Читать книгу April Gold (Musaicum Romance Classics) - Grace Livingston Hill - Страница 4

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Thurlow went early the next morning to the president of the board of education and presented his suggestion that the site of the Reed home would make a central location for the new school that was proposed.

But he found to his dismay that while his suggestions were received with a degree of interest, they were put on file to be laid before the board at its regular meeting, which did not occur until five days later, too near to disaster to be counted upon. And though Thurlow urged haste and a special meeting to consider his proposition, with a ridiculously low price if the cash could be had within the requisite eight days, he found that nothing he could do or say would move that august body, the board of education, to come together before their regularly appointed time.

He went on his way sadly disappointed, yet he felt that this incident had given him an idea. There was to be a new post office in the near future. Why not try the government authorities? The Reed lot would be a splendid place. Not centrally located in the business part of the suburb yet near enough for business to grow that way. He would try.

He spent another busy day hunting up officials, gaining interviews, being sent from this one to that one, making longdistance telephone calls, and anxiously watching his small supply of cash dwindle thereby. The wasted day stretched into three at last before he gave up the post office idea, convinced that the closely woven meshes of politics were too much for his inexperience. Perhaps there might have been ways of accomplishing his aim if he had only known how and had a little more experience and influence and a little less pride. Mr. Sherwood would have known how to do it, would have had influence enough to bring it about. But Thurlow Reed felt a thrill of almost fierce satisfaction that Guerdon Sherwood was on the high seas, and that there was no way possible for even a morbid conscience to persuade him that perhaps after all for his mother’s sake he ought to consult the father of Barbara Sherwood.

He was on a suburban train, coming back from his last fruitless effort to persuade a political boss to take interest in buying the house for the new post office site. He was dog weary and discouraged. He had that same stinging sensation in his eyes and throat that he had experienced the time he had fumbled a ball and lost a game for his college, that first time he had been put on the varsity team. Of course he hadn’t been put off after all, but he had been covered with shame and humiliation and felt desperate at the time. He had wanted to hide. He had wanted to crawl away and never be seen again.

Just so he felt now, utterly beaten! He had perhaps even been wrong in preventing his mother from signing over the property at once and getting that fifty dollars. But he had been so sure that he could find a purchaser, so sure, even that morning when he had gone out, that he was on the right track and was going to win. As he settled back in the dusty plush seat and pulled his hat down over his smarting eyes, he had a feeling that the whole world was against him.

“Oh, God!” his heart cried out, “I’m up against it! I ought to be able to protect my family! They are all I’ve got, and I can’t do it.“

Thurlow Reed believed in God. He had always gone through the outward forms of prayer, though he had never seemed to be in any particular position of need before, either spiritual or physical. But now the habit of his lifetime came to his lips in a kind of despairing prayer, although he didn’t really look upon it as prayer. Just a blind crying out of his soul to the universe that things had gone wrong.

He drew a deep sighing breath of defeat and let his weary muscles relax. He had walked a long way in that suburb he had just left, hunting the man who lived in the third big estate from the station, behind twelve-foot iron grillwork, padded with thick impenetrable forests of rhododendron and hemlock and flowering shrubs. He had toiled up one long leisurely drive after another until he found the right place, only to discover the man for whom he searched was at the country club three miles away. He had walked a hole in the sole of his shoe and acquired a pebble or two inside, and he hadn’t the money now to purchase new shoes. He lifted one foot across his knee and surveyed the limp sole despairingly. He had never had to consider small things like repairs before. Shoes had always been plenty. But there were going to be a lot of things like this presently. The thought startled his tired consciousness with amazing revelation. He had grown up overnight, and to this! It came to him that he was as far from the life that had been his, in name at least, when he had gone down to New York to bid good-bye to Barbara as one could possibly be. He had not yet sensed that there were still depths of life that he had not even imagined.

