The Lockwood Concern (45 page)

many, such discussions with St. Bartholomew's and Princeton. Partly because of her disillusioning experience with the trackwalker, Tina had graduated from youthfulness to a maturity that a Preston Hibbard apparently was accustomed to in his Boston girls. At the same time she was uniquely attractive - and George had subjected her to the severe scrutiny of a father who had known more than his share of women of all ages. She was tall for a girl (girls seemed to be getting taller in the Twentieth Century), leggy rather than bosomy, but her ankles were slim and her breasts were high and firm. She had fortunately not inherited her mother's bust. In the prevailing fashion she wore her hair bobbed to the shortness of a man's haircut in back and at the sides, with a large wave left in front. The fashion was becoming to the shape of her head and the color of her hair, which was the lightest shade of brown next to blond. She breathed through her nose, a not unexceptional characteristic among her contemporaries who had undergone unsuccessful tonsillectomy, and in repose her mouth formed a thin line, placid if not severe. Consequently when she smiled her nearly perfect teeth were a surprise and a reward for people who suspended judgment on the severity of her expression. Preston Hibbard would be getting more than he deserved, but there had to be some inducements to divert him from a Boston marriage. Tina, or her father, would be likely to encounter resistance on the part of Preston Hibbard's female cousins, since local custom was tolerant of intermarriage between parties of close degrees of kindred. As an out-of-town girl Tina needed all her attributes, and as the niece of Penrose Lockwood she needed something extra. Preston Hibbard's eccentric brother might be relied upon to provide a scandal of major proportions, but thus far his unconventionality had not brought him to the notice of the police and the press. Indeed, there were in Boston men of middle age who in their youth had behaved with more abandon than Henry Hibbard, and who had so outgrown their wildness that they were immune to the hazards of l'age dangereux. George Lockwood considered it his duty to take a hand in the fashioning of his daughter's future, for in spite of her recent maturing experience, she was not capable of originating forthright action in her own interest. And time was a-wasting. Without her father's delicate intercession she could be overlooked, left unmarried and childless at thirty, and hardening into the kind of woman who attended symphony concerts by herself and had lovers who turned out to be repetitions of her trackwalker. There was in her enough of her mother to make just such undramatic tragedy possible; Agnes had had the makings of an old maid, and might well have been happier, or less unhappy, if she had remained a virgin. Tina, half Lockwood, had by nature an equipment of passion that had already given her some trouble and could continue to give her more. With a slight shock George Lockwood discovered that he had been unconsciously finding resemblances between Tina and Marian Strademyer. They were, of course, completely unalike, he reassured himself. Completely. And he proceeded to stack up all the evidence to prove how different Tina was from Marian. But having done so, he returned to his original discovery, and the rediscovery was not shocking; it was alarming. He loved Tina, now more than ever before, and the potential danger of her destruction by a man like Pen Lockwood became the cause for action that was all he needed. If a Pen Lockwood could murder a Marian Strademyer, a successor to Tina's trackwalker could murder Tina. And even if her destruction were not accomplished by a bullet, it could be done with the same finality by rejection and neglect. He wanted, by God, more out of life for her than that. He signed the Cape Cod lease, had his signature witnessed by one of the maids, and put it in the mail pouch that Andrew took to the Swedish Haven post office every afternoon. For the first time in months he felt good.

