Warm Wuinter's Garden (24 page)

Peter looked far out at the darkening rills
of the cove.

“No, I wanted to have a couple of days to do
some cleaning and paint the restrooms.”

“Well, mercy me. I guess I just don’t have a
prayer stacked up against those treats.”

“Let me think about it.”

“Maybe see Dilly.”

Rather than cutting back through the
breakwater, Lise and Pete walked the length of the spit to where a
short length of boardwalk had been built up and over the riprap.
Between the two of them they found nearly a dozen pieces of sea
glass. As usual, all of the pieces were from green, brown, or clear
glass. Peter found a small pink stone to add to Bett’s collection
of heart-shaped stones.

On the walk back to the house Lise asked
Peter what he thought was going to happen in Kuwait. As soon as she
saw his face, she wished she’d kept quiet. From the few slow words
of his answer she knew that he wouldn’t be coming to Boston. She
couldn’t be trusted.

* * *

Christmas night supper was turkey and lettuce
sandwiches and the last of the relish tray. Kate and Jessie watched
television for an hour before talking their grandfather into
playing
Sorry
with them. Roger was recruited as a reluctant
fourth. Lise, Peter and Nita joined Bett in front of the fireplace.
Dilly made a point of mentioning that Bill had gone to their
bedroom to continue reading the material he needed for a report he
had to give at the end of the week. She had everything packed so
that they could leave soon after the
Sorry
game was
finished. If they left before nine-thirty, they’d be home not much
after eleven o’clock.

“Honey, I’m so happy you came. Bill was sweet
to change plans. Mark and Lonnie, too. I’ll write them a note to
thank them for being so gracious. It’s hard for grandparents.”

“Mother, Mother, don’t apologize. We wanted
to be here. We promised them we’d stay with them over the weekend.
Bill’s project report will be out of the way by then. It’ll be less
hectic.”

Peter asked, “Was it hectic here? I didn’t
notice. It’s a lot calmer than at the restaurant.”

“More mellow than the lab.”

“Much calmer than court.”

Bett added, “Healthier than a hospital. Much
healthier.”

Dilly wasn’t quite sure of what to make of
her family’s comments.

“We didn’t wear you out, Mother?”

“Dilly, I’m worn-out happy. Like always at
Christmas. Which is a nice change. Do you know that less than three
weeks ago your father and I sat here and watched a fire and I
couldn’t imagine having Christmas? I was just too tired. I think if
you were to ask him he’d tell you that he was positive it was just
going to be the two of us here today. A couple of days later I
started to feel better. The last week or so I’ve felt better than
at any time since I went to the hospital. Tonight, I’m tired, but
I’m not exhausted. And I’m happy, not mopey. Very happy.”

From where she sat on the edge of the raised
hearth Nita looked across to her mother and said, “It’s so good to
hear you say that. We all have been very worried.”

Peter nodded in agreement, “What happens
now?”

“I keep doing what I’ve been doing. Watch out
for this arm. Pay attention to my diet. Keep up my exercises. Go in
for check-ups. I’ve got one scheduled toward the end of
January.”

Dilly twisted herself on the couch so that
she could use her stare to reinforce her words.

“Have the check-up and then get away from
here. You and Dad should take a cruise. Sit on a boat. Eat lots of
fish and fruit. Relax. Get some sun. Just a little sun. I’m going
to tell him. He should get you away from here.”

“Actually, I’m just happy to be back here.
It’s the first time in months this house feels like home rather
than — some daunting test.”

“Mother, Mother…”

“Dilly, ssshhhh, honey. Please don’t say
anything to your father. Things have been difficult here and,
maybe, tougher at the bank.”

“See. That’s why you should get away.”

“I don’t think he can get away. Kenyon wants
to spend a good part of the winter in Florida. Your dad’s in
charge. Just leave it be. When the time’s right, we’ll go.”

Peter leaned forward so that his whisper
would carry to Bett.

“How bad is it?”

“He doesn’t say much, you know how he is
about bad news, but he has been very distracted. The runs have
everyone scared. Rumors can be much worse than reality. And all of
it is not just rumors. I think it could be very bad. There’s so
much real estate just sitting there.”

