J R, Page 3

  —He might like to see that picture of Charlotte in the headdress, when she was touring with . . .

  —Now. There appears to be another sister somewhere. Carlotta.

  —That’s precisely who Anne is talking about. She’s right behind you there, Mister Cohen.

  —She what? who . . .?

  —Do be careful, you’re going to break something. She’s there, just above the building with the dome. That’s one of James’ Masonic lodges. Charlotte’s wearing a green felt hat, but of course the color doesn’t show in the picture. She bought it to get married in.

  —She did this place over you know, Mister Cohen. After her stroke, which was why she left the stage. She made quite a name on the Keith Circuit where she introduced . . . what was that song, Julia. I know the sheet music is around somewhere, probably over in James’ studio. She’s wearing a hat made to look like a daisy. That was why she took the name Carlotta, of course.

  —And she died of the stroke?

  —Why, certainly not. She carried right on, with a beaded bag on her withered arm, and except for a slight limp when she was tired you’d never know what she had gone through. She spent most of her winters in Cairo.

  —Cai . . . ro? that . . . that would be, Egypt? Perhaps . . . The tremor seemed to pass through his voice right out his arm snagged in mid-air upon his wristwatch, —when I’ve talked with your nephew Edward, will he be down . . .

  —If Mister Cohen would just come to the point here, we might not need to bother Edward at all.

  —Yes, Mister Cohen. If you’ll just tell us how we can work things out for him . . .

  —Work things out for him? He’s not an infant, is he?

  —Infant! He’s bigger than you are, Mister Cohen, and you scarcely need shout.

  —Taller, Julia, but I wouldn’t say bigger. I just took in the waist on those gray trousers . . .

  —By . . . by infant I meant merely a, an infant in law, a, someone under the age of twenty-one.

  —Edward? Let me think, Julia. Nellie died the year that James finished his opera, and . . .

  —No, she died the year he started it, Anne. Or rather he started it the year she died, and so that would make . . .

  —His opera Philoctetes. Maybe you know it, Mister Cohen?

  —There’s no way he could, Anne. It’s never performed.

  —Well, there was the winter when James was in Zurich. Perhaps Mister Cohen has . . .

  —Ope! dropped his glasses . . .

  —I hope they didn’t break? That’s a good way to take off weight, Mister Cohen. Bending up and down from the floor like that. I met the woman who told me about it in the ladies’ room at A and S’s. She was doing it with a deck of cards. She threw the whole deck out on the floor, and then stooped to pick them up one by one. I’m sure some of the weight goes in perspiration, but perhaps Mister Cohen . . .

  —Mister Cohen seems to perspire quite freely . . .

  —If we’re patient with him a little bit longer, I think that all he really is after is Edward to sign this piece of paper.

  —You have nothing else up your sleeve, Mister Cohen?

  —I . . . thank you for your patience, yes all I need is a copy of his birth certificate.

  —There. You see, Anne?

  —To establish his parenthood and his age. I had, I assumed he had passed his majority and fervently hope so, so, so that I won’t have to deal . . . to inconvenience you ladies further, the validity of his signature, you see, of course, on this waiver, depending upon his legal capacity to contract, although of course a minor may be emancipated . . .

  —Emancipated! I assure you Mister Cohen . . .

  —Which entitles him to keep his own earnings, but . . .

  —Every penny that Edward earns . . .

  —In no way enlarges his capacity to contract, as in Masus vernon Manon, I mean Mason versus Wright, yes, the contracts of an infant being voidable by him but not void, though this may not apply to necessaries, these however being relative. Now, comparing the voidable contract which is in itself not void to that of a lunatic, when of course his contract is made before he has been judicially declared incompetent, you ladies deserve . . .

  —Oh Julia.

  —Poor Edward.

  —You see? You ladies deserve every protection, because the infant himself is the only one who can take advantage of infancy. The defense of infancy is not available to the adult, and this infant may disaffirm any time he likes. His mere intention to disaffirm is sufficient. In an action brought against him by creditors, assignees by purchase or in bankruptcy, sureties, or anyone else with a collateral interest in the contract, the mere setting up of infancy as a defense is sufficient, and none of them has available the defense of the infant, which is that of infancy.

