The Golden Cup

by Belva Plain

  Alfie cried out in alarm. “Nothing of the sort, Dan. How can you think I would do that?”

  “You mentioned him just now.”

  “No project of Walter’s. Only some people I happened to hear about, quite casually, through him. Quite casually, I assure you. A chance remark. And it started me thinking. You know how I like to make connections. And I hope you know I wouldn’t put you in an awkward position, Dan.” Alfie was reproachful.

  “I know you mean well, Alfie. I know that.”

  Alfie returned to the subject. “Well, as I said, this is a group with some money and a lot of vision. We’re well into the electrical age, all sorts of possibilities are opening up and they want to get in early, get in touch with idea men like you, buy up patents and hold them, waiting for developments. That sort of thing.”

  Dan said quietly, “I’m a loner, Alfie. Not that I don’t appreciate your good intentions, but I don’t work well with other people. I just don’t.”

  “But you wouldn’t have to work with anybody! You can stay right where you are, doing what you’re doing. Just patent your inventions, your tube, for instance, turn it over to these people—with every legal safeguard, naturally. If something comes of it, if they can develop a use for anything of yours or they sell it, you’ll get your share. If nothing comes of it, you’d be none the worse off.”

  Alfie wanted to see everyone “set,” as he called it. As a result of his generosity, Angelique, since her widowhood, had been occupying a small, sunny apartment uptown near Central Park West. He had hired a maid for her, a motherly Polish girl, who took care of her as though she were helpless, baking hot breads for her breakfast, and ministering to her headaches. Alfie was a dispenser of good things.

  “And certainly I could get you a goodwill payment at the start. I would insist on that. Five or six thousand, I’m sure.”

  “I shouldn’t think it would be worth that much,” Dan said.

  “You never know. I’ll bet I could get you the five thousand, enough to buy a nice house.”

  “I don’t want a house. We’re comfortable where we are.”

  Still, Alfie persisted. “Well, you needn’t buy a house. Just take the five thousand. It’s not to be sneezed at, is it?”

  For a moment, Dan made no reply. He examined the backs of his hands, turned them over and smoothed the palms. Then he looked up.

  “Alfie, some things are hard to explain. You remember your Uncle David? I don’t know whether you know, but long before he began to go downhill, long before he went to the home, he told me a lot of things about himself. Did you know he once perfected a bandage and a wound disinfectant? He never made a cent out of either one. He didn’t want to. He gave them away. Some people would say he was a fool, but he didn’t think he was, and I don’t either. What I’m trying to say is, if anything good results from my fooling around in that lab of mine, if it’s something that will make living easier or cleaner and safer, why, I’ll give it away. I have enough. I have everything I need.”

  There was a silence. No one looked at anyone else. Then Alfie stood up.

  “All right, Dan. No harm done. I just thought I’d mention it. If you ever change your mind, let me know.”

  He doesn’t understand, none of them does, Hennie thought. Dan might as well have been speaking in Turkish or Chinese.

  Dan had not been enthusiastic about this weekend; he hated being drawn away from his projects in the only really free days he had. But Hennie was glad to have come. Reared in the city, she often felt drawn toward country things: the faint green light of reviving leafage and the barely audible buzz of a single bee, awakened by the unexpected warmth of this mid-April. On the other side of the dirt road, at the far end of a chocolate-colored field, a man and a horse could be seen moving slowly and steadily, plowing back and forth in a drowsy rhythm.

  She settled back, leaning on a rock ledge, to watch in the other direction. The ball made its low arc across the net; ping and thwack went the long volleys, as regular as a metronome. They played well. The girls ran gracefully, holding their skirts above their shoe tips with the left hand.

  It was remarkable how quickly Leah had learned. She learned everything quickly. At fifteen, she was as tall as Hennie. She was lively and, Hennie often told her, curious as a monkey. There was even something monkeylike in her snub-nosed face with its round, busy eyes; yet it had a joyousness that made people look again and brought involuntary smiles to their own faces.

