Evan Connell - Mr. Bridge

“Time has such a way of going by,” she said. “I suppose that must be the reason.”

He watched her fingers deftly locating and drawing out the hairpins and dropping them in the tray, and he felt bewildered. Why had she chosen this night to grow nostalgic? They had spent the evening reading and listening to the radio while Carolyn put together a jigsaw puzzle on the card table and Douglas in his room worked on a model airplane. Ruth and her friend Dodie were at the movies. In the kitchen Harriet was chatting with somebody. There had been nothing unusual about this evening; it had been all but identical to hundreds of others.

Before going to the office he wrote a check, which he left on the breakfast table underneath her napkin. That night when he got home she thanked him for it, showed him what the children had given her, and remarked that it had been a very nice birthday. He wished her many more. Then he suggested that they go for a drive after dinner. The weather was sultry and a drive should be pleasant. She agreed.

They started off along Ward Parkway, turned west on Huntington Road as far as the state line, and from there they drove slowly north past the Mission Hills golf course and the tennis courts until they came to the highway. At this point he turned toward the Plaza. In front of the United Motors display room he pulled over to the curb. In the window under a spotlight a sleek green Lincoln was parked.

She sensed immediately that he had bought it for her. The check he left on the breakfast table had been for five dollars, and all day she had been puzzled because ordinarily he spent so much on gifts. Now it was clear. He had planned a surprise.

He patted her knee and said, “Happy birthday, India.”

She looked at the automobile with an expression meant to indicate that she could not believe such good fortune.

“Walter, you must be joking! You can’t be serious!”

He laughed. “If you’re not satisfied we’ll give it back.”

“Don’t you dare!” she cried. “Oh, my word! I’m overwhelmed! I didn’t expect anything else. I assumed the check was my present.”

“That was simply a trick to throw you off guard. Apparently it succeeded.”

“Goodness! I should say.”

He laughed again. “All right. Let’s hope the car proves satisfactory.”

“Walter, it’s beautiful. Just simply beautiful. I don’t know how to thank you.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you!”

“You’re very welcome,” he said. He opened the glove compartment of the Chrysler and took out a manila envelope. “Here are the papers.”

“Oh,” she said, accepting the envelope. “Well, thank you again.”

From the inside pocket of his suit he took another envelope. “Now, this is your insurance. Herbert Scott is your agent.”

“Do I know him?”

“Probably you have met him. His office is in my building on the eighth floor.”

“His name sounds familiar. Wasn’t he the man we met at the Barrons’ cocktail party a few months ago?”

“I don’t recall him being there; however, he might have been.”

“The man I’m thinking of had just returned from a fishing trip in Canada.”

“Gene Herbert. This is Herbert Scott. They have no connection.”

“I suppose the name must be what confused me.”

Mr. Bridge unfolded the contract. He held it up to the light from the display window and studied it. “I think this coverage ought to be more than adequate. You will be fully insured in event of bodily injury to one or more than one person. Property damage. Medical. Comprehensive. Collision. That should pretty well cover it. These other clauses are not worth worrying about.”

“It sounds adequate,” she said, staring at the contract to prove she would pay attention to everything concerning the new Lincoln.

“These insurance people throw in whatever they can think of, if you don’t watch them. The important clauses pertain to bodily injury and property damage. In the future, if anything should happen to me I don’t want you to neglect these clauses. I’ve known Herbert Scott for a good many years and he is perfectly reliable, but he’s getting on, and there may come a time when you will be dealing with a younger man who is interested only in the premium. As long as I am alive I will handle this for you, but when the time comes for you to do it yourself I want you to remember to maintain maximum coverage on property damage and bodily injury. The chances are you will never be involved in a serious accident; nevertheless, it’s a good idea to be covered.”

“I think that’s true,” said Mrs. Bridge.

“All right. Now, we are going to need your signature right here.” He pointed to the line where the contract was to be signed, uncapped his fountain pen, handed it to her, and held the contract flat on the seat while she signed. After this was done he blew on the ink, folded the contract, put it back in the envelope, and slipped the envelope into his pocket. “I’ll drop this off at Herbert’s office tomorrow at lunchtime. So, I think that pretty well takes care of the situation. All you have to do is bring the Reo in here tomorrow, tell the fellow who you are, and he will give you the keys and you can drive it away. Leave the Reo with these people. They are taking it in trade.” He looked again at the Lincoln.

She also turned to look at it. “Walter, it’s beautiful. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re pleased,” he said, and they drove home.

From time to time the family inquired about his work, somewhat perfunctorily, to be sure; just the same they did make a point of asking, and he thought he should acknowledge their show of interest.

“All right,” he began, as though somebody had just that moment inquired, “the other day an incident took place which you might care to hear about. Would you, or would you not?”

“Oh, I should say!” Mrs. Bridge replied, and put down her knife and fork to prove how very interested she would be in this revelation.

The children continued eating.

“You may not believe I’m telling the truth,” he said in a warning voice. “But the fact of the matter is that last Thursday I was approached on the street by a man I had never seen before. At least to the best of my knowledge I never had seen this fellow. He stepped right up to me as bold as brass. And he knew who I was, though I cannot imagine how. Somebody must have pointed me out to him.”

“So? What’d he want, a handout?” Douglas asked.

“I’ll get around to what he wanted in a moment. Keep your shirt on. As I say, to the best of my knowledge I never had seen this person before. The first thing I knew, he was walking along beside me as if he had dropped straight down out of the blue.”

“My word!” said Mrs. Bridge while selecting a roll from the silver basket Harriet was carrying around the table. She placed the roll on her butter plate. “Tell us what happened next.”

“I think I’ll make a long story short,” said Mr. Bridge. “Briefly, what it amounted to was that this fellow proceeded to offer me a bribe. There, now! You inquire every once in a while about my work, so what do you think of that?”

“Horrendous,” said Carolyn.

He looked at her and firmly shook his head. “This is not a joke. I was offered money. Two thousand dollars.”

Douglas rocked back in his chair and slapped himself on the face. “Oy Oy! Two grand!”

“Oh, goodness, that is something. I trust you didn’t accept,” Mrs. Bridge said. And she began buttering the roll.

“I most certainly did not.”

Ruth asked what he was supposed to do in return for the money.