By the time he arrived back at the hotel that evening, Nat was exhausted and laden down with six shopping bags, mostly full of presents for his wife. He took the elevator to the third floor, and as he pushed open the door to their room, he hoped to find that Su Ling had returned from visiting her great aunt. As he closed the door, he thought he heard sobbing. He stood still. The unmistakable sound was coming from the bedroom.
Nat dropped the bags on the floor, walked across the room and pushed open the bedroom door. Su Ling was curled up on the bed, like an unsprung coil, weeping. He slipped off his shoes and jacket and climbed onto the bed beside her and took her in his arms.
“What is it, little flower?” he said, caressing her gently.
She didn’t reply. Nat held her close, aware that she would tell him in her own time.
When it grew dark and the neon streetlights began to flicker on, Nat drew the curtains. He then sat beside her and took her hand.
“I will always love you,” said Su Ling, not looking directly at him.
“And I’ll always love you,” said Nat, taking her back into his arms.
“Do you remember the night of our marriage, we agreed on no secrets, so I must now tell you what I discovered this afternoon.”
Nat had never seen a face so sad. “Nothing you found out could make me love you less,” he said, trying to reassure her.
Su Ling pulled her husband toward her while lowering her head on to his chest, as if she didn’t want their eyes to meet. “I kept my appointment with my great aunt this morning,” she began. “She remembered my mother well, and explained to me why she had left the village to join her in Seoul.” As she clung on to Nat, Su Ling repeated everything Kai Pai had told her. When she had finished her story, she eased away and looked up at her husband for the first time.
“Can you still love me now you know the truth?” she asked.
“I didn’t believe it was possible to love you any more, and I can only imagine what courage it must have taken to share this news with me.” He paused. “It will only strengthen a bond that now no one will ever be able to break.”
“I don’t think it would be wise for me to go with you,” said Annie.
“But you’re my lucky mascot, and…”
“…and Dr. Redpath says it wouldn’t be wise.” Fletcher reluctantly accepted that he would have to make the journey to New York alone. Annie was in her seventh month of pregnancy, and although there had been no complications, he never argued with the doctor.
Fletcher had been delighted to be invited back for a second interview with Alexander Dupont & Bell, and wondered how many of the other candidates had been short-listed. He had a feeling Karl Abrahams knew, though the professor wasn’t sharing any confidences.
When the train pulled into Central Station, Fletcher took a taxi to 54th Street, arriving outside the vast entrance lobby twenty minutes early. He had been told that on one occasion a candidate had arrived three minutes late, so they didn’t bother to interview him.
He took the elevator to the thirty-sixth floor and was directed by the receptionist to a spacious room that was almost as smart as the senior partner’s office. Fletcher sat alone and wondered if that was a good sign, until a second candidate joined him a few minutes before nine. He smiled at Fletcher.
“Logan Fitzgerald,” he said, his hand outstretched. “I heard you address the freshman debate at Yale. Your speech on Vietnam was brilliant, although I didn’t agree with a word you said.”
“You were at Yale?”
“No, I was visiting my brother. I went to Princeton, and I guess we both know why we’re here.”
“How many others are there, do you imagine?” asked Fletcher.
“Looking at the clock, I would suggest we’re the last two. So all I can say is good luck.”
“I am sure you mean that sincerely,” said Fletcher with a grin.
The door opened and a woman who Fletcher remembered as Mr. Alexander’s secretary addressed them. “Gentlemen, if you’ll come this way,” she said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Townsend,” said Fletcher, whose father had once told him never to forget a secretary’s name—after all, they spend more time with the boss than his wife ever does. The two candidates followed her out of the room, and Fletcher wondered if Logan could possibly be as nervous as he was. On either side of the long carpeted corridor the names of the partners were lettered in gold beside each oak-paneled door they passed. William Alexander’s was the last before the conference room.
Mrs. Townsend knocked gently on the door, opened it and stood to one side as twenty-five men and three women rose from their places and began to applaud.
“Please be seated,” said Bill Alexander, once the applause had died down. “May I be the first to congratulate you both on being offered the opportunity to join Alexander Dupont and Bell, but be warned, the next time you’ll hear such approbation from your colleagues will be when you’re invited to become a partner, and that won’t be for at least seven years. During the morning you will have meetings with different members of the executive committee who between them should be able to answer any of your questions. Fletcher, you have been assigned to Matthew Cunliffe, who heads up our criminal office, while you, Logan, will report directly to Graham Simpson in mergers and acquisitions. At twelve thirty, you will both return and join the partners for lunch.”
The midday meal turned out to be a friendly affair after the grueling process of interviews; the partners stopped behaving like Mr. Hyde and reverted to being Dr. Jekyll. Roles they played every day with clients and adversaries.
“They tell me that you are both going to be top of your respective classes,” said Bill Alexander, after the main course was served—there had been no first course or drink supplied, other than bottled water. “And I can only hope so, because I haven’t yet decided which offices to assign you to.”
“And should one of us flunk?” asked Fletcher nervously.
