The Golden Cup

by Belva Plain

  Freddy ignored that. “You haven’t told me about Strudel; does he get along with Hank?”

  Leah and Hennie glanced at each other. Leah spoke first.

  “I’m sorry. We hated to tell you. He caught pneumonia last year—oh, it’s more than a year, and we lost him.”

  “Didn’t you take him to a vet, for God’s sake?”

  “Oh, yes, but it wasn’t any use. I’m sorry, Freddy.”

  “Well, I want another dog, then. A dachshund just like him, brown with a black streak down the back.”

  Petulant, like a child, Hennie thought. He was so young, still so fair that his jaw looked as free of hair as a little boy’s. And after all the agony, there were no lines in his face.

  Oh, my God, my son, what’s happened to you!

  Leah, with shadowed eyes, nervously biting her lip, looked older and more troubled than he. It was going to be very hard for her, too.…

  Hennie’s heart kept fluttering: it slowed, it speeded, and frightened her. She couldn’t afford to be sick now, with so much to be done. She wondered how it was that she was able to keep the tears from falling. Why, she had sobbed so that day when the dog was killed! But then, in Freddy’s presence, she had to contain her tears. For her own sanity, she had to.

  It was strange, too, that when you were here with him, you couldn’t bear to get up and leave him, while at the same time you waited for the visiting period to be over so that you could get away.

  The hired car waited in the parking area. Leah took Hennie’s arm without speaking. Angelique was crying into a handkerchief, and Dan was silent, walking with bowed head.

  Somebody called Hennie’s name. A woman was stepping out of a limousine and coming toward her. The sky fell; it was too much, all in one day! And something tore apart in Hennie’s chest, so that at last she could sob, while Florence, sobbing, too, opened her arms.…

  She heard Florence murmur, “Hennie, Hennie, I don’t know what to say to you.”

  Don’t say anything, only let me feel the comfort of your arms.

  When minutes later, they broke apart, they simply stood there looking at each other.

  No one paid any attention, as cars and people came and went; in that place, in that time, tears were a common sight.

  Around them, though, a civilized encounter had begun to take place.

  Walter grasped Dan’s hand. Dan said, a trifle uneasily, “You remember Leah, of course?”

  And Walter replied with gallantry, “I remember a delightful little girl.”

  Then Angelique felt weak and had to sit down in the automobile. Water was brought; her little spell of faintness forced a diversion from overwhelming emotion.

  Walter cleared his throat. At once, Hennie remembered that he always did so when he was moved; she had not thought he could seem so familiar to her after all these years. He had scarcely changed, nor had Florence, in her dark red suit, soft veiled hat, and pearl choker.

  “Are you satisfied with the care? If there’s anything I can do, let me know. I have a cousin, a second cousin”—Walter corrected himself meticulously—“who’s quite a name in rehabilitation.”

  “I suppose they’re doing here whatever can be done,” Dan replied. His voice was thick. “But yes, when the time comes, I’ll ask you. He’ll need all the help he can get.”

  Walter cleared his throat again. “It’s terrible. When we heard it, we felt … a wretched thing, unspeakable.” He took his glasses off to wipe them. “Paul’s still over there, you know.”

  “I know. We—I think of him always.”

  “And he always thought of you. He used to say—” As if he were suddenly embarrassed, Walter subsided.

  “Oh,” Florence cried, “this awful, awful war! Paul writes that—but no, you’ve enough to think of without my giving you any more.” She caught Hennie’s hand. “I wish—I wish we could turn time back and start all over. And do things differently. We want to help you. Do whatever we can, only we don’t know what. You’ll come to us, will you? You and—”

  But she did not say “Dan,” so she knew. Of course. Mama would have told her in great detail.

  “I will. Leah and I will come,” Hennie replied.

  “Do you want us to go in to Freddy now?”

  “He expects you,” Dan said.

  “We’ve brought some books,” Walter announced. “We thought he might like a few novels, something light. And cookies. I don’t suppose they get much of that sort of thing here.”

  Florence touched Hennie’s cheek. “You’ll manage, you’ve always been strong. And God will help you.”

