The Proud Shall Stumble

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Oh, yes. No problem whatsoever. I’ll see to it as soon as Mrs. Anderson has the amount.”

  Ten minutes later as Frank walked across the street to where his car was parked, he was strongly tempted to turn around and look up at the top floor windows to see if Reginald was watching him, but he resisted. As he had left the bank with the bank draft in his briefcase, he had seen Mr. Fuller make a beeline for the elevator. He was pretty sure he knew where he was going. Hopefully, Fuller would tell Reginald that it was nothing that would concern him. So he resisted the urge to look up.

  As he started the car and pulled out into traffic, however, Frank did glance up briefly. “You shouldn’t have written up those divorce papers, Reggie my boy,” he muttered. “Not without asking Celeste first.”

  August 19, 1929, 2:10 p.m.—Dickerson Residence, Boston

  Frank rapped the door knocker three times and then did it again. Almost immediately he heard the click of footsteps on marble. Holmes. He was sure of it.

  A moment later Holmes opened the door, squinting a little into the bright sunlight. His eyes widened a little. “Oh! Master Frank. Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Holmes.” Frank made no attempt to move inside. “I know that Mrs. Westland has probably left word that she doesn’t want to see me.”

  Though Holmes said nothing, a flicker of his eyelids told Frank that he had guessed correctly.

  “I respect her wishes, but there is a rather urgent matter that I need to discuss with her. Tell her that this has nothing to do with our current situation, but it is something that involves her and is a matter of some urgency. Also tell her that if she prefers, we can meet somewhere other than here.” He looked Holmes squarely in the eye. “But also tell her that I waited until I saw Mr. and Mrs. Dickerson leave together, so I know they are not here.”

  Holmes nodded gravely. “I shall convey that to m’lady. Would you like to step inside the vestibule?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll wait here on the porch.”

  It took a full five minutes before the door opened. To Frank’s surprise, it was Celeste. She opened the door only halfway. “What is it, Frank? I thought we agreed that we needed some time.”

  “I apologize, Celeste, but there are two things of some importance that we need to discuss. One of them is Reginald Jr.”

  That didn’t seem to surprise her. “If you’re wondering about getting him back here, Leonard will be taking a flight to Salt Lake City on Wednesday, September fourth. I called your parents, and they will bring Reginald up to Salt Lake to meet the plane. Leonard will have Reginald back here by that Friday or Saturday, depending on the flights.” Celeste stepped back and started to shut the door. “Thank you for remembering that we have a son out there, but it is taken care of.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Frank said. “I’m leaving for Utah by train tomorrow morning.”

  That stopped Celeste short and the door opened again, this time fully.

  “I plan to spend a week to ten days with my family, and then I’ll bring Reginald back with me.”

  Celeste was staring at him. “But last spring you said that you had too many things to do to go out west. We both did.”

  “I talked to the dean of my college and explained that our six-year-old son is out in Utah and that there’s no one else in the family who can go out and get him. He wasn’t happy, but he gave me permission to leave as long as I am back in time for my first classes.”

  “But that’s not true,” Celeste countered. “We do have someone else to get him.”

  “As good as Leonard is, he is not family, Celeste.”

  “I see,” she said. Her lips had pressed into a hard line. “Go out and make sure our little boy thinks that his father is the most wonderful person in the world.”

  Frank looked away. “Never mind the second thing. Good-bye, Celeste. I’ll stop by the garage and let Leonard know that our plans have changed.”

  He got to the third step before she cried out. “Frank!” When he didn’t turn, she added, “That was a cruel thing to say. I’m sorry.”

  “I understand.” Frank half turned back to look at her. “No apology necessary.”

  Celeste glanced over her shoulder, looking back inside the house. “Go around to the garden. I’ll meet you by the trellis. We can have some privacy there.”

  2:23 p.m.—Dickerson Family Gardens, Boston

  When Celeste came outside, she was not surprised to see that Frank wasn’t sitting on the bench near the trellis and arbor. There was only one bench, and it only accommodated two people. She moved to it and sat down. Frank stayed back several feet. She glanced at him but then looked away. “Why did you change your mind and decide to go?” she finally asked.

  “Four reasons, really. First, I agree that you and I need some time away from each other. We need to let things settle before you make your decision about a divorce.”

  “And what if my feelings don’t change?”

  Frank grunted in disgust. “Your daddy already has the divorce papers drawn up. It shouldn’t be too hard to have one of his attorneys serve them to me.” Then he shrugged. “I don’t know what else to say, Celeste. This is your decision. You know what I want to do.”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice cold. “It is my decision. Thank you for recognizing that.”

  Frank went on. “Second reason: do you remember Dad’s reaction last spring when we called them, when we told him that we were going to send one of the servants out to get Reggie?”

  “I do,” Celeste whispered. “He said that it needed to be one of us or one of them, and that they couldn’t do it because of fall roundup. But he finally agreed to Leonard coming because we told him how much Reginald loves Leonard.”

