Love Among the Walnuts Page 2

  Mousey wept happy tears before going to change into her wedding dress: white silk trimmed with satin ribbons and rosebuds.

  Horatio gave her a fake ermine coat as a wedding present.

  CHAPTER 4

  For a year Mousey and Horatio lived blissfully in the town house. Their dutiful monthly dinners with Bart and Bernie cast only a fleeting shadow on their happiness. Mousey put on plays, which Horatio and Bentley and Flossie attended. Mousey and Horatio read together in the library. They played long hours of Monopoly, pinochle, hearts, and pool. They found a white kitten in the alley behind the town house and adopted him. They named him Louie and fattened him up on sardines and cream and taught him tricks. He was best at lying down, playing dead, and pretending to be deaf.

  One morning Mousey and Horatio sat eating their breakfast at the long polished table in the dining room. They were both sleepy. The burglar alarm had gone off in the town house the night before for the second time in two weeks, scaring them awake. No burglars had been found, but it was disturbing nonetheless.

  "Mousey, darling," Horatio said. "I've been thinking. Living in the city isn't nearly what it used to be. It's noisy and dirty and dangerous, and we both prefer to stay home and be with each other instead of going out. My business can be run from anywhere, as long as I have a telephone, a computer, and a fax machine. Why don't we move to the country? We could have a pool and a tennis court and fresh air and sunshine."

  Mousey smiled. "I've been thinking that would be a good thing, too," she said in her little voice. "The country is a much nicer place to raise a child."

  "But we don't have a child."

  "In seven months we will." Mousey smiled her incandescent smile.

  Horatio stood up so suddenly his chair fell over backward. Tears of joy filmed his eyes as he gathered Mousey into his arms.

  The next morning Horatio and Mousey began their search for the perfect country house.

  It turned out to be far harder than they'd thought it would be. The houses that were big enough were ugly. The ones that were pretty enough were too small. And those that were just right weren't for sale.

  After weeks of fruitless searching, Horatio said to Mousey, "I've decided that if we're going to get what we want, we'll have to build our own house. So let's look for the perfect land instead of the perfect house."

  The very next day they found exactly what they were looking for. At the side of a winding country road, forty miles from the little village of Jupiter, stood a battered old sign that said 33 ACRES FOR SALE, CHEAP. Underneath was a phone number.

  Bentley parked the car, and the three of them got out and walked around the property. There were large oak trees spreading their branches over perfect picnic spots. A little brook shimmered between mossy banks, chuckling over the rocks in the streambed. Wildflowers dotted the sunny green acres, and anthems of birdsong filled the air.

  Mousey clapped her hands and cried, "It's perfect. I can almost see our house up on that knoll."

  "Me, too," Horatio said, and they piled back into the car and drove as fast as they could until they found a phone booth, from which Horatio called the number on the sign. The real estate agent agreed to meet them at the sign in thirty minutes.

  "He said it's been for sale a long time," Horatio told Mousey and Bentley as they drove back the way they'd come. "I can't understand why. The price is very reasonable and the place has a perfect building site."

  "Maybe because it's so isolated," Mousey suggested. "It is forty miles from a grocery store." Because of the life she'd led before she met Horatio, Mousey was much more practical than, he.

  "Perhaps," Horatio agreed, looking fondly at her and thinking how clever she was.

  Before long an old blue car with a dented front fender drove up. A man in a yellow suit and matching shoes got out. He looked first at the Daimler, then at Mousey, and then at Bentley. By the time he focused on Horatio, he was rubbing his hands together.

  "My name is Sid Skeet and I'd like to congratulate you folks on your shrewdness. This is the finest parcel of land in three counties. It's buildable, has water, and access by road. The taxes are low, and did you ever breathe such air?"

  "How come it's so cheap?" Mousey asked.

  Sid Skeet's eyes narrowed. "Shrewder than I thought," he muttered. "This land is owned by Federated Conglomerates. I guess they don't need the money," he said.

  "I know all about Federated Conglomerates," Horatio said. "They've never sold anything at a bargain price in their entire corporate history. What's wrong with this land?"