“I couldn’t believe how many houses for sale
Pete and I saw just walking around here.”

“It was bad before, the recession has made it
worse, and this stand-off in Kuwait seems to have stopped everybody
in mid-step. Your father has some developers that he has worked
with for years who could lose everything.”

Dilly jumped in, “He should just retire.”

“When the going gets tough, the tough get
going—down the road, right, Dilly?”

“Look, Nita. He’s sixty-six. Most guys his
age would have been long gone by now. He’s more than done his
duty.”

To keep Dilly and Nita from going another
round Peter said, “I’m being tempted from my duties by this one.”
He pointed to Lise. “She’s asked me to come to Boston for a couple
of days.”

“Honey, that sounds like a wonderful
idea.”

“I thought if Pete came up we could all get
together. What do you think?”

Nita and Dilly both said that getting
together sounded like a wonderful idea; however Lise noticed that
neither suggested a time. Later in the conversation Nita made a
point of noting how busy the end of the year always was. A lot of
property changed hands for tax purposes. Dilly once again brought
up how hectic things were with Bill’s report. The days would be
full with the kids being home for vacation.

Lise thought that her mother was right.
Everybody was caught in mid-step.

As she walked back along the lane from the
mailbox Bett opened the thick envelope and flipped through the
Christmas photographs that it held. Neil and herself in front of
the tree. Lise, Nita, Dilly and Peter with faked faces of
anticipation each pointing to a stocking hanging from the crowded
mantle. The annual photo of Queenie resplendent in her red velvet
bow. Bill with a tentative smile. And… Bett stopped. It took a
moment for her to comprehend what it was she was seeing. Someone
had taken the small Santa and Mrs. Claus statues from the sleigh
and photographed them in the middle of a clump of flowering
pansies. Mr. and Mrs. Claus were leaning on one another in a
lurching way as if they were injured or drunk. The Claus’, with
their ruddy cheeks and winter wear, looked out of place in the
crowd of purple and yellow pansy faces. Bett remembered Jessie and
Kate whispering by the red and gold sleigh. The girls must have
taken them and the camera and gone to the garden. Even they had
understood how strange it was to have summer flowers blooming on
Christmas Day.

During her preparations for Christmas Bett
had worked hard to keep herself from thinking of the dandelions
flowering and going to seed in the lawn and the patches of pansies
and Johnny-jump-ups blooming along the borders of the walks. She
had told herself over and over again that it need not be cold for
Christmas. She had constantly hectored herself that it was the
worst kind of foolishness to link the unusual winter warmth to the
status of her disease. She had tried to focus on being grateful for
the return of her physical well-being and to be so engrossed in
making things nice for her family that she could totally ignore the
outlandish weather. It might have been fifty-five degrees with
green grass and flowers outside, but it had looked and seemed like
a cold winter Christmas inside.

Now, the house, at least, was back to normal.
The tree was down. The ornaments were packed away. Neil had
finished the last shards of ribbon candy that had come back out of
hiding after Dilly had left. Peter had been gone for almost a week.
She was holding three identical envelopes which would contain three
nearly identical thank-you cards from Dilly’s kids. Everything was
normal, but she was sobbing—in part for the Claus’ reminder of the
unseasonal warmth and more because she felt awful. The fatigue,
which made her feel as if she must be an alien from some planet
where the gravity was half as strong as Earth’s, had begun again
two nights before, just after dinner. She had tried to brush it
off. It was New Year’s Day. Everybody ran themselves down at the
holidays. It was nerves. She was worried about Neil. After the
day’s events he must be exhausted, too.

