Gables Court
Page 18
“You have a contract with her?” Samuel asked.
“She worked for me in Venezuela and when I traveled to Miami from my vacation home there, I brought her along. I pay her and she has a place to sleep. Tell her the law.”
Although never a beautiful woman, Mrs. Pindergast had married three times and bedded numerous lovers, her appearance less important to these men than her inherited wealth. Short necked, fat lipped, unnaturally high cheekbones, she looked, except for her black, catlike eyes focused coldly on Samuel, artificial, the product of repeated injections of bovine collagen and too much silicone inserted under stretched old skin.
“I’m sorry, Camila,” Samuel began.
“Sorry?” Mrs. Pindergast’s plucked eyebrow arched up sharply.
Samuel quickly looked back at her. “What I mean, if she wants to stay in the U.S. she has to remain your employee.”
“My maid. I know that. Now she has heard it from you.” Mrs. Pindergast turned toward Camila. “I have your plane ticket in my purse. I’ll call a taxi and it will take you straight to the airport. You’ll return home to your barrio slum.”
Shaking, Camila looked up, fear in her eyes.
“Please, no, Señora…”
“Then it’s settled. You may wait for me outside.” After Camila left, Mrs. Pindergast took out her checkbook.
“How much is your fee?”
“No charge,” Samuel answered. “The law is settled. Any immigration lawyer would have told her the same thing.”
“Are you trying to insult me, young man? Suggest that what I wanted was of no consequence? Or maybe you think I can’t afford you. Is your time that expensive?”
“No…I…”
“So, then, you’re cheap.”
He again started to protest.
“Don’t underestimate your power. Look what you have done. With a few words you convinced poor little Camila she has only one choice. That deserves a reward. Here is my address.” She gave him her monogrammed calling card. “Come see me, Sammy.”
Slim, but stiffened by haughtiness and age, she looked straight while walking out to her chauffer driven car.
“What a bitch,” Vera said, standing at Samuel’s office door. “Get paid?”
“Yes,” he answered, in no mood for a lecture.
“The hell you did. Let me have my ashtray back.”
At home a few days later, Samuel thought about his mother. When family dinners stopped and he began eating alone at a little folding table near the stove, she’d walk past the kitchen on the way to the veranda or country club, a drink in her hand. But his mother’s detachment had always been a normal part of his life. No kisses. No hugs. He’d never missed what had never been…
Until now, when looking at Mrs. Pindergast’s lavender card.
I don’t want another mother but maybe…Tenderness? Caring? Could be part of what she might feel for me.
He put on his best suit and tie.
The access road public, Samuel knew the heavyset man in the guard house couldn’t stop him from driving across the causeway connecting Palm Island to the mainland.
“Sightseeing?” the guard asked, his shirt saturated at the armpits with sweat.
“I’m visiting Mrs. Pindergast.”
“Yeah? Is she expecting you?”
“I called and she invited me over.”
“The island has surveillance cameras, public and private security. If you go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, you’ll be sorry. I hope you’re not lying to me. I’ve written down your license plate number.” He tapped his clipboard. “Don’t trespass.”
“Thank you,” Samuel said and continued on to this manmade island in Key Biscayne.
A guard at the Pindergast estate swung the gate open for him. After winding through a formal garden with fountains and exotic plants the driveway circled to the front of the main house, an ornamented, Mediterranean style palace with facades, arches, balconies, floor to ceiling windows and a massive entranceway.
“Welcome sir,” the valet said, not looking at Samuel while opening the car door. At the entrance, a very tall man in a black suit stood motionless, turned as Samuel stepped in, and walking silently ahead escorted him across the expansive marble floor. Under stone archways, they passed a banquet hall, library, and large rooms with multifaceted glass or sculptured walls. A wide staircase led upstairs. Camila dusted the balusters.
At the end of a narrow hallway, Samuel and his guide entered the kitchen where black women baked. The two continued on, through the larder, maintenance room, and stepping outside, stood on a brick pathway snaking beyond the spa and pool to a metal shed.
The man left. Samuel hesitated before walking to the shed’s door. He knocked softly.
“You may enter,” Mrs. Pindergast said.
Dim, cluttered with brooms, paint cans, and rakes, the space smelled rusty, but not unused. Wearing a silver jumpsuit, Mrs. Pindergast sat on a throne like chair.
“Thank you for being prompt. It’s unpleasant, sitting out here, waiting. You worked for Durwin, didn’t you?”
“Mr. Eldridge. Yes.”
“We all heard about him. In Miami, there are only a few social circles that matter and they intersect. How embarrassing for his family.”
“I’m sure they were just sad.”
Even in the half-light Samuel saw the luminous shine of her eyes.
“Never contradict what I say or presume you know what is socially acceptable,” she said icily. “It was a sordid affair.”
“Suicide?”
