“From downtown.”
“Was my sister-in-law in the garden?”
“No.”
“Libby’s a wonderful wonderful woman. You know when Bernard married her, she was considered the catch. Her father was president of the shul and the Beneficial Loan Society. Nobody suspected him.”
“Of what?”
“Listen here, I’m not one to carry tales. He was unlucky in the market, but he meant to return every penny and it’s no reflection on Libby. She presides over so many charities because she has a heart bigger than the St. Lawrence River and you could open the books on any one of them and I’ll bet they would balance perfectly. Libby isn’t trying to prove anything.”
“Did you know that your grandfather is mentioned several times in Lady Jane Franklin’s letters?”
“You don’t say? Hey, I’m sitting with a scholar from the scholars. Why I’ll bet even Bernard doesn’t know that.”
“Twice in letters to Elizabeth Fry and once in a letter to Dr. Arnold of Rugby.”
“To think that rascal couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old at the time and still he caught that good lady’s eye.”
“It started with the snakes, you know. Van Diemen’s Land was infested with snakes, which appalled her. So she offered convicts a shilling a head for them and he came up with so many the first day she just couldn’t stop laughing.”
“Some kid he must have been. But, if you don’t mind my asking, what is your interest in our family history?”
“Lucy.”
“Ah. I was worried maybe you were thinking of writing something. Bernard wouldn’t like that. And digging up the past would be painful to Lionel, God bless him, who is striving so hard to make his way in society. So just between you, me, and the lamp-post, what are you up to, Moses?”
Moses reached for the bottle.
“Don’t worry. It doesn’t stain. Just pour yourself another.”
“Didn’t Ephraim ever tell you anything about his stay in Van Diemen’s Land?”
“Let’s be frank. If he talked to anybody in those days it was Solomon. Once he kidnapped him, you know. What was that?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Sh.” Mr. Morrie went to the window and peeked out from behind the blind. “Bernard and Libby are going out. That’s odd.”
“Is it?”
“‘Dragnet’s’ on tonight. Oh, I get it. He must have got them to send him a copy of the film in advance. Once, you know, he couldn’t wait to see how a Dick Tracy turned out, it was killing him, and so Harvey Schwartz had to fly down to see the people at King Features and bring back the comics before they were even printed in the newspapers. Oh you should have seen Bernie after Harvey came back with the goods, nobody the wiser. We were in the middle of a board meeting. Should we buy this vineyard just outside of Beaune for X million or should we build the office tower in Houston for Y million? Everybody’s making their pitch, quoting facts and figures, watching Bernard’s face. ‘Hey,’ he says, suddenly perking up, ‘I’ve got a hunch how Dick Tracy bails out of his latest jam and about exactly what happens to Pruneface. I could be right, I could be wrong. But I’m willing to bet a ten spot on it. Who’s coming in?’ Well, naturally, everybody forks out their ten bucks, not because they’re afraid of my brother, that’s nonsense, but because they adore him. And then Harvey, that little devil, he says, ‘I raise you twenty, Mr. Bernard.’ So everybody digs into their pocket again. I suppose you know Harvey Schwartz?”
“Yes.”
“Such a brilliant boy. Loyalty should be his middle name. I can’t tell you how lucky we are to have him here. And devoted to his lovely talented wife? You better believe it. You know she couldn’t get her book published at first. So Harvey goes to Toronto, meets with the number-one publisher there, invests in the company out of his own pocket, and that beautiful book comes out. Hugs, Pain, and Chocolate Chip Cookies. But Ogilvy’s book department here orders only four copies. Becky’s in tears. She’s got cramps. Her period is late. Harvey gets on the phone rat-tat-tat to the chairman of Ogilvy’s board and he says ahem ahem this is Harvey Schwartz speaking. I’m in charge of special projects for Jewel Investment Trust, and my boss Mr. Bernard Gursky just asked me how come your book department has taken only four copies of my wife’s book? Bing bango bongo. They order another four hundred and display them in the window. I understand that in the end they had to burn just about all of them, but I don’t have to tell L.B.’s son that art isn’t the fastest moving commodity in this country. Don’t worry. It doesn’t stain. Just pour yourself another.”
“Did you say Ephraim once kidnapped Solomon?”
“He sure did. Solomon is only nine years old and Bernie and I get out of school just in time to see Ephraim riding off on his sled with him. Okay, why not? Only now it’s seven o’clock at night, we are sitting down to supper, there’s a blizzard blowing out there, and where are they? God forbid an accident. Finally a messenger comes from this Indian fella, George Two Axe, saying Ephraim said to tell us Solomon is spending the night with the Davidsons. Fishy. Very fishy. Because only an hour earlier the Mounties have paid us one of their friendly visits. There’s been trouble out on the reservation where Ephraim is shacked up with this young Copper Indian woman. Let me tell you she was something to look at. Anyway Lena has been stabbed and somebody has shot André Clear Sky’s father dead. Have we seen or heard from Ephraim, the corporal wants to know. Why? Just asking, he says. Yeah, sure. The next question is does Ephraim have any friends in Montana? How in the hell would we know? To make a long story short, my grandfather has taken the boy all the way back to his old haunts in the Arctic with him. They are gone for months, and that’s where Solomon learned how to speak Eskimo and hunt caribou and God knows what else. And that was the last we ever saw of my grandfather, aged ninety-one, buried out there somewhere, according to Solomon, who also expects us to believe he made his way home all alone. From the Polar Sea? Tell me another one, my father says. Well, Solomon says, he had a map with him and he had marked a tree with a gash in each of their camps on the way out. Sure, my father says, and what about before you reached the tree line? A raven led the way, Solomon says with a straight face. Ask a foolish question, my father says, and what did you eat all that time? I hunted and I fished and, besides, Ephraim had left food caches for me underneath each of my marked trees, and before we parted he gave me this. Ephraim’s gold pocket watch. Tell me if I’m boring you. Ida says that once I get started I’m worse than a broken record.”
“Did Solomon ever mention anything in his journals about that first trip north?”
“Boy, speak of the third degree. You know, you could tell me something. What’s poor Henry doing out there?”
“Poor Henry is happier than you know.”
“My mother used to say that there’s nothing like a religious education, but Henry, my God.” Mr. Morrie sighed. “The children, the children. We made all that money, more than you can spend in three lifetimes, and my Barney just can’t settle down and my Charna now lives in a commune with a bunch of nut-cases and calls herself Sunflower Dark-Crystal.”
“I suppose control of McTavish will eventually fall into Lionel’s hot hands.”
“Listen here, I love Barney. I understand what a blow it was to him that McTavish would never be his to run. So I forgive him his mistakes. He walks in here right now I’d hug him. Wait till you’re a father. But, let’s face it, Lionel is the only one of his generation with a touch of Bernard’s genius and I don’t blame him he doesn’t trust anybody. The thing very few people appreciate is the rich have their problems too. You come from our kind of money you’re a marked man. If Lionel hadn’t had Fenella followed how could he have known that she was having an affair with a schwartze yet, which must have been very humiliating for such a proud fella. And have you any idea what that marriage cost him, it didn’t even last a year? The alimony. The diamonds. The sables he never got back. Some people say it’s bad taste, but I don’t blame him for one minute that he now has each new wife sign a divorce settlement before he marries her. All that gossip about receipts for gifts, however, is highly exaggerated. I can assure you Melody doesn’t have to sign a return-on-demand voucher for anything valued under one hundred thousand dollars. But that’s not why she insisted on the cheaper tiara at Winston’s. She did that because it’s not in her nature to be a grabber. Now tell me something. Is it true that Henry has some meshuggena theory about a new ice age, a punishment for the Jews?”