  —As far as his age goes, Edward himself . . .

  —For your own protection, ladies. This birth certificate. Because this infant, ladies, this infant may disaffirm any time he wishes to, even if he has misrepresented his age in the first place in order to get the other party to contract with him, remember that ladies. Remember Danziger versus the Iron Clad Realty Company.

  —I think he’s going for a glass of water, Julia.

  —That door, Mister Cohen.

  —Failing any adoption papers, which could of course change the picture substantially, since the adopted child has the same legal rights as the blood child. Therefore if the child were the natural child of the decedent’s brother but had been adopted by the decedent, he would of course have every right to participate in this estate. If on the other hand he . . .

  —He’s going to get into Reuben, Julia.

  —James never really adopted Reuben.

  —In the distribution of this estate that is to say, since in order to satisfy taxes part of this estate will have to be sold . . .

  —They’re after our trees right now.

  —I suppose it does look like an estate to them, Julia, stuck in their tiny pasteboard houses on little shirttails of land.

  —Forcing your holdings to go public . . .

  —They take for granted everything’s for sale.

  —Proper evaluation will have to be made, of course, in terms of the prevailing market . . .

  —That’s what the water people said, when they went into court and swore up and down that back in our trees was the only place they could possibly put up their pumping station.

  —Since no part of the estate involved has ever been offered publicly before.

  —I heard hammering out there last night, Julia.

  —I thought I heard the sound of a truck myself.

  —Or a tractor, the kind they knock down trees with.

  —Would they do that? even the water people? come in knocking down our trees at night?

  —They were there this morning.

  —The water people? Why didn’t you call me!

  —No the trees Anne, the trees.

  —I’m glad you saw them. I didn’t really look.

  —I can’t say I did either. But I know that passing the kitchen window I would have missed them if they’d been gone.

  —Perhaps Mister Cohen looked when he came in.

  —The oaks, Mister Cohen?

  —And some locust?

  —It’s the oaks, though, Anne, that really stand out.

  —Before the advent of such a sale, you would, of course, receive adequate notice.

  —What Mister Cohen considers adequate, I can’t even read them without a glass, Anne? have you seen the latest one? I had it here just a moment ago.

  —It’s right there on the mantel, a picture of a castle? James’ hand has never been easy Mister Cohen, and he tries to get so much on one postcard . . .

  —Anne I’m talking about the local paper, Mister Cohen means these legal notices they tuck off in the back in type so small that no one can read it, in language no one can understand. In fact if he has a moment now, he might be willing to translate something . . .

  —Bu
t Julia he’s just broken his glasses.

  —Here it is yes, yes this second column here Mister Cohen. No, right down here. It looks to me like they’re up to something with the old Lemp home.

  —Do they have a picture of it there? It was always the grandest house in town, and when we were just girls Mister Cohen . . .

  —This is simply a legal notice, Anne. They don’t print pictures in a legal notice. Can you see through the breakage, Mister Cohen?

  —It’s a shame that Mister Cohen can’t see it, a white Victorian with a tower and a porte cochere along one side, and those copper beeches on the lawn. When Julia and I were girls Mister Cohen we used to imagine living there. We dreamt that some great stroke of fortune would . . .

  —So far as I can make out here Miss Bast, this is simply a petition for a zoning change to turn the place into a nursing home . . .

  —Old Mrs Lemp never was well of course, was she.

  —It’s her son we mentioned earlier Mister Cohen, the attorney you should be taking all this up with.

  —But Julia someone should warn Mister Cohen, when he says the law has no interest in justice . . .

  —Ladies I, please I seem to be having difficulty making myself clear but I assure you . . .

  —He made himself quite clear didn’t he Julia but I think he should be forewarned, if Mister Lemp took no interest in justice Father would never have chosen him.

