Seasons of the Heart

by Cynthia Freeman

  “You look lovely,” Ann murmured, trying not to feel envious. “And the house is magnificent.”

  “We like it,” Kenny said, coming over and welcoming them. “Go in and make yourselves at home. Give the bartender a little business.” He took Ruthie’s arm and went off, leaving Ann to nervously face the crowd. She glanced at Phillip and noticing his grimly set jaw, realized he was no more relaxed than she. As they waited at the bar for drinks, Ann began to notice some familiar faces. Wasn’t that Polly Schwartz—no, Polly Greenberg now—with her husband, Ron? He was balding but well-dressed and prosperous looking. Ron and Polly had moved to Atherton, with their three children. Ron was a vice president of a bank he and a partner had started shortly after the war. Polly was blond now, like Ruthie. Blond hair must be in this year, but it looked great on Polly. You’d never know she had three children—her figure was stunning.

  And there was Sheila Levy. She still had dark hair, but she looked so chic in a vivid red dress and ruby earrings. Her husband, Morris, was a stockbroker, and Ann had heard they had bought a new house in Burlingame.

  Ann remembered when she and Ruthie and Polly and Sheila were still in school, how they had giggled and whispered and passed notes during class. In those days none of them had any money. They had all worn hand-me-down clothes, and saved up for movies and sodas. Seeing them now, Ann realized just how far behind she had been left. She glanced at Phillip, who was still the handsomest man in the room, scar or no scar. But if Ann could have read his mind, she would have realized that he was having more trouble facing his friends’ newfound affluence than she was. He remembered Sea Cliff, with its old-world charm, and knew that these new mansions weren’t what he wanted. He also knew he was judged by his own lack of success.

  So what if they’re rich? he thought, looking at Kenny’s luxuriously decorated living room. Is money really all that important? Then he noticed Ann, looking like a sparrow among peacocks in her old beige dress. It would be nice to dress her the way she deserved. But even in this crowd of impeccably coifed and expensively dressed women, she was the most beautiful one in the room. He went over and put his arm around her, noticing that her smile seemed strained. Two hours later she sighed with relief when he suggested it was time to leave.

  Later, when they were home in bed, Ann kept wondering why she and Phillip seemed to have missed out on so many of the things Ruthie and Kenny enjoyed. It wasn’t just the big house and fancy clothes. She and Phillip were so isolated. As a girl she had always had friends, and she’d enjoyed entertaining when they were first married, even though they were poor. What had happened? Of all his classmates, Phillip had had the most potential—everyone always said so. He was brilliant, handsome, gifted—but since he’d returned from the Pacific, he’d lost his ambition. Ann didn’t want a lot of things, but tonight, as she lay awake almost until dawn, she knew she wanted more out of life than she had had the last few years. And if Phillip wouldn’t or couldn’t help her, well then, she’d do it herself. She had worked for years and had enjoyed the challenge. With Evie starting school this September, Ann made a decision. She would look for a job.

  The next morning after Phillip left for work, Ann dressed with extra care. As she brushed on mascara and lipstick, she told herself she had made the only choice possible. Even if Phillip’s pride was hurt, she was going to get a job, but she quailed, remembering how much he had hated her working at Magnin’s.

  In the kitchen, Simon was washing the breakfast dishes and Evie was drying them. Watching them, Ann felt a pang of guilt at the prospect of not always being there for her daughter. Then her eyes wandered around the dark little kitchen, with the brown linoleum and dingy and spotted paint. It had been years since she and Eva had decorated. Now the sight of those walls steeled her resolve. There was a price to be paid for everything, and if their finances were ever to improve, she was the one who would have to do it. But, given that dismal bit of philosophy, Ann determined to make the reward worth the price.

  She kissed Simon on the cheek, then picked Evie up and hugged her tightly. “Mommy’s going out for a while today.”

  “Can I go with you?”

  “Not this time, darling. I want you to stay here with Grandpa.”

  “Why, Mommy? Where are you going?”