He drew another deep sighing breath and put the perforated sole quickly down on the floor where he could not see it. He couldn’t think about it anymore. He couldn’t stand another thing till he got rested. He had to get rested before he got home, or his mother would suffer just looking at his face. That was the trouble: Mother sensed everything and suffered so. One couldn’t hide anything from her. Even if outwardly he seemed to have succeeded in camouflaging the state of things, she sensed it. Smiled with him and tried to let him think he had deceived her, yet all the time she was suffering with him just as if she had known exactly how things stood. What was the use? Why try any further? There were only four days, and what more could he do than he had done? “Oh, God!” It was just a weary exclamation, showing his limit of despair. Yet how he hated to give up and let that swine of a lawyer beat him. Let him fix that throttling hold on him for life unless he paid that enormous sum. His indignation rose, but his weariness rose also, and he sank back in the seat with his eyes closed and wished he might go to sleep and forget it all.

In front of him sat two women garbed in afternoon outfitswhite gloves, delicate garments, tricky hats that seemed simple yet made their wearers look years younger than their ages. Their voices were low and well modulated; their speech was cultured and refined. They were talking of social affairs. By their conversation, he learned vaguely that they had been to a tea or bridge party or some affair of that sort and were on their way back to their homes in his own part of the city. He paid no more heed to them than if they had been the paneling on the ceiling of the car above him. They were just a part of the place where he was sitting for the time.

Then suddenly with a single sentence their words came alive as astonishingly as if the paneling above him had spoken to him and shown an interest in his problems.

“Oh, and, Mrs. Brent,” said the older woman, the one with white hair, “have you heard what Mr. Stanwood has done for our club? You weren’t out yesterday, were you? But surely someone has told you! It is too wonderful news to keep silent about.”

“Why, no! What’s happened? I haven’t seen a soul for nearly a week till I went out this afternoon, and you were the only one today from our club.”

“Well, I surely am glad to be the first one to tell you,” said the older lady. “Mr. Stanwood is giving us a new clubhouse in memory of his wife, because she was the first president of the club, you know. She started it. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“Why, no, did she? That was before I moved to the city, you know,” said Mrs. Brent. “But she was still president when I first joined. I remember her. She was lovely, wasn’t she? And then she was ill a long time before she died, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, she was ill for a year, suffered terribly, and kept her part of the work going just as long as possible. She was wonderful! And it seems Mr. Stanwood has just heard that we have been talking about trying to enlarge our clubhouse, and he came forward yesterday just right out of the blue and offered to give us a new clubhouse, root and branch!”

“Wasn’t that wonderful!” exclaimed Mrs. Brent gushingly.

Thurlow Reed held his breath and listened.

“It certainly was! And it wasn’t just talk. He had some good suggestions to make. It seems he has felt for a long time that we needed a larger auditorium, and he suggested that we purchase one of the old residences on Regent Street”Thurlow Reed almost shouted aloud then, for Regent Street was where the Reeds lived“and use the residence for club rooms and so on,” went on the well-modulated voice of the white-haired lady, “and build the right kind of an auditorium in front of it”

“How ideal!” said Mrs. Brent. “Wouldn’t that Lockwood place be wonderful? It’s far enough back from the street to leave plenty of room for a good big auditorium with a terrace in front, which is all the lawn you would want in a clubhouse.”

“Exactly,” said the older woman complacently.” We thought of that at once, of course, being vacant as it is, and I called up the agent who has charge of it, but it seems it was willed to the daughters who live in California and they are not willing to sell. They want to keep the old homestead, as they expect to return someday and live there themselves. We even went to the extent of telegraphing, but their reply was quite decided. They wouldn’t sell at any price. In fact, they can’t till the younger daughter comes of age, which won’t be for two years yet, so that was final for us, of course. We want to get something right away.”

“Oh, Mrs. Steele, isn’t that too bad? That would have been ideal! But of course there are other pretty places right along there. There will surely be something on that block.”

