We said our goodbyes. Sarah thanked us just under thirty-two times, Leo Guild dragged a straight-backed chair over next to the door and sat down and Ruskin said to him, ‘I’m giving you permission right now to kill anybody who comes through that door.’
Guild took this in good humor. ‘I’ll be sure to have my lawyer mention that to the jury when I’m on trial for first-degree murder. That you gave me that permission thing.’
Sarah’s laughter was high and girly and delighted and delightful.
Ruskin sulked.
Twenty
A sparse crowd of reporters. And only one security man at the gate. I drove on up to the house, parked and got out just in time to see Robert coming from somewhere in the back of the house on a racing bicycle. His way of relaxing. He’d gotten me to join him a few times, but two hours of ball-jarring monotony was more than enough for me. Pedaling didn’t resolve my anger issues the way handball did. It’s hard to pretend you’re killing somebody with a Schwinn.
But his was no Schwinn. He’d told me once that it had cost eight thousand dollars and was aerodynamically designed. It was so lightweight he’d picked it up and turned it back and forth with one hand. Then he’d thrown it at me and when I grabbed it I saw what he was talking about. A few pounds was all. He went into how the materials were lighter than aluminum and then into this ratio and that ratio, but by then my eyes had glazed over.
He pulled up next to my Jeep just as I was getting out of it. He wore a blue track suit with white piping. He looked ten years older. A soul-sapping, suicide-inspiring ten years.
The temperature was twenty-seven according to the radio. I could see his tire tracks on the frosted ground. We spoke in smoke signals.
‘C’mon in and have some breakfast with me. We can watch Ben try to defend me. The poor bastard. Nobody should have that job.’
A light sheen of sweat covered his face as he walked along next to me, pushing his bike as he moved. I wondered if he looked at the looming house as I did now. In happier times for both of us there’d been long and lively parties here. My wife had loved Elise and had always said that the only parties she enjoyed were the ones here because she got to spend time with her. As much as I enjoyed the company, too, I liked even more the number of important guests Robert always invited. My firm was able to pick up five or six elite clients because of my contacts here. But now not even the sunshine could make the house seem bright and welcoming; it was as if the turmoil within had sucked some of the color from the exterior.
‘I’ve prepared my resignation address,’ he said when we were within ten feet of the front steps. ‘I’d like you to schedule time for me this afternoon with the local radio station of your choice. No TV. I’ll read it from my den.’
I went through all the points against resigning. He listened, his eyes never leaving me, but when I finished he said, ‘I know Ben sent you out here to talk me out of it. And I know that you both think you’re helping me by trying to stop me. But you’re not. I need to do this for the sake of my family. They didn’t do anything wrong but they’re prisoners now. I want to resign and I want to find a home in the mountains somewhere. Maybe Colorado or Wyoming. I’ll get involved in a few of the family businesses again. I’m rich. I can do that, and I need to do that. I owe it to Elise and Maddy for all that I’ve put them through. For my being so arrogant and stupid. You were right, Dev, about me. How could I not see that I was being set up? The Cabot woman knew how to make me feel young again. I wanted to be a teenager, I guess. And look where it led me.’
He leaned the eight-thousand-dollar bike against the stone front wall of the house and then faced me. ‘This has been hard enough on them, Dev. I’m especially worried about Elise. How she’ll get through this. I was so selfish. The least I can do is save her from any more turmoil.’
The house was quiet. While he went to take a shower I sat in the living room where someone had left the large plasma screen on. The face of the man who’d just told me to get some coffee in the kitchen as we’d entered the house was right there on the screen. A photo from ten years ago playing tennis in his whites. Full screen one moment and replaced the next by the smarmiest of TV shrinks, a Southern gentleman who always struck me as being a secret serial killer. A reptilian smile and predatory eyes played off against his marble-mouthed Southern charm — alleged Southern charm. I was glad the sound was off. I had no intention of turning it on.
It was fifteen minutes before Maddy walked in.
‘Hi, Dev. It’s good to see you.’
‘Good to see you.’
‘Mom finally got some sleep last night and she didn’t even take that killer pill the doctor gave her.’
Yellow sweater, short black skirt, black tights and black flats. A very pretty suburban grade-school teacher sort of look. All the little boys would have these almost painful crushes on her. They’d daydream that she was — in some bizzaro world, in some bizzaro way — their girlfriend.
She gave me a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Let’s go to the kitchen so we can sit in the nook and watch the birds.’ Then she paused and leaned her head back as if she were considering me the way a doctor would. ‘Are you all right, Dev?’
‘A lot of things on my mind, I guess.’
‘If you mean my father, absolutely. He can dig his heels in sometimes and it infuriates my mom. And me, too.’
‘He’s holding something back from both Ben and me. Not telling us something.’
Now it was my turn to lean back and study her the way a doctor would. The lovely cheeks were faintly red now and the glistening brown gaze averted mine for a moment.
But she was good at recovering. She slid her arm through mine and steered me toward the kitchen. ‘We can sit in the nook and look out the window. It’s my favorite spot in the world. And I know I sound like a seven-year-old when I say that, but I mean it. I love how the backyard sweeps up into the woods and all the birds and the other animals that I can see back there.’
Mrs Weiderman fussed over us as if we were the children she hadn’t seen for thirty years. There was an antique and heavily scrolled breakfast nook that overlooked the backyard. It was apparently Salute to Bunnies day because there were a lot of them, in all sizes, hopping around the browning grass in industrious innocence. Mrs Weiderman brought us mugs of steaming coffee and pastries I was pretty sure she’d made herself.
While I had the pleasure of disappearing my cherry tart and agreeing to a second cup of coffee, Mrs Weiderman went through a list of well-wishers who’d called to support Robert. She went all swoony when she mentioned the name of a Hollywood hunk. She likely would have cut some of her breaking news short or at least shorter but Maddy, ever the clever one, kept asking questions and making comments. Her blushing was still on my mind. Did she know what her father was hiding? She apparently didn’t want me to pursue her for the answer.
By then Robert strode into the kitchen, blue V-neck, white T-shirt, Levi’s and Reeboks with no socks. He slid in next to his daughter. He was favored with coffee and a cinnamon roll within forty-five seconds of joining us.
Partly because I needed her help and partly because I was irritated with both of them, I decided to make them unhappy. ‘I take it you know your father is going to resign.’
‘What’re you talking about, Dev? Resign? Who told you that?’
‘He did. The man you’re sitting next to.’
‘Damn you, Dev.’
Maybe we’d reached our end; maybe he would fire me now.
‘Well, you won’t listen to Ben and you won’t listen to me, so I thought maybe you’d listen to your daughter.’