by Neil Plakcy
They worked in silence for a few minutes. Sandy noticed how pretty the stark, thorny branches looked against the fieldstone wall behind them. “So to what do I owe this honor?” Helene asked.
Sandy leaned around behind a rose bush to make sure the mulch was even. “I wanted to discuss a call I got this afternoon.”
“Really?” Helene sat back, crossed her legs to the right, and took off her gloves. Sandy told her about the offer from Artie Winston. “My goodness. Do you want to take it?”
“What do you think?”
“Pittsburgh. It’s so far.”
“We could come back and visit. And your folks could visit us, too.”
Helene stared into the distance. “It would be a lot more money. We could put some away for the kids’ educations.”
“It’d be more work, naturally, mounting up billable hours. But there’d be a big office, a real law library and other lawyers to consult with. And a managing partner to handle all the details. I could concentrate on practicing law.”
“You always did like Artie Winston. I’m sure I could get a job there. And the kids would adjust.”
“Tom and Jenny Laroquette were in my office today to prepare wills. They were talking about acting grown-up, now that they have a child. Doing things that were right for him. If I took this job, we could do a lot for our kids.”
Helene stood. “We’ll think about it. Come on, help me clean up.”
The next day, on his way back to the office after lunch, Sandy ducked in at the hardware store to see Chuck Ritter. He waited until Chuck had finished helping a customer and then said, “Got a minute?”
“Sure. Things are slow.” Chuck, who was thirty-three, short and tending to plumpness, turned and called down the aisle, “Bobby, I’m going in the back. Watch the register for a few minutes.”
Chuck and Sandy walked down the lawn and leaf aisle, past the rakes, the fertilizers and the fencing, toward Chuck’s office. Sandy explained about the offer in Pittsburgh.
“Wow,” Chuck said, as they walked into the little room, where a window looked out over the parking lot, and up the slope to Hill Street. “Sounds like a good deal.”
“I think so,” Sandy said. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. There are disadvantages, too, like moving away from Helene’s family, uprooting the kids and taking them to a different house and a different school.”
Chuck said, “I used to want to leave Stewart’s Crossing. It’s the only place I’ve ever lived, and I thought it wasn’t right to hang around. But now I think it’s good, and I’m glad I can stay and raise my kids here.
“What made you change your mind?”
Chuck blushed. “It’s gonna sound stupid.”
“Go on.”
“It was starting up the Outhouse Gang.” That was the name the newspaper had given them, after the second year when they had dropped the outhouse in front of the bank. “I was feeling kind of restless, not wanting to grow up and face the fact that I was stuck here. You know how you can pump up a tire too much, and it’ll burst, but if you let a little air out, then it’s all right? That’s what it was like for me. Getting out and doing something crazy was like letting the air out. Saved me from blowing up.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m feeling now. All pumped up. Talking to Artie made me remember all the dreams I had in law school. Things I’d forgotten about.”
“Like what?”
“Wanting to save the world. You know, use all that intelligence and legal reasoning I was developing to help other people. Be a judge, maybe run for office some day. Artie says three of the partners in his firm have gone on to the bench. It’s almost like a pipeline. He says if that’s what I want after ten years or so, it can be arranged.”
“It’s good to have dreams,” Chuck said. “I still have a bunch. I’m just trying to keep them in proportion to what I can actually do.” He leaned across the desk. “I always wanted to travel, you know? Places with palm trees and sandy beaches. So Susanna and me worked out a plan. Next March, her parents are going to come stay with the kids for two weeks, and she and I are driving down to Florida, just the two of us.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Well, they’re simple dreams. But we’re simple folk around here. None of us dreaming about being judges and saving the world.”
Sandy reached over and cuffed his friend’s ear. “I’ll make sure you’re in the part of the world I’m not saving.” He stood up. “I’ve got to get back. Thanks for the advice.”
“After hardware, advice is my specialty.” Chuck stood up, too. “By the way, did I give you any?”
