The Wrong Kind of Money (6 page)

The traffic inches slowly forward, the rain continues to pour down, and the windshield wipers of the Lincoln thrash furiously back and forth.
Manush, manush,
the wipers say.

Cyril thinks: Mr. Nelson knows which side his bread is buttered on.

2

An Intermezzo

One spring morning when she was fifteen (Hannah is remembering) and when the gardenia in the upstairs formal parlor was just coming into bloom, she tossed a blossom from the open front window into the street below. It was intended to land at her father's feet as he left the house on the way to teach his school. But she missed, and her father strode on in his purposeful way without seeing it. But a young sailor carrying a navy duffel bag happened to be passing the house on his way to a great adventure. He saw the flower fall to the sidewalk and stooped to pick it up. He looked up at the young girl in the window, and a breeze blew the parlor curtains aside. He smiled up at her, and she smiled back. Then he put the gardenia between his teeth, gypsy-style, and danced a little jig. Then he hoisted his duffel to his shoulder and walked on. But after a few steps he stopped and turned back. He removed his cap and hung it on one of the iron finials of her front gate posts. Then he walked away, whistling.

Later she read about his great adventure. At least, when she saw his picture in the newspapers, Hannah was sure that this was a photograph of the same young man with the same, slightly off-center smile. His name was Radioman First Class George Noville, and he had just completed a historic mission—the first radio-equipped transatlantic flight, in a trimotored Fokker monoplane, under the famous U.S. Navy Commander Richard E. Byrd. The year was 1926. A few years earlier Commander Byrd had circled the North Pole.

Two years later, her doorbell rang, and Hannah, who happened to be alone in the house at the time, went to the door. “I've come for my cap,” he said. She let him in.

He brought with him a diary he had kept of his many travels since they had last seen each other. Pressed between its pages was her flower. “It brought me luck,” he said. “And it brought me back.”

All we know of what happened next is contained in a slender packet of letters, tied with a faded pink hair ribbon, which Hannah keeps in a shoebox at the bottom of one of her dresser drawers. The stamps are mostly foreign—from Tunis, Gibraltar, Malta, Tripoli, and other mostly Mediterranean ports—and the postmarks are faded, and the letters are undated, so it is impossible to tell how long the relationship lasted, and Hannah seldom looks at the letters anymore.

My darling
—

It is midnight, and all my other shipmates are asleep, and I am writing this to you by flashlight so as not to disturb the others. And because it is hard to write with a flashlight in one hand and a pen in the other in this cramped bunk (the bunks in this #%$&## old tub are particularly narrow), this will just be to tell you that you are in my thoughts all day long, and in my dreams at night. Even an ocean and a half away, you are with me always. Nothing can ever separate us, my darling, but meanwhile I am working hard to get a stateside assignment so we can truly be together again.

The fellow in the bunk below me is snoring softly, making sounds that sound like
manush, manush,
so I guess I should try to get some sleep now, too, which will be easy because I plan to see you in my dreams. Good night, my love.

George

My darling Hannie
—

Something you say in your last letter worries me a little. You say you
hope
your father will like me. Well, I can promise you, my love, that I will do my #%&## best to
make
him like me! And your mother too! And your married sister, and her husband, and all the rest of your family, once I have a chance to meet them
!
Why would they
not
like me, my darling? I happen to think I'm a pretty nice guy, and so
—
thank God
—
do you, as the rest of your letter seems to indicate! You even use the word “love”
—
thank God
!

Genoa is a dirty city, with very little to offer, it seems to me, so I am not going ashore with the others tonight. I would rather stay on board and write to you and think of you. Meanwhile, I expect to hear about my request for stateside duty very soon
.

All my love
,

G.

Darling Hannie
—

Good news
—
I think! There's a rumor about that Cmdr. Byrd is planning another expedition
—
don't know where as yet. But he'll need a good radioman, and I know he was pleased with my work on that last flight of his, so I'm putting in a request for that assignment That would bring me back to Washington, at least for the planning stages, and Washington is not far from New York, and that means perhaps it won't be long before you're in my arms again.

Don't worry that the expedition will be dangerous. Old Byrd knows what he's doing, and every detail is planned perfectly ahead of time.

I love and miss you so, my darling
.

Ever
,

G
.

My dearest darling
—

Please tell your father that I
do
have a future in the navy! In fact, I'm expecting a promotion any day now, and once I work my way up into the officer corps, there's going to be no stopping me! Tell your father that.

Yes, I know what you mean when you say our backgrounds, and our religions, are different, but what possible difference could that make to us as long as we love each other? Tell your father that, and I'm sure he will understand. And when he says he doesn't think I'll “fit in” with your New York friends, who says we have to live in New York? There is a whole world out there for us to live … and love in.

And as for “backgrounds,” well maybe we Novilles aren't high society. But we've always been ambitious, and hard workers. And maybe your father, the famous educator, doesn't think too much of a fellow with only a high school diploma, but things like that shouldn't come between us. When I meet your father, I'm sure I can make him understand. Trust me, my love.

No word yet about stateside duty and/or Cmdr. Byrd, but I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything
.

Your always loving

George

My darling
—

Please don't listen to what people are telling you! When two people are in love as much as you and I are, the only people they need to listen to are each other.

Meanwhile, every time I take out that flower from the pages of my diary, I see your sweet face and dream I am holding you in my arms and kissing your sweet lips.

Love always
,

G
.

My darling
—

What is wrong? Reading between the lines of your last letter, I feel that something is terribly the matter! If something is happening that is troubling you, I'll go AWOL and jump on the next ship to New York. I'll be a stowaway
!