“Not for sale, I’m afraid,” sighed Mrs. Steele, shaking her head. “We’ve gone over that whole block. The owners are all living in their homes, it seems, and one can’t just go and ring a doorbell and ask people if they won’t get out and sell you their home. Besides, one would have to pay more that way, and we can’t really pay much for the property, because that would take away too much from the auditorium building. The gift was”she lowered her voice and mentioned the sum given under her breath so that Thurlow couldn’t be sure of the exact sum, but he distinctly heard the next sentence“so that we could scarcely afford to pay more than twelve or fourteen thousand for the lot and whatever buildings it contained. We really ought not to pay more than twelve, of course, but we might stretch a point if it was in the right location. In fact, I think we would have given more for that Lockwood place if we could have gotten it. Its location is so central and so desirable.”

Thurlow sat there fairly weak with astonishment and fearsome delight. Was he in a dream, or was he hearing aright? The Lockwood place was just next door to their own. In many ways it was not as desirable as the Reed house. Could it be possible that a miracle like this had happened right at his side just when he was in despair?

And what should he do about it? Lean forward and snap it up at once? They were almost at the station now where he should get off. He did not know where this Mrs. Steele lived, though he could probably find out. But would it be wiser to wait till evening and go to her home? No. She might be going away somewhere or be having a dinner party. There might be a delay, and every minute now counted so desperately. Yet something fine and wise in him told him that in a matter of such great importance he must not act in a hasty, childish frenzy. He must go about it in a businesslike way. And it would not do to let her know he had overheard her conversation. It would prejudice her against him at once and might spoil the whole thing. He tried to be calm, to close his eyes and think. He remembered the figures he had heard the lady quote. It would not do to let her know that he knew what she was willing to pay. No, he must wait; even in his desperation he must be calm and take every step cautiously. He must try to follow her if possible, at least to see in which direction she went. Would she be the Mrs. George Steele of whom there was so much talk, the woman who was so philanthropic? Surely he had heard his mother speak of her.

Then, as if in answer to his thought, the lady spoke again.

“I am expecting the car to meet me at the station. Couldn’t I drop you somewhere on the way? I’m sorry I can’t take time to run in and see those etchings at Hatch’s you spoke of, but I promised George I’d be home early tonight. He has to leave on the six o’clock train for Chicago, and he’s as helpless as a child about getting his things together to pack. He likes me to do that for him, instead of a servant, so I like to humor him.”

She smiled at her friend as they rose and gathered up their belongings and the train drew to a full stop.

Thurlow had turned away, looking out the opposite window. Just as well she should not see his face and recognize him as one who might have overheard her talk. The two ladies drifted past him out the door without looking in his direction, and he came more slowly behind them, keeping them in sight without being seen himself, until they disappeared into a handsome limousine that stood waiting. Then he hurried into the drugstore and looked up Mr. George Steele’s address in the directory. Of course the telephone book might have given it, but so many of those rich people were listed privately that one couldn’t be sure of finding everybody there.

Having written the address down carefully, Thurlow went whistling home and entered the house with a happier look on his face than he had worn in many a day.

“You’ve had some good news!” cried his sister joyously.

He looked at her, sobering down.

“No, not exactly,” he said with a quick little sigh. “It might not turn out to be anything. I just had a hunch.”

“Oh,” said Rilla despondently. “Didn’t anything come of that post office affair?”

“Not a thing!” he said emphatically. “But don’t give up yet, Rill, we still have four days ahead.”

“What’s four days! Just like the four days that preceded. Wait and hope and find nothing. I’m going to get a job.”

“Hop to it, little sister. But don’t give up hope. You know jobs aren’t easy to get either!”

“I know!” Rilla sat down on the hall settee and sighed. “What are we going to do?”

“Something,” said her brother as he went up the stairs two steps at a time. “We still have four days.”

“And tomorrow there will be only three days.”

“Exactly so,” laughed her brother, swinging into his room and kicking off his worn shoes that with plenty of polishing would carry him through a few interviews without shame. It seemed strange that he should have reached a place where a thing like that was something for which to be profoundly thankful.

