Seasons of the Heart (21 page)

What could Phillip say? Thank you, I’m indebted to you? No, there must be no hint of resentment in his words. He couldn’t deny her this happiness. Forcing enthusiasm into his voice, he said, “I think it’s a hell of a buy, Ann.”

“It is, isn’t it? So do you think we should take it?”

“You’ve already set your heart on it, haven’t you?”

Ann nodded ruefully. “I guess I have.”

“Okay. What can I say?”

“Oh, Phillip!” Ann threw her arms around her husband, never noticing the defeated look in his eyes.

A month later, the Coulter family had moved in. Evie was thrilled with the backyard and Simon reveled in his new room. Even Phillip was so pleased with the space and privacy that he almost forgot that the house had been Ann’s idea, not his.

That night before going up to bed they stood arm in arm in the garden. “I don’t think I’ve told you lately how much I love you, Phillip,” Ann said, smiling up at him. “Do you know something? I think we must be the luckiest people in the whole world.”

Phillip gazed into her eyes. All he could see there was sincerity. She really did believe her words. She bore him no ill will for any of his failings.

So why couldn’t he believe it too?

A
S SOON AS THEY
were settled, Ann turned her attention back to her career. She was almost ready to take her broker’s exam. Meanwhile, she carefully studied the market. It was 1957—a period of nationwide recession. Realtors were keeping going mainly through their rentals. Houses and flats were still selling reasonably well in the Marina, but buyers were resistant and choosy. Ann reasoned that that meant it was generally a buyer’s market, and outside the Marina there might be great opportunities to pick up property cheaply. What she hoped to find was a piece of property she could buy and then rent until it appreciated in value. Then she would sell. Each day she read the papers, searching out foreclosures, but nothing seemed quite right. She considered a storefront with two upstairs apartments on Union before deciding it was a bit overpriced.

For several years the Union Street area had been sprouting boutiques and specialty stores which were supplanting the old groceries and shoe repair shops. Perhaps it had already passed the point where one could get in on the ground floor and make a killing.

Yet, for weeks afterward, Ann kicked herself for passing up the deal. Perhaps she was being foolishly cautious. It didn’t help that she couldn’t discuss the prospect with Phillip, but she knew that it would only open up the sensitive subject of who controlled their finances. She hesitated talking to Violet too, though she trusted the older woman’s judgment. Ann wondered from time to time if Violet really liked her or just tolerated her because she was a good agent. While Violet was never unpleasant, there seemed to be a sharp note in her voice after Ann had closed a particularly difficult deal.

She would have been astonished to realize that Violet was envious. Here she had knocked herself out for almost thirty years, and Ann Coulter had come along and set the office on its ear in three. The strange thing was that Violet couldn’t help but like Ann, who, to give her credit, never seemed to trade on her looks or charm when dealing with people.

Ann had almost decided to go to Violet with her problem when the exact piece of property came on the market. As New York was known for its brownstones, San Francisco had its Victorians, their pointed, elegant silhouettes clinging to the contours of its fabled hills. But since the twenties, many of these charming houses had fallen into disrepair. Between the late 1930s and the 1950s, people ignored them in favor of the new buildings with all the modern conveniences, and the smart money moved to the Peninsula and Marin County.

Ann had an instinctive feeling that ultimately the notion of living right in the city would revive. She noticed that urban renewal had become a political issue and that the city council was talking about preserving “our heritage.”

Late one afternoon, Ann was walking through the Western Addition. She had been checking out foreclosures, and, looking up from the list, she saw a huge Victorian house. The façade was incredible, with graceful bay windows, a profusion of fretwork, and a curved portico supported by columns, all of which somehow created a harmony of exuberant excess. To Ann’s discerning gaze the house was magnificent, for all the broken windows, the grime, and the ominously sagging front porch.

She picked her way around the back, avoiding the old tires and oil cans which littered its gravelled driveway. It had a stone foundation, so it probably hadn’t settled too much. The plumbing had probably never been modernized, but at least from the outside, it didn’t look hopeless.

An old woman shuffled out from the house next door and called out, “What are you doing? Going to buy that old wreck?”

Ann smiled pleasantly without replying.