  “Uh … to the beauty shop, Evie.”

  “I like the beauty shop, Mommy. Can’t I go with you? I’ll be good.”

  “No, Evie. I’ve already said I can’t take you with me.” Ann turned away from Evie’s hurt expression and Simon’s puzzled one. Going out the door, she added, “I’ll be home around noon.”

  Waiting for the bus, she took out an ad she’d clipped from yesterday’s paper.

  •SEASONS OF THE HEART•

  WANT TO EARN MORE?

  Housewives? Earn in your spare time! No experience necessary; we train you No limit to the opportunities for motivated women. Apply in person, Violet Cunningham Relators, 221 Chestnut Street, S.F.

  When she reached the office, she took a deep breath before going inside. There didn’t seem to be a receptionist, and everyone in sight was extraordinarily busy, talking on the phone or writing furiously on note pads spread in front of them. For a moment Ann hesitated. Then she spotted the desk with a brass sign which spelled out VIOLET CUNNINGHAM.

  Miss Cunningham was in the middle of a phone conversation, and Ann had a moment to observe her. She wore a beige cashmere sweater set, with a short string of pearls. Her hair was combed into an impeccable salt and pepper page boy. When she finally put down the phone, she made a series of swift notes, then looked up at Ann inquiringly.

  “Hello, Mrs. Cunningham. My name is Ann Coulter. I saw your ad and I’d like to apply for the job.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Coulter,” Violet said, smiling. “Please have a seat and tell me if you have any experience in real estate.”

  “Well, no. But I’m very anxious to get into the field. I’m sure I can learn very fast. All my life I’ve wanted to be an agent,” she lied. “You know, like some people want to be movie stars.”

  Violet listened, her shrewd eyes sizing Ann up. The young woman had probably never had a job before in her life. She was beautiful, all right, and undoubtedly had married young. It was only plain women like Violet Cunningham who remained single, so why did Ann Coulter want to work now? Her suit was certainly outdated and shabby, so Violet guessed she needed the money. Well, need was a great motivator, and Violet decided she might as well take a chance. Pay was by commission, so if Coulter didn’t work out, it wouldn’t cost the agency anything except minor expenses.

  She smiled at Ann. “Tell me,” Violet asked, “how familiar are you with the Marina?”

  “Very,” Ann said eagerly. “I lived there when I was first married, and I’ve lived in San Francisco all my life. As a matter of fact, I remember when a lot of it was just bare land, still left after they tore down the Panama-Pacific Exposition.”

  Violet knew that Ann was trying to impress her, but she valued her enthusiasm.

  “Well, I’m glad you like the Marina because we specialize in that district. Demand is consistent, and values are constantly climbing. We handle both sales and rentals. Rentals won’t make you rich, but they’re your bread and butter. Flats sell relatively quickly, but single-family homes don’t. Sometimes you sit on a house for months. Other times you have a client ready to buy and the bank turns them down on the mortgage. The upshot is that you end up wasting a lot of time. Are you prepared for that kind of frustration?”

  Ann knew all about frustration. Calmly, she said, “Naturally, I’d be disappointed. But I would hardly be ready to go jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. It’s just in the nature of the real estate business, I guess.”

  Violet laughed, pleased with the response. “Now, just so that I don’t discourage you altogether, rentals are easy. There’s a waiting list a mile long because, even though the Marina’s expensive, everyone wants to live there. It’s close to downtown and it’s a c
ommunity for raising children. Prices have almost doubled in the last ten years. Rentals go from about eighty to one hundred fifty, flats sell for eighteen hundred to twenty-eight hundred, and houses for ten thousand to thirty thousand.”

  The prices staggered Ann. If she and Phillip had ten thousand dollars, they would feel like millionaires. But she nodded knowledgeably as if she were fully conversant with such prices.

  “Now, Ann,” Violet Cunningham said, “if I take you on and you work out, when I get through training you you’ll be a pro. I’ll expect you to stay with me.”

  Ann scarcely noticed the implied threat. All that penetrated was that she had a job.