“Then you will spend your first year in the mail room, delivering briefs to other law firms,” Mr. Alexander paused. “On foot.” No one laughed, and Fletcher couldn’t be sure if he meant it. The senior partner was about to continue when there was a knock on the door and his secretary reappeared.
“There’s a call for you on line three, Mr. Alexander.”
“I said no interruptions, Mrs. Townsend.”
“It’s an emergency, sir.”
Bill Alexander picked up the boardroom phone; the scowl on his face turned to a smile as he listened intently. “I’ll let him know,” he said and put the phone down.
“Let me be the first to congratulate you, Fletcher,” said the senior partner. Fletcher was puzzled because he knew final grades wouldn’t be published for at least another week. “You’re the proud father of a little girl. Mother and daughter are doing just fine. I knew the moment I met that girl she was just the kind of woman we appreciate at Alexander Dupont and Bell.”
24
“Lucy.”
“But what about Ruth or Martha?”
“We can give her all three names,” said Fletcher, “which will make both our mothers happy, but we’ll call her Lucy.” He smiled as he gently placed his daughter back in her crib.
“And have you thought about where we’re going to live?” asked Annie. “I don’t want Lucy brought up in New York.”
“I agree,” said Fletcher, as he tickled his daughter under the chin, “I’ve been talking to Matt Cunliffe and he told me he faced the same problem when he joined the firm.”
“So what does Matt recommend?”
“He suggested three or four small towns in New Jersey that are less than an hour away by train from Penn Station. So I thought we might drive up there next Friday and spend a long weekend seeing if there’s any particular area we like.”
“I suppose we’ll have to rent a place to begin with,” said Annie, “until we’ve saved enough to buy something of our own.”
“It seems not, because the firm would prefer us to
purchase our own property.”
“It’s all very well for the firm to prefer something, but what if we simply can’t afford it?”
“That doesn’t seem to pose a problem either,” said Fletcher, “because Alexander Dupont and Bell will cover the cost with an interest-free loan.”
“That’s very generous of them,” said Annie, “but if I know Bill Alexander, there has to be an ulterior motive.”
“There sure is,” said Fletcher. “It ties you into the firm, and Alexander Dupont and Bell are very proud of having the smallest turnover of employees of any legal practice in New York. It’s becoming obvious to me that once they’ve gone to all the trouble of selecting you and training you in their ways, they then make damn sure they don’t lose you to a rival firm.”
“Sounds to me like a shotgun marriage,” said Annie. She paused. “Have you ever mentioned your political ambitions to Mr. Alexander?”
“No, I wouldn’t have passed first base if I had, and in any case, who knows how I’ll feel in two or three years’ time?”
“I know exactly how you’ll feel,” said Annie, “in two years, ten years, twenty years. You’re happiest when you’re running for something, and I’ll never forget when Dad was reelected to the Senate, you were the only person who was more excited about the result than he was.”
“Don’t ever let Matt Cunliffe hear you say that,” said Fletcher with a smile, “because you can be sure Bill Alexander would know about it ten minutes later, and the firm is just not interested in anyone who isn’t fully committed. Remember their motto, there are twenty-five billing hours in every day.”
When Su Ling woke, she could hear Nat on the phone in the next room. She wondered who he could possibly be talking to so early in the morning. She heard the phone click, and a moment later her husband returned to the bedroom.
“I want you up and packed, little flower, because we have to be out of here in under an hour.”
“What…?”
“In under an hour.”
Su Ling jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom. “Captain Cartwright, am I allowed to know where you are taking me?” she called above the sound of running water.
“All will be revealed once we’re on the plane, Mrs. Cartwright.”
“Which direction?” she asked the moment the taps had been turned off.
“I’ll tell you when the plane has taken off, not before.”
“Are we going home?”
“No,” said Nat, without offering to elaborate.
Once she was dry, Su Ling concentrated on what to wear while Nat picked up the phone again.
“An hour doesn’t give a girl a lot of time,” said Su Ling.
“That was the idea,” said Nat, who was asking the front desk if they could order him a cab.
“Damn,” said Su Ling as she looked at all the presents. “There just isn’t going to be enough room to cram them all in.”
Nat replaced the receiver, walked over to the cupboard and produced a suitcase she’d never seen before. “Gucci?” she asked, surprised by Nat’s unusual extravagance.
“I don’t think so,” said Nat, “not for ten dollars.”
Su Ling laughed as her husband picked up the phone once more. “I need a porter and could the bill be ready by the time we come down, as we’ll be checking out.” He paused, listened, and said, “Ten minutes.”
He turned to see Su Ling buttoning up her blouse. He thought about her finally falling asleep the night before, and his decision to leave Korea as quickly as possible. Every moment spent in that city would only remind her…
At the airport Nat waited in line to collect the tickets, and thanked the woman behind the counter for dealing with his early morning request so promptly. Su Ling had gone off to order breakfast while he checked their bags in. Nat then took the escalator to the first-floor restaurant, to find his wife seated in a corner, chatting to a waitress.