* * *
Two nights later, the Stock Club met at Paul and Elaine Warner’s house. All seven couples were there, most of them dragging along their kids, who were dispatched to the family room in the basement, with fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. Terry Mosca, who was the oldest at 15, was instructed to make sure none of them killed themselves. “Or each other,” Elaine added.
Connie Woodruff kept her younger son Jeffrey, who was a year old, and Jenny Laroquette held onto her newborn too. The adults gathered around the dining room table to review the performance of the stocks they had bought and discuss new purchases.
“Before we talk about buying anything new,” Sandy said, “Helene and I have something to say.” He looked at his wife and she smiled. “We’re thinking of moving to Pittsburgh. We’re not definite yet, but we’re trying to clean things up so we can go if we want to. So we’d like to cash out.”
They’d made provisions at the start for cashing out. They’d figure out the total value of each couple’s investment, and then sell the shares necessary to generate the cash. The table was immediately buzzing. Everyone wanted to know why they were moving, when, what were the details.
“You know,” Chuck said, when the table had finally calmed down, “Susanna and I were thinking of cashing out, too. We’re not going anywhere, but frankly, we haven’t made the kind of money we were hoping to, and following the market has gotten to be a lot of work.”
There was a chorus of agreement around the table. Paul Warner said that he and Elaine had been having the same thoughts. “I’m pretty busy at the plant,” he said, “and we just don’t have the time to keep up with the market like we should.”
There was more discussion, everyone chiming in with their particular gripes, and Sandy said, “What I hear is that we should dissolve the club.” They took a vote, and it was unanimous. “Well, then we’ve got our work cut out for us. Let’s get to it.”
After they’d come up with an approximate value for the portfolio and written down instructions for their broker, Elaine served fruit cocktail doused with Grand Marnier, and petits fours from a French bakery in Trenton. While most of the group stayed at the table, Paul led Sandy and Charley Woodruff down to his workroom to show off his new table saw.
“I wish I could get down here more to use it,” Paul said. “I’m working twenty hours of overtime every week.”
“The plant’s that busy?” Sandy asked. Paul was a shift supervisor at a factory in Trenton that made missile detonators.
“They say things are heating up over there in Vietnam. And the orders are piling in. We’re struggling just to keep up.”
“I think there’s going to be a war,” Charley said. “I’m just glad I’m too old for them to call me up.”
“We won’t go into any war,” Sandy said. “Johnson’s spending too much on his Great Society program. He can’t afford a war.”
“I hope you’re right,” Charley said.
“If he’s not planning a war, he’s sure ordering a lot of detonators,” Paul said. “If this doesn’t stop soon, I may forget what my son looks like. I leave the house before he’s up in the morning, and by the time I get home most nights he’s already had his supper and he’s up in his room doing his homework or watching TV.”
Elaine called Paul upstairs. Sandy started to follow, but Charley pulled him back. “Sandy, can I talk to you, private
?” he asked. “I’m sorry to hear you’re leaving town. I was hoping to get in to talk to you one of these days.”
“No trouble, is there?”
Charley shook his head. “Nope, everything’s fine. Got more work than I can handle, weekends, building cabinets for people. Matter of fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“The cabinets you built for my office are terrific. I’d be happy to give you a recommendation.”
“That’s kind of you.” Charley looked around for a moment before he spoke. “I’m thinking of quitting the furniture factory and going on my own.”
“Working for yourself is a rough road,” Sandy said. “Take it from me, I know. You have to worry about everything. Getting the business. Doing the work. Paying the bills. I’ll tell you, that’s one of the things I’m looking forward to in this new firm in Pittsburgh. Just doing my job, not worrying about the rest of it.”
He looked at Charley’s face, which suddenly seemed full of fear and confusion. “Hey, Charley, don’t listen to me. You’re a fine carpenter, and I’m sure you’ll get a lot of work. You should tell everybody upstairs—get some referrals coming in.”
