Jane Smiley - Early Warning

“Just a nosebleed,” said Janet. Lucas laughed, and so Henry realized that Janet had acquired some wit, too.

They were seated at their table at the Fairmont when Philip appeared in the doorway. He had bought himself the widest and most outrageous pair of glen-plaid bell-bottoms that Henry had ever seen, as well as a pair of platform oxfords that added two inches or more to his height. Philip greeted Janet and Lucas in his plummiest accent, sat down, and said to Henry, “What do you think? Very Louis Quatorze?”

Henry said, “I think, if the front edge of your trousers gets caught under the toe of your boot, you’re going to fall flat on your face.”

Philip ordered the lamb shank, Janet crab cakes. Henry ordered grilled salmon, and tried not to appear too curious about what Lucas would order. He hemmed and he hawed, said, “I can’t decide what looks good.” Janet said, “I almost got the cioppino.” Lucas nodded, and ordered the cioppino. Meaningless. Henry consciously recalled and put away all the feelers he knew he was sending out toward this young young man, this kid that his niece was evidently mad about. He said, “The city looks wonderful from up here. I hated going to Berkeley. Now I don’t understand why.”

Their food was set before them. The sunlight from the window nearby sparkled across it, making each dish look uniquely irresistible. They ate in silence for a while until Philip said, “Do you two have any words of wisdom concerning my peregrination?”

“Where are you going?” said Janet.

“Down the Big Sur coastline,” said Philip.

Henry said, “I got to Carmel one time, but never farther south.” He did not add that he had not wanted to. What a strange boy he had been. He squeezed Philip’s knee under the table.

“Well, you won’t be able to look at anything if you go alone, because you cannot take your eyes off the road,” said Janet.

“Best way is to hitch,” said Lucas. “It’s more likely that the person driving you knows what he’s doing.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Philip. “Am I dressed appropriately?”

“Not if you didn’t raise your own sheep, card and spin your own wool, weave your own fabric, and sew your own outfit,” said Janet.

“You do that in Iowa, right?” said Lucas.

Janet and Lucas looked at Henry. Really, Henry thought, this kid had unusual charisma. He said, “Haven’t sewn an outfit since elementary school. I believe the fabric I chose was mattress ticking. It was very avant-garde.” Everyone laughed. “But, speaking of Iowa, you know who has shown up as the savior of Chuck Colson?” Henry sincerely hoped that these young people knew that Chuck Colson was Nixon’s satanic lawyer, the author of the enemies list that had included, for goodness’ sake, Carol Channing!

“Who?” said Lucas.

Gratified, Henry said, “Harold Hughes.”

Philip, who viewed it as his personal obligation to ignore Watergate, kept on with his lamb.

“That millionaire recluse?” said Janet. “I thought he lived in Florida or Vegas or somewhere.”

“No,” said Henry, “ Harold Hughes. He was governor of Iowa and now he’s a senator. I guess he converted Colson to Christianity, and now he’s vouching for him.”

Janet said, “I saw about John Dean. He said he talked to Nixon about the cover-up thirty times or something like that.”

Henry said, “When was that? I didn’t see that.”

“A couple of days ago.” Janet ate another bite of her crab cake, then poked her fork into the last piece, dipped it in the sauce, and lifted it toward Lucas. He opened his mouth, ate the forkful, and smiled. The comfort of this interaction gave Janet a different look from anything Henry had seen before — grace rather than carefulness.

Henry said, “I guess Mom was talking to Lillian about all of this, and she said that Arthur doesn’t believe Nixon did it. He thinks the whole Watergate thing is a frame-up.”

“No shit,” said Lucas. “Tricky Dick is sure letting it happen.”

Henry finished his salmon and said, “According to Arthur, there were two break-ins, and they got away with the first one. The second one, they blocked the lock with a piece of tape. The tape went around the edge of the door rather than up and down it, which would be the normal way. Since it went around, and was white, the security guard was sure to see it. Was meant to see it.”

“Why would they do that?” said Janet.

“Trip to China,” said Henry.

Janet was staring at him. She said, “Did Uncle Arthur say that?”

“That’s my guess. If I saw Arthur, I would ask questions, and if he didn’t shake his head no, I would take that as a yes.”

“Who is Arthur?” said Lucas.

Janet was staring at her empty plate. Henry said, “My sister’s husband. He’s in the know. Whatever the know is, he’s in it.” Lucas and Philip laughed. Janet didn’t. Henry said, “Since Nixon’s a Republican, they’re allowing him not to be shot.”

Silence fell around the table.

Henry said, “I’m joking. Sorry.”

After another pause, Janet asked Philip what his plans were.

“Cross the Golden Gate Bridge and sightsee. Hunt for Patty Hearst,” said Philip. “I have to get used to driving on the right side of the road at some point.”

“Oh God!” exclaimed Janet. looking truly alarmed. “When was the last time you drove a car?”

“The last time I was in England. They say—”

Janet and Lucas exchanged a glance. Ten minutes later, the two of them had agreed to drive Philip to L.A. and back, then to put him safely on the plane to Chicago. Part of Henry welcomed this — the part that had any sense and had not really focused on the potential dangers of sending Philip down Highway 1. But part of Henry did not welcome this at all — the part that felt old and fifth-wheelish as the young people agreed on where to meet, where to go, where to stay, and how much it would probably cost. Janet could move her shifts around, Lucas would be finished with the house he was painting late today, but they had to leave tomorrow to be back by Friday night for his regular gig. Here Henry was, left out once again. Someday, perhaps, he would figure out why he had set himself outside of every social group he had ever known.

—

JOHN WAS ABOUT USELESS now, so Joe was glad to have Jesse around, no two ways about that — they had done all the plowing, spraying, and planting. Maybe because of Rosanna, Jesse had also persuaded Joe to let Pioneer plant the fallow field in seed corn — Jesse promised to run the detasseling and oversee the whole field through harvest. He also had gotten comfortable with the sheep; he held them when Joe clipped them in March, and even though there wasn’t the least little market for the wool, he said he wanted a couple more, so now they had six ewes. A ram at Iowa State could cover the ewes, and Joe was ready to do that. But the last thing Joe wanted was for Jesse to ease into being a farmer only because it was the next step. In fact, the last thing he wanted Jesse to do was to continue being a good boy, and why he didn’t want that was hard to explain to Lois and Minnie without also explaining that maybe he himself might once have thought about what there was in the world to do besides planting, plowing, and harvesting.

The strange thing was that everything was taken care of — Annie had decided on nursing school, and Lois was thrilled. Lois had decided she was going to open a small antiques store in Denby, two doors down from Crest’s. She spent her spare time looking for “pieces.” She had found plenty of chairs, a hand-turned rope bed, and three secretaries with ornamented drawers and lids. Rosanna was much occupied with her Volkswagen. She spent her days driving in widening circles around Denby, exploring. Joe would not have said that any circle you could make around Denby in a single day had much to offer in the way of exotic landscape, but Rosanna came back full of excitement — Vinton, Waterloo, Clarion, Fort Dodge, Ogden, Ankeny, Montezuma, Vinton, back to Denby. Over five hundred miles in something like twelve hours. Next stop, Chicago, where she would stay with Henry, or so she said, but she was still “practicing.” Minnie had up and taken off for a trip to Europe. It turned out she had been saving her money for ten years, and now she was ready — France, Italy, Sicily. Sicily was where Frank had gone during the war, and she’d always wanted to see it. She’d left June 5 and wouldn’t be back until August 16. Joe felt like his house had exploded and dispersed all the inhabitants over the landscape. He was the heavy chunk of metal that ended up in the basement, more fixed in place than ever.