Unsure of how or whether to celebrate the
departure of the old or the arrival of a new year, they had stayed
home on New Year’s Eve. On New Year’s Day, they had watched Rhode
Island inaugurate its new governor. Three hours after the ceremony,
the governor had announced that he was closing all of the financial
institutions in the state that had been operating under private
insurance. The Rhode Island Share and Deposit Indemnity
Corporation, RISDIC, which had guaranteed the deposits at
forty-five financial institutions, including South Coastal, had
failed. Shoring up one institution, which had had a run made on it,
and trying to cope with a thirteen million dollar embezzlement by
the owner of another bank—an owner who just happened to be a
director of RISDIC—had drained RISDIC of its reserves. Rather than
going back to its member institutions for an infusion of cash, it
had declared itself insolvent. Rhode Island law stated that
financial institutions could not operate without depositor
insurance. Until other insurance could be found, more than three
hundred thousand accounts were being frozen—in a state that had a
population of just over a million. The guess was that more than one
and one half billion dollars was locked up, and no one knew for how
long.

Immediately after the new governor’s press
conference, which they had missed, Neil received a call from
another bank officer telling him that South Coastal was closed.
Neil reached Kenyon Hall at his condominium in Florida. Kenyon
promised to fly out as soon as possible, but in the interim he
wanted Neil to call a meeting of officers to deal with the
emergency and to look into the requirements and procedures to apply
for the federal insurance provided by the FDIC. Neil made a number
of phone calls before giving Bett a long tight hug and leaving for
the bank. He was gone for several hours before returning home with
a bulging briefcase and a very distracted air. During a late dinner
he tried to reassure Bett about the scope of the problem, but his
flitting eyes belied his words. After dinner Neil went to the
study. When she looked in on him before going to bed, he was so
engrossed that she decided to say nothing about how poorly she was
feeling. When the pain wakened her that night she found Neil curled
tight against her. Later, she heard him snoring, something he
rarely did. When she awoke in the morning he was already gone. He
called in mid-afternoon to tell her that she shouldn’t make dinner
for him. He wouldn’t be home until very late.

Bett had wanted to wait up for him, but
before it was eight o’clock the thought of climbing the stairs to
their bedroom began to seem daunting. She left him a note to wake
her when he came to bed. He didn’t. When she herself was startled
awake early in the morning from something fiercely hot poking in
her armpit, she found him sleeping down the hall in Lise’s old
room. When Neil came downstairs, looking anything but rested, Bett
had fixed him breakfast, scurrying around using an energy she
didn’t have while trying to find the right mix of questions and
support for his problems. Neil had said he wouldn’t be home for
dinner and tried to make a joke about losing the weight that so
worried Dilly.

In a way Bett was glad Neil wasn’t around.
His absence allowed her to keep a slower pace. She tried not to
think about what might be causing her to be so enervated, but with
little success. She guessed it could be anything from just simple
holiday fatigue, to a low grade fever, to another cycle of healing
and rebuilding to something else. Ever since the surgery there had
been good days and bad days. This was no different except that the
cycle of good days had lasted so long that the return of the bad
days was a shock. Bett decided that she would wait out the
pain.

Bett buried the Santa Claus picture at the
bottom of the pile and slowly walked up the lane trying to work
herself up to enjoying the thank you cards from her
grandchildren.

* * *

Kenyon stuck his head in Neil’s office.

“See me.”

Neil felt sick but he wanted to get it over
with. When he entered the office, Kenyon was already at his desk.
His coat had been flung over the back of a chair.

“Sit down.”

The phone began to ring.

“I suppose this bastard won’t quit.”

Kenyon reached for the receiver, hesitated,
then felt for the ringer button and switched it off.

“I’m not going to listen to that all day.
Hang on.”

South Coastal Bank’s president strode to the
door.

“Marge, no calls. I’m not in yet. You don’t
know when. Got it? Good.”

He turned to Neil.

“What have you been doing?”

“A little bit of everything. On the
operations side we’re trying to get an idea about the loans. This
couldn’t have come at a worse time. End of the month, end of the
year. We’ve already received a lot of payments and the mail over
the next couple of days is going to bring in plenty more, but
anything drawn on a closed institution is just paper. Can’t be
cashed. A number of those payments were catch-up checks. Roy Diggs,
Varner, several others brought themselves up to date. Except it
doesn’t do us any good. People want to pay us, the money’s there,
but it’s frozen. That means that a big chunk of our portfolio is
going to go into arrears, and, worse of course, is that we’re going
to be forced to put some of those loans into non-performing.”