by Amor Towles
So I went down to the dock, where Woolly was admiring the view.
—Hey, Woolly, I called from dry land. Do you know if there’s a hardware store in the neighborhood?
—What’s that? he asked turning around. A hardware store? I’m not sure. But there’s a general store about five miles up the road.
—Perfect. I shouldn’t be long. You need anything?
Woolly thought about it for a moment, then shook his head.
—I’ve got everything I need, he said with a Woolly sort of smile. I’m just going to wander around a bit and unpack my things. Then I thought I might take a little nap.
—Why not? I said. You’ve earned it.
* * *
• • •
Twenty minutes later, I was roaming the aisles of the general store thinking they must call it that because it generally has everything but what you’re looking for. It was like someone had tipped a house on its side and shaken it until everything that wasn’t nailed to the carpet came tumbling out the door: spatulas, oven mitts, and egg timers; sponges, brushes, and soaps; pencils, pads, and erasers; yo-yos and rubber balls. In a state of consumer exasperation, I finally asked the proprietor if he had any sledgehammers. The best he could do was a ball-peen hammer and a set of screwdrivers.
When I got back to the house, Woolly was already upstairs, so I returned to the office with my tools. I must have banged away on the face of that thing for about an hour with nothing to show for it but some chicken-scratched metal and a sweat-soaked shirt.
The next hour I spent searching the office for the combination. I figured a wily old moneymaker like Mr. Wolcott wouldn’t be so careless as to leave the combination of his safe to the vicissitudes of memory. Especially considering that he lived into his nineties. He must have written it down somewhere.
Naturally enough, I started with his desk. First, I went through the drawers looking for a diary or address book where an important number might be logged on the final page. Then I pulled out the drawers and flipped them over to see if he had written it down on one of the undersides. I looked under the desk lamp and on the bottom of the bronze bust of Abraham Lincoln, despite the fact that it weighed about two hundred pounds. Next, I turned my attention to the books, flipping through their pages in search of a hidden scrap of paper. That endeavor lasted as long as it took me to realize that flipping through all the old man’s books would take me the rest of my life.
That’s when I decided to wake up Woolly—in order to ask him which of the bedrooms was his great-grandfather’s.
Earlier, when Woolly had said he was going to take a little nap, I didn’t think anything of it. As I mentioned, he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and then he’d woken me at dawn in order to make the hasty exit. So I figured a nap was exactly what he intended to take.
But the moment I opened the bedroom door, I knew what I was looking at. After all, I had stood on that threshold before. I recognized the suggestion of order—with Woolly’s belongings lined up on the bureau and his shoes set side by side at the end of the bed. I recognized the stillness—set into relief by the delicate movement of the curtains and the murmur of a news broadcast on the radio. And I recognized the expression on Woolly’s face—an expression that, like Marceline’s, radiated neither happiness nor sorrow, but which did suggest some semblance of peace.
When Woolly’s arm had fallen from his side, he must have been too far gone or too indifferent to bother lifting it up, because his fingers were brushing the floor, just like they had at the HoJo’s. And just like then, I put his arm back where it belonged, this time crossing his hands on his chest.
At long last, I thought, the houses, cars, and Roosevelts had all come tumbling down.
—The wonder is he hath endured so long.
As I was leaving, I turned off the radio. But then I turned it on again, thinking that in the hours ahead, Woolly would probably appreciate having the occasional commercial to keep him company.
* * *
• • •
That night, I ate baked beans out of a can and washed them down with a warm Pepsi-Cola, the only things I could find in the kitchen to eat. So as not to crowd Woolly’s ghost, I slept on a couch in the great room. And when I woke in the morning, I went right back to work.
In the hours that followed, I must have hit that safe one thousand times. I hit it with the hammer. I hit it with a croquet mallet. I even tried hitting it with the bust of Abe Lincoln, but I couldn’t get a good enough grip.
Around four in the afternoon, I decided to pay a visit to the Caddy, in hopes of finding a tire iron. But as I was coming out of the house, I noticed that the rowboat overturned on a pair of sawhorses had a sizable hole in its bow. Figuring that someone had put it there to repair it, I went into the boathouse looking for an implement that might prove useful. Sure enough, behind all the paddles and canoes was a workbench with a slew of drawers. I must have spent half an hour going over every inch of it, but all it offered up was a new assortment of hand tools that weren’t going to get me much further than the ones from the general store. Remembering that Woolly had mentioned an annual fireworks display at the camp, I tore the boathouse apart looking for explosives. Then, just as I was about to walk out in a state of moral defeat, I found an ax hanging between two pegs on the wall.
With the whistle of a lumberjack on my lips, I sauntered back to the old man’s study, took up a position in front of the safe, and began to swing. I couldn’t have made contact more than ten times when suddenly, out of the blue, Emmett Watson comes bursting through the door.
—Emmett! I exclaimed. Boy, am I glad to see you!
And I meant it. For if there was anyone I knew in this whole wide world who could find a way to get into that safe, it was Emmett.
