The Coming of Fabrizze: A Novel (Black Squirrel Books) (14 page)

“It keeps going higher,” said Fabrizze.

“For no reason,” said Vivolo. “There was talk of a three for one split of the shares. Up went the stock. A director of the company said there would be no split at this time. Down went the stock. He spoke of a stock dividend. Up went the stock. No stock dividend was declared. The talk goes on and on. It's a conversation, Fabrizze, and the stock jumps up and down with it. They're beginning to play with these stocks. We'll have to be careful.”

“And now you bought two others?” said Fabrizze.

“Why should we fool with cats and dogs? These are the blue-chip stocks. When the market moves, my friend, they climb twice as fast and far. They're holding steady. They're marking time.”

“Railroad stocks?” said Fabrizze.

“The giants,” said Vivolo. “They have mineral rights to the land. They have oil wells. Their earnings improve all the time. But they've been lagging behind the market. Look out. A surprising thing will happen.”

It happened on a Friday.

Poggio was the first to sound the alarm. He took breakfast with Josephine and was sipping his coffee at the window. Suddenly he heard the song of the harmonica. Fabrizze and Vivolo came in sight. Abruptly the music stopped. Fabrizze was pushing a wheelbarrow down the sidewalk.

“Come here, Josephine, come here,” said Poggio.

The old lady came with a handful of oyster crackers. She was dropping them one by one, like secret wishes, into a cup of coffee. She saw Fabrizze. She heard Adelina rocking on the porch. She gaped at the wheelbarrow. Adelina was thundering. Poggio flung open the window.

“Do it, Fabrizze, do it,” he said. “Take it all then! Make two trips! Make three! Benedico!”

“O, Fabrizze,” said Josephine, spilling crackers on the floor.

By noon everyone found out that Fabrizze had merely taken the wheelbarrow down to the store. They were beginning to relax and then Poggio was in their midst. He invited them to a party in the house on Jackson Street. It was like a trumpet blast.

Poggio had just returned from the stock exchange. The stocks were climbing. The bear was dead. The bull would never die.

“Go to the store,” said Fabrizze. “Tell Rumbone to get ready for a feast. Find Cucuzza. It will be a lovely day!”

Poggio carried the word through the neighborhood. Grace heard it before he arrived.

“He's coming, he's coming,” said Poggio. “All records broken! Sugar and spice! Cement and diamonds! Oil and vinegar! Tripe and sausage! Up, up, up! Come to the window!”

“Stop, stop,” said Grace. “I can't sit still with you.”

“Listen, listen,” said Poggio. “It's the trolley! There they are! All of them! Arm in arm! Look, look! They closed the store! Look at the food! Down the middle of the street! Every day with these parades! They made a million! I swear it!”

Poggio was not so far wide of the mark.

All day the stocks were swinging higher. In the last hour of trading one of the blue-chip stocks ran up twelve points on a single sale. Ten minutes later the other stock shot up fifteen points.

The traders were swaying and chanting.

“The rails are breaking through!”

“Show the way!”

“Make up for lost time!”

“Highball, highball!”

Fabrizze was stunned. The jump in price carried him up to two hundred thousand dollars. He turned and fell into the arms of Vivolo. They made their way to the store and then home.

Long before dark the celebration was under way.

Fabrizze sat upstairs in the kitchen.

“Send for Bassetti,” he was saying. “I can't eat anything. A drop of wine, Grace, a drop of wine. Send for Bassetti.”

Down in the basement there was uproar.

“We bought and sold!” said Rumbone.

“Just in time!” said Poggio.

“We bought!” said Rumbone. “It's going up!”

“Higher and higher!” said Poggio.

“Up, up, up!” said Rumbone.

“Sell it!” said Poggio.

“I lit a candle,” said Josephine. “A novena!”

“We'll have a high mass!” said Poggio.

“Spronzi was at the store,” said Mancini. “He said there are more houses every time he comes. Make a city, he says, and be done with it!”

“A city, a city!” said Poggio. “Houses and stores! Schools and churches! Peaches and cream! Steel and gas!”

