to study. I don’t have the money.’

‘Just as well.’ He seemed to approve. ‘I do,’ he allowed. ‘But I still won’t do what people call “investing.” Though I sometimes wish I had the courage.’

‘And your brothers?’

‘Like I said – they’re not that bright.’

“And he found that pretty funny.”

“That’s strange,” Mary told us. “Because when I’ve seen him with his brothers – at family gatherings and parties – they always very close.”

“Maybe they don’t think he’s bright, either.”

Something we laughed at but couldn’t answer.

“Anyway, that’s where I guess he realized how much he’d told me,” Spence finished up. “Because he made a show of looking at the big clock on his office wall and saying he’d better be getting home because his wife was waiting dinner.”

“What time was it?” Mary asked.

“A little past seven.”

“They eat late anyway. And they almost always wait till Claire’s father gets home.”

“It’s just the three of them now,” Spence said. “And – as I told you – Claire had left early, to go out with friends.”

“I thought you were eating with them, too,” I said.

“Sometimes – but I don’t like to take advantage. And it’s not like here, where I fit right in. It’s very formal.”

“Dressing for dinner?”

“Not that formal. But I still have to wear my tie, from work. Besides,” Spence added. “I have a lot of work to do on my apartment.”

When Claire mentioned there was “a room” over the carriage house, she’d understated a bit – maybe because it had been a while since she’d seen it.

“Though she wasn’t wrong about its condition,” Spence admitted. “For years, it’s been used for storage – maybe twenty years. And the wiring was dangerous – just pairs of parallel cords on insulators tacked to the ceilings and walls.”

“I remember,” Mary said. She and I had glanced at the upstairs soon after Spence moved in.

“But the plumbing works. And there’s nice wood paneling on the walls and ceilings – wainscots, crown moldings, and all. And it’s really two rooms – a sitting room, with a counter, half-fridge, and three-burner stove in the corner – with cabinets above them and a small dining table Claire s found somewhere. The other room’s a bedroom, with a little bathroom off it – basin, shower, and toilet.”

“At least, it’s not a chamber pot,” Mary joked.

“We found one while we were cleaning.”

“That’s must’ve been where I saw it,” Mary allowed.

“You’ll have to see the place when we’re finished – with all the wood re-stained and polished. And some kind of rugs on the floors. And more furniture that Claire’s scavenged.”

“Where’s she finding it?” I asked.

“All over, I guess. Their basement. The attic. From friends. And we took a couple of things from her brothers’ bedrooms.”

“Won’t they mind?”

“They can have them back – I’ve actually saved enough to buy a lamp and chair.”

“And curtains?” Mary asked.

“Nah – I like the light coming in those big windows – and I like sitting in the bays and looking out. Besides, the carriage house is at the back of the big property – almost an acre. And there are plenty of trees, and I’m upstairs. No one can see in.”

“Sounds like you’re comfortable.”

“It’s great – but I still can’t wait to get back here. Even in my little cubby, this place feels like home.”

At that moment, we were sitting in the dining room, and Spence had Ann in his lap. She wasn’t exactly resting, but she wasn’t crawling up him, either, or pulling at his open tie. My parents were in the living room, just through the open doors, listening to the radio. It was a typical Friday.

On a different Friday, Spence came home to add to his story.

“Somehow Claire’s father and I got to talking about the stock market. This was in the middle of the afternoon, and we were having a snack in the workroom – sandwiches their cook made us. Claire was out with a buyer – a possible one.”

‘As I told you,’ her dad began, ‘I wish I weren’t such a coward. The market’s doubled, and tripled, then tripled again. And this isn’t the phony money that caused the crash – these are well-backed investments. If only Roosevelt weren’t borrowing against our future.’

‘It may work out,’ I hedged. “Of course, I believe it will,” Spence told us. “And I think he knows that.”

‘Do I look like a fortune teller?’ he’d gone on.

‘No,’ I’d joked. ‘Not even a gypsy.’

“He thanked me for that. But then he cracked that ‘I clearly knew who was handing me my paycheck.’”

‘I think I’ve been earning it,’ I said.

‘Easily. I knew to trust Claire.’

“I had to think about that for a moment. Then I asked, ‘Why don’t you tell her that?’

He’d just laughed. ‘She knows it. And she knows we still want her to get married – soon. And get away from all this.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s what I’d do if I could. Even with everything good that seems to be happening, I’ll be working for another ten-or-so years – if I live that long.”

‘Why wouldn’t you?’

‘I’m hoping my doctor doesn’t find reasons.’

“And we laughed.” ‘But if he did?’ I pushed on.

‘I’d still have to work. I can’t afford not to.’

‘You really don’t enjoy it?’

‘I told you – I’ve gotten used to it. And you’ve seen how much I like the people. They’re all hard-working, honest, family men – what our country needs. Not like the fancy Roosevelts.’

‘You know I voted for him.’

‘What else could you do? Going to that little Communist school.’

Spence said he wasn’t sure how serious Claire’s father had been about that. But they’d both grinned at each other. “Again, I wasn’t gonna upset my boss.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” Claire had added. She’d come in early that weekend, with Spence, and had just come back to the dining room. “My dad wouldn’t know what to do if he didn’t have his job. He loves my mother, but they can’t be around each other all the time. He doesn’t take women seriously.”

“He takes you that way,” Spence disagreed.

“I’m still earning that – every day.”

“Maybe not as much as you think.”

“Possibly,” Claire admitted. “But he’s as closed-mouthed around me as he is around a lot of people, especially women. That’s another reason I wanted you in the business. You’re one of the guys. Everybody likes you, and you seem to know, almost instinctively, when to talk, what to say, and when not to say too much. I was always afraid you’d get another job – a good one – in the city, before I could persuade my father.”

