“I lost mine ages ago,” Claire said with a nod.
“Just a late bloomer,” Seth said. “That’s what Glint says anyway.”
“He took time out from his busy schedule screwing girls to actually speak to you?” Claire asked with a sniff.
Seth smiled. Claire did not like Seth’s college roommate. Glint had come down a few weeks ago to see the World’s Fair. Glint had brought some girl and then dumped her at the Fair for another girl. This was enough for Claire to dismiss Glint altogether. Seth grinned at Claire in sheer delight that she was his friend.
“I’m older than you,” Claire said. “I know how those kind of guys turn out.”
His mouth full, Seth shook his head that Claire couldn’t know the future. He and Claire had had this conversation a few times.
“Saint Nick’s,” Claire said.
“Saint Nick’s?” Seth asked.
“That’s the only jazz club that’s still open in Harlem,” Claire said.
“We tried that last week,” Seth said. “They won’t let us in.”
“We can try again,” Claire said.
Seth nodded. Sighing, he drank his coffee and ate another bite of pancake. Truth was, he didn’t really like pancakes.
“I was thinking . . .” Claire said.
She looked up to see where her mother was. Finding her mother on the other side of the diner, she started tucking in the pancakes. Seth waited until she’d finished them. When Claire’s mother came by with more coffee, Seth ordered sausages, eggs, toast, and a large cinnamon roll for Claire. If Claire’s mother knew that Claire was eating what Seth ordered, she made no indication. She took the plate and went to put the new order in.
“You seem really hungry,” Seth whispered so no one would hear.
“Mom’s not getting paid,” Claire said.
“Because of the building thing?” Seth asked.
“She’s trying to help keep the diner open,” Claire said. “If it closes, we’ll have to move.”
“And your dad?” Seth asked.
Claire never spoke about her father.
“Still missing from the war,” Claire said with a shrug.
Seth didn’t know what it meant to be missing. He just knew that was what Claire said about her father. Seth thought that Claire looked a lot like the diner owner. He’d never said anything because Claire might be offended. He would learn later that the diner owner was Claire’s uncle, her missing father’s brother, which is why she looked like him.
“Dad can’t help us or the diner,” Claire said.
Seth nodded and hoped he remembered to talk to Schmidty I-V.
“Now,” Claire said, smoothing the map out on the table. “We have to figure this out.”
Seth nodded.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind,” Claire said.
Seth was in the middle of taking a drink of coffee. He shook his head.
“Mom says that boys change their minds a lot,” Claire said. “My brother changes his mind a lot.”
Seth looked up to see Claire’s older brother set a dish of food on the ledge and ring the bell. He was two years older than Claire and almost ready to graduate. He gave Seth a big smiled and waved. Claire’s mother went to pick up the food.
“I want to learn how to play jazz piano,” Seth said. He put his hand on his heart. “I have to learn how.”
“It’s your destiny,” Claire said sincerely. “Otherwise, why would you have been sent to New York?”
“Exactly,” Seth said.
“Here’s what I think,” Claire said. “There was this great club called the ‘Cotton Club’ but it was whites only on the floor and black performers.”
“Ick,” Seth said with a shiver. “I had enough of racist jerks in Denver.”
“Exactly,” Claire said. “There was another place called the Savoy Ballroom which was mixed. Great jazz.”
Claire’s mother set the plate in front of Seth and poured more coffee for him. She said something to Claire and Claire smiled. Seth was so lost in thought about jazz and his destiny that he didn’t really hear them. When Claire’s mother wandered off, Claire rotated the plate so she was nearer the cinnamon roll. She speared a sausage and started eating the cinnamon roll. Seth ate a sausage or two and a piece of toast. He mostly ate to give himself some time to think. Claire’s mother cleared the table and wiped it down. The post bar crowd was filling the restaurant and they needed the table. Seth paid the bill and followed Claire upstairs to the apartment she shared with her mother and brother.
“You can call your agent,” Claire said and pointed to the phone.