“A little white square,” said Rumbone. “Piazza Fabrizze.”

Salupo was measuring Cardino for a suit.

“Every stitch by hand,” said Salupo. “The coat will be shaped like a bell. Silk under the lapels. Pockets of silk!”

“Make them deep!” said Cardino. “I'll want them deep!”

“I'll carry them to your knees!” said Salupo.

Dancers whirled.

Vivolo came down and was greeted with shouts.

For the moment Grace and Fabrizze were left in the kitchen with Bassetti. Grace drew up a chair.

“Can you hear me?” she said. “Do you recognize me?”

“It's my wife,” said Fabrizze, pinching her.

“Do you know where you are?” said Grace.

“I'm at home,” said Fabrizze. “What's happening?”

“Tell me what's happening,” said Grace. “I don't understand any of this. It's like everything is coming loose.”

“Things are better every day,” said Fabrizze.

“Better and worse,” said Grace. “There's talk of thousands and I see less money than ever. I owe a bill to the butcher. Do you know what he said? He said I shouldn't bother you. But where are these thousands? It's like a dream. Penza was here. He was talking and talking. He was spending money right and left. He's ready to send for a wife. ‘Where's the money?' I said. He put a finger on his lips. I was breaking the spell.”

“I'll bring the money,” said Fabrizze.

“Bring it then.”

“It's all there,” said Fabrizze. “More than ever. It's piling up. I could have brought it home tonight.”

“But why didn't you?” said Grace. “What does it mean? Listen a moment. Fifteen people are waiting to come here from Italy. Do you remember talking to Salupo? He had a letter from his family. The crops failed in the village. ‘Tell them to be ready,' you said. He wrote and told them. Are you bringing them all here?”

“Let them come, let them come,” said Fabrizze.

“Will you change clothes before they come?” said Grace. “Look at you. And when did you last eat? One thing more. Did you hear what your son is going to be when he grows up? Poggio put it in his head. ‘What will you be?' they ask him, in the street. ‘A millionaire,' he says. ‘Or more,' he says.”

Down in the basement the music started again. The guitar was being plucked in a piercing and powerful way.

“Wait, Grace, wait,” said Fabrizze.

“Everyone is waiting,” said Grace.

“It's happening fast,” said Fabrizze. “Let me explain. Last month I made a plan to spend the money. All at once I had twice as much to spend. I made another plan. And then I had twice as much again. The money pours into my hands. I'm carried along with it. It makes me think of that last night on the ship. I woke up with a cry. I didn't know where I was. My uncle reached over and put his hand on me. ‘Soon it will be morning,' he said. ‘We'll be there.' He was right.”

“How does it feel?” said Bassetti, massaging him.

Fabrizze was searching through his pockets to find money for Bassetti. A sudden baffled look was on his face. Grace burst into laughter and gave him a dollar. He passed it on.

“Put it in with the rest,” said Bassetti.

“There it is,” said Grace. “It's beyond me.”

The music of the guitar swept through the house like a sheet of flame. Fabrizze was tapping his feet. Bassetti shuffled in a dance round the chair.

“How this Cucuzza is playing,” he said.

“Let's dance a little!” said Fabrizze.

Down they went.

“It's Vivolo playing,” said Grace.

Vivolo was standing with one foot on a chair. His eyes were shut tight. His curly hair bounced on his brow. It seemed he was listening for and playing only the wildest music in the guitar. The dancers clapped and stamped the floor. They cried out. They rushed from wall to wall.

Suddenly the crowd came apart.

Gritti was on his knees in the corner. He had caught Poggio by the leg and was squeezing him down.

“Tell the truth for once!” cried Gritti.

“Your working days are over!” said Poggio.

“I'm warning you!”

“A little white square!” said Poggio.

“It's your last chance!”

“Piazza Fabrizze!” said Poggio.

F
ABRIZZE promised Grace that it would be over and done with by the holidays. He guessed right. Afterwards, no one could say just what happened in those final weeks.

Fabrizze sold the railroad stocks at a terrific profit. He was eager to buy again. It was at this point that Vivolo turned wary. He called Fabrizze out of the crowd.