  “Good shot, Leah!” called Mimi.

  Hennie turned toward the clear voice on the other side of the net. A pleasant girl, Mimi, in a quiet way. Everything about her was quiet and of the best, from the crisp cut of her snow-white tennis dress to her spoken French and her manners. She was without hauteur, which was more than could be said of many young women brought up as she had been. Yes, a pleasant young woman. Yet Hennie could not seem to get near to her. Perhaps when Paul and she were married it would be different.

  It was plain to see that they would be married. It was a natural evolution; one had long seen it approaching. Mimi was, by now, almost a member of the Werner family.

  Now they were crossing the court to change sides, Freddy and Leah against Mimi and Paul. You saw a resemblance and a unity in Mimi and Paul; erect and purposeful, they displayed what an older generation, what snobs, called “breeding.” What was it? One wasn’t speaking of cattle, after all! And yet there was something. It was as if they knew they would be winners, and not just in tennis. Wistfully, she thought of Florence, who had been born a winner. So long since she had seen Florence …

  People like Leah and Freddy had to make an effort. Leah knew that already and did, but very likely Freddy wasn’t even aware of it.

  Freddy, the innocent. He walked a few steps behind Leah, who was eager; Freddy was already tired of the game, Hennie saw, not physically tired so much as wanting to do something else, to read or play the piano or perhaps do nothing. But he would be forced to continue because of the others; in that way they were good for him; Paul was and always had been; now Leah was too.

  “Hennie! You look half asleep!” Angelique’s voice rang behind her. “I’ve been taking a walk with Emily and Margaretta, such a darling child, but far too shy. I wonder they don’t see it. You ought to have been with us, getting some exercise. Why else come to the country?” Angelique’s tone managed to command and criticize at the same time.

  “This is the way I like to feel the spring,” Hennie replied patiently. “One gets so little of it in New York.”

  “If you lived near the park, you’d get all you want. I walk there every day. Florence and I often meet at the Sheep Meadow or the lake. But, of course, you can’t, in your part of the city.”

  If your husband could provide better, you could.

  To that, Hennie made no reply. So many of their conversations were like this, a kind of fencing, dodging, and thrusting without ever making a connection. It had been a good thing when Angelique moved uptown.

  Hennie’s thoughts ran: I know you look down on my husband because he isn’t what you call successful, but Papa wasn’t exactly successful either.

  To this her mother would surely reply: That’s an absurd comparison. Your father gave four years of his youth to a war that we lost. He was thirty years old when he came home to the ruin that was left, and then had to go up North to start all over. A cruel discouragement.

  But Hennie was beyond anger. This talk of money was contemptible, not to be heeded. Strange that it never bothered her to hear it from Alfie. Still, Alfie never made oblique references to Dan. Alfie’s need for acquisition was simply like a child’s in a toy shop. He made no excuses, and while you did not approve, you did not resent him either. He was so affable, with his explosive sputtering laugh, so pleased with his comforts, his gifts and hospitality, that you could almost share his pleasure with him.

  Hennie moved over. “Sit down, Mama, the rock’s quite comfortable.”

  “No. I’ll soil my dress.”


  Angelique stood erect, shielding her eyes from the quivering light. She looks patrician, Hennie thought, glancing up; her mother’s chin line, still firm, made a sharp angle; she held her head high, almost in disdain, Hennie thought, and giggled.

  Angelique asked suspiciously, “What are you laughing about?”

  “Nothing. I’m only enjoying their game.”

  Angelique looked back at the court.

  “They do go well together,” she said.

  Hennie almost asked who. It would have been a stupid question.

  “Yes, they do.”

  Angelique smiled slightly. And Hennie, having so often beheld that faraway smile, wondered whether her mother was really seeing the young people on the tennis court below, or seeing Beau Jardin, with the Mississippi curving, in place of the lane to Alfie’s new barn. A foolish woman, Dan says of her, who has lived past her time. She means no harm. It is only that her world has died and she has lived on.