  "Well," Skeet said reluctantly, "it's not the land. It's the neighbors. They make some people nervous."

  "What neighbors?" Mousey asked.

  "Walnut Manor, down the way about a mile," Skeet said. "You can't see it from the road—there are too many trees—but it adjoins this property. Personally, I don't think there's a thing to be concerned about."

  "What's Walnut Manor?" Horatio asked.

  "Well, it's a looney bin," Sid Skeet said. "Bur they take only the finest, highest-class wackos. It's too expensive for your lower-class goofballs."

  "'Goofballs'?" Mousey asked with a quaver in her little voice. "'Wackos'?"

  "Tell you what," Sid Skeet said. "If you're really interested in this property, I'll take you over to Walnut Manor and introduce you to Dr. Waldemar. He can show you around, show you what kind of security they have, and all that. It'll set your mind at ease, I can promise you. This is a beautiful piece of land, and I hate to have you nice folks get discouraged about it. Come on, get in your car and follow me. On second thought, why don't I just come along in your car? I've never been in one of these babies."

  Before Horatio or Mousey could utter a word of protest, Sid Skeet slid into the backseat, ran his hands over the pecan-burl paneling, the leather seats, the silver bud vases, and twiddled the controls of the sound system. Bentley got stiffly into the driver's seat. Even the back of his neck looked huffy.

  Horatio looked at Mousey. They shrugged at each other and joined Sid Skeet in the backseat.

  The long curving driveway to Walnut Manor, lined with walnut trees, was impressive. The building itself was equally stately: large, white, pillared, with wings extending out on either side. The driveway continued past the main building to a cluster of smaller white cottages, a large garage, and a stable.

  "Behind the building there's a swimming pool and some shuffleboard courts," Skeet said. "The staff lives in those cottages. It's too far to town for them to come and go every day. I promise you, this is where I want to be if I ever go round the bend. But I'd never be able to afford it. Not unless I sell that Fed—" He stopped abruptly. Then, tapping Bentley on the shoulder, he said, "You can park over there." Bentley glided the Daimler into a parking space. "Once you've seen Walnut Acres, maybe I can interest you in the property on the other side of it, too. What do you say?"

  "Sorry," Horatio said. "We're only interested in building one house."

  Sid Skeet, Mousey, and Horatio entered Walnut Manor. Bentley waited outside.

  The first person they encountered in the sumptuous paneled entry hall was a short woman, dressed in a flowered shift pulled down over gray sweatpants. Her outfit was accented by black high-top basketball shoes and a Pensa-Cola baseball cap. She held a bathroom plunger in her hand, and a cigarette dangled from the corner of her mouth.

  "Yeah?" she said, looking fiercely at them. Mousey shrank against Horatio and clutched his arm.

  Sid Skeet forged ahead. "Where's Dr. Waldemar?" he asked.

  The woman turned around, stalked to a heavy paneled door with a brass sign saying OFFICE, opened it, and shouted inside, "Hey, Doc, there're some people out here with Sid Skeet. They look like they can afford the place." She slammed the door, slung the plunger over her shoulder, and headed off down the hall, trailing ashes.

  "I thought you said the inmates were high-class here," Mousey squeaked in distress.

  "But, darling," Horatio said, "you must admire her tas
te in baseball hats."

  Sid Skeet laughed. "She's no inmate. That's Opal, the custodian. She's got the manners of a train wreck. But Waldemar saves a fortune by having her around. She can do anything: electricity, plumbing, carpentry, furniture moving, tree uprooting, and, in a pinch, she can subdue a violent case."

  "I thought there weren't any of those here," Mousey said, looking over her shoulder.

  "If there were any," Sid amended, "she could subdue them. But there aren't."

  The office door opened, and a short, plump man wearing a gray suit and a distracted air came out. He was mostly bald, with a fringe of white hair circling the back of his head; and he wore round steel-rimmed glasses. "Hello, Sid," he said. "What can I do for you?"