Before I had a chance to explain the situation, the conversation got a little off course—if understandably so. For having arrived while I was in the boathouse and finding no one home, Emmett had gone upstairs and discovered Woolly.
He was clearly rattled by it. In all probability, he had never seen a dead body before, certainly not the body of a friend. So I really couldn’t fault him for throwing some blame my way. That’s what rattled people do. They point a finger. They point a finger at whoever’s standing closest—and given the nature of how we congregate, that’s more likely to be friend than foe.
I reminded Emmett that I was the one who’d been keeping an eye on Woolly for the last year and a half, and I could see that he was cooling down. But then he started talking a little crazy. Acting a little crazy.
First off, he wanted to call the cops. When he discovered that the phone was dead, he wanted to drive to the station—and he wanted to take me with him.
I tried talking some sense into him. But he was so tightly wound, he marched me down the hall, pushed me out the door, and knocked me to the ground, claiming that there was no money in the safe, that I was going to the police station, and that, if necessary, he was going to drag me there.
Given the state he was in, I have no doubt that’s exactly what he would’ve done—no matter how deeply he would have regretted it later. In other words, he wasn’t leaving me many options.
And fate seemed to agree. Because when Emmett knocked me down, I landed on the grass with my hand practically resting on one of those painted stones. And then out of nowhere, Billy pops up—just in time to draw Emmett’s attention in the other direction.
The rock that I had my hand on was the size of a grapefruit. But I wasn’t looking to do any serious damage to Emmett. I just needed to slow him down for a few minutes, so he could regain a little perspective before he did something he couldn’t undo. Crawling a few feet out of my way, I picked up one that was no bigger than an apple.
Sure, it knocked him to the ground when I hit him with it. But that was more from the surprise than from the force of impact. I knew he’d be back in the sw
ing of things before you knew it.
Figuring if anyone could talk some sense into Emmett, his brother could, I dashed up the steps, ushered Billy into the house, and locked the door behind us.
—Why did you hit Emmett? Billy cried, looking more rattled than his brother. Why did you hit him, Duchess? You shouldn’t have hit him!
—You’re absolutely right, I agreed, trying to settle him down. I shouldn’t have done it. And I swear, I’ll never do it again.
Leading him a few steps from the door, I took him by the shoulders and made a stab at talking to him man-to-man.
—Listen, Billy: There’s been something of a snafu. The safe is here, just like Woolly said it would be. And I agree with you wholeheartedly that the money’s inside of it, waiting to be claimed. But we don’t have the combination. So what we need now is a little bit of time, some Yankee ingenuity, and plenty of teamwork.
As soon as I had taken Billy by the shoulders, he had closed his eyes. And before I was halfway through my speech, he was shaking his head and quietly repeating his brother’s name.
—Are you worried about Emmett? I asked. Is that it? I promise there’s no cause for concern. I barely hit him. In fact, he should be back on his feet any second now.
Even as I said this, we could hear the knob rattling behind us, then Emmett pounding on the door and shouting our names.
—There, I said leading the kid into the hallway. What’d I tell you?
When the pounding on the door stopped, I lowered my voice in order to speak in confidence.
—The fact of the matter, Billy, is that for reasons I can’t go into at this moment, your brother wants to call the authorities. But I fear that if he does that, we’ll never get in the safe, there’ll be no divvying, and that house of yours—the one for you, and Emmett, and your mother—it’ll never get built.
I thought I was making a pretty good case, but Billy just kept shaking his head with his eyes closed and saying Emmett’s name.
—We’re going to talk to Emmett, I assured him with a touch of frustration. We’re going to talk with him all about it, Billy. But for the moment, it’s just you and me.
And just like that, the kid stopped shaking his head.
Here we go, I thought. I must be getting through!
But then he opened his eyes and kicked me in the shin.
Isn’t that priceless?
A moment later, there I was, hopping on one foot as he ran down the hallway.
—Jeezo peezo, I said, taking off after him.
But when I got to the great room, he was gone.
As God is my witness, even though the kid hadn’t been out of my sight for more than thirty seconds, he had vanished into thin air—like Lucinda the cockatoo.
—Billy? I called out, looking behind one couch after another. Billy?
From somewhere different in the house, I heard another doorknob rattling.
—Billy! I called to the room at large, with a growing sense of urgency. I know the escapade hasn’t been playing out exactly as we planned, but the important thing is that we stick together and see it through! You, your brother, and me! All for one and one for all!
That’s when from the direction of the kitchen came the sound of breaking glass. A moment later Emmett would be in the house. Of that there was no doubt. Having no other choice, I made a beeline for the mudroom where, finding the rifle cabinet locked, I picked up a croquet ball and threw it through the glass.
Billy
After they had checked in to room 14 at the White Peaks Motel on Route 28, and Billy had taken off his backpack, Emmett said he was heading out to find Woolly and Duchess.
—In the meantime, he told Billy, it’s probably for the best if you stay here.
—Besides, said Sally, when was the last time you took a bath, young man? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was back in Nebraska.
—That’s true, said Billy nodding. The last time I took a bath was back in Nebraska.