Claire didn’t really believe that Seth would be able to buy the building. She reminded him only because she’d told him she would do so. She took her responsibilities as Seth’s helper very seriously.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Claire said.
Seth nodded and picked up the phone. He worried for a moment about the expense of the call. When Claire closed the bathroom door, he slipped out to use the payphone on the sidewalk outside.
“Who is this?” Schmidty I-V gave his usual greeting.
“Seth,” Seth said.
“You’re lisping,” Schmidty I-V said, with a drunken slur.
“You’re one to talk,” Seth said.
Schmidty I-V laughed. There was a feminine giggle in the background.
“What can I do for you, Seth?” Schmidty I-V asked.
“I want to buy a building,” Seth said. He added a little too quickly, “You’re always bugging me about investing. This looks like a good one.”
“Where?” Schmidty I-V asked.
Seth gave him the address.
“I was looking at that for someone else,” Schmidty I-V said. His voice was distracted, and the woman laughed again.
“I’d appreciate if you got it for me,” Seth said. “That is, if I can afford it . . .”
“You most certainly can,” Schmidty I-V said. “It’s just that . . .”
“They’re going to throw my friends out on the street,” Seth said with a burst of emotion. “My only friends — the only people in this world who give a shit about me.”
Seth felt a tear run down his face. He was so desperately lonely that the thought of losing this paradise in the form of a diner destroyed him. He took a breath to try to persuade Schmidty I-V, but the man spoke first.
“I’ll look at it today,” Schmidty I-V said. The background was silent, and his agent’s voice was serious. “If it’s a good investment, I’ll get it.”
“Get it even if it isn’t,” Seth said.
“You could sue me if I don’t make good money for you,” Schmidty I-V said.
“You’re the only lawyer I know. The only person I know,” Seth said. “I don’t have any friends! I’m here in New York by myself, and . . .”
Unable to continue talking, Seth began to weep.
“Please,” Seth begged.
“Don’t worry, son,” Schmidty I-V said, his voice clear and attentive. “I’ll take care of it. You want them to know?”
“No,” Seth said.
“Done,” Schmidty I-V said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
The line was silent for a moment as Seth attempted to catch his racing emotions.
“You going to be okay?” Schmidty I-V asked.
“No,” Seth said. “Of all of the things I’m going to be, I’m not going to be okay.”
“That’s a fact,” Schmidty I-V said. “Sorry, Seth.”
“Yeah,” Seth said.
Seth hung up the phone. He crept up the stairs and went back into Claire’s apartment. He was just settling in when Claire came out of the bathroom.
“Did you call?” Claire reminded.
To keep a vise grip on his emotions, Seth nodded.
“I didn’t hear you,” Claire said.
“I went downstairs to use the payphone,” Seth said.
In what soon became a lifelong habit, Seth didn’t bother to lie. Claire nodde
d in thanks. She would never have said that Seth couldn’t use their phone. She appreciated him calling on the payphone.
“What’d he say?” Claire asked.
Seth shrugged. Assuming Seth’s shrug meant that he was exaggerating about solving their problem, Claire gave Seth a forgiving nod.
“You were talking about the Savoy Ballroom,” Seth said.
“It was torn down in 1958,” Claire said. “For a housing project. The Cotton Club, too. They were on the same street.”
She sat down on the couch next to Seth.
“Oh,” Seth said.
“I thought that if the clubs were right there, we could go there and find someone who could teach you jazz piano,” Claire said.
She smiled at her brilliant idea. Seth shook his head that he didn’t understand.
“The clubs in Greenwich don’t allow Negros,” Claire said.
“Blacks,” Seth corrected. “Remember ‘Black is Beautiful.’”
“Right,” Claire nodded at the new term. “They are still right there.”
“Where?”
“In the housing project,” Claire said.
Seth’s eyes lit up. He had the feeling that this might actually work. Claire grinned at her brilliance.
“Let’s go,” Seth said.
