Bitter Business

Daniel dictated this and you typed it.”
    “I typed a lot of things for Mr. Babbage. I never remembered from one day to the next what they were about,” she snapped defensively.
    “It doesn’t matter.” I tried to sound casual. “I’ll just ask Jack Cavanaugh next time I see him.” I looked at Madeline sitting rigidly in my visitor’s chair. She looked miserable. “That’s all I wanted to talk to you about,” I continued, obviously dismissing her. Still she made no move to go.
    “I think it’s something that Jack Cavanaugh doesn’t want to talk about,” she said finally, every word like pulling teeth.
    “If you’ll tell me what it’s about I promise, I won’t mention it,” I coaxed. Still it took her a moment to make up her mind to speak.
    “Mr. Babbage never told me the details. I don’t think he ever told anybody. But I know it had something to do with his son. The money in the trust was to compensate someone who’d been hurt because of his son.”
    “Which son?” I asked.
    “Jimmy. The one who died.”
     

30
     
    I finally heard from Jack Cavanaugh just as I was leaving to meet Claire and Nora Masterson, the attorney from trusts and estates, for dinner.
    “I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands,” he bellowed over the phone. I wondered what that meant. “Without Daniel, I’ve let myself be talked into all sorts of pussyfooting nonsense. By God, I didn’t get where I am today by listening to a bunch of lawyers—and I didn’t get here by asking nicely or asking for favors from my own goddamn children!”
    “So what have you decided to do?” I inquired, bracing myself for the answer.
    “I put them on the plane down to Tall Pines, that’s what. Just the three of them; no wives, no husbands, no outside influences. They’re all staying in my house—in the same rooms they had when they were kids. I’ve had Tom change the locks on their houses. I don’t want them hiding from each other.”
    “Do you really think that locking them out of their own houses is a good idea?” I ventured.
    “They’re my goddamn houses!” roared Jack. I wondered how many bourbons he’d put away before coming up with this harebrained idea. “I own the land, I own the buildings, and every stick of furniture was bought and paid for by my money. It’s all my money, and from now on it’s all my way. What’s more, they’re not leaving until they’ve figured out a way to get along together. Period.”
    “Jack, they’re adults,” I reasoned. “I don’t know whether treating them like little children is going to help.”
    “If they act like little children, then that’s how they’re going to be treated. They are children, my children. And you’re my lawyer, so from now on stick to writing letters and checking contracts and leave my children to me!”
     
    I had only been to the Hard Rock once before and I hated it. Stephen and I had taken a group of Japanese lipid chemists there when it first opened. All I remembered was loud music, indifferent service, and mediocre food. The appeal of a restaurant with a thirty-foot neon sign in the shape of an electric guitar out front, rock memorabilia hanging from the ceiling, and a souvenir stand by the front door eluded me completely.
    But one look at Claire’s face as she and Nora bent over their menus and I knew that they’d hit it off. By the time I sat down, they were already tasting each other’s milkshakes and had agreed to share an order of onion rings.
    Claire was looking better. The color had come back to her face, and when she spoke some of her usual animation had returned. I couldn’t help but admire her resilience.
    “How are things at your aunt and uncle’s house?” I asked. “Are you settling in?”
    “I guess. It’s hard being so close to my old house. I try not to look at it, but it’s sort of impossible since it’s on the same street and all. Still, it helps that I can be with Mary Beth all the time and I like having all the little kids around. It’s hard to be depressed with so much going on. All the church stuff takes some getting used to, though. Did you know that Aunt Vy and Uncle Eugene kneel down and say the entire rosary every night before they go to bed?”
    “I heard your uncle Eugene’s down in Georgia,” I said.
    “That’s right. Aunt Vy says that Grandpa’s laid down some sort of ultimatum. The whole thing’s made Vy really unhappy and I’m not sure it’s such a good idea either. Uncle