“Come away from them,” sad Vivolo. “Close the door. It's a choir in there and you'll be singing the same song. Let's wait a little and watch the market. What's the hurry? Do you know how much money you have? Two hundred thousand dollars!”

“But why wait?” said Fabrizze. “We'll miss out!”

“I have a feeling,” said Vivolo. “A feeling of danger. Summer is over, my friend.”

“Look at the market,” said Fabrizze. “It's going up. They say it's the fall rally.”

“How quick you learn,” said Vivolo. “But I know about the fall rally. It's the rally that comes between the summer rally and the winter rally. They rally from rallies. I tell you it worries me.”

“Why do you worry so much?” said Fabrizze. “You worried about the oil stock. It climbed ten points after we sold it. You worried about the paper stock. It's nineteen points higher. And the railroads are still going up.”

“Wait then,” said Vivolo. “There was a stock here selling for ninety dollars a share. You know what happened on Friday? It shot up thirty points. An increase in value by one third. In one day! And it's a good stock. I have hope, Fabrizze. But this is where faith comes in. I don't believe it.”

“But it happened!”

“It shouldn't happen! It means that the stock was thirty points off its value. Why should the stock be thirty points off when everything else is so high? Consider the railroad stocks. I studied them. I looked for a fairly wide move in six or eight weeks. They went up thirty points in an hour!”

“And they're up again!”

“A kite will go up even if you keep it on a string. Cut the string and it goes higher. But it belongs to no one.”

Fabrizze refused to listen. He insisted on making one last investment. Vivolo picked the best stock on the list.

“Buy it outright,” said Vivolo. “Buy it on a long-pull basis. Never mind the margin. The stock costs two hundred dollars a share. Buy a thousand shares. Pay cash and forget it.”

“Is there a good chance the stock will go up?”

“They call it a bellwether,” said Vivolo. “It will lead the market up or down. I just don't know about it. Nothing looks the same to me.”

“It's because you have so much to lose,” said Fabrizze.

“I'll tell you a secret,” said Vivolo. “We can sell short and make just as much money if the market falls.”

“And if it goes up?”

“We lose, we lose.”

“Do you mean it?” said Fabrizze. “We'd be sitting and waiting for bad news. Like two funeral directors. I'll buy again. I want more than a thousand shares.”

“Buy four thousand then,” said Vivolo. “It's a twenty-five per cent margin. I'll talk to the broker for you. I'll make him think I'm standing in with you.”

“Do it then,” said Fabrizze. “Come in with me.”

“Get in with the choir,” said Vivolo.

The purchase of a block of four thousand shares carried the stock up fifteen points. It meant a quick stunning profit of sixty thousand dollars. For a time the market soared with it. And then it stopped. It seemed to be frozen right there. It went up a fraction and down a fraction. The exchange came alive with rumors.

“It's marking time!”

“Solid as a rock!”

“Coast is clear!”

“Strike for new highs!”

“Talk of war!”

“Wars, wars!”

“How strong and steady,” said Fabrizze. “Look out, Vivolo, look out. We'll fly away.”

“I sold short a little,” said Vivolo.

It was a time of breath-taking hope. Day after day Fabrizze sat in the white smoking light of the exchange. He paid no attention to minor advances in the stock. One afternoon he was halfway home before realizing that a fractional gain of three quarters yielded a profit of three thousand dollars. He was thinking of a million. The word was big and sweet as a plum in his mouth.

Late in the night he would send for Adelina and Bassetti. The old man came to massage him with warm olive oil.

“Sit easy, sit easy,” said Bassetti. “Lean forward then. You sit back and back like a lion.”

Adelina sat beside him at the table. She thought a spell was on him. Poggio thought she was laying it. She let three drops of oil fall into a saucer of water. Presently she was whispering and making the sign of the cross on his brow.

“It's no wonder you don't sleep,” she said. “You're on fire.”

“It's a fever,” said Grace.

“Poggio says he's like a torch,” said Bassetti.

“The torch is going out,” said Grace.