“Shh,” Charley said. “Connie don’t know yet. I’m just trying to figure out if I can do it, before I tell her. I don’t want to get her hopes up.”
“Call my office tomorrow,” Sandy said. “I don’t have my calendar with me or I’d make a date with you right now. Come over one day after you finish work and we’ll talk about it.”
They began to climb back up to the others. “Thanks, Sandy. I don’t know much about business, and I’m feeling pretty scared.”
“I’ll have Helene come in, too, if you like,” Sandy said. “She can tell you how to set up the books.”
Helene came into the foyer then with Connie as the men reached the top of the stairs. “See, I told you we’d find the boys here. What have you been up to?”
Charley blushed, but Sandy said, “Just talking. Come on, let’s round up the kids and get home.”
* * *
“That isn’t the way I expected this evening to turn out,” Sandy said to Helene after they had collected their kids from the playroom and walked off into the chilly night. Tommy, who was eleven, and Ellen, who was eight, had run on ahead. Sandy was carrying Danny, who was asleep on his father’s shoulder.
“I feel like we killed the Stock Club,” Helene said. “If we hadn’t wanted to cash out, it might have gone on for years.”
“Now, you can’t say that. You heard what Chuck said, that he and Susanna were thinking of cashing out too.”
“Chuck Ritter has no initiative. If you left it up to him we’d never close the club down at all. I don’t think he’s had an original idea since we’ve known him.”
Sandy smiled in the darkness. The Outhouse Gang had been Chuck’s idea, and a damn good one it was. But none of the men had revealed to their wives that they knew anyone in the Gang, and certainly not that they were members themselves.
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Sandy said. “And where are our kids, by the way? Tommy! Ellen!”
Tommy and Ellen jumped out from behind some shrubbery on the Schimels’ lawn. “Boo!” they said in unison.
“We’re practicing for Halloween,” Ellen said. “Did we scare you, Daddy?”
“You kids scare me every time I look at you,” Sandy said with a laugh.
* * *
The next evening after dinner, they called the kids into the living room. Helene had decorated it in keeping with the history of the house, which had been built in the late 1700s. She had bought antique furniture and hung pewter plates on the exposed fieldstone walls.
“Your mom and I have something to talk to you about,” Sandy said. He and Helene stood by the fireplace, facing the three kids on the sofa.
“I didn’t do it,” Tommy said. “It was Ellen.”
“Not me either,” Ellen said. “You creep.” She pushed her big brother.
“Nobody’s accusing you of anything,” Sandy said. “Though if somebody did something, we’ll deal with that later.” He paused. “How would you kids feel about moving?”
The kids were all excited about going, though it was difficult to convince Danny that Pittsburgh was not a foreign country or another planet, especially since Tommy and Ellen kept making strange noises and waving their hands around like antennae, pretending to be from the planet Pittsburgh.
Then Sandy explained he’d have a new job there, and he’d probably have to work more and wouldn’t be home so much. Immediately, the kids got quiet. “Would you still be able to coach Little League?” Tommy asked.
“I’m not sure, son,” Sandy said. “We’ll have to see. Probably not at first. It’ll take me a while to get settled into the job, and that’ll mean working late most nights for a few months.”
“A few months?” Ellen asked. “Yuck. Don’t do it, Daddy.”
“We haven’t decided anything yet,” Sandy said. “We’ll see.”
* * *
The night before he had to call Artie Winston, Sandy could not sleep. He tossed and turned for a while, then got up to walk around the darkened house. He looked in at the kids, each of them asleep, breathing softly. A shaft of moonlight illuminated Danny in his bed, and Sandy stared at him for a while. He made himself a cup of tea with honey. He stared at the etchings of Washington at Valley Forge that lined the kitchen walls. He decided that he wanted the job.
He told Helene when she awoke, and she agreed that it was a good thing for the kids, in the long run, and that if they had to make some sacrifices then that was just the grown-up thing to do.
