Warm Wuinter's Garden

by Neil Hetzner

  Peter nodded. “I imagine Dilly insisted they be here because of Mom. Could be economic. Do you know what’s happening with him at work? I’d think engineering firms would take it pretty hard in a downturn, and Mass. is in a freefall. Could be… Who knows. Could be anything.”

  “Marriage?”

  “Couldn’t say, Lise. Wouldn’t know. Didn’t see my own collapse. Do you get over there much?”

  “Never.”

  “Never?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why not? What are you? A half hour away?”

  “A little more. Not much.”

  “So?”

  “God, Pete, I don’t know. Our lives are pretty different. I mean what do we have in common? Except here.”

  “Nita, too?”

  “A little more. We get together in the city once in awhile. The museum has a thing in the spring where they ask garden clubs to do arrangements that relate in some way to certain of the museum’s paintings. We got together for that last year.”

  “You should see them more.”

  “I don’t know, Pete. It’s great down here. I like it when we get together with Mom and Dad. But when I’m with them up there I feel like a stranger, almost an intruder. There’s no common ground. What seems weird is that all this stuff with Mom seems to have made it worse. Rather than pulling together, we’re being pushed even further apart. Like we need the distance for safety until we know what’s going on. “

  “I know what you’re saying, but you can get past it. If you saw Dilly once in awhile, you might know what’s going on.”

  “Right. You know she’d never talk about anything. You know that. Bill’s right. She’s the big sister. To everybody.”

  “She might not say, but if you were there you could see.”

  “God, look at that horseshoe crab. Of all the things that show up on a beach they always seem to me to be the least likely. They’re more like armadillos. I can see stumbling over one in Arizona next to a cactus, not on the beach. Did you ever see that bicycle helmet I made from the huge one I found washed up at the Dondells?”

  “No, and I’m certainly very sorry I missed that. It sounds like you.”

  “Actually it wasn’t for me. It was for somebody, but I drifted away from him before the shell was ready. I’ve still got it. You should see it. I kept the tail and painted warding-off symbols on it. You know what? Why don’t you come to Boston? Hang out with me a couple of days. I’ll show you the helmet, the weird proteins I’m growing. We could do Chinatown. Eat some Vietnamese. That’s your favorite, right? Chinatown’s half Vietnamese now. You weren’t going to stay here the whole time anyway were you?”

  Peter looked far out at the darkening rills of the cove.

  “No, I wanted to have a couple of days to do some cleaning and paint the restrooms.”

  “Well, mercy me. I guess I just don’t have a prayer stacked up against those treats.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  “Maybe see Dilly.”

  Rather than cutting back through the breakwater, Lise and Pete walked the length of the spit to where a short length of boardwalk had been built up and over the riprap. Between the two of them they found nearly a dozen pieces of sea glass. As usual, all of the pieces were from green, brown, or clear glass. Peter found a small pink stone to add to Bett’s collection of heart-shaped stones.

  On the walk back to the house Lise asked Peter what he thought was going to happen in Kuwait. As soon as she saw his face, she wished she’d kept quiet. From the few slow words of his answer she knew that he wouldn’t be coming to Boston. She couldn’t be trusted.

  * * *

  Christmas night supper was turkey and lettuce sandwiches and the last of the relish tray. Kate and Jessie watched television for an hour before talking their grandfather into playing Sorry with them. Roger was recruited as a reluctant fourth. Lise, Peter and Nita joined Bett in front of the fireplace. Dilly made a point of mentioning that Bill had gone to their bedroom to continue reading the material he needed for a report he had to give at the end of the week. She had everything packed so that they could leave soon after the Sorry game was finished. If they left before nine-thirty, they’d be home not much after eleven o’clock.

  “Honey, I’m so happy you came. Bill was sweet to change plans. Mark and Lonnie, too. I’ll write them a note to thank them for being so gracious. It’s hard for grandparents.”