“That’s the old Hampton house, you know,” the woman said. “Used to take up the whole block. He was in hardware.”

“Oh, yes, Hampton Hardware! I remember that from when I was a little girl.”

“Well, that’s where the old moneybags lived. James Hampton, his name was. The house is real pretty inside. Brass hardware, beautiful floors. That is, if the folks who’ve been living here haven’t put big holes in it. They must have had ten kids.”

With that the woman shuffled back into the house, shaking her head and coughing loudly.

Ann was a little startled by the woman’s words, but she went on making notes. The house’s history had further intrigued her. The next day, she got the key and went inside. As the old lady had said, the tenants had made a shambles of the place. The fine hardwood floors were gouged and scuffed, and there were gaping holes in the plaster. But a closer look showed Ann that the damage was mainly on the surface. The roof seemed intact, and structurally the house appeared sound.

The rooms were of fine proportions, but more important to Ann, they were so arranged as to be easily subdivided into four attractive apartments. Some previous owner had made a halfhearted attempt to subdivide the house into two flats, installing a cheap gas cooker and primitive sink upstairs, but they could be removed. There would be at least one major expense: dividing the lower kitchen into two back-to-back modern kitchens and adding two kitchens upstairs. Miraculously, old James Hampton had been a devotee of modern plumbing, and each proposed quadrant of the house already had a bathroom. Three of the four units had fireplaces, and all would have bay windows in the living rooms.

In short, the more Ann thought about it, the more perfect an investment the house seemed to be.

She went to Gil Cooley, the bank manager who had found the Coulters’ small house, and laid out her proposal.

“Do you think it could work?” she asked him nervously. “Tell me the truth, Gil.”

Gil shrugged. “Hard to say, Ann. It sure looks good on paper. But the renovation is either going to take a lot of money—or a heck of a lot of work. Is your husband good at this sort of thing?”

Ann gave him a rueful glance. “Not particularly. But still, I think we can do it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have any problem putting a second mortgage on your house. Prices are soaring. Actually, Ann, I think you can do just about anything you set out to do. You’re a remarkable woman. You know I’ll do my best for you when your loan application comes through.”

He saw her to the door, then watched her walk off with a hint of regret on his face. He had fallen for Ann Coulter at their first meeting, but he knew from discreet inquiry that she was devoted to her husband and small daughter. Still, he would see to it that she got that loan even if he had to twist some important arms to do it.

Ann was so excited she couldn’t wait until Phillip got home to tell him what she hoped to do. Without hesitation she jumped onto a bus headed downtown.

The door of the law firm now read Newman, Newman, Brice & Gould. With a pang Ann realized it would never read “& Coulter.” Pushing it open, she asked the receptionist if she could see Mr. Coulter. “I hope he’s available,” Ann added. “He’s not in conference, is he?”

“I don’t think so,” the woman drawled, hiding a sly smile. No one conferred with Mr. Coulter. “Just a moment, please.”

As the receptionist rang Phillip’s desk, Ann perched nervously on the edge of the leather sofa. What would Phillip say? They never discussed Ann’s work, not even in a general discussion of the postwar housing boom.

“You can go on in,” the receptionist said, interrupting Ann’s thoughts. “End of the hall on the left.”

Ann had been to Phillip’s office only twice, both times during his first year at the firm. Although she knew that he had not been promoted, it was something of a shock for her to see that he was still working in the same dingy little cubbyhole.

He pushed back his chair the moment he saw Ann at the door. “Sweetheart—how nice to see you. Were you downtown?”

“Phillip, I need your thoughts on something. May I sit down?”

Ann told Phillip all about her plans for the Hampton house. By the time she finished, she could no longer hide her eager excitement. “So tell me what you think.”

Instead of answering, he rocked back and forth in his chair. Ann grew edgy wondering what he was thinking.

“Well, Ann,” the verdict finally came, “I think you should forget it.”

“Why?”

“Do you have any idea of the cost of repairs these days? Most of those old barns are riddled with dry rot and have leaky roofs and rusty plumbing. And then there’s the remodeling. Putting a kitchen in each unit would cost a fortune. Anyway, I don’t think those areas are going to come back as residential addresses. We’re not a country that believes in tradition.”

