by Don Reid
“Harlan, can you hear me?”
“I can hear you.”
“Will you come in here?”
“What do you want?”
“I just want to ask you something.”
“Go ahead. I can hear you.”
“Harlan, are you happy?”
“I’m happy.”
“I mean really happy. Are you glad we got married?”
“I’m glad.”
“Really? Do you think you’ll get bored with me?”
“No.”
“Do you think I’m as pretty as I was when we first met?”
“Prettier.”
“Harlan Stone, will you come in here where I can talk to you?”
He stepped inside and closed the sliding door behind him, shutting out all the outside sound. He walked to the bed, leaned over her, and kissed her.
“Is that all you’ve got to say?” she asked in her most sensual voice.
The days in New York City were just as much fun, if not more, for them both. They walked the streets, shopped, saw the sights, and even got in one full day of the World’s Fair. They ate at Sardi’s in the theater district and then farther uptown at the glamorous Stork Club. Harlan was able to get tickets to two of the year’s biggest Broadway shows. They saw Katharine Hepburn, Joseph Cotton, and Van Heflin in The Philadelphia Story. The next night they caught Ethel Merman and Betty Grable in Cole Porter’s DuBarry Was a Lady.
They were standing atop the Empire State Building at Fifth Avenue and West 34th Street, holding hands and marveling at the view.
“How long has this been here?” Darcy asked.
“This view or this building?”
“This building, silly.”
“Not long. I think about eight years. It only took them a little over a year to build it.”
“It sure is beautiful. You think when our marriage is a year old, you’ll think I’m still beautiful?”
“I’m sure I will. Unless you just let yourself go and get to looking like an old washerwoman hag or something.”
“It will never happen, Mr. Stone. I’ll always keep myself beautiful for you and you alone.”
They kissed, and she looked into his eyes, unaware or uncaring of the crowd around them. They were all strangers, and she’d never see them again in her life. She kissed him again and held him close to her as she did.
“You know what I wish?” she whispered in his ear.
“What’s that?”
“That we were already on our way back to the hotel.”
“Me, too.”
“I mean it’s a nice view and all. Don’t get me wrong. But I’d rather look at you than all New York has to offer.”
They were happy and in love, and the world was right with their hearts—their personal world, anyway. The real world around them was coming apart, and little did they know how that would soon affect their lives. But even more imminent was the crumbling that only the ring of a telephone can bring to a glorious happy occasion. They were in their room at the Park Tower Hotel on Central Park South when the call came.
“Hello.”
“Harlan? This is Cal.”
“Hey, pal. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to bother a man on his honeymoon?”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news. It’s your dad.”
“What’s wrong?”
“He passed away at three thirty this afternoon.”
There was a pause long enough for Darcy to realize what was happening. She didn’t have to ask. She just went to her husband and put her arm around him while he continued to hold the phone.
“Are you still there?” Cal asked.
“I’m still here. Was he by himself?”
“Your mother and I were with him. She was there and called me. And when I went in the room he was already unconscious. I held one hand and she held the other, and he just sort of sighed real big and then passed. It was quiet and peaceful. We debated whether or not to call. I know you’ll be starting home tomorrow, but your mother really wanted me to call you.”
“Is she there?”
“She’s downstairs with your aunt Vivian. But she’s doing fine. She’s a strong woman. I’ll get her if you want to talk to her.”
“No. Just tell her I’ll call her in a little bit. And, Cal … thanks, pal. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t there. Does Buddy know?”
“I’ll call him next.”
“We’ll check out of here and leave for home right away.”
Another chapter of Harlan Stone’s life had closed with tragic results. He had inherited the family business at the age of seventeen because of his father’s health and now he had become the head of the family at the age of twenty-three because of his father’s death.
Back in Mt. Jefferson, Cal sat for a moment after hanging up the phone. There was more he wanted to tell Harlan, but he would wait until Harlan’s mind was more receptive and his heart was more willing to understand.
Chapter Forty-Five
While driving Fritz back to his room, Buddy tried to make conversation but was unable to encourage the old fellow to give anything more than grunts and two-word answers. Vic even chimed in and tried to help, but his questions produced only stares from the backseat. The grudge and resentment Fritz held for him had not waned with the years.
After dropping off Fritz and then Vic, Buddy went directly to his cubicle at the police station and looked up the number for Christopher, the older of the Drakos sons. He got him on the first ring.
“Christopher, this is Buddy Briggs with the police department. I’d like for you to come down to the station today. I need to talk to you.”
“What’s up, Briggs? Somebody park on a yellow line or something?”
“Yeah, something like that. What’s a good time for you?”
“What if I said I’m busy and there is no good time?”