  Angelique said abruptly, “Marian’s parents want her to wait until she’s of age, I think. Nothing’s actually been promised on either side, but if you ask me, it’s been a foregone conclusion ever since Paul finished graduate school. An excellent match for both of them too.”

  There came another cry from the court, this time from Paul. “Beautiful shot!” He waved his racket in salute. “Beautiful, Leah!”

  Hennie glanced at her mother, saying silently, “Do you see?” And was annoyed with herself for always seeming to plead for Leah.

  “You spoil that girl,” Angelique said.

  “Perhaps I do.”

  What if I do? I do for her what was not done for me. I want her to feel she is wonderful.

  “As a matter of fact,” Hennie said then, “I don’t spoil her. She’s very grateful, she takes nothing for granted, believe me. She knows what she has and she loves us.”

  “She ought to, after what you’ve done for her.”

  “You really should approve of her, Mama. She fits your standards far better than I do or ever could. She has beautiful tea party manners. You should see! The neighbor next door has been teaching her.”

  “What neighbor?”

  “The one who’s crippled with rheumatism. Leah goes in to help her, dresses her when she needs it, and fixes a little supper sometimes. The woman wants to pay her, but Leah won’t hear of it. So the woman gives it to me, to put in the bank for her. She has almost two hundred dollars.”

  “Well, that’s very nice, yes, it is,” Angelique conceded. “I can see that she has raised herself out of the ghetto to learn proper ways. Yes, it’s very nice. And I must say her speech is excellent.”

  “Leah’s bright. She loves life.”

  “What is she going to do after high school?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Funny, Hennie reflected, there was never any question that my sister or I would “do” anything.

  “Freddy is particularly nice to her, I notice,” Angelique remarked.

  “Why shouldn’t he be? Anyway, it’s been good for him to have another young person in the house. And she admires him so. She likes his little elegancies. It’s fine for his ego, even though he pretends to be amused by it.”

  “Let us hope it goes no farther than admiration and amusement.”

  “Mama! I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.” Hennie got up, frowning. “Why do you, anyway?”

  “Do you think I do it to be nasty? No, but a terrible mistake is being made, Hennie, and that’s why I have to speak my mind.”

  “What mistake? Why? Are we the first people to have adopted a child?”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about now. What’s done is done and can’t be undone. You know what I’m thinking—that you should let Paul pay for Yale and get Freddy out of the house. Obviously, you can’t send Leah away at this point.”

  “Why on earth would we send her away?”

  “You know she has a crush on Freddy, don’t you? And that she may turn his head?” Angelique’s mouth tightened.

  “The girl is fifteen years old.”

  “Fifteen. Quite so. I wasn’t much more than that when I was married. And she’s precocious. She knows a lot more than I did when I was her age or than you did, I assure you. Why, look at her! Look at her walk, her figure.”

  Her breasts, Mama meant. Those full, swelling breasts, not possible to hide even under a loose shirtwaist and a plentifully ruffled camisole, were a bold affront to Angelique, while Hennie was moved to pity by their promise of womanhood, with all of womanhood’s capacity for joy and susceptibility to pain. She saw in Leah’s body an appeal.

  “Hennie, you never see anything.” Agitated, Angelique twisted her rings, the round old-fashioned diamonds that had belonged to her own mother and that never left her fingers. “Your eyes are on the stars, or on world peace or woman suffrage or God knows what. You don’t see what is happening in your own house. Neither does Dan, not that I’d expect him to.”

  “They’re like brother and sister. It’s nasty of you even to have such thoughts, Mama.”

  “Watch how she looks at him.”

  “She admires him! It’s childish hero worship. And as for that—I can remember how ‘sweet’ you used to say it was when Mimi and Paul were younger than Freddy is now. They looked so sweet together, you used to say.”

  “Yes, they did. That was quite different. You can see what’s come of it, or very likely will, I hope.”

