“Theodore!” he heard a female voice call out one morning.
“Mrs. Hopkins. How good to see you,” he said, returning her embrace.
“When I heard you were back, I came right over to welcome you home. And now that Mr. Hoffman has you back in charge, I can bring my business back here.”
“Thank you so much for your support and your loyalty, Mrs. Hopkins. It is customers like you that will help me rebuild this business.”
“He needs your help, Theodore,” she observed. “He made a mess of things. But now that you’re here, I am confident that you will set things right.”
“Thank you for your trust, ma’am. But tell me, how is Albert?”
And that started Mrs. Hopkins on a ten-minute exposition on what had been happening with her eldest son.
Mr. Hoffman sat off to the side quietly while watching Theodore work miracles and charm people back who had cursed Mr. Hoffman before because of Micah.
A week later, Mr. Hoffman told Theodore, “I need to go meet with my lawyer this morning. It will likely take all morning. Will you be all right here by yourself?”
“I should be, sir,” Theodore told him.
“Good, good. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
True to his word, Mr. Hoffman returned to the store shortly after noon. The following day, Theodore saw Mr. Hoffman’s lawyer come into the store. He watched the lawyer and Mr. Hoffman huddle together reviewing a pile of documents page by page. Apparently the documents were satisfactory, since he watched Mr. Hoffman sign his name many, many times on different pages. They even went so far as to have the local banker come in to witness the signing and to attest to the validity of the signature.
Theodore could clearly see that Mr. Hoffman was very happy to have that task, whatever it was, completed. It had also apparently worn him out, because after reviewing and signing the documents, he did the unthinkable—he went upstairs and took a nap.
Over the days that followed, Mr. Hoffman’s behavior changed in other ways as well. He had always been an early riser and prided himself on always being in the store. But he was relaxing that rule and started to sleep in, some mornings not coming to the store until well after nine o’clock. Theodore discreetly watched him walk shakily down the stairs and each time had to fight the urge to race across the store to help him. He knew Mr. Hoffman would not appreciate such a move on his part. Those days Mr. Hoffman mostly sat and watched, occasionally speaking with customers on social matters, but he left the operation of the store increasingly to Theodore.
The following Wednesday evening, Theodore closed and locked the doors to the store, pulled the shades, and tallied up the receipts for the day. He then tidied up the store in general before preparing to leave for the day.
“Theodore, do you have a moment?” Mr. Hoffman asked.
“Of course, sir. What can I do for you?”
“Can you help me upstairs, please? And then I need a moment of your time. I have something important to discuss with you.”
Theodore dreaded the conversation, convinced that Mr. Hoffman was going to sell the store. He was guessing that all of the papers he’d seen the man signing the previous week were sales papers. The way Theodore saw it, he was about to be out of job again, and he was not happy. But he did a great job of keeping his upset to himself.
“Please, sit,” Mr. Hoffman directed once they were upstairs. He pointed to a chair that faced his own.
“What’s on your mind, sir?”
“Theodore, you are very special to me,” Mr. Hoffman told him with a smile that appeared very fragile. The poor man looked close to tears. Theodore was more convinced than ever that he was about to be out of work again. He settled back in his chair, trying to prepare for the bad news he knew was coming.
“As you know, Mrs. Hoffman and I never had any children of our own. My Audrey couldn’t have children. She always wanted them. So did I. But that just wasn’t meant to be. If I had ever had a son, I would have wanted him to be just like you.”
Theodore was startled. He still feared bad news, but this bit had thrown him.
“Thank you, sir. That’s a… that’s a very high compliment, and I appreciate it.”
“In fact, I frequently have thought of you as the son I never had. I’ve never shared that with you. I haven’t told anyone that. But what I needed to tell you is that I’ve made arrangements for this store, all of its contents, the safe and its contents, this building, and a few other pieces of land I own… all of that, I’ve made arrangements for all of that to pass to you when something happens to me.”
“To… to… to me? Mr. Hoffman? What about your family? What about Micah? What about his mother? Shouldn’t they be your primary beneficiaries?”
“No” was Mr. Hoffman’s simple answer. “They are not deserving of anything from me. Do you know that both Micah and his mother blame me for what happened here?”
“You have got to be kidding.” Theodore couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How in the world could they possibly believe that what happened was your fault? The fault was entirely Micah’s.”
“It’s true. They couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see that Micah almost cost me the business I’ve spent my life building. In such a short time he very nearly ruined me. I’m convinced that they are responsible for shortening my Audrey’s life. If they hadn’t been such monsters after I sent Micah away, I’m convinced that she’d still be with me today.” He paused for a moment, looking away at something or at nothing. It wasn’t clear. He continued without turning back to Theodore. “They got the most precious thing I had. They get nothing else. Nothing.”
“Is that what you were doing with your lawyer?”
“Yes. I’ve made small, token bequests to a few relatives, but the others get nothing. I want them to have nothing. And I’ve spelled this all out in my will in great detail. In that same will, you are my primary beneficiary. You will inherit everything I described.”