“I haven’t ordered for you,” she said as Nat joined her, “because I told the waitress that after a week of marriage I wasn’t sure if you’d turn up.”
Nat looked up at the waitress. “Yes, sir?” she said.
“Two eggs, sunny side up, bacon, hash browns and black coffee.”
The waitress studied her pad. “Your wife has already ordered that for you.”
Nat turned and looked at Su Ling. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll find out once we’re at the gate, and if you go on being a nuisance, not until we land.”
“But…” she began.
“I’ll blindfold you if necessary,” said Nat as the waitress returned with a pot of steaming coffee. “Now I need to ask you some serious questions,” Nat said, and saw that Su Ling immediately tensed. He pretended not to notice. He would have to remember not to tease her too much for the next few days as she so obviously still had one thing uppermost in her mind. “I recall your telling my mother that when Japan came online with the computer revolution, the entire technological process would speed up.”
“We’re going to Japan?”
“No, we’re not,” said Nat, as his order was placed in front of him. “Now concentrate, because I may have to rely on your expertise.”
“The whole industry is on the gallop right now,” said Su Ling, “Canon, Sony, Fujitsu have already overtaken the Americans. Why? Are you thinking of looking into new IT companies? In which case, you should consider…”
“Yes and no,” said Nat as he turned his head and listened carefully to an announcement on the PA system. He checked the bill and covered it with his last few Korean notes, and then stood up.
“Going somewhere, are we, Captain Cartwright?” asked Su Ling.
“Well, I am,” said Nat, “because that was my last call, and by the way, if you have other plans, I’ve got the tickets and the travelers’ checks.”
“Then I’m stuck with you, aren’t I?” said Su Ling as she quickly drained her coffee and checked the departure board to see which gate was showing final calls. There were at least a dozen. “Honolulu?” she said as she caught up with him.
“Why would I want to take you to Honolulu?” asked Nat.
“To lie on the beach and make love all day.”
“No, we’re going somewhere where we can meet my former lovers by day, while we still make love all night.”
“Saigon?” said Su Ling, as another city flicked up on the departure board. “Are we going to visit the scene of Captain Cartwright’s past triumphs?”
“Wrong direction,” said Nat, as he continued walking toward the international departure gate. Once their passports and tickets had been checked, Nat didn’t bother to stop at duty-free, as he continued heading for the check-in desks.
“Bombay?” hazarded Su Ling as they passed gate number one.
“I don’t think there are many of my old lovers to be found in India,” Nat assured her as they passed gates two, three and four.
Su Ling continued to study the posted names as they walked toward each gate. “Singapore, Manila, Hong Kong?”
“No, no, and no,” he repeated as they passed gates eleven, twelve and thirteen.
Su Ling remained silent as they continued on—Bangkok, Zurich, Paris, London, before Nat came to a halt at gate twenty-one.
“Are you traveling to Rome and Venice with us, sir?” asked the lady behind the Pan Am desk.
“Yes,” said Nat. “The tickets are booked in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright,” he said as he turned to face his wife.
“You know something, Mr. Cartwright,” Su Ling said, “you are a very special man.”
Over the next four weekends Annie lost count of the number of potential homes the two of them viewed. A few were too large, some too small, while others were in a district they didn’t want to live in, and when they were in a neighborhood they liked, they simply couldn’t afford the asking price, even with Alexander Dupont & Bell’s assistance. Then one Sunday afternoon, they found exactly what they were looking for in Ridgewood, an
d within ten minutes of walking in the front door they had nodded to each other behind the agent’s back. Annie immediately phoned her mother. “It’s absolutely ideal,” she enthused. “It’s in a quiet neighborhood with more churches than bars, more schools than movie houses and it’s even got a river meandering right through the center of town.”
“And the price?” said Martha.
“A little more than we wanted to pay, but the realtor is expecting a call from my agent Martha Gates; if you can’t get the price down, Mom, I don’t know anyone who can.”
“Did you follow my instructions?” asked Martha.
“To the letter. I told the agent we were both schoolteachers, because you said they always hike the price for lawyers, bankers and doctors. He looked suitably disappointed.”
Fletcher and Annie spent the afternoon strolling around the town, praying that Martha could get them a sensible deal, because even the station was only a short drive from their front door.
After four long weeks finalizing the deal, Fletcher, Annie and Lucy Davenport spent their first night at their new home in Ridgewood, New Jersey on October 1, 1974. No sooner had they closed the front door than Fletcher announced, “Do you think you can leave Lucy with your mother for a couple of weeks?”
“It doesn’t worry me having her around while we’re getting the house in shape,” said Annie.
“That wasn’t what I had in mind,” said Fletcher. “I just thought it was time we had a holiday, a sort of second honeymoon.”
“But…”
“No buts…we’re going to do something you’ve always talked about—go to Scotland and trace our ancestors, the Davenports and the Gateses.”
“When were you thinking of leaving?” asked Annie,
“Our plane takes off at eleven tomorrow morning.”
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