Artie was in court all that day. “I’ll have him get back to you as soon as he has a break,” his secretary said. Sandy waited anxiously until five, jumping whenever the phone rang, but it was never Art.
“I don’t understand,” he said to Helene that night at dinner. “Maybe he’s changed his mind.”
The phone rang at ten-thirty, and Sandy jumped on it, hoping it hadn’t awakened the kids. “Hello?”
“Sandy? Sorry it took so long to get back to you. I’ve been bogged down on this big securities case. I finally got a minute to come up for air.”
“You’re still at work?”
“It’s only ten-thirty, son,” Artie said. “This is the big city. We don’t roll up the sidewalks here until at least midnight.” He paused. “So, you made a decision?”
Sandy looked at Helene. “Yes. I’ll take the partnership.”
“Terrific,” Artie said. “I can use the help. How soon can you get here?”
They negotiated for a few minutes. “You’ll want to start looking for a house,” Artie said. “There are still some nice areas of town, McKeesport, McKees Rocks, though half the city’s going to hell in a handbasket. It may mean driving a half-hour or forty-five minutes, but it can be done. You ought to send Helene out for a few days to get a head start.”
Forty-five minutes, Sandy thought. He could almost be in Philadelphia by then. What if he had to work late? It wasn’t like he could dash home for a bite, then go back to the office.
“Sure,” Sandy said. “That’s a good idea. We’ll work on it.”
“Glad to have you aboard,” Artie said. “Listen, I’ve gotta run. I’ve got another couple of hours work here before I’ll see my pillow. Talk to you soon.”
Sandy hung up the phone. “Well, it’s done.”
Helene took a deep breath. “That part’s done,” she said. “The rest is just beginning.”
* * *
On Saturday afternoon, Helene took Ellen shopping for a present for a friend’s birthday. Sandy was sitting out on the glassed-in porch, watching the light rain fall and thinking about a nap, when Tommy came in carrying the chess set. “Daddy, can I have another lesson?”
“I suppose that could be arranged.” Sandy stood up and walked over to a wrought-iron table with a glass top. “Come on, bring the board over here. You remember how to set up?”
�
�Black on one side, white on the other.”
“That’s a start. How about the kings. Where do they go?”
“Across from each other.” Tommy tentatively placed the black king on a square. “Here?”
“One more to the left,” Sandy said. “That’s where the queen goes.” He put his hand over the boy’s and they moved the piece together. He led Tommy through the rest of the set-up, and reminded him how each piece moved.
Chess was a good way to develop the kind of analytical mind necessary for success at the law, Sandy thought. Someday, perhaps, Tommy would make a good attorney. He smiled. “If you move that pawn, you’re opening an opportunity for me,” he said. “You have to anticipate how I’ll react to everything you do. Look at the board. If you were me, what would you do?”
“Oh, wow,” Tommy said. “You could move that bishop guy all the way across.”
“And I could get you in check in two moves.” He leaned forward. “See, that’s how chess is like arguing a case in court. You have to anticipate what your opponent will do and try and get around him.”
“Neat.” Tommy pulled the pawn back and reconsidered his move.
Sandy sat back in his chair and smiled. The boy had potential, he thought, definite potential.
* * *
On Monday, Charley stopped by Sandy’s office a few minutes after five. He came in as Helene was narrating how she had given in her notice that day at the lumber yard. She turned to Charley and smiled. “What’s up? Sandy said it was a secret.” She leaned forward. “Is Connie pregnant again?”
Charley blushed. “Well, we’re not sure. She might be.”
“Congratulations.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re a wonderful father, Charley. I’m happy for you.”
“You had something different you wanted to talk about, though, didn’t you, Charley?” Sandy asked.
Charley explained to Helene that he’d been thinking of opening his own business. “But I can’t figure out the details yet,” he said. “I’d need a shop somewhere, and some more equipment. I don’t know where I’ll get the money for it, especially since we’ll probably be needing a bigger place to live soon, too.”