  “Mother, Mother, don’t apologize. We wanted to be here. We promised them we’d stay with them over the weekend. Bill’s project report will be out of the way by then. It’ll be less hectic.”

  Peter asked, “Was it hectic here? I didn’t notice. It’s a lot calmer than at the restaurant.”

  “More mellow than the lab.”

  “Much calmer than court.”

  Bett added, “Healthier than a hospital. Much healthier.”

  Dilly wasn’t quite sure of what to make of her family’s comments.

  “We didn’t wear you out, Mother?”

  “Dilly, I’m worn-out happy. Like always at Christmas. Which is a nice change. Do you know that less than three weeks ago your father and I sat here and watched a fire and I couldn’t imagine having Christmas? I was just too tired. I think if you were to ask him he’d tell you that he was positive it was just going to be the two of us here today. A couple of days later I started to feel better. The last week or so I’ve felt better than at any time since I went to the hospital. Tonight, I’m tired, but I’m not exhausted. And I’m happy, not mopey. Very happy.”

  From where she sat on the edge of the raised hearth Nita looked across to her mother and said, “It’s so good to hear you say that. We all have been very worried.”

  Peter nodded in agreement, “What happens now?”

  “I keep doing what I’ve been doing. Watch out for this arm. Pay attention to my diet. Keep up my exercises. Go in for check-ups. I’ve got one scheduled toward the end of January.”

  Dilly twisted herself on the couch so that she could use her stare to reinforce her words.

  “Have the check-up and then get away from here. You and Dad should take a cruise. Sit on a boat. Eat lots of fish and fruit. Relax. Get some sun. Just a little sun. I’m going to tell him. He should get you away from here.”

  “Actually, I’m just happy to be back here. It’s the first time in months this house feels like home rather than — some daunting test.”

  “Mother, Mother…”

  “Dilly, ssshhhh, honey. Please don’t say anything to your father. Things have been difficult here and, maybe, tougher at the bank.”

  “See. That’s why you should get away.”

  “I don’t think he can get away. Kenyon wants to spend a good part of the winter in Florida. Your dad’s in charge. Just leave it be. When the time’s right, we’ll go.”

  Peter leaned forward so that his whisper would carry to Bett.

  “How bad is it?”

  “He doesn’t say much, you know how he is about bad news, but he has been very distracted. The runs have everyone scared. Rumors can be much worse than reality. And all of it is not just rumors. I think it could be very bad. There’s so much real estate just sitting there.”

  “I couldn’t believe how many houses for sale Pete and I saw just walking around here.”

  “It was bad before, the recession has made it worse, and this stand-off in Kuwait seems to have stopped everybody in mid-step. Your father has some developers that he has worked with for years who could lose everything.”

  Dilly jumped in, “He should just retire.”

  “When the going gets tough, the tough get going—down the road, right, Dilly?”

  “Look, Nita. He’s sixty-six. Most guys his age would have been long gone by now. He’s more than done his duty.”

  To keep Dilly and Nita from going another round Peter said, “I’m being tempted from my duties by this one.” He pointed to Lise. “She’s asked me to come to Boston for a couple of days.”


  “Honey, that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

  “I thought if Pete came up we could all get together. What do you think?”

  Nita and Dilly both said that getting together sounded like a wonderful idea; however Lise noticed that neither suggested a time. Later in the conversation Nita made a point of noting how busy the end of the year always was. A lot of property changed hands for tax purposes. Dilly once again brought up how hectic things were with Bill’s report. The days would be full with the kids being home for vacation.

  Lise thought that her mother was right. Everybody was caught in mid-step.