  "Hi, Doc. These folks are interested in buying the Federated Conglomerates property adjoining Walnut Manor. They want to check out your security here. Don't want to wake up some morning and find a bunch of nuts in the backyard." Sid Skeet chuckled.

  "Oh," Dr. Waldemar said. "Well, let me assure you, there is no possibility of such a thing ever happening. Security here is very, um, secure. Banks could take lessons from us." He gestured to a large panel on the wall full of little TV screens, red lights, and buttons—all with labels under them. They could see themselves on one of the TV screens. "We've never had an escape. Why would anybody want to escape from here, anyway? We like to consider Walnut Manor a sort of private club for our guests. And our guests are from some of the finest families in the country. I'd call them more, um, distressed than disturbed. Even if they were to wander off, they would represent absolutely no danger to the public. But why don't I show you around? That should ease your minds. You can wait in the office if you want, Sid. You've seen Walnut Manor plenty of times." As he led Horatio and Mousey down the hall, he said, "We welcome contributions to Walnut Manor from any source, and they are completely tax deductible."

  Dr. Waldemar took them first to the dining room. Large windows looked out over the pool and gardens and green lawns, which stopped at the brick wall dividing Walnut Manor from the Federated Conglomerates property. China and silver and crystal were on the tables. As they watched, the kitchen door burst open and Opal shot out carrying a huge plastic bucket of water and ice cubes. She began filling glasses on the tables so quickly she was almost a blur.

  They moved on to the library where about twenty people sat playing cards, watching television, reading magazines, and staring at the wall. None of them looked the slightest bit dangerous.

  They peered into the neat bedrooms, apparently furnished with some of the patients' own furniture, and into the crafts rooms, before going outdoors to examine the pool, shuffleboard courts, and garden. Everything Horatio and Mousey saw served only to set their minds at ease.

  As they walked back to the office, Dr. Waldemar said, "I hope what you've seen would encourage you to send any distressed relative of yours to us should the need ever arise."

  They thanked him, but said they doubted such a thing was likely to happen. They collected Sid Skeet from the office and took the Daimler back to Jupiter, where they attended to the paperwork necessary to purchase the land for their new home.

  The next few months were busy ones. Horatio and Mousey worked on plans for the house and selected furnishings. Construction began. Mousey often had Bentley drive her out to the site, the Daimler loaded with picnic hampers for the workers. She wanted them cheerful so that they'd work fast, because she intended to bring the baby home from the hospital to the new house.

  Horatio was happier than he could remember since he was a child. His businesses ran along without a hitch, and he had lots of time to spend with Mousey, watching her perform her plays, playing games, thinking up names for the baby. When Mousey couldn't find pretty lingerie to accommodate her changing figure, Horatio designed a line of maternity underwear that was frilly and feminine. He called it Mater-Nifties and it was an immediate success. More money rolled in, and Bart and Bernie sat in their dark apartment pounding their idle fists on their fat thighs in frustration. They would have pounded even harder if they had known that all the money from Mater-Nifties rolled right out again to charities benefiting needy children.

  One morning Horatio received a phone call from the contractor telling him that his house was finished. That same afternoon he took Mousey to the hospital to have their baby.

  For the rest of his life, Horatio remembered that day as the zenith of his personal happiness: The wife he adored presented him with a perfect child; the dream house they had planned together was ready for them to bring their little family to; and he was young, healthy, and wildly happy.

  He flew a flag, a big blue one inscribed with IT'S A BOY! from the top of his tallest office building. When he went to see Mousey in the hospital, he was accompanied by a panel truck filled with flowers and candy, not only for Mousey, but for all the other mothers on the maternity floor and all the doctors and nurses.

  He found Mousey sitting up in bed looking fresh and radiant and very satisfied with herself.

  "Oh, Horatio, isn't he beautiful? He looks just like you."

  "Oh, Mousey, my darling!" he exclaimed, kissing her and running off to the nursery. He stood before the glass, tears of wonder and gratitude in his eyes as he gazed at his sleeping son.