  “You must understand,” Violet continued, “that although we have one of the liveliest offices in the city, you aren’t going to make much money at first. It takes at least three months or so to begin to develop a clientele, and it isn’t until you start to get referrals that the commissions really roll in.” Violet watched Ann for her reaction.

  Lifting her chin, Ann said, “Well, fortunately my husband is a lawyer, so I don’t mind waiting.”

  Violet was too clever to be fooled by Ann’s words. Mr. Coulter might be an attorney, but she was too eager for this job for it to be simply a hobby. No, Ann’s husband must not be doing too well—or maybe the two of them weren’t getting along these days—but a little pressure would just make her work a little harder, stay a little later.

  The more she thought about it, the more Violet was convinced that she was making a good move hiring Ann. “All right, then. When would you like to start? Tomorrow?”

  “Oh, I can’t!” Ann exclaimed unhappily. She had had no idea that Violet might want her immediately. “I have a little girl who’s beginning school next Monday. Could I possibly come in a week from Tuesday?”

  Violet hid a smile. Ann had an engaging lack of sophistication. “That will be fine.”

  “Thank you so much, Mrs. Cunningham. I can’t tell you how excited I am about coming to work for you.”

  As Ann turned to leave, Violet, already back on the telephone, covered the receiver and called out, “Be sure to get your license, Ann, and bring it in for me to sign on Tuesday.”

  Not having the vaguest idea what license Violet was referring to, or how she was to go about getting one, Ann just said, “I will—and thank you again.”

  Trying to calm herself down, she went into a nearby cafeteria and ordered a cup of coffee and a doughnut. Phillip would know where to get the license, but fearing his reaction when she told him about her new job, she decided she better do some investigating on her own. She would have to go to city hall. She glanced at her watch. Seeing it was after twelve, she decided she’d better call home.

  A minute later, she heard Evie’s voice say, “Coulter residence.”

  “It’s Mommy, darling. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, but Grandpa and I want you to come home now, Mommy.”

  “I can’t right now, Evie.”

  “Are you at the beauty shop?”

  “Y-yes, Evie. I’m not done yet. Now let me talk to Grandpa.”

  “Ann, my dear, how are you?”

  “I’m just fine, Dad, but I’ll be late. I hope you don’t mind getting Evie’s lunch.”

  “No trouble at all, Ann dear. Please don’t worry about a thing.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I’m going to be tied up for another hour or so. My—hair isn’t quite dry.”

  Ann felt petty deceiving Simon. But it couldn’t be helped. She needed to get that license quickly, before she lost her nerve.

  Back in the 1950s, it was as easy to be issued a real estate agent’s license as a dog license. Ann found the signboard in city hall that directed her to a second-floor clerk’s office. Fifteen minutes later, after filling out a form, she received the precious permit.

  Nothing in her life had given her a greater sense of pride than reading, “The State of California hereby grants to ANN COULTER the right to act as agent in the sale of real property.” There was a good deal of fine print, but she could read no further than her own name. Ann Coulter, not Mrs. Phillip Coulter. In the eyes of the State of California, she could stand on her own merits.

  Later that afternoon, she splurged on a special dinner. Cracked crab salad with genuine Roquefort dressing, sourdough bread, and stuffed capon with the wild rice they virtually never bought. She set the table with candles and roses from the flower vendor in front of Rossi’s Market.

  The moment Phillip saw the dining room he asked, “What’s the special occasion? I know it’s not our anniversary.”

  “Well, no. I just thought we all deserved a treat.”

  “It’s certainly delicious,” said Phillip, attacking his crab with gusto.

  Ann took a deep breath and relaxed slightly.

  Then Phillip said, “Eat, Evie. What’s the matter, don’t you like your crab?”

  “I don’t like the shells!”

  “Mommy has taken all the crab out of the shells for you, Evie darling,” Ann told her.

  Evie made a face and, trying a diversionary tactic, she announced, “Daddy, Mommy went to the beauty shop today. Do you like her hair?”