Thurlow dressed with haste but as carefully as his wardrobe permitted and hurried downstairs.

“Don’t wait dinner for me, Mother,” he said to the anxious mother who was concocting an appetizing dinner at the least expense possible.

“Oh, Thurlow,” she said, dismayed. “You’ll get sick before this is over. I just know you will. Can’t you wait till I get dinner on the table? It won’t be half an hour.”

“I can’t wait five minutes, little Mother,” he said, stooping to kiss her tenderly. “I’ve got a lead, and I’ve got to follow it while the trail is hot. It may lead to nothing, but it’s my last chance as far as I can see. I’ll get back as soon as I can, but I can’t stop now. It’s now or never!”

“Then you must drink a glass of milk,” pleaded the mother.

He poured the milk down in one breath, accepted a couple of sugar cookies from the plate she handed out, and was gone.

“Oh dear!” sighed his mother. “To think he has to be hurrying around wildly this way for nothing. Just nothing! What would his father say, after all his careful planning for you both! It’s heartbreaking!”

“He thinks he has something,” said the sister listlessly, “but he might as well give up and try to hunt a job.”

“I’m afraid it will be just the same when he comes to hunting a job,” said the mother, and the slow tears stole quietly down her cheeks.

“Now, Mother, don’t you give up, too,” said the girl with stormy eyes and set lips, rising and going to look out of the window to hide the sudden tears that blurred her own eyes.

There was unhappy silence in the room for several seconds, and then the mother answered in a tone of forced cheerfulness, “No, of course not. I had no thought of giving up. We’re going to come through all right. I have no doubt that Thurlow will succeed in something soon, and we shall find everything settling into sane living again. We’ve got to keep brave and cheerful.”

“Of course!” said Rilla peppily, but she stood a long time staring out into the evening twilight, her lips set in that firm determination that showed she was thinking something through to a finish. Her mother watched her furtively and thought how much she looked like her father, and presently she got up and went to the old desk where a lot of important papers were kept. There were things there that she had meant to look over when she could bring herself to doing it, not very important things, but still she had to do it sometime, and this was as good a time as any, since they would, of course, delay dinner for a while, hoping Thurlow would return to share it with them. She had shrank long from going over these papers. They reminded her so of the husband and father who was gone that she could hardly bear to handle them, but perhaps it was as well to get through with it. A lot of them must be destroyed. The house, of course, was not going to be theirs any longer, no matter what happened, and she ought to get her things in order.

So she sat down at the desk, and Rilla continued to stare into the lengthening shadows out on the grass, thinking out her seventeen-year-old problems.

Meantime Thurlow was having troubles of his own. Arrived at the House of Steele, he had asked to see Mrs. Steele and was told that she was very busy just now. Could he send up a message, or would he come again in the morning?

Thurlow’s heart was beating like the proverbial trip-hammer, and he stood there baffled for an instant. Should he risk a message or wait until morning? He decided on the message. He took out one of his fraternity college cards and wrote beneath his name:

I have been told you can tell me whom to see about a house that the Women’s Club would like to purchase.

He looked at it after he had written it, and the words seemed to be dancing around his name, hand in hand. How tired he felt and hungry, too. He almost wished he had not come tonight.

The maid took the card, looked at him uncertainly, and finally asked him in and gave him a chair in the reception hall. He saw her vanishing up the stairs studying the card, and his heart sank. How blundering he had been to blurt out his business in that abrupt way. Now likely the woman would send him word she knew nothing about it. Perhaps after all she wasn’t the right Mrs. Steele. Perhaps George had been her son’s name or her brother’s. What a fool he had been not to approach her on the train, tell her frankly that he had overheard her. Now perhaps he would never get on the track of this chance again.

But then he heard the soft stir of silken skirts, and suddenly he saw the lady herself approaching. There was eagerness in her face and keen questioning.

“Are you from the Lockwoods’ house? Are you the agent?” she asked as she came toward him, his card in her hand.

Thurlow rose deferentially.