  —Even James holds him in high regard, and James can be most critical.

  —Yes and Thomas, Julia, after all, he had Mister Lemp begin the suit against that dreadful little man who started that musical instrument company and stole every idea Thomas had.

  —They’re not instruments at all, Mister Cohen. The Jubilee Musical Instrument Company is what he calls it but all they make are machines that play tunes, and that lawsuit, Anne, I think it was really James’ idea. He was someone James held in great contempt.

  —He had something to do with that awful family, that politician out west somewhere whose family owned stock in the little company Thomas took on there may even be some there in the drawer, when he was looking for sheeps’ intestines to . . .

  —We needn’t go into that right now Anne, if Mister Cohen has no more questions . . .

  —But ladies I, this newspaper here I understood it was the local paper . . .

  —Well of course it is it comes every week, it’s the only way we keep up with things.

  —But it’s, I just noticed it’s from a town in Indiana I’m afraid when you said local I thought, your attorney Mister Lemp is, is in Indiana?

  —Did you think he would be in Timbuctoo?

  —No no I, I simply meant that if, that a nearby lawyer who might be more familiar with local situations . . .

  —He’s quite familiar with them thank you Mister Cohen. I wrote him last week about this bingo parlor, Anne.

  —But I meant, to go back to your nephew ladies some clue possibly regarding his age just, on your income taxes for instance do you recall listing him as a deduction?

  —You talk about adequate notice Mister Cohen, this went up right under our noses. The holy name of something or other, they play there every Wednesday night and park their cars right up in our hedge.

  —I see yes because if he is that would indicate he is still a minor though I, I trust he’s not disabled?

  —We’d better be thankful to still have the hedge. It deadens the noise from the road, James says.

  —You might tell Mister Cohen about those two women who came pounding on the door last week, staring in through these living room windows they thought it would make a nice teen center.

  —I see yes you see your nephew ladies, your nephew Edward, in the event he is still a minor, he . . .

  —Looking in from the road they said it looked empty. Just what were they doing looking in from the road?

  —To protect his interests as well as your own re, recalling Egnaczyk versus Rowland where the infant sought to recover his car and disaffirm the repair contract the infant lost out in this case ladies, the defense of infancy in this case ladies, in this case the court refused to permit it, using infancy as a sword instead of a shield . . . there! I heard something. Don’t I hear him now? your nephew coming downstairs at last?

  —Edward?

  —Hammering, Julia.

  —Yes, it couldn’t be Edward. He left long ago, didn’t he Anne?

  —I think I heard him leave when I was sewing that button on. He has class today you know, Mister Cohen. At the Jewish temple, rehearsing Wagner . . .

  —He’s . . . left? You mean, while I’ve been waiting, you just let him go? He . . . I don’t understand . . .

  —We don’t interfere with his comings and goings but don’t think we haven’t wondered ourselves. Why he wants to teach at the Jewish temple.

  —And what’s got into them, doing Wagner.

  —That table Mister Cohen, do be careful . . .

  —You’re not leaving us?

  —I’m, yes, leaving . . . leaving this waiver for him, for you . . . somebody to sign, and your, I mean his birth certificate, here is his card, if you will give it to me, I mean if you will give him my card Miss Bast and urge him to get in touch with me so I won’t have to . . . to inconvenience you further . . .

  —Our counterfeit quarter, Julia, we wanted to show it to Mister Cohen. It was such a crude job, Mister Cohen, the copper showing right through at the edges, and one of our own tradesmen passed it on us. Can you see it, there on the mantel?

  —I don’t think he can see a thing, Anne. But it wasn’t on the mantel this morning.

  —That one sticks, Mister Cohen. You’d best use the side.

  —It’s the side that sticks, Julia. He’d better use the back. Out through the kitchen Mister Cohen . . .

  —And Mister Cohen . . .? Once you’re out there if you’ll just take a look? in the back? for the trees?