  Phillip looked up. “Did you have your hair done, Ann? I have to confess, I don’t see any difference.”

  Ann was unable to continue her deception. “No, Phillip, I didn’t. I didn’t go to the beauty shop at all.”

  “Yes you did, Mommy! You said so!”

  “Well, darling, I—I changed my mind. I had something else to do.”

  She looked at Phillip, and at the question in his eyes, all her well-rehearsed, tactful phrasings were forgotten. “I got a job today,” she blurted out.

  Phillip stared at her. “Is that the reason for the celebration?”

  “I suppose so,” Ann answered guiltily.

  Phillip didn’t immediately respond. He appeared unmoved by the news, but actually he was furious. Ann had set him up for this, putting on a fancy dinner and then making her pronouncement. If she had simply come to him and said, “Phillip, I’d like to get a job,” he would have been less upset. He would have liked it a lot better.

  “Why didn’t you consult me first, Ann?”

  “Phillip, you have always been adamant about my not working. Would you really have liked it better if I’d told you first?”

  No—damn it, he wouldn’t have liked it at all, no matter when she approached him. He hated the idea that Ann had to go to work because he was unable to make an adequate living. But that was the truth. His salary wasn’t enough to support them. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Ann did need to go to work. There was no point in arguing the matter.

  “What are you going to do, Ann?” he asked quietly.

  “It’s a job in a real estate office in the Marina.”

  “And how do you plan to handle the house and a job at the same time?”

  “When you want to do something badly enough, you make the effort,” Ann said with only a slight edge to her voice.

  Simon, who had watched this interchange with some distress, helped Evie down from the table even before she finished her chicken and took her off for a bedtime story. He felt his son and his wife needed to be alone. Simon was one hundred percent behind his daughter-in-law. For years she had carried the entire Coulter family on her slim shoulders. She couldn’t be faulted as a mother or wife. More than that, Ann was the emotional center of all their lives, the source of strength, the heart. If she felt that this was for the good of the family, then Simon would support her all the way.

  Phillip had barely noticed Simon’s leaving. “I’m sorry about your having to go to work, Ann.”

  Ann knew how painful the admission was. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “The reason I didn’t tell you beforehand was I knew you would be upset. The fact of the matter is that much as I love you, I just can’t go on this way any longer. Evie is beginning to grow up. Someday I’d like to buy a house. And what about her college education? These things concern both of us—and I don
’t see any reason why I shouldn’t do what I can to help make them possible.”

  “It’s my fault, Ann. I should be the one providing for our needs,” Phillip muttered.

  “Phillip, it’s not a question of fault. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

  But even as she spoke, she could see that her words were having no effect. That night when they went to bed he turned his back on her, and though he didn’t mention the subject again, she knew it would be a long time before he forgave this blow to his pride.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ALTHOUGH EVIE WENT OFF to first grade as blithely as if she’d been attending school all her life, Ann started work with a heavy heart. Phillip’s accusatory looks had convinced her she was abandoning her child, even though Simon had promised to walk Evie to school each day and be there waiting the moment she got out. Still, from the second Ann gave Miss Cunningham her new license, she was kept so busy she didn’t have time to think. And on the way home, she couldn’t help feeling a certain pride, but she was careful when Phillip came home not to let him notice anything had changed.

  When Phillip came in the door she asked about his day. Dinner was on the table promptly at 6:30 and conversation centered as usual on Evie. Did she like kickball? Would she prefer peanut butter or bologna for lunch tomorrow? Afterward, Phillip watched television while Simon put Evie to bed and Ann washed the dishes. He never mentioned her job at all, and Ann went to bed, her triumph somewhat diminished by Phillip’s silence.

  For the next three days, Ann sat at her desk trying to appear busy while the other agents’ phones rang constantly. Even though she reminded herself that it was only her first week, she couldn’t help becoming anxious.

  Violet casually reassured her. “It’ll come, don’t worry about it for the first week or two.” But Ann still worried.