“Who cares about that? He was a homosexual. Don’t you find that disgusting? Never mind answering. Show me. This is the perfect place. On occasion, I enjoy dirt.”
His heartbeats suddenly heavy and loud, Samuel couldn’t move. He had only wanted to talk.
“Unzip me in front,” Mrs. Pindergast ordered. “Do I have to spell everything out?”
When it ended she stood and told him the rules.
“I wanted you to see the Villa so you would know who I am. In the future use the servants’ entrance. Never come here unless you have an appointment. Don’t tell anyone about us. I have powerful friends. If you are indiscrete, they will ruin your life. Next Tuesday at 2:00. Can you make it? My hairdresser is scheduled for 3.”
Before answering, Samuel made a decision. We can adopt.
“I’ll be here,” he said.
She brushed past him and closing the door left Samuel standing in the dark of the shed’s rusted walls.
He loved her for six weeks, then the guard at the palace wall turned him away. As Samuel backed his car up, the gate opened and a young blond man in a battered convertible drove toward the house.
7
Kate, Mary.
Glenda, Sandy, Jennifer, Mrs. Pindergast…Leo.
At 32, Samuel met Mr. Sullivan and moved into his office high-rise on Miami Beach. A year later and still hoping, he had agreed to call Rachel, granddaughter of Fanny, the persistent lady who swam with him at noon in the office building’s rooftop pool and never got her blue hair wet.
“Finally!” the old woman said and pinched his cheek. “You won’t be sorry! She’s a beautiful girl! You should have called her weeks ago. OK, you didn’t, nothing lost. She’s still here! Go! Get off your tukhus and pick up the phone! I know she’s at home.” Poolside, Fanny shooed him away.
Back in his office, Samuel shut the door and dialed.
“Hello,” the woman answered.
“Uh, my name is Samuel Baas and I know Fanny, she, um, asked…”
He nervously tapped his foot. As the phone slipped from his sweaty hand, he caught it by the cord.
“Samuel,” the voice distant, the handset swinging away from him. He quickly reeled it in.
“Hi!” Samuel silently cursed himself for shouting.
“How are things going?” Rachel asked.
“Fine. Great. The weather’s nice.” God! I sound so stupid! He hit his leg with a fist.
“I love it! It’s so cold in New York. I really miss Florida. Gram told me you’re from Massachusetts.”
“My parents still live there.”
“Do you go back often?”
“No, but we talk a lot on the phone.”
“You’re a lawyer, right?”
“Immigration law, some personal injury.”
“I bet you have interesting cases.”
“Most are routine.”
He didn’t want to tell her about his clients waiting for deportation back to Haiti.
“But you help people,” Rachel said.
“I try,” Samuel answered. “What are you studying?”
“I majored in art history. I hope you don’t think that’s silly.”
“Of course not. When I was in law school I went to the art museum a lot.”
“Who’s your favorite artist?”
“Rembrandt. Actually, I like all dark paintings.”
“You’re a fan of chiaroscuro. No van Gogh for you.”
“That’s right!” Samuel said with a forceful cheerfulness he immediately knew sounded wacky. He pushed ahead. “Do you have a job lined up after you graduate?”
“I’m working at a gallery in the city. The hours are good. I have time to research for my PhD thesis.”
“A doctorate, that’s great. You’re older than I thought—I mean, your grandmother said you were in college so I assumed you were an undergraduate.”
“Gram didn’t want you thinking I’m an old maid! But I guess you’re looking for young girls,” and Rachel laughed.
“No. I…I just didn’t know.” I’m loud, I’m crazy, and now she thinks I’m a pervert! I should just hang up…
I’m 32,” Rachel said. “How old are you?”
“33.”
“Perfect! Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Samuel said, still embarrassed. When Fanny first told him she had a granddaughter in college, he hadn’t been interested in meeting her. Too young. But the more Fanny talked about how smart Rachel was and how pretty, the closer he got to calling her, finally deciding the age difference between a college girl and a man with a boy inside him wasn’t that great.
But I was wrong. She’s much older. I can’t say two words to her without making a fool of myself.
“I think about age a lot,” Rachel said. “How old I’ll be when I finally get my degree, if I ever get it. Seems like I’ve been working on my PhD forever. I’m interested in the social and political impact of Perugino’s fresco, The Delivery of the Keys, how it reinforced the Popes’ spiritual and temporal authority. Oh shit! I just realized how boring that must sound to you! I’m sorry.”
She had apologized! Samuel immediately felt better.
“Actually, Rachel, I’d like to hear more about it.”
“Really? When should we meet?”
When first seeing her, Samuel thought Fanny had been wrong about her granddaughter’s looks. Short, very thin, her nose a little large, Rachel wasn’t beautiful. Then she smiled and hugged him. Again looking at her, he saw the friendly, open face of someone he could love.