  Chapter 15

  As she walked back along the lane from the mailbox Bett opened the thick envelope and flipped through the Christmas photographs that it held. Neil and herself in front of the tree. Lise, Nita, Dilly and Peter with faked faces of anticipation each pointing to a stocking hanging from the crowded mantle. The annual photo of Queenie resplendent in her red velvet bow. Bill with a tentative smile. And… Bett stopped. It took a moment for her to comprehend what it was she was seeing. Someone had taken the small Santa and Mrs. Claus statues from the sleigh and photographed them in the middle of a clump of flowering pansies. Mr. and Mrs. Claus were leaning on one another in a lurching way as if they were injured or drunk. The Claus’, with their ruddy cheeks and winter wear, looked out of place in the crowd of purple and yellow pansy faces. Bett remembered Jessie and Kate whispering by the red and gold sleigh. The girls must have taken them and the camera and gone to the garden. Even they had understood how strange it was to have summer flowers blooming on Christmas Day.

  During her preparations for Christmas Bett had worked hard to keep herself from thinking of the dandelions flowering and going to seed in the lawn and the patches of pansies and Johnny-jump-ups blooming along the borders of the walks. She had told herself over and over again that it need not be cold for Christmas. She had constantly hectored herself that it was the worst kind of foolishness to link the unusual winter warmth to the status of her disease. She had tried to focus on being grateful for the return of her physical well-being and to be so engrossed in making things nice for her family that she could totally ignore the outlandish weather. It might have been fifty-five degrees with green grass and flowers outside, but it had looked and seemed like a cold winter Christmas inside.

  Now, the house, at least, was back to normal. The tree was down. The ornaments were packed away. Neil had finished the last shards of ribbon candy that had come back out of hiding after Dilly had left. Peter had been gone for almost a week. She was holding three identical envelopes which would contain three nearly identical thank-you cards from Dilly’s kids. Everything was normal, but she was sobbing—in part for the Claus’ reminder of the unseasonal warmth and more because she felt awful. The fatigue, which made her feel as if she must be an alien from some planet where the gravity was half as strong as Earth’s, had begun again two nights before, just after dinner. She had tried to brush it off. It was New Year’s Day. Everybody ran themselves down at the holidays. It was nerves. She was worried about Neil. After the day’s events he must be exhausted, too.

  Unsure of how or whether to celebrate the departure of the old or the arrival of a new year, they had stayed home on New Year’s Eve. On New Year’s Day, they had watched Rhode Island inaugurate its new governor. Three hours after the ceremony, the governor had announced that he was closing all of the financial institutions in the state that had been operating under private insurance. The Rhode Island Share and Deposit Indemnity Corporation, RISDIC, which had guaranteed the deposits at forty-five financial institutions, including South Coastal, had failed. Shoring up one institution, which had had a run made on it, and trying to cope with a thirteen million dollar embezzlement by the owner of another bank—an owner who just happened to be a director of RISDIC—had drained RISDIC of its reserves. Rather than going back to its member institutions for an infusion of cash, it had declared itself insolvent. Rhode Island law stated that financial institutions could not operate without depositor insurance. Until other insurance could be found, more than three hundred thousand accounts were being frozen—in a state that had a population of just over a million. The guess was that more than one and one half billion dollars was locked up, and no one knew for how long.

  Immediately after the new governor’s press conference, which they had missed, Neil received a call from another bank officer telling him that South Coastal was closed. Neil reached Kenyon Hall at his condominium in Florida. Kenyon promised to fly out as soon as possible, but in the interim he wanted Neil to call a meeting of officers to deal with the emergency and to look into the requirements and procedures to apply for the federal insurance provided by the FDIC. Neil made a number of phone calls before giving Bett a long tight hug and leaving for the bank. He was gone for several hours before returning home with a bulging briefcase and a very distracted air. During a late dinner he tried to reassure Bett about the scope of the problem, but his flitting eyes belied his words. After dinner Neil went to the study. When she looked in on him before going to bed, he was so engrossed that she decided to say nothing about how poorly she was feeling. When the pain wakened her that night she found Neil curled tight against her. Later, she heard him snoring, something he rarely did. When she awoke in the morning he was already gone. He called in mid-afternoon to tell her that she shouldn’t make dinner for him. He wouldn’t be home until very late.