  “Well, don’t you think that under the current circumstances, sending the chauffeur is hardly what Reggie needs? What will you have Leonard do? When our son runs up to him, Leonard will shake his hand and then say, ‘Oh, Reggie, by the way, I have some bad news for you. Your parents are separated and are considering a divorce.’ Or, if you prefer, Leonard can pretend that everything is all right, and when our son returns to Boston and finds you in the mansion and me in our house, you can say, ‘Oh, darling, by the way, I have some bad news for you. Your—’”

  “I get it,” Celeste blurted. “All right. I agree. I wish I could go, but I can’t. So it’s better that you do. But Frank, when you get him, you have got to stop calling him Reggie.”

  He stared at her for a long moment and then exploded. “Hells bells, woman! Here we are talking about the single most important decision you and I might ever make, and you’re worrying about his nickname?”

  Celeste fell back a bit, stunned by his anger. “I. . . .” She bit her lip and then grudgingly said, “You’re right. It’s better that you go. We can discuss the name later. But. . . .”

  “But what?” Frank asked, his burst of temper gone as quickly as it had come.

  “Are you going to tell him about us before you bring him home?”

  “I don’t know. In some ways I think it’s best to wait until we get back and then talk to him together, but—” His expression was forlorn.

  “But if he comes home thinking everything is fine between us and then we spring it on him, that’s going to be terrible for him too.”

  “Precisely. So think about it. I won’t do anything that we don’t agree on.”

  “I appreciate that,” Celeste said.

  “The third reason I’m going is that I need to spend some time with my family. The dean kind of used my request as leverage to get me to agree to take a full class load for summer term next year. And I’m pretty sure we won’t be going out for Christmas, so I don’t know when I’ll see them again.”

  “Did you know that Tina is expecting?”

  Frank reared back in surprise as his face lit up. “No! Really? That’s wonderful.
She’s been so worried that she’d be like Mom and Grandma Westland when it came to having babies.”

  “She called three days ago, right after I got home. She’s due in March. We had a wonderful talk. She’s a wonderful woman. I consider her to be a dear friend as well as my sister-in-law.”

  “I know,” Frank said. “And now that Monte has been accepted at the University of Utah medical school, I’ll get a chance to see them, too.”

  “And your fourth reason?”

  A shadow crossed Frank’s face as his eyes met Celeste’s. “I need to tell my parents what is going on between us. And why. What I did in Berlin. I want them to hear that from me.” He gave her a thin, mirthless smile. “I need to take my licks. They’re not going to be proud of me. As if they are now.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Celeste chided. “They are proud of you, Frank. You have your doctorate degree. You have studied with Albert Einstein. Now you’re a professor at one of America’s most prestigious universities.”

  “And I have lost my faith in God. And I never go to church. And I drink coffee and beer and wine. And I am on the verge of getting a divorce because of my own colossal stupidity.”

  To Frank’s surprise, that brought another smile. “Colossal stupidity? I think I could agree with that.”

  He ignored her. “Oh, make no mistake about it. They’re both going to take me to the woodshed, because they love you, Celeste. They’re not going to take my side in this.”

  Celeste said nothing, but she knew he was right. They were silent for a time, and then she looked up at Frank. “What else? You said you had two things you wanted to talk to me about.”

  His face fell. “Oh, yeah.” He reached in his back pocket and took out a folded sheet of paper from a notepad. He studied it for a moment and then looked up. “There’s something I need to tell you before I go.”

  Celeste’s face had suddenly turned into flint. “Oh? And would that be the fact that you went to the bank this morning and emptied out our bank account?”

  For one second Frank was stunned, but then he laughed right out loud. “That’s what he told you?” he cried incredulously. “Your father is a liar!”

  Celeste shot to her feet, tossing her head angrily. “Good-bye, Frank. Have a nice trip.” She whirled and stomped away.

  He was to her in three steps and grabbed her by the elbow. She yanked free and swung at him. “Don’t you touch me!” She lowered her shoulder to knock him out of the way and then broke into a very fast walk.

  For a moment he stood there, too shocked to react, but then he raced forward and planted himself in front of her. There were hedges on both sides of the walk now. Celeste tried to go around him, but he moved back and forth blocking her way until she finally stopped. “Get out of my way,” she hissed.

  “Not until you look at this.” Frank whipped out his wallet and withdrew the bank draft Fuller had given him that morning. “This is what I withdrew from our account.” He thrust it in front of her nose. “$7,852.27, exactly the amount of the paychecks M.I.T. has deposited to our savings account that I earned. I didn’t touch a dime of your money.”

  Celeste took the bank note and examined it carefully.

  “When I left the bank this morning, the balance in our account was almost $112,000. That’s your money, and if it’s gone, then not only is your father a liar, he’s a thief as well.”

  Celeste’s hand shot out so fast that Frank didn’t see it coming. The slap rocked his head back and lights flashed behind his eyes. “Stop it!” she shouted. “I won’t stand here and have you insult my father. I know you hate him for discovering your little secret, but if you call him one more name, say one more bad thing about him, I am gone, Frank. Gone! And I’ll have those divorce papers filed before you leave.”