As Emmett began talking quietly to Sally, Billy put his backpack back on his back and headed toward the bathroom.
—Do you really need that thing in there with you? Sally asked.
—I need it, said Billy with his hand on the doorknob, because it’s where my clean clothes are.
—All right. But don’t forget to wash behind your ears.
—I won’t.
When Emmett and Sally went back to talking, Billy went into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the bathtub faucets. But he didn’t take off his dirty clothes. He didn’t take off his dirty clothes because he wasn’t going to take a bath. That had been a white lie. Like the one that Sally had told Sheriff Petersen.
After double-checking to make sure that the drain was open so that the tub wouldn’t overflow, Billy tightened the straps on his backpack, climbed on top of the toilet, pushed up the sash, and slipped out the window, leaving no one the wiser.
Billy knew that his brother and Sally might only be talking for a few minutes, so he had to run as fast as he could around the motel to where the Studebaker was parked. He ran so fast, when he climbed into the trunk and lowered the lid, he could hear his heart beating in his chest.
When Duchess had told Billy how he and Woolly had hidden in the trunk of the warden’s car, Billy had asked how they had gotten out again. Duchess had explained that he had brought along a spoon in order to pop the latch. So before climbing into the Studebaker’s trunk, Billy had taken his jackknife out of his backpack. Then he had also taken out his flashlight because it was going to be dark in the trunk once the lid was closed. Billy wasn’t afraid of the dark. But Duchess had said how difficult it had been to pop the latch without being able to see it. We came this close, Duchess said holding his thumb and finger an inch apart, to riding all the way back to Salina without even getting a glimpse of Nebraska.
Switching on his flashlight, Billy took a quick look at Woolly’s watch to check the time. It was 3:30. Then he switched off the flashlight and waited. A few minutes later, he heard the car door open and close, the engine start, and they were on their way.
* * *
Back in the motel room, when Emmett had told Billy that it was probably for the best if he stayed behind, Billy hadn’t been surprised.
Emmett often thought it was for the best that Billy remain behind while he was going someplace else. Like when he went into the courthouse in Morgen in order to be sentenced by Judge Schomer. I think it’s for the best, he’d said to Billy, that you wait out here with Sally. Or when they were at the depot in Lewis and Emmett had gone to find out about the freight trains to New York. Or when they were on the West Side Elevated and he had gone looking for Duchess’s father.
In the third paragraph of the introduction to his Compendium of Heroes, Adventurers, and Other Intrepid Travelers, Professor Abernathe says the hero often leaves his friends and family behind when setting out on an exploit. He leaves his friends and family behind because he is concerned about exposing them to peril, and because he has the courage to face the unknown by himself. That’s why Emmett often thought it best for Billy to remain behind.
But Emmett didn’t know about Xenos.
In chapter twenty-four of his Compendium, Professor Abernathe says: As long as there have been great men who have accomplished great things, there have been storytellers eager to recount their exploits. But whether it was Hercules or Theseus, Caesar or Alexander, what feats these men accomplished, what victories they achieved, what adversities they overcame would never have been possible without the contributions of Xenos.
Although Xenos sounds like it might be the name of a figure from history—like Xerxes or Xenophon—Xenos is not the name of a person at all. Xenos is a word from ancient Greek that means foreigner and stranger, guest and friend. Or more simply, the Other. As Professor Abernathe says: Xenos is the one on the periphery in the unassuming garb whom you hardly n
otice. Throughout history, he has appeared in many guises: as a watchman or attendant, a messenger or page, a shopkeeper, waiter, or vagabond. Though usually unnamed, for the most part unknown, and too often forgotten, Xenos always shows up at just the right time in just the right place in order to play his essential role in the course of events.
That’s why when Emmett had suggested it was for the best that Billy stay behind while he went in search of Woolly and Duchess, Billy had no choice but to sneak out the window and hide in the trunk.
* * *
Thirteen minutes after they had left the motel, the Studebaker came to a stop and the driver’s door opened and closed.
Billy was about to pop the latch of the trunk when he smelled the fumes of gasoline. They must be at a filling station, he thought, and Emmett is asking for directions. Though Woolly had put a big red star on Billy’s map to show the location of his family’s house, the map was drawn at too big a scale to include the local roads. So while Emmett knew he had reached the vicinity of Woolly’s house, he didn’t know exactly where it was.
Listening carefully, Billy heard his brother call out thanks to someone. Then the door opened and closed and they were driving again. Twelve minutes later, the Studebaker took a turn and began moving slower and slower until it rolled to a stop. Then the engine went off, and the driver’s door opened and closed again.
This time Billy decided he would wait at least five minutes before trying to pop the latch. Training his flashlight beam on Woolly’s watch, he saw that it was now 4:02. At 4:07 he heard his brother calling out for Woolly and Duchess, followed by a screen door’s slam. Emmett had probably gone inside the house, thought Billy, but he waited another two minutes. When it was 4:09, he popped the latch and climbed out. He put his jackknife and flashlight back in his backpack, his backpack back on his back, and quietly closed the trunk.