“Mr. Hoffman… I’m… I’m speechless. That is the most generous thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“I’m not doing it for you. You’ve done it for yourself. You’ve earned it. The only reason we’re still in business now is because of you. You have single-handedly rescued my business and brought it back from its knees to once again stand on its feet. I couldn’t, but you could and you did. And you have made this old man’s heart swell with pride. This store is yours. You can do with it as you wish. You can sell it, you can keep it. It’s entirely up to you, and I know that you’ll make the best decision when the time is right. Now, I’m feeling very tired, and I think I’m going to lie down for a few minutes. You have a good night.”
“Good night, Mr. Hoffman. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”
“No. I’m good. Thank you, though.”
After that night, Mr. Hoffman only occasionally ventured down the stairs into the store. He left the door to the apartment open and spoke with people who went up to say hello, but he increasingly spent his time in bed, or lying on the sofa upstairs. Theodore was growing more worried about the old man. With greater frequency, Theodore had his mother bring some food for Mr. Hoffman so he would eat. He was afraid the old man wasn’t taking good care of himself. When she brought food, Theodore ate with him, and Mr. Hoffman appeared to have a good appetite.
A couple of weeks later, Theodore opened the store as normal and dealt with customers. He had a small break between customers at about eleven o’clock and went upstairs to say good morning to Mr. Hoffman. Theodore was surprised that Mr. Hoffman wasn’t in the living room. Poking his head around the corner to look into the bedroom, he paused. Something didn’t look right. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was definitely wrong.
Cautiously he advanced toward the bed, calling Mr. Hoffman’s name louder with each step. The calls did nothing to rouse the man. With great trepidation, Theodore reached out to touch Mr. Hoffman’s hand. And it was cold. He jerked his hand away, backed out of the room, and
ran down the stairs and out the door to the doctor’s office.
The doctor was with someone, but Theodore didn’t even notice who. “Doctor, come quickly. Something’s wrong with Mr. Hoffman. Please hurry.”
The doctor abandoned his patient and rushed behind Theodore to the store. Theodore led the way upstairs to Mr. Hoffman’s bedroom. Theodore had cautiously reached out to touch Mr. Hoffman, but the doctor had no such hesitation. He touched Mr. Hoffman’s head, felt along his neck, and held his hand on Mr. Hoffman’s chest before leaning back and pulling the sheet up over Mr. Hoffman’s face.
“No,” Theodore moaned.
“I’m afraid he’s gone, Theodore. I’m actually surprised he lasted this long. I think if you hadn’t come back when you did, he would have died weeks ago. He was a broken man. You kept him going, and more importantly, you gave him a wonderful experience for the final weeks of his life.”
Theodore was stunned. Of course he’d seen Mr. Hoffman’s terrible physical condition, and he had been quite concerned about him. But he’d also thought that if he could get the man to eat, he’d start to regain some of his strength and stamina. But that had not happened.
Theodore’s mind was so crowded with thoughts that he wasn’t able to deal with anything logically for a few minutes. Mr. Hoffman had been so good to him, hiring him when he’d been fresh out of high school. There was of course the Micah affair, but Theodore thought of that entire episode as something to be forgotten and not spoken of again.
Should he close the store? What would that accomplish? What should he do? He’d never planned a funeral before. Leaving the store untended, Theodore raced down the street to his parents’ house. When he burst into the kitchen, his mother was so startled that she screamed.
“Oh, my goodness, Theodore. You scared me.”
“I need your help,” he frantically begged.
“Of course. What’s wrong? You don’t look well.”
“Mr. Hoffman just died.”
“What?” she asked, sounding as startled as Theodore felt. “Oh my. That poor man. He’d not been looking at all good for quite some time now, but especially since he lost his Audrey.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Get the doctor—”
“Already done. He just finished and left. I called the sheriff too. But what do I do now? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“Do you know if he was especially close to anyone anymore?”
“No one that I know of.”
“So it sounds like a simple funeral and burial would be appropriate. There’s no sense putting on a big funeral. He wouldn’t have wanted the spectacle.”
“Do you think people would come? There are so many people who were angry with him.”
“I think death wipes that slate clean. They would come out of respect.”
“But they treated him so poorly. I can’t do that to him. I want something simple. Can you help me?” he practically begged.
“Of course,” she said, untying her apron and walking back to the store with Theodore. He had so much nervous energy that he wanted to run, but his mother couldn’t run, so they walked at a more dignified pace until they reached the store. “I can’t believe I ran out without locking up. I need to remain here to wait on customers. He’s upstairs in the bedroom.”
While Theodore tended to customers, his mother went upstairs to see Mr. Hoffman. When she came downstairs a few minutes later, it was with a book in her hand. Using Mr. Hoffman’s desk and referring to the book, she started writing. Twenty minutes later she called Theodore over.
“Take a look at this and tell me if it sounds okay.”
His mother had drafted a beautiful notice of Mr. Hoffman’s death for the local newspaper.
“It’s perfect,” he told her with a huge smile. “You’ve captured his very essence with what you’ve written about him. Very well done, Mother.”
