New York - The Novel

His body gave a sudden start. The shame of it made him squirm in his seat. He wasn’t sure he could bear it.
    Had Joe noticed his sudden movement from the driver’s seat? There was no sign that he had. A good man, Joe. Never asked questions. He’d be all right.
    William sat silently and stared out at the river. He tried not to cry. After a while, they passed Grant’s Tomb.
    Ahead of them now was a magnificent sight. The mighty American economy might be sinking, Wall Street might be in collapse, yet everywhere you looked in Manhattan these days, you saw these huge construction projects rising into the sky.
    The suspension bridge nearing completion across the Hudson River was not just large, it was stupendous. Even the Brooklyn Bridge looked modest by comparison.
    “You never married, Joe, did you?” he remarked to the chauffeur.
    “No, sir.”
    “Any family? Parents?”
    “Both dead, sir. I have a brother in New Jersey.”
    “That’s a fine bridge, Joe.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Pull over when we get to it. I’m going to take a look.”
    At the entrance to the bridge, Master put on his hat and got out, then strode toward the bridge. The suspension cables were all in place. There was a walkway running across, and they were already laying the road. He passed some workmen, then a fellow who looked like a foreman came out to meet him. Master gave him a friendly smile.
    “You boys are doing a great job.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “We were talking about you the other day.” He could see the foreman wondering who exactly “we” might be. “You’re well ahead of schedule.”
    “We are, sir. You’re …?”
    “I’m Mr. Master,” William said firmly. “Like to take me out there? I’d be glad to have a look.”
    The foreman hesitated just a moment, looked at the rich gentleman and, glancing toward the Rolls-Royce, evidently decided he’d better not take the chance of annoying him.
    “This way, sir,” he said. “You have to be careful, though.”
    As he stood on the walkway, William glanced northward. How mighty the river was, yet how unperturbed, as it quietly came down from the far-off states. How noble the stony cliffs of the Palisades looked. Yet how hard and immovable. Looking south, he gazed at the long line of Manhattan, at the distant towers of the Financial District and the open space of the harbor beyond.
    So the family was back to the beginning now. Just him and the river.
    William looked down at the water. If he was going to jump, now would be the time. Years ago, a fellow had jumped from the Brooklyn Bridge on a bet. He hadn’t lived. Jumping off here would be a piece of cake, and not a bad way to go. With luck, the big river would swallow him up in its silence, and he’d never know anything more. Just walk out from his Rolls-Royce, as a gentleman should, and into oblivion. The family would manage all right. Better without him.
    Or would they? Charlie would go on being Charlie. He’d be poor, but the way he lived, that would hardly make a difference. What about Rose, though? Rose with her foolish obsession with the Newport house, her dreams of marble halls and God knows what. How was she going to cope with the winding up of his affairs? Not well, evidently. He shook his head.
    It took less courage to jump than it did to go home. But home he must go. He turned. The foreman, seeing him do so, came quickly over to accompany him back.
    “You’ll be here for the opening, Mr. Master?” he asked politely.
    “Oh, I expect so.”

    He didn’t tell Rose until late that night. She was looking very handsome that evening, in a silk gown. She was wearing the pearl choker that she loved. He wished he had happy news to tell.
    He said nothing at dinner, with the servants there. Nor did he tell her while they sat by the fire in the library afterward, in case she shouldbecome distraught and make a scene. He waited until they had retired and were completely alone.
    Rose had a small boudoir just off their bedroom. She’d told her lady’s maid she wouldn’t need her, and she was sitting there alone, taking off her earrings. He stood beside her.
    “I’ve bad news, Rose,” he said.
    “I’m sorry, dear.”
    “It’s very bad news. You have to prepare yourself.”
    “I’m ready, dear. Have we lost all our money?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do we have anything left?”
    “Maybe. Fifty thousand dollars. Something like that. The brokerage is finished. The houses have to go. This one included.” He needed