“Be careful,” said Fabrizze, pinching the women. “You'll catch what I have!”

“We caught it,” said Grace.

“Sit still then,” said Bassetti.

“Josephine is just as bad,” said Adelina. “And this Rumbone! He's losing his mind!”

“You'll need a bicycle to make the rounds,” said Grace.

Rumbone knew that Fabrizze was in the midst of a final daring assault. For the moment it was a deadlock. Everything was hanging in the balance. One afternoon he rushed Vivolo into the back room of the store.

“Why are you here?” said Rumbone.

“Where should I be?” said Vivolo.

“It's early,” said Rumbone. “Why are you sweating like that? Something happened down there! I knew it!”

“Calm yourself,” said Vivolo.

“But where's Fabrizze?” said Rumbone. “Where's Poggio? Is it true what I hear?”

“You mean Piazza Fabrizze?” said Vivolo.

“Please, Vivolo, please! I can't think straight! I get so excited I have to lie down! I can't rest! I get up again! And up and down and up!”

“Like the stock,” said Vivolo. “Listen a moment. Monday was a good day for Fabrizze. And for you. But nothing has happened since then. Keep your fingers crossed. You'll know very soon. It may be a matter of days.”

“A matter of days!”

“Or less,” said Vivolo. “Or less.”

One look at Fabrizze told the tale.

“He's with us like a tiger,” said Poggio.

Suddenly he would be there in the lovely soaring light of morning. Igino filled the day with song. The street rang with shouts and laughter. Fabrizze saluted each of his friends. He made big circles in the air with his right hand. It seemed he was dancing down that leafy aisle of gold. Now the song was over and he would be gone in the perfect autumn blue.

Everyone had turned away by the time Vivolo slipped out of the house. No longer would he share in the applause.

Fabrizze returned in the haze of afternoon. The little eager bell of the trolley told of his coming. He was still on the march. Vivolo lingered at the corner. Igino played as though the song was bringing Fabrizze. Friends and children poured into the street. Vivolo stayed in the shadow of the red rooming house. Fabrizze was dancing beneath leaves weaving their gold on the sky.

The neighborhood was swept up in that last blaze of excitement and wonder. Hope ran so high it would be remembered as a time of fulfillment. It was known that Fabrizze had risked everything. A million was at stake. And more. Poggio spread word it would be over by the end of the week.

So it stood as Fabrizze marched away on that Thursday.

“We are all here!” he cried, making a circle in the air. And then he was gone.

There was music and laughter. There was talk of a feast to end all feasts. Rumbone and Mancini were celebrating before noon in the back room of the store. Adelina and Josephine rocked and rocked on their porch. They threw coins to the sidewalk so that the children might buy ice cream. Cardino left work early to see Salupo about his new suit of clothes, and a gallon of wine hidden in the big red box in the closet of the attic. Cucuzza was there. They drank the gallon of wine and emptied the box of toys. They swore to carry the party right on through the weekend.

Cardino was dancing in his underwear when Poggio brought that first warning about the stocks. Poggio had just come from the exchange. He was bewildered by what he had seen.

“It's Poggio!” said Salupo. “Silk and salami!”

“The news, the news!” said Cardino. “Out with it!”

“Up with it, up with it!” said Salupo.

“How pale,” said Cucuzza. “Wine for him.”

“I was there,” said Poggio, helplessly.

“Tell us, tell us!” said Cardino.

“It's changing,” said Poggio. “It's changing.”

“What's that?” said Cardino. “It's a lie!”

“It's jumping down,” said Poggio. “I swear it!”

“No more of that!” said Cardino. “Don't listen, don't listen! Get hold of him! No more of that!”

The commotion brought Gritti up to the attic. Everyone was in hot pursuit of Poggio. Gritti drank a glass of wine.

“Tell the truth!” cried Cardino.

“I told you!” said Poggio. “Wake up!”

“Lies, lies!” said Cardino.

“Get hold of him!” said Salupo.

“Don't listen!” said Cardino.

“It's different, it's different!” said Poggio.

