Richard Greener: The Knowland Retribution

Leonard and Nina vacationed in Europe and week-ended at their beachfront condo on Hilton Head Island off South Carolina. They educated Ellie in Atlanta’s top private schools, then sent her off to Duke, the school everyone in their circle called the Princeton of the South. When Ellie came home she married a systems analyst, Carter Lawrence. Leonard and Nina helped them buy a house in nearby Roswell. When, after Scotty was born, Ellie lost interest in her marriage, they tried to turn her around. But she’d done nothing very exciting at Duke and wildness took hold of her ten years late. While they could not keep Ellie and Carter together, they did keep Carter close. Now that she was quieting down, Leonard hoped they might try again, but Nina had her doubts. Carter never found anyone else, and the boys were his only real interest, and he’d set himself up as some kind of consultant, and seemed to be making a go of it… and Leonard had his hopes.

Leonard had two hobbies. He played golf, badly. Unlike most men, however, he really enjoyed it. He cared nothing about the score. “You’re the only one I ever play with,” Harvey told him, “who doesn’t cheat.” Why should he? Four, five, six, whatever-it didn’t matter. Leonard liked getting up early and going out to the course while the grass was still wet and you could see the steam and haze all the way down the fairway. He liked riding in those silly golf carts, racing up hills, taking the turns too fast, always scaring Harvey, who seemed in constant fear that they were about to crash. Most of all he liked hitting the ball. Where it went was secondary. He was thrilled by the feel of the metal clubhead against the cover of the ball. The tension in his arms and legs. The sound-the hoped-for sharp click. The divot. The flight of the ball even when it went into the woods. Leonard had a wonderful time playing golf. Aside from his family, his business, and golf, Leonard’s great passion was reserved for acting. He joined the North Georgia Community Players soon after he and Nina moved to Alpharetta. “Go on,” she’d urged him when he mentioned it one day. He did some acting in college. He was in a few plays and Nina knew he loved it. In his thirties he often played the male lead, the romantic lead if lucky, or the featured male role, the best friend, partner, sidekick, even villain. In his forties his frame got heavier and his parts got smaller, but his years of experience seemed to bring a deeper understanding to all his roles than they usually received in community theater productions. His biggest success was as Lenny in Of Mice and Men. The play was such a hit that the company brought it back, by popular demand, every two or three years. No matter who played the other roles, Leonard Martin was always the slow-witted, vulnerable Lenny. His friends kidded him about it, pretending to be a little retarded themselves, and Leonard’s real name didn’t hurt his association with the role. “You really are Lenny,” was something he heard many times. He considered it a compliment.

Barbara Coffino joined the company when Leonard was at the height of his Mice and Men popularity. She was an artist, a jewelry designer with her own studio in Dahlonaga, a thriving arts and crafts village complete with a town square surrounded by antique shops, art galleries, and a scattering of coffeehouses and restaurants. Originally the town had been the site of the great gold rush that hit the Georgia Mountains years before anyone thought there might be gold in the west. Although many Californians would hate to know it, the famous call “there’s gold in them thar hills” referred to Dahlonaga, Georgia. The dome of the Georgia State Capitol on Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard in downtown Atlanta shines brightly in the southern sun coated with pure Georgia gold. Every ounce of it came from Dahlonaga. Barbara Coffino used some of that gold to make her jewelry.

She was a little older and just a little heavier, but she was often told she looked like Debra Winger. She certainly had some of the actress’s sexy, self-confident attitude. Leonard did a Chekhov play with her during her first season with the Players. She played a Russian woman of high nobility, and her costume was a flowing gown with a high waist, plunging neckline, and significant cleavage. One night she came off stage and whispered in his ear, “You have to stop looking at me like that-or ask me out.”

Their affair began that night. He and Nina had been together for so long, since college. It’s not that they had grown apart, but the spark was not much more than an ember and the heat was on low flame. He couldn’t help himself. He wanted Barbara and she wanted him. Barbara was divorced. Leonard, of course, had a wife and family. That fact seemed to bother him more than her. Barbara was content to spend time with Leonard as the opportunity arose. She led a busy, independent life. She made no demands on him that he was unable to fulfill. She had no intention of breaking up his family or of ever marrying Leonard Martin or anyone. They didn’t sneak around. Leonard never told Nina he had to meet someone for dinner or go out of town on business. He was always home for dinner. He was his own boss, answerable only to his partners. He made his own schedule. He would drive the forty-five minutes to Dahlonaga, spend a morning or an afternoon with Barbara, then drive back. Sure, he told the small lies. He’d say to Nina he had to get going early for a morning meeting. Sometimes, when Nina would call to see if Leonard could meet her for lunch, he would beg off, using the excuse he had to be somewhere else or that he just couldn’t get away. Most of the time Nina thought he was looking at a piece of real estate for a client or for some other purpose. At least Leonard believed that was what she thought and she never gave him reason to believe otherwise. So he told the little lies, nothing big, nothing specific. He had no trouble telling them. If she didn’t know, she couldn’t be hurt. He almost convinced himself he was doing the noble thing. When he refused breakfast this morning it was not because he was driving to Dahlonaga. At least not until later. He hadn’t seen Barbara in more than a week. He looked forward to spending the morning in bed with her.

As Ellie and others were fond of observing, middle age brought unwanted physical change. Leonard’s waistline had grown apace with his escalating net worth. Throughout the Reagan boom and into the Clinton years his stock investments and property interests thrived. Each year brought larger bonuses and shame-faced trips to the tailor.

All in all, Leonard and Nina Martin thought they had a bit more than most-certainly more than folks who didn’t like work, or had no get-up-and-go. They enjoyed their church, and loved their friends, and though neither was ignorant, or dense, or callous, both considered themselves the most average of Americans.

Leonard’s cell phone rang just before noon. He would not have taken it, but the phone was nearby and he saw that the call came from Ellie’s cell. She rarely called him, and Leonard felt a sharp concern that something was wrong with the boys. The voice was Mark’s.

“We’re having a cookout, Grandpa. Mamma and Nana said they want you to come here right now and eat some burgers with us by the pool. Okay?”

It was then that Nina took the phone from Mark. She said, “How about it? You want some?”

“How come the boys are still there?”

“They’ve been here all morning, in the pool mostly. They look like a couple of prunes. Ellie went shopping, but she’s back and we’re going to have a cookout-delicious, juicy, rare burgers. I know how much you like that.”

The invitation was more than appealing-grilling outdoors with the boys running around making noise, Ellie talking sensibly as she had now for several months, and Nina looking hopeful and young. Just then he would have preferred to be home, but he couldn’t leave Dahlonaga.