  —And he might listen, Julia . . . pursued him through the presence of potatoes and green beans with strings like packing thread disintegrating with a smoked pork butt on the kitchen stove since near dawn, followed him as far as the corner of the house where a hanging gutter streaked clapboards and glass whenever it rained.

  —I don’t think he’s paid us any attention. Just see him out there, my! He is in a hurry.

  Avoiding an apple tree, its entire top blown out the year before, which redeemed itself now with a bumper crop of tasteless fruit in brave colors and curious shapes, —he looks like someone’s chasing him.

  —He was certainly full of gossip, for a perfect stranger.

  —I do wonder what James will have to say.

  —James will say what he’s always said. He knows I’ve never believed it, for one.

  —But even if you are right, Julia. If they weren’t married till Edward was born, he’s been Edward’s father all these years.

  —You remember what Father used to say, the devil paying the piper for all the good tunes.

  —Yes. There he goes now . . . The car crept up the drive past trees which appeared to stagger without even provocation of a breeze, rearing their splintered amputations in all directions, an atmosphere of calamity tempered, to the south, by a brooding bank of oak, by several high locusts serenely distinct against the sky in the west. —It was naughty of James.

  —I hope he gets out through the hedge all right.

  —Did you hear that crash last night? and the sirens? It’s a wonder they aren’t all killed.

  —Listen . . .!

  To the squeal of brakes, the car burst out into the world trailing a festoon of privet, swerved at the immediate prospect of open acres flowered in funereal abundance to regain the pavement and lose it again in a brief threat to the candy wrappers and beer cans nestled along the hedge line up the highway, that quickly out of sight to the windows’ half-shaded stare from the roof pitches frowning over the hedge to where it ended, and a yellow barn took up, and was gone in a swerving miss for the pepperidge tree towering ahead, pa
st shadeless windows in a naked farmhouse sprawl at the corner where the road trimmed neatly into the suburban labyrinth and things came scaled down to wieldy size, dogwood, then barberry, becomingly streaked blood-red for fall.

  Past the firehouse, where once black crêpe had been laboriously strung in such commemoration as that advertised today on the sign OUR DEAR DEPARTED MEMBER easy to hang and store as a soft drink poster, past the crumbling eyesore dedicated within recent memory as the Marine Memorial, past the graveled vacancy of a parking lot where a house, ravined by gingerbread, had held out till scarcely a week before, and through the center of town where all allusion to permanence had disappeared or was being slain within earshot by shrieking electric saws, and the glint of chrome that streaked the glass bank front across the resident image of bank furniture itself apparently designed to pick up and flee at a moment’s notice doors or no doors, opened, as they were now, to dispense the soft music hovering aimlessly about a man pasteled to match the furniture, crowding the high-bosomed brunette at the curb with—something, Mrs Joubert, something I’d meant to ask you but, oh wait a moment, there’s Mister Best, or Bast is it? Mister Bast . . .? He’s music appreciation, you know.

  —He?

  —What? Oh there, coming out? No, no that’s Vogel. Coach Vogel. You know him, the coach? Coach? Good morning . . .

  —Good what? Oh, Whiteback. Good morning, didn’t see you. I just robbed your bank.

  —I didn’t see you, called Mister Whiteback, and waved.—He what did he do? The sun in my eyes . . . It caught him flat across the lenses, erasing any life behind them in a flash of inner vacancy as he returned to—here, this young man coming here is Bast, you could probably tell he’s in the arts, can’t you. Mister Bast? I was just telling Mrs Joubert here, if she thinks she’s pressed for space you’ve had to rehearse all the way over to the Jewish temple since we had to take the cafeteria over for the driver training, right? Mister Bast is helping out Miss Flesch on her Ring to have it ready for Friday, the Foundation is sending out a team to give our whole in-school television program the once over and giving them a look at Miss Flesch’s Ring will give a real boost to the cultural aspect of, things. Not to slight your efforts Mrs Joubert. She has the new television course in, is it sixth grade social studies Miss Joubert? What’s in the paper bag, you haven’t robbed the bank, Mrs Joubert?