  “God,” Hennie said. “What good has He been? Where is His great compassion and love that we are taught to trust in?”

  Her voice rose, keening, as if, having forgotten for a few minutes what she was doing in this place, she had suddenly remembered. It was the reference to God that struck her with horror. The earth reeled. She was caught between Leah and Florence. And she heard Dan’s voice.

  “Hennie, don’t lose your faith. Now is when you need it.”

  Counsel from one who had never been a believer! She looked up, thinking for a moment that he might be ironic, but his eyes were filled with pity instead.

  She looked away, and steadying herself, permitted Leah to help her into the car.

  Dan tore through the streets. The odor of wet stone rose from the pavement where the street cleaners had just passed. Milk was being delivered; the horses clumped, the bottles jingled in the carriers. It was that early.

  Not long after midnight he had awakened out of fretful sleep. From where had the idea come? From a startling dream? No matter where from, it had seized him on the instant like an unmanageable force, a command. He had then lain awake waiting for dawn, had dressed and been out soon after dawn. In a frenzy, he had walked and walked, all the way downtown past houses and factories and shops, coming at last into the sober, discreet streets where money was made and lost, borrowed and lent, where money was king.

  The rush hour had barely begun, but Alfie had the habit of early rising; he would be in his office. Dan checked the scribbled address. Across the street it was, a tall building, twenty stories high. Alfie was on the ninth. The front was marble, dark gray, slick as glass, and the double doors were brass.

  He saw himself reflected in the bank’s window before crossing. I look like a madman with flying hair. Damned hair always flies. Forgot to change my shirt—cuffs are filthy. Oh, well, Alfie knows me. Likes me anyway.

  The neat matron at the reception desk, behind the rose in the bud vase, was arranging her pencils for the day. He pushed past her astonished mouth and eyebrows. In the wide front room at his wide desk Alfie sat talking to a thin young fellow: Who? Ben Marcus. Came to see Freddy at that place. Lawyer. Accountant. Business with Alfie. Dan’s memory clicked like a mechanical toy.

  Alfie stood up. Immediate worry spread over his face.

  “Dan! Has something happened?”

  The rage that had been silent since midnight broke now, fired and scattered like bullets.

  “I want the money! I want every damned cent of it!”

  “What are you talking about?” Alfie stammered. “What money?”

  “The money! All that stuff you—you sold—my stuff, those patents, stock—” Now Dan stammered too. His mind stopped clicking; it was blinded in a surge of anguish. “It’s not for me, I wouldn’t touch the dirty stuff, it’s for him. For him, don’t you understand?”

  He was made aware that he was shouting at the top of his lungs when Ben Marcus shut the door.

  “Please,” Alfie said, “sit down and calm yourself. I don’t understand. I’m ready to listen.”

  “They took his legs!” Dan cried. “They took his legs!”

  “I know,” Alfie said. He put a hot hand over Dan’s. The manicured nails lay on the grimy cuff.

  Quietly, Ben asked whether he should leave the room.

  “I’ve nothing to say that you can’t hear. I want my son to get something o
ut of the lousy war, that’s all I want. Something to compensate—” He put his head in his hands, then looked up bleakly at two pairs of pitying eyes. “Compensate. As if you could.”

  “No,” Alfie said softly.

  Suddenly Dan straightened, alert and alarmed. “You still have it? It’s not all gone? Because I said I wouldn’t take it?”

  “It’s in trust. You didn’t think I could just throw a bundle of stock into the wastebasket, did you? Yes, it’s there, considerably grown since we last talked about it.”

  “Ah, yes. So it’s a nice amount? Enough to keep him and his wife and child? The kid, Hank, with a crippled father, I worry—”

  Alfie smiled. “Enough to keep them pretty splendidly, I should say. Incidentally, the War Department has renewed the contract.” The smile twitched ever so slightly, ever so wryly.

  A thrust. I-told-you-so. Well, let him. He’s entitled to it. I must look foolish, reversing myself. Except that it’s not a reversal. Not for me. Never. For my son. He needs it, no matter where it came from.