“You’re so good at giving people compliments your dad would never give you.”

“Someone has to.”

Actually, Spence admitted privately, everyone at the lumber yards liked his work – from Claire’s father on down. ‘You’re so much easier to work with,’ some of the regulars had told him. ‘More reasonable than the old man or his daughter.’

“Of course, Claire’s just trying to match her dad,” Spence defended. “To make him happy.”

“She’s always done that,” Mary explained.

“I just know what I see.”

Spence and Claire continued to tell us their stories when we saw them on weekends. He’d usually arrive first, late Friday evening, unless he had business in the city and could join us at dinner. More typically, he’d come in after ten, say ‘hello’ to whoever was still in the living room, look in on sleeping Ann, then climb to his garret, and go to bed. Claire would appear late Saturday afternoon, in time for dinner with us and the gang, which sometimes grew to include Gina and Barbara. Meanwhile, Saturday mornings, Spence met Al at class. At first, he was sitting in. “To get a feel for the thing.” But by summer, he’d enrolled. “Hardly even part-time. I’m taking one class to each of Al’s three.”

Al had one class Saturday morning , one in the afternoon, and a third two evenings a week.

“At this rate, my hair’ll be gray when I take the bar exam,” he kidded.

“It’s gray now,” Mike poked. “But that’s mostly paint.”

“And that’s fine,” Al returned. “If I weren’t doing something so empty-headed during the day, I’d never have time to think about law school.”

“So now we’re doing you a favor,” Mike cracked.

“You gonna charge me for that?”

Mike just laughed. “Let me talk to Larry.”

Even though their company was doing well, Larry still sometimes apologized for it. He seemed to feel, “It’s only my family business,” and was disappointed at not being able to work at some place larger.

“But we’re our own bosses,” Mike insisted. “How many guys can say that?”

“Or women,” Mary added.

“Your aunt is the only one I know who owns a store.”

“Three.”

“Two only part of the year

“Still, it’s work. It’s money coming in.”

“And what’s left of my pride draining out,” Larry diverted the conversation

“You were never that stuck up,” Mike told him.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Yeah, you idiot. Just say ‘Thank you.’ Politely.”

“First, try explaining to my family why I didn’t do this five years ago. Instead of wasting four of those years on school.”

“You didn’t waste them. None of us did. We know so much more than we did before college.”

“And you don’t think we would’ve figured those things out? None of this is hard.”

“School was faster.”

“If I’d started at eighteen, I would’ve been a better painter.”

“Well, that’s kind of true,” Mike jibed. “You’re something of a slob. Sometimes, your dad and uncles just shake their heads.”

Larry put up his fists, but Mike batted them away.

“Still, how often do you paint?” he’d gone on. “Most of the time you’re out selling.”

Larry couldn’t deny that, and Mike had told us that he’d been just as happy to leave the paint crew. “Even if it sometimes means working on commission.”

“There’s really a better way to earn money,” Larry assured him. “Everyone knows that.”

“Remind me some week when I haven’t found us any new work, and I’m bumming change from you.”

“You’ve done that all your life. If I even counted the pennies I’ve lent you over the years...”

“They’d still be pennies. Now I’d be asking for more.”

One thing that still bothered both of them – in fact, it bothered all the guys – was how much easier the older of Claire’s brothers had it.

“I can’t believe he’s going straight to law school,” Al half-griped. “And a good one, too.”

“And full-time,” Larry pointed out.

“It’s what you get for paying for college,” Mike decided. “Instead of going for free.”

“Like we did? That wasn’t free.”

“We only paid for books – and a couple of fees. And lunches.”

“It’s what’s you get for having rich friends.”

“Not all of them are,” Claire insisted. “Only some.”

“It just takes one.”

“The funny thing is my brother isn’t sure he finally wants to be a lawyer. He’d rather work in business. But you know how hard finding those jobs is. So he’s going to law school partly because our father will pay for it. But also because it seems a good way to use the next three years.”

“I’d like those years,” Al wished. “At my speed, it’s gonna take me ten to finish.”

“It won’t be that long,” Spence protested.

“Maybe eight.”

“Do I hear seven?” Mike bid.

“Six!” Larry countered.

“Five!

“Guys,” Spence stopped. “You’re bargaining for his life.”

And the guys backed off.

“Do you really feel like using your brain more?” Larry later asked Al.

“Yeah,” Al admitted. “And I might – even if I were doing one of your jobs.”

“We’re using our brains,” Mike defended. “Just as we were taught.”

“But I’m studying logic and things I’ve never thought of before – or even knew about. Not at this level. Arguments, and ethics, and mediation. And I like it. And don’t get me wrong – I think it’s great that I’m earning my living, and I can never thank you guys enough. But it’s nice being challenged.”

“But you always wanted to be a lawyer,” Mike groused. “Ever since we met. And I never have.”

“Why not? The reasoning class alone could help you make sales. And being around other lawyers, you’d make new friends – with all those wealthy guys. And the training would help in negotiations with bigger companies.”

Mike looked at Larry, and Larry looked at Mike, and they both knew Al was right.

“But the thing is,” Larry persisted, “We don’t wanna.”

“Yeah,” Mike confessed. “We’re lazy. We work hard – all day long. But we don’t wanna work harder.”

“And I think we’re gonna be all right,” Larry said.

“We both do.”

“All of us.”

Al seemed to think about that. Then he simply shrugged. “Well, it’s not like it’s going away.”

“He’s right,” Spence added. “You can always change your minds.”

“Maybe we’ll think about it,” Mike allowed. “Very slowly.”

“Maybe,” Larry repeated.

“Anyway, I will,” Mike promised.

“Good,” Al told him.

And Spence repeated. “Good.”