  “All right, then,” Frank said, backing away a step. “You work it out. If he told you that I emptied our account, and all I actually did was take out my own money, then what word would you use to describe him?” Then he snorted in disgust. “Never mind. Hereafter I will refer to him only as your father. But there is something else.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for anything else,” Celeste said.

  Frank whirled and started away. “Fine. But sometime in the next little while you may want to ask your father why he sold all of your mother’s stocks in DR&A Land and Title Company.”

  That hit Celeste like a stone between the eyes. “Now it’s you who is lying. I saw the certificates in the safety deposit box this afternoon.”

  “And did you look at them closely? Last December, you told me that your father counseled you to buy stock in the new company, but he told you not to buy them on margin like everyone else was doing. Am I right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Well, that’s the stock that your father sold. The stock certificates you saw this morning were purchased by him for you and your mother, but all of them were bought on a twenty percent margin. You do understand what a stock margin is, right?”

  Celeste gave him a withering look. “I grew up in a banking family, Frank. Yes, I do know what a stock margin is. But if he bought the same number of shares for each of us, what difference does it make?”

  “None, if the stock rises to the point where you can pay off the remaining eighty percent with the profit you make. So where did the other eighty percent of the cost of each share come from? It was borrowed from your father’s bank.”

  “So? It’s still there. He didn’t take eighty percent of my money.”

  Frank came back to her, very earnest now. “Do you know what a margin call is, or what they mean by a ‘maintenance margin’?”

  After a long silence, Celeste finally shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

  “Then let me explain. When you buy a stock on margin, you only put a percentage down, and the brokerage or a bank lends you the rest of the cost of the share so the company selling the stock gets the full price. If the price of the stock goes up, then you pay off the loan with the money until you own the stock free and clear. But whoever lends you the money has to protect themselves, so they establish what they call a maintenance margin. That simply means that you have to maintain a minimum amount of the total cost as equity to the loaning institution. So, let’s say the stock drops in price until it falls below the twenty percent margin that you invested. That hits the maintenance margin, so the brokerage firm, or, in your case, the bank, issues you a margin call. This means that you either put in enough cash to bring the equity in your stock back up to the maintenance margin again, or the bank has the right to sell off some of your stock and use that money to meet the maintenance margin.”

  “I can understand that. So what does this have to do with my father?”

  “I don’t know, Celeste. But what I do know is that he sold all of that stock you and your mother bought with no margin and bought the same amount of shares with that money. But this time your stock was bought with only a twenty percent margin.”

  “And when he sold that stock of ours, Mother and I got triple what we paid for it. So how is it that you think my father is somehow cheating us?”

  “I never said that he’s cheating you. But I think he’s playing with your money, Celeste. And with your mother’s. And I think you need to ask him just exactly what he is doing.”

  “I will,” Celeste said coldly. “I will find out, Frank. But you and I are done here. Good-bye. Thank you for going out to get Reginald. It is the right thing to do, and I appreciate you doing it.”

  “Not yet, Celeste,” Frank said. “There’s one more thing that you need to hear. Then I promise you that I’ll leave. If you do decide to file for divorce, when the papers come I will sign them. But know this”—and his voice went as cold as hers—“if you think I’m going to let you take Reggie without contesting it then you are—” He caught himself and stepped back. “Never mind.”

  Celeste was stari
ng at him, eyes wide with shock. Evidently she had not yet given thought to what a divorce would mean for their son’s custody. “You wouldn’t!” she gasped.

  “I love that boy every bit as much as you do, Celeste. So yes, I would.” And not waiting for her reaction, Frank folded the notepaper, put it in his pocket, and walked away. He went about thirty feet and then stopped. He spoke without turning around. “I leave for the train station at seven tomorrow morning. If you have any questions, I’ll be at home tonight.”

  8:58 p.m.

  “Hello?” Frank guessed that it might be Celeste, and he was right. And he felt a little thrill of hope. Had she and Babette done some investigation? Had they confronted Reginald?

  “Frank?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just so you know, Mama and I went to the bank today and had a long talk with Daddy.”

  “And?”

  “Contrary to your misguided accusations, my father answered all of your questions to our complete satisfaction.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  “Mother knew about this; she just forgot to tell me. This was done while I was in France. The stock value was rising so fast that my father sold it off, then bought the same amount of stock again but on margin. He used the extra money to buy us additional stock.”

  “I see.”

  “Our stock has doubled again since early July. Our shares are now worth over eight hundred thousand dollars, Frank. That’s what my daddy was doing in this ‘nefarious scheme’ of his, as you call it. He was making Mama and me independently wealthy.”

  “They’re calling you ‘margin millionaires,’” Frank said. “Did you know that?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

  “It’s a paper fortune, Celeste. That eight hundred thousand is not cash in the bank. It’s stock certificates whose price can change every day. Up or down.”