  “Oh, it will come if you and Florence have any way to influence it. Men and women—boys and girls—should be able to have friendships without being forced into something else. What you all did with Paul was degrading, shoving them together—”

  “Degrading? You’re talking of a perfect match. Two fine young people, so suited to each other, two fine families—”

  The dialogue had veered from Freddy and Leah to Mimi and Paul, now it veered back.

  “But there are other reasons, if not for that one. The education, the social experience he doesn’t get at home. Yale, after all, compared with City College. How can you deny it to him?”

  “Dan won’t hear of it. It’s against his principles and I happen to agree with him.”

  Besides, I don’t want Freddy to leave home.

  “Principles! Ah, yes, Dan’s principles. We know all about those, don’t we?”

  For a moment, Angelique stood regarding her daughter. A shadow of resignation, surprisingly tender and rather sad, passed unexpectedly across her face.

  “Well, I’ll say no more. I think I’ll go in for a little rest before I dress for dinner.”

  Hennie followed her mother’s straight back across the lawn. The frustrations of family life! People thought they could say anything to you under the guise of love. And you couldn’t deny it was love. The righteous, well-meaning fist inside the velvet glove.

  * * *

  “This is a farm,” Alfie liked to say. “We live simply here.”

  An Oriental rug, color of cream, color of faded roses—a Kirmanshaw, Paul guessed—made a spacious island on the dining room’s polished floor. Two lamps of Tiffany glass on the heavy sideboard contributed, with candles and the westering sun, to throwing a gilded light over the embroidered cloth and the Cornish hens on the flowered china plates.

  Emily saw Paul looking at the lamps. “Art Nouveau. Do you like them?”

  “They’re very fine.”

  “I don’t like them much,” Alfie said, with good nature. “But Emily loves anything that’s an animal or bird or plant.”

  “You’d love Antonio Gaudí’s work, Aunt Emily. Whole buildings, the unfinished cathedral in Barcelona, covered with shells, birds, trees, and animals all carved in stone. You should see them.”

  “They tell me you’ll be going back to Europe soon,” Emily said.

  “Yes, I expect to have a busy summer.” Paul hesitated and then, risking Dan and Hennie’s denial for one more time, said to the table at large, “I’ve been hoping Freddy might come with me. It would be a great experi
ence before he starts at City College.”

  Dan said, although Paul had not looked toward him, “Hennie and I have already said no, Paul, although we certainly thank you. It’s a generous offer.”

  “A very generous offer,” Angelique repeated with a cold glance at Dan. “A rare offer.”

  “Freddy is my brother,” Paul said quietly.

  Stupid pride of Dan’s! A question of principle, too much luxury, traveling first class on the Lusitania. Irrelevant “principles,” as if asceticism were a virtue in itself! It was the one side of Dan’s character—and Hennie’s—that made no sense to Paul. When the world was so replete with beauty! Indeed, it would be wonderful if everyone could have a share; indeed, it would be the Kingdom of God on earth. But until that came, why not enjoy however much of all that beauty fell to one’s lot?

  “Going over on business?” asked Alfie, taking a second helping of mashed potatoes.

  He had better watch his weight, Paul thought, conscious of his own flat stomach. He laid his fork down on the plate, only partly empty.

  “Yes, Father’s given me quite a few commissions to carry out. He’s growing tired of doing business abroad and he wants to break me in. I hope his confidence will be justified.”

  Alfie was interested. “Where will you be going this time?”

  “London first, a short stay in Paris, and then Germany. I’m eager to go.” The eagerness welled up in him, a mingling of excitement and apprehension. “I have such a dread feeling that everything’s about to explode. This may be my last, or anybody’s, last trip to Europe for years.”

  “What makes you say that?” asked Alfie.

  “Well, look what’s been happening! The crisis in Morocco last summer …”

  Alfie apologized. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about those things. By the time I get through the financial section, with a few minutes for baseball and maybe”—enjoying the joke on himself—“a quick look at the comics, that’s about it! So tell me, what are you expecting?”