Джон Макдональд - The Widow’s Estate

On a Saturday, she thought, a small boy should play, not indulge in child labor. She thought of how many times she had seen him helping Joe without her thinking much about it. She was angry at herself. She went striding out and said, “David, dear, I’m sure you’re getting in Joe’s way. You run along and play.”

David set the rock in place, straightened up and stared at her.

“I’m not in his way, for gosh sakes.”

“Good man,” Joe said, grinning.

“Come inside, dear.”

She went into the house with him, out of the bright sun. “Dear, why don’t you go down the road and see what the Lamont kids are doing?”

He sat on the arm of the couch and looked at her. He had a thoughtful look which reminded her of Mitch. “Mom, are we making any money?”

“As soon as we get the other cottage fixed up and...”

“Are we making any money?”

“Not exactly yet, dear.”

“But we have to, don’t we, pretty soon?”

“That’s the general idea.”

He frowned at her. “We voted to do it, didn’t we? All three of us, not just you.”

“I know, but...”

“We talked about it, Kit and me. You’re worried all the time and you work all the time, and you’re sort of cross. But we don’t mind about that. We voted too, Mom. We can’t play like we were little kids. Kit, she helps Ampara and Maria and I help Joe, and more things get done. Honest, we don’t get in anybody’s way. Hey! Please don’t start crying!”

“Okay, dear. I... I won’t. I just didn’t know how you felt.”

“Yesterday after school, we washed all the windows in the first cottage, Kit and me, and Ampara said she couldn’t do it better herself.”

She took his hands. “I’m a stupid woman, dear. I just didn’t understand. I just didn’t want you... cheated out of having fun.”

“Honest, I’m having a lot of fun with those old rocks. I want to go back out before he gets too far ahead of me. Can I?”

She kissed the sweaty face. “Yes, dear. Run along. And I’m most truly grateful for the way you’ve been helping. I’ll tell Kit too. And I won’t be so cross.”

“You haven’t been too cross,” he said judiciously, and hurried back out to the rock pile. After she sat quietly for a few minutes, she went to the phone and called the contractor at his home and told him she had decided to go ahead and get a construction loan for the two new cottages and the enlarging of the shop area.

Cal Burch reread the significant portion of her letter many times on the plane trip from Hawaii to California. It had been forwarded to him there from his office.

“Congratulations, of course, on your promotion. And I guess it is time, dear Calvin, to request some congratulations of my own. I am certain, at last, that I have turned the corner. I don’t think I am sadder. Only wiser, I hope. And terribly impressed with the fact I was able to do it in less than two years. Not much less, but a little less. And I guess you will remember you estimated it would take at least three, if I made it at all. But with all the arrogance of the self-made woman, I feel that it took an expenditure of effort that would make your entire business career look like a Sunday afternoon in the park.

“I have expected you to drop in to view the fiasco. And I guess you would have, if I hadn’t so carefully ignored the little hints you put in your letters. I did want to see you, desperately, many times, but on the other hand I didn’t want you to see what I’ve done until it felt halfway finished. Pride, I guess. And now I am terribly proud, but suffering a sort of letdown.

“So, if the mighty weight of your new responsibilities could possibly be shucked for a couple of days, now is the time to come view my small triumph. There is one cottage free and, until I hear from you, I shall keep it empty, thus incurring a loss of revenue which stabs me to the heart. I want to show it all to you. I want to see you, Cal. I want to talk to you. So... please.”

When he got to his apartment, after midnight, he took all her letters out of the drawer, all the long letters of the past twenty-two months, and read them over. They followed an odd pattern. In the beginning she had often asked specific business questions, but by the time six months had passed she had stopped. And soon after that she stopped talking about whatever progress she was making. Many of them were written late at night. She told him of strange and amusing things which happened, weird customers, anxious salesmen, curious tenants. It was as though she used the vehicle of her letters to him to escape from the day-by-day tensions. His letters to her were in the same vein, affording him a release from the implacable demands of his job...

Ten miles outside Las Cruces, as he drove the rental car north, he came across the first sign advertising The Mountain Shop — Straw, Fabrics, Wood, Leather, Stone, Silver and Gems. The sign was a plywood silhouette of a chunky burro, tasteful yet gay as a carnival.

When he arrived at her place, the visible changes astonished him. Several cars were parked on a white expanse of crushed stone. There was a patio garden to the right of the shop area. All the plantings looked lush and green and carefully tended. The shop had been enlarged, the new portion designed to blend handsomely with the basic structure.

Laura and a dark pretty girl were waiting on customers. She had written of Maria, the Gutierrez daughter. Laura excused herself at once and came quickly to him, gave him a quick hug, a warm welcoming smile. Two years had changed her. She looked little older, but seemed more poised, confident, direct.

“Be patient a minute,” she said. “They come in clumps.”

When she went back to her customers, he wandered through the shop. She stocked beautiful things, and displayed them well, so cleverly lighted and. arranged the shop had an almost urban flavor. Most of the handsome things were indigenous to the Southwest.

As soon as she was free, she walked him up to the cottage where he would stay, and beamed with her pleasure as he praised it.

“I put the Hamiltons in this one. You were a dear to send them to me. Such nice honeymooners.”

“I just made a mild suggestion. But he works for me. Lollie, you’ve done a tremendous job.”

“If you’re willing to pay for the very best, come to The Mountain Shop. No tired junk. Repeat business is beginning to show, Cal. And local trade too. And even a little mail-order trade from happy customers, with no attempt on my part to attempt to build it up.”

“I’m truly amazed.”

“Listen, you! Don’t be too darned amazed. Almost two years at a dead run, Cal. Now I’m over the hump. I can’t tell you how many times I was certain I’d never make it. I made a thousand dumb mistakes, and some were big, but somehow I never made a big enough one to sink me.”

“You didn’t ask me for much advice.”

“Don’t look hurt. When I did, in the beginning, it helped a lot. But nothing is as educational as a nice juicy mistake. The lesson stays with you.”

“Lollie, you look bouncy and bright-eyed.”

“Should have seen me six months ago, friend. A hag. Mean, shrill, scrawny. Now I’m even getting fat.” She sat on the foot of the bed. “You don’t look so good, you know.”

“Weary. That’s all. I’ve had to push hard. Now I can take it easy for the next few weeks. So you’re really in the black?”

“The accountant says so. I’ve got a total of thirty-seven thousand in it, plus a loan against it. But it’s netting at the rate of over five thousand a year before taxes, after taking off a reasonable amount for salary for me and rental on the main house. So I could walk away with fifty-five thousand, Cal.”