Gritti went down and started to shave in the kitchen. He kept hearing the words of Poggio. All at once Igino was playing the song of welcome for Fabrizze. Igino lived in the rooms below.

“Way, Fabrizze, way!” said Gritti, at the window.

No one came swinging round the corner.

Gritti resumed his shaving. Igino was playing. Gritti looked out the window. He turned away with a curse. The music started again. He slashed his chin with the razor. He plunged downstairs.

“Stop it, stop it!” he cried, pounding the door. “Come out of there! Are you losing your mind?”

The music started. Out of instinct Gritti lunged to the window in the hall. He almost went through it.

“Look at the blood!” he cried, cupping his hand under his chin as though to save it. “Poor me, poor me! Look at the blood! It's a bad sign! A curse on Poggio! Come along, Fabrizze, come along!”

It was the first time that Fabrizze failed him.

The stock market had broken.

Fabrizze was at the exchange when it happened. Within three hours his own stock fell twenty-two points. The rest of the market crumbled with it. There was panic. Men jumped out of their chairs and scurried from corners. A woman screamed. Wild cries filled the air. Phones were ringing. Brokers left their offices. Everyone came together in a rush. The crowd was closing in on the announcer as though to bring him down. The ticker kept on and on with quick neat reports of falling prices.

“Landslide!”

“Unload, unload!”

“Sell at the market!”

“Get me out, get me out!”

“Sell, sell, sell!”

Fabrizze sat there watching.

Vivolo took his arm and led him into the hallway.

“Listen, Fabrizze, listen,” said Vivolo, trembling with excitement. “Wake up, wake up! There's a chance for you!”

“But what's happening in there?”

“Never mind,” said Vivolo. “Listen to me. Part of your loss was a profit. Seven or eight thousand covers it. You'll keep control of the stock. I'm giving you the money. I'm putting it in for you. It's possible the stock touched bottom. Tomorrow it may bounce up. I don't believe it. But one good move is all you need! Eight or nine points! You can sell and salvage what you put in!”

“I can't take the money as a gift,” said Fabrizze.

“Don't be a fool!” said Vivolo. “I put it in already! I can't lose either way! I made five times as much!”

“I'll borrow,” said Fabrizze. “I'll borrow the money!”

“Why should you borrow?” said Vivolo. “Take it from me and forget it. I tell you it's a waste. I'm giving you the money! It's only that you have a quarter of a million to protect! It isn't right for me to lend and put this debt on you! Try to understand!”

“I'll borrow from Rossi!” said Fabrizze.

“You don't listen!” said Vivolo. “I'm giving it to you on the spot! I've already given it!”

“I can't take it,” said Fabrizze. “Not in that way.”

“Go back inside,” said Vivolo. “You ask what's happening? I'll tell you. Fear is happening. You haven't seen the end of it!… But where are you going?”

“To get the money,” said Fabrizze.

He went to the railroad yard and found Rossi. Fifteen minutes later they were hurrying to the bank. They arrived just before it closed. Rossi drew out his four thousand dollars. He insisted that Fabrizze come back to the house with him.

“I have a hundred more,” he said. “Here it is.”

“Keep it, keep it,” said Fabrizze.

“Go to the store,” said Rossi. “Take what's there.”

“I'm borrowing against the store,” said Fabrizze. “The store is yours if something happens.”

“How is it mine?” said Rossi. “It's our store.”

“Let me tell you about this,” said Fabrizze. “I can't believe it. Let me explain to you.”

“Do you have to explain?” said Rossi. “I have the money and I give it. And that's all. Take a glass of wine before you go.”

Fabrizze leaned forward.

“I'll sign a note for you,” he said.

“O, Fabrizze,” said Rossi, softly. “Shame on you for once.”

“It's only right,” said Fabrizze.

“Listen to him,” said Rossi. “I wish I had a million dollars to give you. Don't you know we'll do anything for you? My heart feels as big as a ham when I'm with you.”

Rossi put his hand on Fabrizze.

“And I'm ashamed of myself,” he said. “Do you know why? Because I felt so happy to be able to help you. And all the while it's going bad for you.”