“I just want to talk to you, Christopher. Let’s say one o’clock.”
“Let’s say two.”
“Okay, two. Thank you very much, and have a good day.”
Christopher Drakos hung up the phone without saying good-bye. But Buddy wasn’t expecting good manners. He wasn’t even sure he was expecting Drakos to show up at two o’clock.
But he did. Almost. At 2:20 he walked up to Buddy’s cubicle and looked in.
“Knock, knock.”
Buddy looked up from his desk and said, “Come on in and have a seat.”
“Now what’s so important I had to come all the way over here just to talk to you?” asked the dark man in the herringbone sport coat and pink tie as he sat down in the straight chair in front of the gun-metal gray desk.
“All the way over here?” Buddy grinned. “What is it, two blocks?”
“Whatever.”
“Harlan Stone a friend of yours, Christopher?”
“No. He’s a friend of yours.”
“Do you have business dealings with him?”
“Have I ever bought jewelry from him? Yeah. I guess everybody in town has.”
“He owe you money?”
“Now, what business is that of yours, Sergeant?” Christopher Drakos asked condescendingly.
“I can tell by your answer you didn’t hear my question clearly. I’ll ask you one more time. Does he owe you money?”
“People all over this town owe me money.”
Christopher’s left hand was resting on the edge of the government-issue desk, and he was tapping his fingers nervously to a rhythm apparently from somewhere inside his head. Lieutenant Briggs reached across the desktop and laid his hand on top of the tapping fingers to still them. When he spoke, he spoke softly and directly to the startled face in front of him: “Does Harlan Stone o
we you money? And you’d better give me a yes or no answer this time.”
Christopher stared at him long and hard before responding, but when he did he was succinct.
“No.”
“Good. Does he owe anyone else in your family money?”
“You’d have to ask them.”
“Do you owe him money?”
“Are you kidding?”
“You should know by now I’m not kidding.”
“No.”
“Where were you yesterday morning at five a.m.?”
“In bed with my wife. Where were you?”
“Drakos, I have copies of IOUs I found in Harlan Stone’s safe. I think you have the originals. And I think if I search your house and your real estate office, I’ll find them.”
“You can make up anything and claim they’re copies. That don’t prove nothing, and you know it.”
“We’ll see. As of right now I’m putting you in custody and …”
“Wait a minute. You can’t arrest me. You got nothing on me.”
“I’m not arresting you. I can detain you in custody for twenty-four hours without arresting you. And while you’re here, I’ll get a warrant to search your house, your place of business, your brother’s house and business, and your parents’ house and restaurant. Then I’ll call the newspaper and tell them what I’m doing because I’m sure they’d like to get pictures and maybe even get an interview with some of you about what’s going on.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Watch me. Tranium! Put this man in cuffs, and hold him till you hear from me.”
“Just wait a minute,” Christopher Drakos shouted as he jumped to his feet.
Buddy stood up at the same time and started around the desk just as Sergeant Tranium came barreling through the doorway.
“I said wait a minute,” Christopher pleaded with his palms up in front of him. “I didn’t come here looking for trouble today.”
“Then where are the IOUs?” Buddy shot back at him.
“I never said there were any. If there is, I don’t know about them.”
“Does Harlan gamble with you? And don’t give me one of your runaround answers.”
“Sometimes, I reckon.”
“Thursday night games or football lines or the track?”
“Some of all of those. But I don’t know if he’s in to us or not. Honest to God, I don’t. I just don’t know about all that.”
“So that means your dad or your brother would have to know. Thank you, Christopher. You can go now.”
“Wait a minute. I don’t …”
“You can go now. You just gave up your father and your brother to save your own hide. That’s okay. I know they’ll be happy to hear all about it. And believe me, I’ll be happy to be the one to tell them.”
Christopher Drakos stomped out of the cubicle and looked as if he would have slammed a door had there been one. Sergeant Tranium, who had been listening outside his cubicle, watched him till he cleared the building. Then Tranium turned to Buddy, who had already gone back to his swivel chair.
“You really got copies of IOUs on the Drakos family?”
“No.”
“Umm. Nice move, Lieutenant. Nice move.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Cal went back to Durham to seminary and his final year of studies. He carried a lot in his heart—and always a huge piece of Mt. Jefferson—wherever he went. Ellie had come home with him for Harlan and Darcy’s wedding to meet his family. He took great pride in showing her around his hometown and introducing her to all his old friends. She and Amanda hit it off especially well, finding common ground as young working women in pre-war America. Ellie as a CPA and Amanda as a schoolteacher were the backbone of what would become a national structure in a few short years. Women—even those who were housewives just weeks and days before—became the norm in the workforce and professional positions. They were the young, female face of a changing nation that was about to see a transformation of responsibility and power. The “little woman,” the “lady of the house,” the “missus” would soon become the “head of the family,” the “breadwinner,” the “one and only parent” who not only would provide financially for the family but would be the emotional support and final word in all matters of the heart, soul, body, and spirit.