“It’s not even five yet,” Claire said. “I have to help Mom when she gets off work and do my chores and . . .”
“It’s okay,” Seth said. “I can go play until we’re ready to go.”
Claire gave him a relieved smile. He waved to her and used his key to get into the diner owner’s two-bedroom apartment next door. Seth played on a small upright piano until he heard the diner owner come in from work. Not wanting to disturb the man, Seth lay down on his bed and read a mystery novel. The diner owner had stacks of mystery books around the apartment. A half hour later, he heard the diner owner go to the apartment door. Through his door, Seth heard Schmidty I-V ask the diner owner for a tour of the building and restaurant. An affable man, the diner owner was happy to oblige.
When they returned, Seth heard the diner owner say that the building had eight apartments that looked like this one, plus the diner and the tailor next door. Schmidty I-V asked what the worst part of the building was. The diner owner laughed. Seth didn’t hear what the diner owner said, but Schmidty I-V laughed. After a few minutes, Schmidty I-V left the apartment.
There was a tap on Seth’s door. Seth went to the door to find the diner owner standing on the other side.
“I know who that was,” the diner owner said.
“Who was it?” Seth asked.
“James Schmidt, IV,” the diner owner said. “He’s a talent agent. Very famous. If you know about that kind of thing.”
“And?” Seth asked.
Seth might have been young, but his older brother, Saul, had taught Seth a great poker face. Seth gave off no indication that he knew James Schmidty, IV. Undeterred, the diner owner grabbed Seth and held him tight.
“Thanks,” the diner owner said in his ear. “He gave me enough dough to keep the diner running. Said it was for taking care of you. He even wants Claire’s mom to be the landlady for the apartments. He’ll pay her to do it, to boot.”
When the diner owner moved back, Seth could see that the man was crying.
“I . . .” the diner owner said. “He . . . Mr. Schmidt, I mean, remembered me from when I was a kid. My dad played trumpet, and . . . That’s why I took you in, gave you the room. Not because I thought you’d fix everything; but because I know what it’s like to have music burn a hole right through you.”
The diner owner nodded. Seth mimicked his nod until he thought of something.
“Please don’t . . .” Seth said.
“I won’t tell a soul,” the diner owner said. “Especially not Claire or her mother.”
The diner owner nodded.
“I just wanted you to know that I know what you did,” the diner owner said. “It’s not going to happen for a few weeks. So we got to keep our hopes up. There’s going to be an auction, and . . .”
The diner owner leaned in toward Seth again.
“What if the owner’s kids jack up the price?” the diner owner asked. “They are really greedy s.o.b.s.”
“Then I’ll hold onto the building forever,” Seth said. “I’m ten now. If I hold onto it for like twenty years, I’ll be ancient. The building’s bound to go up by then. Imagine how mad they’ll be that they didn’t keep it!”
The diner owner laughed. He rubbed his head and yawned. He raised a hand to Seth and walked toward the bathroom.
“I think I’ll have my first good sleep since Trench died,” the diner owner said.
He raised a hand to Seth. Seth nodded and closed his room door. Smiling to himself, Seth lay down on the bed to read some more. After a few hours, he got up and went to Claire’s apartment.
“Are you ready?” Seth asked.
Claire gave him a quick nod. She grabbed her small purse and followed him out of the apartment.
“Where to?” Seth asked.
“This way,” Claire said.
She hooked elbows with Seth, and they set off toward the subway.
Chapter Four Hundred and Forty-nine
Front teeth
“He picked up Claire, and they took the subway to the housing project on Lenox Avenue,” Sandy said. “He met Big Daddy there, in the project.”
“That’s it?” Aden asked.
“That’s what Seth told Dad,” Sandy said.
“There’s no way that’s the whole story,” Aden said. “What would Seth hide?”
“No idea.” Sandy shrugged. “Certainly not anything that makes him look bad. He doesn’t mind sharing every detail of how and when he’s messed up.”
