coming. He’ll be here in a few minutes.” He motioned to Henry to step outside with him.
“Did you know about your mother’s illness?”
Henry shook his head, no, he didn’t know about it.
“Dr. Coley will give you the details. I knew she was having trouble. After her physical in May she came to see me. She told me when she came in to make some changes in her will.”
“Was there any sign something was going to … happen?”
“No. She said the doctor had told her it could come any time, probably sooner rather than later. They could not bring her pulse rate down.”
Henry walked into the study and signaled to Danny to join him and Mr. Beckett. “Please tell him,” he asked the attorney, who filled Danny in. It didn’t completely surprise Henry when Danny then asked, “Are the kids, the, er, survivors, broke?”
Henry motioned to Mr. Beckett. “Please answer the question, Mr. Beckett.” He managed a half smile. “Don’t worry about breaking any confidences, Uncle Cam. Danny likes to be in on everything.”
The lawyer looked over at Henry. “Your mother has—had—somemoney. And,” he pointed down to the floor and then up at the ceiling, “the house here is unmortgaged.” He turned to Caroline. “Whatever you want to do, dear, the estate can pay the bills, if you are careful. You will have to give that some thought. You will talk it over with Henry, of course.”
“What has Caroline been doing?” Danny whispered his question to Henry when the lawyer and his goddaughter walked out of the room.
“Going to night school in Torrington, working during the day at the hospital.” They could hear the doorbell. “Here’s Dr. Coley.”
William Coley, all six feet four of him, maneuvered himself into the little study, was introduced to Danny, conferred with Cam Beckett, walked into the house and into the bedroom and closed the door. Fifteen minutes later he came out and sat down by Henry. He looked up at Danny, and pointed his finger suggestively at the door. A New England doctor of the old school was not prepared to discuss intimate matters in the company of an undergraduate from Yale who was not a member of the family.
Danny walked out of the room, onto the lawn. He gazed for the first time at the spring-fed mile-square lake Henry had several times made reference to. At the opposite end he could make out what he assumed must be the Hotchkiss School for Boys, which Henry had attended while Danny was at school in Millbrook, fifteen miles west. The site was quite beautiful, Danny thought, prettier than any of the lakes around New Haven. The afternoon had turned colder but the sky was cloudless, and the sun’s rays brightened the foliage, yellows and reds and golds. Danny thought to himself: What a hell of a place and time for this
dumb
—he couldn’t find the right word for it—thing to happen. This was his first death outside the battlefield, he reflected. How many more deaths would he come upon before—dying himself? He laughed inwardly. He had forgotten all about dying since the war ended. He doubted he would ever die, he teased himself. Dying was for people less … competent than he! Silly thought, sure; he’d die, as everyone would, one of these days.But for the next hundred years or so dying was for other people. Which reminded him—
What in the hell should
he
now do? After what Caroline said, he’d have to stick around. He couldn’t pretend he looked forward to sticking around, though Caroline was an entrancing girl. Woman. It would be good if he could think of something—anything—to
do.
Henry came out on the lawn. His color had returned. He cleared his throat.
Danny raised his hand. “You don’t have to give me the details, Henry. Just tell me this, you want me here—you agree with Caroline?—or should I go back to New Haven? I can find some way of getting back and leave you my car to use.”
“Thanks. Caroline has Mother’s car. I’d like you here, but only if
“Did you know about your mother’s illness?”
Henry shook his head, no, he didn’t know about it.
“Dr. Coley will give you the details. I knew she was having trouble. After her physical in May she came to see me. She told me when she came in to make some changes in her will.”
“Was there any sign something was going to … happen?”
“No. She said the doctor had told her it could come any time, probably sooner rather than later. They could not bring her pulse rate down.”
Henry walked into the study and signaled to Danny to join him and Mr. Beckett. “Please tell him,” he asked the attorney, who filled Danny in. It didn’t completely surprise Henry when Danny then asked, “Are the kids, the, er, survivors, broke?”
Henry motioned to Mr. Beckett. “Please answer the question, Mr. Beckett.” He managed a half smile. “Don’t worry about breaking any confidences, Uncle Cam. Danny likes to be in on everything.”
The lawyer looked over at Henry. “Your mother has—had—somemoney. And,” he pointed down to the floor and then up at the ceiling, “the house here is unmortgaged.” He turned to Caroline. “Whatever you want to do, dear, the estate can pay the bills, if you are careful. You will have to give that some thought. You will talk it over with Henry, of course.”
“What has Caroline been doing?” Danny whispered his question to Henry when the lawyer and his goddaughter walked out of the room.
“Going to night school in Torrington, working during the day at the hospital.” They could hear the doorbell. “Here’s Dr. Coley.”
William Coley, all six feet four of him, maneuvered himself into the little study, was introduced to Danny, conferred with Cam Beckett, walked into the house and into the bedroom and closed the door. Fifteen minutes later he came out and sat down by Henry. He looked up at Danny, and pointed his finger suggestively at the door. A New England doctor of the old school was not prepared to discuss intimate matters in the company of an undergraduate from Yale who was not a member of the family.
Danny walked out of the room, onto the lawn. He gazed for the first time at the spring-fed mile-square lake Henry had several times made reference to. At the opposite end he could make out what he assumed must be the Hotchkiss School for Boys, which Henry had attended while Danny was at school in Millbrook, fifteen miles west. The site was quite beautiful, Danny thought, prettier than any of the lakes around New Haven. The afternoon had turned colder but the sky was cloudless, and the sun’s rays brightened the foliage, yellows and reds and golds. Danny thought to himself: What a hell of a place and time for this
dumb
—he couldn’t find the right word for it—thing to happen. This was his first death outside the battlefield, he reflected. How many more deaths would he come upon before—dying himself? He laughed inwardly. He had forgotten all about dying since the war ended. He doubted he would ever die, he teased himself. Dying was for people less … competent than he! Silly thought, sure; he’d die, as everyone would, one of these days.But for the next hundred years or so dying was for other people. Which reminded him—
What in the hell should
he
now do? After what Caroline said, he’d have to stick around. He couldn’t pretend he looked forward to sticking around, though Caroline was an entrancing girl. Woman. It would be good if he could think of something—anything—to
do.
Henry came out on the lawn. His color had returned. He cleared his throat.
Danny raised his hand. “You don’t have to give me the details, Henry. Just tell me this, you want me here—you agree with Caroline?—or should I go back to New Haven? I can find some way of getting back and leave you my car to use.”
“Thanks. Caroline has Mother’s car. I’d like you here, but only if
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