But these young men and women knew nothing of what was about to be expected of them. They were still in the throes of youth, enjoying the adventure and excitement of being on their own with the ones they loved by their sides. Cal and Ellie experienced these feelings daily while making plans to marry as soon as Cal finished seminary. And in the summer of 1940, they did both. The graduation was in Durham, North Carolina; the wedding was in Louisville, Kentucky. And all was sweet and well with the world.
They would only enjoy a year and a half of happiness before the world changed, but they had no way of knowing it.
“I know the wedding is only two weeks off, but I need to talk to you about something,” Cal said one night over sandwiches at Ellie’s apartment.
“The floor is yours, my love. Sweep me off of it.”
“You may not be in this good of a mood after you hear what I’m about to say.”
“Then hurry up. You’re scaring me.”
“I could put in for a church, and we could be settled into something within a couple of weeks after we get back from our honeymoon. But I’ve got something else in mind.”
“After all that schooling, you don’t want to be a minister?”
“Oh, yeah. Certainly I do. More than anything in the world. But there’s a problem back home.”
“Your mother?”
“Yeah. Ever since she and Dad bought my aunt and uncle out of the hardware store last year, they have had nothing but hard luck. With Mom taking sick these past few months, it’s all on Dad, and to tell you the truth …”
“… you want to go home and help your dad,” Ellie said, putting a period on his sentence.
“Yeah. Instead of taking a church right now, I need to go back and give him some relief. I know that’s not what we’ve talked about, but I really feel it’s the right thing to do.”
“Cal, if you take a church, we’d have to move anyway. I can do what I do any place we live. I don’t care if I’m married to the village vicar or the local hardware man. So don’t feel you have to sell me on it. I just don’t want to live with your parents. Nor with mine, as far as that goes. Just promise me we’ll have a place of our own, and we’re there.”
“Thank you, honey, for understanding. This takes quite a load off me. I’ve been carrying this for months.”
“You should have said something. I’m going to be your wife. I’ll always be with you wherever you go. So quit worrying about me. Understand?”
“I understand,” Cal promised with a smile on his face.
She leaned across the table, kissed him, and said, “Mt. Jefferson, here we come.”
And that was where the three Mulligans were when their idyllic world came to an end on December 7, 1941.
Harlan was managing Stones by Stone Jewelers on Main Street with help from Darcy, who was in and out of the store every day. His mother seldom darkened the aisles except for vacation times or when someone needed a day off. Maxine, who knew all the old customers and their extended families, was still his prime saleslady, and old Fritz still sat in the back room with the jeweler’s glass in his eye and the green visor on his head. Harlan looked at himself every morning in the mirrored wall cases behind the counter and asked the image if he was becoming his father. He hadn’t needed to ask. He knew he was. Same blue suit. Same white shirt and dark tie. Same green club ring on his right hand, third finger. Even the same stance at the back of the store—one hand resting on the glass counter as he waited for the next customer to ope
n the front door.
Cal was just a couple doors up the street, deep into the Vaxter Brothers Hardware store; buying and selling products he had no interest in but happily helping out a father for whom he had all the love a son could have. His mother had become housebound and was seldom seen by anyone outside the family, while Ellie had taken a position with the Pennerwhite and Compton accounting firm, which had second-story offices above the drugstore just across the street. They ate lunch together nearly every day, usually at Mulligans, and rode home together every evening. It was only on weekends that Cal felt the loss of his chosen profession or divine calling. Most days he wasn’t sure which it was; he only knew his life was on hold for a reason until he could pursue ministry with the honest ambition he felt in the depth of his stomach.
Buddy was busy helping Briggs and Son grow. They had employees to run the station and pump the gas and wipe the windshields and check the oil of all the cars that came through the driveway. They had at least one, sometimes two mechanics on duty every hour they were open—from 6:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. Sixteen hours, six days a week meant there were two shifts, and whenever anyone was out, it was up to Buddy to fill in even though he was busy keeping the books in the back office. Their new towing service was the only one in town and the surrounding county. This gave them so much business that they had to add another truck and driver to stand on call. Amanda was busy teaching her fifth-grade class at Hanna Cole Elementary, and their one day a week off together—Sundays—became sacred to them in more ways than one. Sometimes they would just disappear and not return to their little clapboard house with the blue shutters until after dark. But they were as happy each day as they were tired, and they were thankful for the prosperity and enjoyed the good times while they had them.
Chapter Forty-Seven