  “How soon can I—he—have it?”

  Alfie turned to Ben. “Tomorrow? Can you go over the figures that fast?”

  Ben nodded. “Late this afternoon, as far as I’m concerned. The lawyers will probably need more time, for the trusts and—”

  “I’ll have them rush it. Ben’s taken over as my accountant,” Alfie explained, “and a damned good one too. His legal background’s a real asset. Otherwise, I’ve stayed with my old law firm.”

  He stood up. Ben stood up. So Dan had to. Dismissal. Prerogative of the busy man.

  “It really will be all straightened out by tomorrow, Alfie?”

  “Come back tomorrow afternoon, late. No, meet at the lawyers’. Around four. You may have to wait; I’ve a closing at one-thirty and could be delayed. And Dan, now that everything’s to be in Freddy’s hands, he’d better be in touch with the lawyers and with Ben here. He’ll need advice. I don’t suppose he knows the first thing about money management.”

  “He’s never had any to manage.”

  Alfie put out his hand; it shook Dan’s, pumping it.

  “Can’t tell you how delighted I am that you’ve come to your senses about this. God knows, I wish the circumstances were different, but anyway—”

  “Yes. Thanks, Alfie. And thank you, too, Mr. Marcus.”

  “Call me Ben. We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other.”

  “Ben.”

  Friendly face. Decent fellow. But canny. All these people who know about money. Keeping it safe. Making it grow. It’s what they live for. Blood in their veins.

  “Well, thanks. I’ll see you both tomorrow, then. Thanks again.”

  He felt relief, sinking in the elevator. Something positive had been accomplished, like wrapping up a package in smooth paper, firm, taut, with a tight knot.

  The air felt good out on the street. It would feel even better in the schoolyard again, with the kids screaming. Better in the lab, with the pigeons cooing, messing the windowsill. Cleaner and truer air than in this place, where money was king.

  Still, Freddy needed it.…

  Some weeks later, Alfie propped his elbows on Hennie’s kitchen table.

  “Yes, you should see him. He’s been in a frenzy ever since he came in demanding the money. Can you give me a sandwich or something? I’m starved, I haven’t been home. He made me go look at the house he wants to buy.”

  Hennie cut bread and meat and spooned a helping of apple pudding while Alfie talked on in a disjointed rush.

  “You know Emily and I would be glad to let them stay where they are in the wing with the little fellow. Lord knows, the place is big enough. The help’s there all winter, and the country air would be good for Freddy. But Dan says no, they have to be in a place of their own.”

  “Well, I think that’s so. And anyway, Alfie, they couldn’t stay at your place because it would be too much for Leah to commute every day. It’s really wonderful that her bosses have given her all this time off, but they do want her back soon, and she’ll have to go if she wants to keep the job.”

  “Not anymore she doesn’t. When your crazy husband refused to take his share, I took it in stock for him, and it’s been piling up, quadrupled in two years. Freddy’s a rich man, Hennie.”

  The words spun in the air and buzzed away with no real meaning. Hennie frowned impatiently.

  “Where is this apartment? On the ground floor without steps, I hope.”

  “Not an apartment. A house, I said. You should see it! Right off Fifth Avenue, near the museum. Right in the midst of the fanciest German Jews. Below Seventy-ninth it’s all gentile, of course.”

  The words began to take shape.

  “A whole house?” Hennie repeated. “A private house?”

  “Yes, aren’t you listening? I tell you, I’m staggered! And you know I’m one who doesn’t mind spending money. But this place! It’s fit for a king. He’s going to put in an elevator,” Alfie added.

  “How much does it cost?”

  “The house? Hold on to your hat! Twenty-five thousand!”

  “I don’t understand … this money, this stock—what’s it worth?”

  “A little over a hundred thousand dollars, and that’s only so far,” Alfie said triumphantly. Taking a bite of the sandwich, he watched Hennie’s reaction.

  Certainly she had read in the public print about the fortunes that were being garnered in the war. Certainly she knew that there must be more of them that didn’t come to public attention. Many were crooked, she knew that; but most were within the law, because, quite simply, waging war was expensive and those who could produce for it, made money. Yes, she knew all that, and still she was stunned.