  Bett had wanted to wait up for him, but before it was eight o’clock the thought of climbing the stairs to their bedroom began to seem daunting. She left him a note to wake her when he came to bed. He didn’t. When she herself was startled awake early in the morning from something fiercely hot poking in her armpit, she found him sleeping down the hall in Lise’s old room. When Neil came downstairs, looking anything but rested, Bett had fixed him breakfast, scurrying around using an energy she didn’t have while trying to find the right mix of questions and support for his problems. Neil had said he wouldn’t be home for dinner and tried to make a joke about losing the weight that so worried Dilly.

  In a way Bett was glad Neil wasn’t around. His absence allowed her to keep a slower pace. She tried not to think about what might be causing her to be so enervated, but with little success. She guessed it could be anything from just simple holiday fatigue, to a low grade fever, to another cycle of healing and rebuilding to something else. Ever since the surgery there had been good days and bad days. This was no different except that the cycle of good days had lasted so long that the return of the bad days was a shock. Bett decided that she would wait out the pain.

  Bett buried the Santa Claus picture at the bottom of the pile and slowly walked up the lane trying to work herself up to enjoying the thank you cards from her grandchildren.

  * * *

  Kenyon stuck his head in Neil’s office.

  “See me.”

  Neil felt sick but he wanted to get it over with. When he entered the office, Kenyon was already at his desk. His coat had been flung over the back of a chair.

  “Sit down.”

  The phone began to ring.

  “I suppose this bastard won’t quit.”

  Kenyon reached for the receiver, hesitated, then felt for the ringer button and switched it off.

  “I’m not going to listen to that all day. Hang on.”

  South Coastal Bank’s president strode to the door.

  “Marge, no calls. I’m not in yet. You don’t know when. Got it? Good.”

  He turned to Neil.

  “What have you been doing?”

  “A little bit of everything. On the operations side we’re trying to get an idea about the loans. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. End of the month, end of the year. We’ve already received a lot of payments and the mail over the next couple of days is going to bring in plenty more, but anything drawn on a closed institution is just paper. Can’t be cashed. A number of those payments were catch-up checks. Roy Diggs, Varner, several others brought them
selves up to date. Except it doesn’t do us any good. People want to pay us, the money’s there, but it’s frozen. That means that a big chunk of our portfolio is going to go into arrears, and, worse of course, is that we’re going to be forced to put some of those loans into non-performing.”

  “That could screw us.”

  “On getting FDIC? You bet.”

  Neil continued, “If we want to get federal insurance, our non-performing loans have to be under their cut point. Right now, we’re okay. I went over everything. We’re fine.”

  “I would have guessed that. You’re a hell of a loan officer.”

  Neil wished that Kenyon would hold his praise. It would make it less awkward later.

  “But. Every day things stay closed, the worse things will become. More of our loans will be in trouble. Technical trouble, not real trouble. But the feds won’t care. They don’t care if the money’s out there. They want to see it in here. The other thing I see is payments from borrowers with accounts in banks that are still open may slow, too.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “They may use that money to help out family. You know the demographics. We’ve got just about the oldest population of any state. Fixed incomes tend to chase higher interest rates. Those institutions that paid the highest rates could only do that by taking on more risk. Which means they’ll have the weakest portfolios, which means they’ll be the last to re-open.”

  Kenyon interrupted, “If they ever do.”

  “Right, if they ever do. If someone has to choose between paying us and taking care of Mom or Pop, we’re going to come out the loser.”

  “We’re going to have to move fast on the FDIC application. And then hope to God they process us fast. Let’s get started.”

  “We’ve already begun.”

  “How so soon?”

  Neil turned his hands up in supplication. “I’d sent for the application forms last fall. Remember when I asked you about FDIC and you said no? I went ahead and did it then. I just wanted to see what the process was.”