“Who would look bad then?” Aden asked.
“Someone else,” Sandy said. “Something complicated — morally, I mean.”
They fell silent for a moment. Aden cleared his throat.
“So . . .” Aden said. “Who’s trying to find out the rest of the details from Claire?”
Sandy laughed.
“How’d you know?” Sandy asked.
“I know you,” Aden said with a laugh.
Sandy nodded and got up.
“We should check to be sure we aren’t leaving anything,” she said. She paused by the bed and batted her beautiful eyes at him. “Unless you can think of a better way to spend the last moments of our honeymoon.”
Laughing, Aden led her to bed.
~~~~~~~~
Friday morning — 8:41 a.m.
New York City, New York
“Oh, Sissy. I don’t know,” Claire said. “It was a very long time ago.”
“My dad said you left the apartment with Seth and then met Big Daddy,” Sissy said.
Claire gave a slow nod and then shrugged. They were standing in the kitchen of Seth’s Hell’s Kitchen apartment. Claire was making food for a dinner that Seth was hosting that evening. Seth was with Bernice, Big Daddy’s widow, helping her with the details of saying goodbye to her spouse of a lifetime. The celebration would start Saturday night and continue all day Sunday, ending in Big Daddy’s private burial.
“If that’s what Mitch said, then that’s what happened,” Claire said. “He always had a better memory than Seth and I combined.”
“But . . .” Sissy started again.
Claire gave her a distracted look.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Sissy asked with her usual blunt honesty.
“I’m not,” Claire said.
“Why?” Sissy asked.
“Because we’re going to the funeral of a complicated man,” Claire said. “He was good and evil all mixed up into one. Talk to one person, and he was the devil incarnate. Talk to another, he was a saint. He saved Seth and me from danger more times than I could count. Of course, some of that danger was manufactured by Big Daddy.”
Claire nodded at Sissy’s confused frown.
“For us, he was ou
r good and bad friend,” Claire said. “In the end, that’s really what matters.”
“Sounds like he was kind of a Wizard of Oz,” Sissy said.
“Like a real-life Wizard of Oz,” Claire said. She touched the side of Sissy’s face and gave her a soft smile. “You have known great evil in your life, Sissy. Big Daddy was much more complicated.”
“Then explain it to me!” Sissy said.
Sissy’s exasperation made Claire smile.
“I would that I could,” Claire said. Her smile dropped, and she looked sad. Nodding her head, she said again, “I would that I could.”
Sissy gave Claire a long look. In Claire’s face, she saw that telling the whole story would cause Claire a lot of pain. Sissy’s heart swelled for the woman.
“Did Seth break your heart?” Sissy asked.
“Seth?” Claire looked surprised. She shook her head. “Seth is and was the best friend I’ve ever had. Period. He never hurt me, lied to me, or betrayed me. Ever. Not in more than almost fifty years of living.”
“You’re not his wife, though,” Sissy said softly.
“I never wanted to be,” Claire said. She took a breath and held it. “From the first moment I laid eyes him, I just wanted to . . . help him, I guess. My mom felt the same way. He was so lost and alone. Broken. It was like all of that musical talent was a tornado around him. Everything was destroyed in its wake. My mother loved him like a son. He took care of her like she was his own mother. Maresol says he took care of his mother the same way. And he’s certainly cared for my every up and down. Now, he’s taking care of his father. That’s the Seth I know.”
Claire nodded.
“Don’t worry about this kind of thing, Sissy,” Claire said. She kissed Sissy’s cheek. “If I’m anything, I’m sad that Big Daddy is gone. I know how much he meant to so many people.”
“Including you?” Sissy asked.
“I think that’s what surprises me,” Claire said. “I’m discovering how much Big Daddy meant to me.”
Sissy nodded.
“Now, you run along,” Claire said. “You need to rest before everyone gets here and . . .”
Sissy blushed at her attention, and Claire laughed.
“You probably don’t need any mothering either,” Claire said.
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