  It seemed as though there must be some trick to it.

  It didn’t make sense. All his life, the man had worked in a classroom, six hours or more a day, besides the evenings marking papers at home; year after year of early mornings he’d struggled through cold and dark to get to school; with a rueful grin, he’d told of clanging radiators, the smells of wet wool and boys; and all of that had brought nothing compared with this gadget he had played with; a puzzle, a toy it had been, a game to satisfy his curiosity. Yet a shower of gold was the reward for it!

  She was dazed. “So much.”

  Alfie laughed. “Not when you think of Ford or Morgan’s bank or U.S. Steel. But it’s great, all the same. And the best part is, this outfit is going to keep right on earning when peace comes. I’ll have to have a talk with Freddy, teach him how to invest. Build the pyramid. Listen, the closing’s early next month, then I can show you the place while Dan’s at work one day. I’m to have a key so things can be delivered. He’s already been buying things right and left.”

  “What things?”

  “Furnishings. Can you believe it of Dan?”

  “He’s furnishing a house for them and not asking Leah?”

  Alfie shrugged. “He wants to do it his way. Says Leah can go to blazes if she doesn’t like it.”

  Hennie stood on the sidewalk between her mother and Alfie, staring up. The morning sun fell white upon the brick-and-limestone facade of a fine Federal house, elegant and authentic; a pair of evergreens flanked the front door under a fanlight. The brass knocker gleamed like a gold coin.

  Had Dan taken total leave of his senses?

  “Wait till you go inside,” Alfie said proudly, as if the house were his. “It’s in splendid condition. And being so near to the park and the museum, it will be nice for Freddy.”

  He opened the door. The vestibule led through a second door into a circular reception hall, paneled in pale blond wood. The floor was marble; a dark red carpet covered the curving stairway.

  Angelique took a quick breath, making quick appraisal.

  “That paneling! It’s all hand-carved!”

  “I tell you, the place is a gem,” declared Alfie. “Come on up.”

  On the second floor, at the front of the house, three tall windows faced the street.
Painters had been at work, so that two walls were already finished in a subtle green, pale and fresh as the inside of a cucumber. A grand piano shone like jet in one corner near a window.

  “A Steinway. Nothing but the best,” Alfie said. “He wants Freddy to play again.”

  The perfect instrument, the one thing Dan had coveted and would have bought for himself if he had been able to afford one!

  At the curve of the piano, in a large porcelain jar on a plinth, stood a thriving gardenia plant.

  “Left by the former owners,” Alfie said. “They left a few things when they heard about Freddy, the stair carpet and a handsome bookcase in the library. Awfully decent people. In fact, they hurried the closing out of consideration—although I’m sure it helped that Ben Marcus knows their lawyer very well and spoke to him for us. Ben’s been really helpful, came out last Sunday to take Freddy for a ride. Guess this thing needs water, I think I saw a can or something downstairs,” he recalled, and bustled away.

  Hennie touched the keyboard, sending a tinkled note into the bright air. Standing by this piano, this object of exquisite refinement, she could look down on the refined street; she watched a governess walking two little girls in English tweeds, a nursemaid veiled in navy blue pushing an English perambulator and an upholsterer carrying a Chippendale sofa into a house. An English decorum reigned. She was overcome by confusion.

  Angelique had collected herself.

  “You know, Hennie,” she said, in a low, indignant voice, “it’s you who should be living in this place instead of that girl Leah. If anyone has a right to it—all your life you’ve had nothing.”

  “Oh, Mama, I’m tired, let’s not start that again.”

  All my life I’ve been plagued by this sickly nostalgia for luxury.

  “—won’t even tell me what the trouble is between you and Dan. It’s really a shame that you won’t confide in your own mother.”

  Alfie had just come back with the watering can when the doorbell rang. “Oh, that must be the girls! I told them we’d be here.” And he bustled away again.

  “Well, anyway, we have Alfie to thank for all this,” said Angelique. “Whatever else he may do—”