What do you mean when you say something could “stop” us? This is America. We were born free. We are free to marry anyone we wish, aren't we? This isn't the Dark Ages. My darling, your last letter worries me terribly. Please write to me immediately and answer all my questions. I know this: I can't live without you, my love.

(unsigned)

My darling
—

It has been a week since I've heard from you, and I am sick with worry. I can't think of anything else but what you may be going through. Please, please write. If only I could be at your side to help you …

But don't give in to them, my love. I know you're strong. Fight back! Fight hard! Our love is stronger and bigger and better than any of them
—
that is what you said yourself.

Write to me, my love. Write to me
!

The correspondence breaks off at this point.

“Hannah needs a tour of Europe, Marcus,” her mother said to her father. “All the other girls her age are having them, and I will accompany her as her chaperone.”

“Can we afford it, Sadie?”

“I can, yes. I'm going to dip into my inheritance if need be.”

“I won't have you doing that, Sadie. I can afford it.”

“Very good. I've booked passage for us on the
Berengaria.
We sail for Hamburg Thursday week. The trip should be a broadening experience for her, I should think.”

A few letters survive from that memorable European trip which, as it turned out, would last for the better part of a year.

Dearest Papa,

Today we visited the Cologne Cathedral, which is very beautiful and contains much beautiful stained glass above the chancel, depicting 48 queens and the Milan Madonna. The Shrine of the Three Kings on the High Altar was also beautiful and interesting. Tomorrow we visit three more museums, and will hear a performance of
Parsifal
at the Offenbachplatz.…

I hope Bridget is remembering to feed Pussy, and to see that her water dish does not go empty.

Mama joins me in best love.

Your loving daughter
,

Hannah

My dear Marcus,

All has been going well for Hannah and myself until today when, after feeling unwell for several days, I consulted a physician, Dr. Ebert with the American Hospital in Berlin, who advises me that I am in the third month of a pregnancy. It all comes as something of a surprise to me, at my age, but Dr. Ebert assures me that this is a not uncommon occurrence for a woman of my age.

As you know, I have always had difficult pregnancies, and in light of this, Dr. Ebert strongly recommends that I not attempt an Atlantic crossing at this point, but rather that I remain here in Germany for my full term. Here, of course, are some of the finest physicians and medical facilities in the world.…

Please do not consider coming abroad to join me, dear Marcus. Such a trip would serve no good purpose, and I would not wish to see you interrupt your academic year on my account. I assure you that I am in the best of hands with Dr. Ebert and his staff.

Hannah will remain with me here, and I have enrolled her in some classes at the university, where she will be able to improve her German language skills.

Your loving wife
,

Sadie

My dear Marcus,

Your beautiful baby daughter, weighing 6 lbs 11 oz, was born yesterday at 5:30 p.m., or 11:30 a.m. New York time. She is healthy and nursing lustily, and though I know you were hoping for a boy this time, I know you will fall in love with this little darling when you see her. She has your blue eyes and, it seems to me, your ears. What shall we name her? I am thinking of naming her after your grandmother Sachs.

As for me, I am doing well, though feeling somewhat tired and weak. Because of this, and because we are approaching the winter stormy season, and because I have never been a “good sailor,” Dr. Ebert recommends that I remain in Berlin for at least another four weeks before attempting an ocean crossing. So I have advised Frau Stockelman that we will keep our little flat for that additional period.

Hannah joins me in warm greetings
.

Your loving wife
,

Sadie

3

Placement

In another part of the city—on upper Fifth Avenue, to be exact—Mr. and Mrs. Truxton Van Degan IV are sitting in their living room overlooking the Metropolitan Museum. The Van Degans make it a point never to go out on New Year's Eve—it's such a cliché—though if you read the social columns you know that these two go out many other evenings, either here, or in Palm Beach, or in Southampton, whichever place they happen to be. Their butler has just brought them a bottle of chilled champagne, and the atmosphere in the room is equally icy. As often happens when Truck and Georgette Van Degan are alone together, they find that they have very little to say to one another. Perhaps the champagne will lift their mood. It hasn't yet, though Georgette is doing her level best.

“Well, darling,” she says brightly, “are we happy to see 1993 come to an end?” She lifts her glass and tries to smile her most radiant smile. It's the smile she does for
Women's Wear.

“Damn right,” he says. “It's been a shitty year. I told you Bill Clinton would be bad for business. He sure the hell has been.”

“Well, here's to a better 1994,” she says.

“Yeah.” He sits hunched forward in his chair, his glass cradled between two hands, not raising it in response.

She pretends to ignore this. “Patsy Collingwood called this morning,” she says. “She's having a little dinner Thursday for William Luckman.”

“Who's he?”

“The young man who's written that new book about all the nasty things that go on at Yale. Or it's supposed to be Yale.
Desire Under the Elms,
I think it's called.”

“No, that's not it. That's the title of some other book.”

“It's something like that. Anyway, I told her we had the thing at the Pierre on Thursday.”

“Oh, yeah. That thing at the Pierre.”

“Unless you'd rather go to Patsy's, darling. It might be amusing, and I could get us out of the thing at the Pierre, though I hate to do that to Marcella, who has her
placement
all worked out.”

“Yeah.”

“I do think the thing at the Pierre is really more important, darling. It will get more media coverage. And if we back out, Marcella will have to seat the entire party all over again.”

“Yeah.”

“And she has us
très bien placé,
at her most important table. With the Shugrues, the Dominican ambassador, and that divine new hairdresser everybody is insisting I've got to try.”

“Yeah.”

“So I won't call Patsy back.”