Seeing Ann’s growing disappointment, Phillip reached across the table to take her hand, but Ann kept them stubbornly in her lap. His gesture seemed patronizing somehow.

In a voice meant to be kindly but authoritative, Phillip said, “Ann, that kind of real estate is just too speculative for amateurs to dabble in. A lot of experts feel that the market is headed lower, and then where will you be? You won’t be able to rent the place or sell it. Look, I know how hard you’ve worked, and how much you’ve accomplished. But you’re trying to go too far too fast with this deal. It’s just too risky. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that’s my honest opinion.”

Ann weighed her words carefully. “I am aware that there is some risk involved, Phillip, but also there could be a lot of potential gain. Actually, I’ve looked into it pretty thoroughly and it may not be quite as risky as you think. Most of the realtors I know predict an upturn by the first quarter of next year, as long as the government doesn’t tighten up on credit. The house is in good shape structurally, according to the inspector, and I’ve already found someone to do the remodeling. Nonunion.”

“Who?”

“Guido Verona.”

Phillip looked confused. “You mean Guido the grocery boy? Ann, you’ve got to be kidding!”

Frightened by his wife’s persistence, he got up and looked hard at her. His face was flushed. “Honey, can’t you see this deal is just too risky for us? Maybe real estate is your career, but it’s our mutual financial future you’re talking about.”

“I know, Phillip, but can’t you see that it’s a
calculated
risk? If we never take any chances, we’re never going to have any real security.”

“Look, Ann, you asked me for my advice, and I’ve given it to you.”

“But you’re wrong!” Ann burst out before she could stop herself. “All you’ve done is make doomsday predictions.”

“You didn’t really want my advice at all, did you, Ann?” Phillip said quietly. “You just wanted my blessing.”

“That’s not true, Phillip!”

“But you think the risk is worth taking. Isn’t that true?”

“Well—yes, I guess I do.”

“Well, then, why did you bother to ask me?”

“Maybe we should talk more about this later,” Ann said, picking up her pocketbook.

Phillip nodded without speaking and watched her go.

Sinking back in his chair, he ran his hand through his hair. He was torn by emotions he didn’t understand. On the one hand he had some perfectly legitimate objections to Ann’s scheme. On the other hand, those objections had nothing to do with his decision to say no. The real reason he hated the idea was that it was
hers
.

If Ann had only understood Phillip’s terror, she might have been able to empathize with him. Instead, walking to the bus stop, she was aware only of a burning frustration. Phillip hadn’t even seemed to listen to her. All he’d done was make her lose confidence. Maybe he was right and she
was
making a big mistake. Phillip was a lawyer, after all….

All that evening, her fears and doubts mounted. At one point she was almost ready to go into the living room and tell him that she had changed her mind, but something made her remain silent. She was a good agent and she had learned a lot about the real estate market. It was just as likely that her analysis was right and Phillip’s was wrong.

The next morning over breakfast, Phillip’s face was set. Ann was sure that he was still determined to oppose her. But, unexpectedly, as he was getting ready to leave, he paused and said briefly, “Go ahead with the deal, Ann. Just bring home the papers when they’re ready and tell me where to sign.”

“Thank you, Phillip!” Ann exclaimed. Then, quickly, she added, “Of course, I still don’t know if I’ll get the loan.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “You’ll get it. You know you will.” Turning, he went out the door.

There was an agonizing wait while the bank processed Ann’s loan application. She knew that there were a number of factors against it. The Coulters had owned their house for such a short time. Phillip’s salary was relatively low, and banks were loath to grant loans based on a woman’s contribution to the family income.

Ann was right to be anxious. If it hadn’t been for Gil Cooley, her petition would have been denied. Gil didn’t refute the guidelines, he simply made an exception. He had armed himself with a raft of defensive arguments—Ann Coulter was well known to him professionally and personally, her husband was an attorney, albeit rather poorly remunerated; the Coulters were an old San Francisco family, the essence of stability—but none of them proved necessary. Since Gilbert Cooley was normally so cautious, no one seriously thought to question his judgment.