“No, but I heard that the club was looking at the Lockwood house, and knowing it was not in the market, I came to see if you would be interested in the house next door. I represent that.”

“Next door?” asked the lady eagerly. “Which side?”

She studied Thurlow’s face with kindling eyes as he explained about the house. He could see it interested her.

“And what is your price?” she asked.

The boy’s lips turned white as he opened them to answer; there was so much at stake.

“The price is low,” he said eagerly, “but it has to be cash. And it has to be within the next three days or I can’t sell it to you at all.”

The woman eyed him interestedly.

“Sit down,” she said. “Tell me about it. Wait! I’ll call my husband.”

He heard the man upstairs asserting that he hadn’t time to stop and listen to a fool thing about the club, but he heard the low, insistent plea of the woman, and then the two came down, the man growling, “All right. Just for a minute, but you’ll have to make it snappy!”

During the seconds while they were walking down the stairs, Thurlow did some rapid planning. He would have to be as brief as possible or the man would be gone, and the woman would perhaps not decide in his absence.

He arose with his story on his lips. He lifted honest eyes to the keen businessman, who searched him with cold eyes, but he spoke with the courage of desperation.

“My father died two months ago. Our house had a mortgage, which would have been all right, only the building association that held the mortgage failed, and it got into the hands of a couple of crooks. Then we lost every cent we had in the Franklin Bank crash, and now the crooks are demanding the full amount of the personal bond, which is double the mortgage. We can’t pay any of it, and we’ve got to sell the house. We have three days left before they take it away from us. If we can sell the house for cash, we can let it go at” Thurlow named the lowest sum that would clear the bond and pay the expenses of the transfer. He felt this was the last chance, and he couldn’t hope to get enough for any left over for themselves. But it had to be done. He swallowed hard and went on.

“After that it goes into the hands of the crooks, and they’ll want plenty if they sell it at all, though I think they mean to build a large apartment house there and make a lot of money out of it. If they take the house that way, they’ll have a stranglehold on me for the rest of my life till that bond is paid. I’d like to see them beaten if only just for that!”

The successful businessman studied Thurlow earnestly for a full second before he spoke, crisply, sharply.

“What’s your name?”

“Thurlow Reed.”

“What was your father’s name?”

“Joseph Reed. He was with the Carter Company for thirty years.”

“H’m! I thought so! You look like him. Well, Anne”turning to his wife with a twisted smile on his face“it’s all right. Go ahead with your purchase if it’s what you want. I know the house. That’s a bargain on that street! Who are those lawyers, Reed? Cook and Crowell? I thought so. I’ve had experience with them before. Anne, if you buy, get our lawyer to look into the papers and fix it up good and hard. Don’t let those crooks get by with murder or anything. And if you need me, get me long distance in Chicago tomorrow at noon. You know where. Good-bye! See you Saturday!”

The great man stooped and kissed his white-haired wife, swung into his overcoat, and was gone to the car that stood ready outside. Thurlow stood speechless, waiting, looking at the satisfied woman who smiled at him.

“When can I see the house?” she asked, as if she had no question in her mind about wanting to take it.

“Right away, as soon as you wish,” said Thurlow, trying to make his voice steady.

She glanced at her wristwatch.

“Now?” she said, looking up. “I have an engagement after dinner, but I’d like to get this thing fairly settled before I see the other club members.”

“Of course now!” said Thurlow, restraining himself from the desire to shout his joy. “I’m sorry I haven’t a car to take you in.”

“We have plenty of cars.” The lady smiled. “Martha”to a maid who was moving quietly about the dining room on the other side of the hall“tell Andrew to get the small car and take us on an errand. Tell him to hurry, please.”

The lady left Thurlow waiting in a daze of wonder while she got her wraps and was back just as the car came purring up to the door.

Just as easy as that, it was done. Thurlow couldn’t believe but that it would somehow fall through at the last. It was too good to be true. Probably when she saw it, she would have some fault to find with it, and that would be that! But while it lasted, the hope at least was great.