  Three days later he tenderly gathered Mousey and their still unnamed child into the Daimler, and they drove to their new house in the country.

  Part Two

  CHAPTER 5

  The days and weeks and months flowed easily into one another. Gradually Horatio and Mousey decided there was no reason for them ever to leave their beautiful home. Everything they valued was there.

  A high, attractive brick wall surrounded their property. The big iron gate in it stayed locked until visitors had identified themselves through, the intercom at the gatepost. Inside the gate were the house, the pool, the tennis court, a stable for the three horses, and a barn for the cow who supplied their milk. There were a few chickens to produce fresh eggs and for Louie—living in a cat's paradise—to chase, and some picturesque ducks who swam in the little brook.

  Once in a while, at the beginning, they rode their horses over to the wall that separated them from Walnut Manor and looked over, just to be sure all was in order there. They never saw anything more threatening than a few distracted-looking people, one of whom was sometimes Dr. Waldemar, sitting on the lawn or strolling through the gardens; and eventually they quit thinking about it.

  Bentley finally got so lonesome for Flossie that he swallowed his fears and married her, and then wondered why it had taken him so long. She, too, came to live in the country, where she helped with the house and the baby, and tended a vegetable garden outside the kitchen door.

  One evening at dinner, Horatio announced that he had decided to name the estate Eclipse.

  "Eclipse?" Mousey asked. "Why?"

  "Because that's what Bentley does to keep the garden in shape. He clips," Horatio said, laughing.

  "But that's such a silly reason," Mousey told him.

  "No, that's not why. I'm just teasing you." He took her hand in his. "I'm naming it Eclipse because my new life here with you has so far surpassed my old life in joy and contentment, I can hardly remember it."

  "Oh, Horatio," Mousey squeaked. "How beautiful."

  Horatio and Mousey quit taking a newspaper because they never found any good news in it. They gave away their television sets because they kept getting bad news on them, too. Horatio called in to his offices once a week, but as long as he left things alone and just allowed the money to make more money, everything went more smoothly than when he was juggling corporations and meeting with his business advisers and tax accountants and worrying about debentures and estoppels and liquidity ratios.

  More and more, Horatio and Mousey and Bentley and Flossie spent their time in quiet, peaceful pursuits: reading aloud to one another from the favorite old books; playing games of cards and pool and checkers (Horatio lost his interest in Monopoly); singing to t
he accompaniment of Mousey's piano and Horatio's guitar; tending to the grounds and the animals; putting on plays; and playing with the baby, whom they had finally named Alexander, because they liked the way his initials spelled AHA, but whom they called Sandy.

  The years drifted by in perfect peace and contentment. Sandy learned to swim and ride a horse, to read and play games and make music with his parents. Mousey and Horatio considered sending him to Jupiter to school when he came of school age. But he was such a sweet and generous and likable child that they hated to risk changing that through exposure to other children, and they decided to keep him at home.

  The whole family—for Bentley and Flossie were certainly family—participated in Sandy's education, and they all benefited. All of them learned Latin, and one Christmas they translated several Christmas-carols into it, not just "Adeste Fidelis," which everybody knows.

  To study geography, Horatio ordered an enormous globe, and they all finally found out where Tasmania and Transylvania and Timbuktu and Perth Amboy, New Jersey, are. Mousey learned long division, which she hadn't understood in fourth grade; and Bentley did chemistry experiments in the butler's pantry, accidently discovering a way to make plastic out of potato peelings. Horatio sold the formula to DuPont for Bentley, which assured Bentley and Flossie's retirement income.

  They all learned to diagram sentences and to make pie crust, to spell cirrostratus nebulosus (a cloud formation producing a halo phenomenon) and to write haiku, to determine their own blood types and to appreciate Montaigne. Their days were full of sunshine and love and discovery.

  The only blot on their otherwise perfect landscape was the third Thursday of every month, when Bart and Bernie came to Eclipse for dinner. All five of them dreaded that day. But they made the best of it and collaborated on an elaborate dinner so there was at least something about the evening to enjoy.