THE FOLLOWING day was tremendously busy for Theodore and featured both highs and lows that challenged anything he had known previously. First thing in the morning he had a visit from Mr. Hoffman’s lawyer who formally informed Theodore of Mr. Hoffman’s will and his intentions to leave everything to Theodore. He also provided one bit of additional information that was of more immediate importance to Theodore.
“Mr. Hoffman was adamant about several things. The first point was that he didn’t want a period of mourning. He didn’t want a funeral. He didn’t want any visitations or any other such morbid things. His will specified that he be buried immediately upon his demise with no rituals of any sort.
“He also left you as his primary beneficiary.”
“I still can’t believe he did that,” Theodore observed, mostly to himself.
“He did, and he was most clear about what he wanted.”
“I’m not even a relative,” Theodore said. “Do you expect anyone in his family to challenge the will?” he asked.
“Probably, but they will be shocked when they learn that if they challenge the will, they automatically forfeit receiving any of the proceeds of his estate, either from the will as written or from any potential future court settlement. When they learn of this stipulation, I predict they will all back off any thought of challenging the will.
“He was most clear that he blamed his sister and nephew for his wife’s premature death and was adamant that they were not to inherit so much as a single penny from his estate.
“And when you look at what made up his estate, Mr. Hoffman was not a wealthy man. His earnings from the store took a major hit when his nephew was working with him, and it only recently started to rebound.
“He owned this building and a couple of other places around town. There had been some other property holdings, but when the business went bad, he sold off some of those holdings. This building that houses his store and his apartment is the most significant piece of the estate, but we both know that he has not invested any money into upgrading the facilities in this building in a great many years. And with the depressed land market right now, I doubt you’ll be able to get a great deal for it when you put it on the market.”
“Who said I was going to put it on the market?” Theodore asked. He actually wanted to challenge the lawyer on his reasoning in several significant ways, but he managed to keep his mouth shut and say nothing. Theodore knew the lawyer was overlooking one major asset—all of the stock, the inventory of goods on the store floor and in storage.
The store sold everything a farm family could possibly need. In order to operate and be able to deliver what people wanted, Mr. Hoffman kept a fairly extensive inventory in the basement that most people knew nothing about. Theodore was not about to tell the lawyer this, since he saw no need for the man to know.
“I just assumed….”
“No. For the moment, everything will continue as it has been. The people of this community need a general store. Therefore, Hoffman’s Store will continue to operate just as it always has. The name will remain the same, the merchandise will remain the same, and our service to the people of this valley will remain of paramount importance.”
Following their conversation, the lawyer left, promising to head immediately to the local funeral home to make arrangements to have Mr. Hoffman’s body removed and buried beside his wife. True to his promise, the men from the undertaker arrived within the hour and took Mr. Hoffman’s remains. Theodore was most relieved to have that part of the experience over with. He’d never been around anyone who had died before.
IN THE weeks that followed, Theodore worked countless hours. For years there had always been someone in the building around the clock. He hated the idea of leaving the store unattended each night. It felt wrong somehow. He also felt uncomfortable intruding on his parents in their new, smaller home. To solve both of these problems, Theodore decided to move into the apartment above the store. It had seemed wrong at first, like he was intruding on someone else’s life, but it made his life tremendously easier.
With his new l
ife at the store suddenly more demanding, Theodore hadn’t much time to worry about the toll of prison life on Martin until a letter arrived in early 1904.
January 1, 1904
Teddy—
The last month has been quiet here, as much as is possible. One of the ringleaders of the gang that has made our life difficult was released right after my last letter to you. None of his former friends have the same meanness to carry on his reign of terror. For this I am grateful. It is the best Christmas present one could ask for.
Enclosed with this letter to you I’m sending an additional letter to my parents. Please take it to them, but please, I implore you, do not reveal where I am or why they cannot know. The knowledge that I am in this place would kill them. It’s nearly more than I can handle some days. I cannot imagine what it would do to them.
Thank you, my friend.
Martin
Like clockwork, another letter arrived almost a month later. Theodore did his part and sent a letter to Martin as well, taking care to send it from a distant post office in another town and not from his own local post office. He did everything in his power to keep any hint that Martin was in prison away from the local folks in their town.
ONE NIGHT, after he’d closed the store, counted the cash receipts, updated the accounts book, and tidied up, Theodore decided to open the safe that sat in the back corner of the store, out of sight of the customers in an alcove next to a desk. It had been some time since he’d last had that task. Mr. Hoffman always opened the safe whenever they needed anything from it. He’d shared the combination with Theodore, who hoped he remembered it.
He didn’t need anything from the safe, but he was curious about what he would find. He suspected the safe was filled with old account books and equally nonvaluable things that could easily have been left out in the open with no danger.
The sound of the tumblers falling into place when he entered the third and final digit of the combination made Theodore smile. He’d remembered correctly, and he’d made it work. Lifting the handle, he pulled the heavy door toward him. Much to his surprise, the safe was not what he anticipated. First, it was not crammed full of paper. In fact, there were a couple of empty shelves.
A Night at the Ariston Baths Page 15