They went for walks, drank beer, and danced. At the Serpentarium, Samuel scared Rachel with a snake shaped stick; she laughed when the Parrot Jungle bird on his shoulder flapped its wings in his face. She suggested visiting the art museum. He convinced her to play Goofy Golf instead.
On the way, Samuel drove quickly past the Coral Castle.
Using a banana Rachel called Fanny and thanked her for finding such a ticklish young man. Holding the phone book upside down and pretending to read it, Samuel made up ridiculously sounding names. Silly together, they had fun.
He held her hand and didn’t think about Kate.
Rachel’s family lived in a large house on Miami Beach. Slender in his dark suit, his white beard neatly trimmed, her father greeted him warmly at the door.
“Hello, Samuel. Please, come in.”
“Thank you, Dr. Suskind.”
Gray-haired and wearing a plain, long-sleeve dress, Mrs. Suskind walked up beside her much taller husband and smiled at Samuel.
“Rachel was right. You are handsome!”
“Mother!” Rachel hurried over and pulled Samuel away by the arm.
“I’m only saying what I see, dear,” Mrs. Suskind remarked.
“So you’re the one,” the small boy said, looking up from his book, his eyes magnified by large, round glasses.
“I’m going to kill you, Benjamin! God, this family is so embarrassing!”
“What’s the book?” Samuel asked him.
“The Origin of Species. Do you think the idea of transmutation is compatible with the theory of evolution?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you read Darwin.”
“No…”
“Why not?”
“Stop asking him so many questions,” Rachel scolded her brother. “He’s here for dinner, not to hear you talk.”
“He started it,” Benjamin whined, quickly reverted to his adult sounding voice. “What do you read?”
Samuel knew he couldn’t say comic books.
“Mythology,” he answered.
“Fiction,” the boy said dismissively.
“How old are you?” Samuel asked him.
“10. The same age as Tutankhamen when he became Pharaoh.”
“So that’s what you think you are now?” Rachel stood, hands on hips. “A king?”
“Fulin, third emperor of China’s Qing Dynasty was five,” and the boy smirked at her.
“You’re amazing,” Samuel told him.
“Don’t tell him that! He’s already impossible! The brat!”
“Want to play chess?” Benjamin asked Samuel.
“Sure.”
“Wait until after we eat,” Mrs. Suskind called out from the kitchen. “Dinner is almost ready.”
“It won’t take long.” Benjamin closed his book and pointed at the jade chess set on the coffee table. He was right. The game ended quickly.
“Maybe next time,” Samuel said.
“I don’t think so,” Benjamin answered.
“Thank you for letting him win,” Rachel whispered to Samuel as they walked into the dinning room.
Samuel sat between Rachel and Benjamin, the Suskinds on the other side of the table.
“I hope you like roast beef,” Mrs. Suskind said. “Pass the mashed potatoes to him, Rachel, and the green beans.”
Benjamin ate macaroni and cheese.
“I don’t want to embarrass you Samuel but there’s something I would like to say,” Dr. Suskind began. Samuel stopping cutting his meat. “That reporter was correct. Your effort on behalf of the Haitians is admirable. You take their cases and donate your time. We are very pleased you decided to have dinner with us tonight.”
Rachel squeezed Samuel’s hand.
“Thank
you sir, but I’m no one special.”
“Why do you say that?”
He decided to let Rachel know.
“All my Haitian clients are deported.”
“I see. You feel you aren’t helping them.”
“Yes sir, that’s right.”
“I’m an oncologist. Since Nixon signed the National Cancer Act in 1971 cancer death rates haven’t gone down. Should I stop treating my patients? Of course not. Have you heard of August Landmesser?”
“No sir.”
“Hitler was at a shipyard in Hamburg. All the workers but one gave him the Nazi salute. That person was Landmesser. He stood, arms crossed. In love with a Jewish woman he couldn’t marry her because of the Nuremberg Laws. The couple didn’t survive the war but they had two children who did. There is always hope. You, Rachel, and Benjamin are the future.” He smiled at his daughter. “I want to help you, Samuel. Let me know what I can do.”
“Thank you, Dr. Suskind.” Samuel knew the answer. Nothing. His head hurt.
“More roast beef?” Mrs. Suskind asked him.
“Emperor Charlemagne founded Hamburg by building a castle there. He was young too.” Benjamin used a finger to push mac and cheese onto his spoon.
After dinner, Samuel followed Rachel into the finished basement, a pool table in the middle of the floor, a console TV facing the leather couch.
“Are we going to watch television?” he asked her.
Rachel turned the set on, but kept the volume low. They sat on the couch, Rachel moving close to him.
“I haven’t dated anyone in awhile,” she said. “I’m a little nervous. Do you date a lot?”
“Not really. I’ve gone out a few times, but nothing came of it.”
“Their loss.” She looked into his eyes. “I really like you.”
“I like you too.” Samuel knew Rachel wanted him to kiss her. When he did, she shot her tongue deep into his mouth while straddling a leg over his lap.