He had never thought of Tina as beautiful. Perhaps the women who held those uncomfortable poses for Charles Dana Gibson were beautiful. Elsie Ferguson was beautiful. One of the English duchesses was probably beautiful. One evening Marian Strademyer, standing perfectly still and nude and watching the water filling a bathtub, was very nearly beautiful. But beautiful women generally were fragile and remote and unexciting. They were, in a word, dull. In another word, inanimate. After a week at the Cape Cod house Tina was not beautiful, but she was lovely. The seaside sun had bleached her hair, her skin was brown. She was lovely, she was handsome, and if he had not retained his prejudice against the word he would have called her beautiful because it signaled the superlative degree. The moment had come for summoning Preston Hibbard, and a great deal depended on how it was done, but this was the sort of maneuvering at which George Lockwood excelled. He had respect for the mind of Preston Hibbard, which made the task of outwitting him more pleasurable. "If it would be convenient for you to come down next Wednesday," he wrote Hibbard, "we could have a swim and lunch. That would leave us the afternoon for our business. You would then have ample time for the drive back to Boston before dark. I promise you we will not be interrupted as my wife and daughter plan to spend the day in Edgartown." He had, of course, arranged the absence of Geraldine and Tina. "I would appreciate it if you ladies would make yourselves scarce next Wednesday," he told them. "There's a young fellow coming down from Boston to talk about Pen's estate. It's going to take all day, going over Pen's stocks and bonds and all the rest of it. He'll be here for lunch, and I think I can probably get rid of him by four o'clock." "We might go up to Boston for the day," said Geraldine. "You might do that, or you could run over to the Vineyard," said George. "The Vineyard's much closer, and it's a pleasant boat ride. All I care about is getting through with this chore." "Who is this horror that you don't want us to see?" said Tina. "He isn't a horror. His name is Preston Hibbard and he's the acting bursar at St. Bartholomew's. But this won't be a social visit." "I know Preston Hibbard. He went to school with Bing," said Tina. "I say I know him. Actually I've only met him." "I met him too. He came to Swedish Haven," said Geraldine. "Don't you think it'd be nice to ask him to spend the night?" "No," said George. "I want to keep this on a businesslike basis, and I'm sure he does too." "Let's go to Nantucket," said Tina. "I've never been there." "All right. I know some people there," said Geraldine. "I'll look up boats, and we can plan to be back late in the afternoon." Preston Hibbard arrived in his Dodge coupe half an hour after Tina and Geraldine departed for Woods Hole and the Vineyard-Nantucket boat. "My wife was sorry to've missed seeing you again," said George. "But I explained to her that you're a very busy man." "Sorry to've missed her, and your daughter," said Hibbard. "How was your ride down? You've probably taken it many times." "Quite a few times. I know every foot of the way." "Then you must be ready for a dip," said George. "Did you bring your bathing suit?" "Yes I did," said Hibbard. "And I know where to change." "You've been to this house before?" "I have. Elias White is a friend of my father's, but not of mine particularly. We came down here one time when we were small boys, my brother and I. Henry, my brother, accidentally set fire to the tool shed, and we were never asked back again." "So that's why Mr. White won't rent to families with small children," said George. "That was nearly twenty years ago, but Elias still barely nods to Henry and me. I'm sure he wasn't a bit surprised when Henry turned out to be a bohemian. Coming events cast their shadow, and so forth." "Well, let's get into our bathing togs," said George. There was more muscle to Preston Hibbard than George Lockwood had been aware of. He had good shoulders and chest and biceps, and well-developed thighs and calves. "You're in good condition for a man in a sedentary occupation," said George. "I do setting-up exercises," said Hibbard. "Fifteen minutes a day. I've always liked gym work. The horizontal bar. The rings. The horse. Trapeze." "Oh, really? That's interesting." "Oh, it's very dull unless you care about it, but it's good discipline. Occasionally I work out with the gym teacher at St Bartholomew's. He's really good. A German." "They had no such thing when I was there," said George. "We didn't even have a gymnasium." "No, the gym was built in 1908, I think. In plenty of time for your son Bing. He was pretty strong, but he didn't like gym. But that was before Hans Richtenwald was there. Very inspiring man. An absolute nut on physical fitness. He came over here after the war and was recommended by the Y. M. C. A. College in Springfield. He's responsible for the high average of physical fitness at St. Bartholomew's, no question about it." "It is high? I didn't realize that." "Very high. And another thing he does, he keeps the boys from playing with themselves." "How does he do that?" "By talking to them. He can look at a boy and know right away that he's jerking off. So he has him in for a talk, and believe me he puts the fear of God into them." "So you have sex education at St. Bartholomew's? I didn't know that, either." "They don't call it that, but that's what it is. Quite a frightening lecture on venereal disease. If a boy catches gonorrhea or syphilis, it's his own fault, after one of Hans's lectures." "Well, I do declare," said George. "I was a senior in college before I really knew the difference between one and the other." "That's the way it used to be but not anymore. Hans works very closely with the chaplain, and the record shows that the system is worthwhile. In the last five years there hasn't been a single case of a boy who had to be sent home because of a venereal disease." "I can't recall any in my time," said George. "In your time they were sent home, but they gave other reasons. The real reason is in the confidential records." "You have access to the confidential records? You must know a great deal about me. That's very disconcerting." "No. In your case it's mostly complimentary. I shouldn't even be telling you that much, so please don't ask me any more." "Of course not," said George. "Were you allowed to see your own record?" "I saw it. It wasn't as complimentary as yours, but I'm not going to divulge any of my own secrets." "Well, let's wash away our past sins in the cold salt water," said George. The water was indeed cold, too cold for George Lockwood. He stayed in it three or four minutes and came out and sat in the sun, watching Hibbard disport himself in the surf. "After the temperatures in Maine, this is practically tepid," said Hibbard. "I think you're boasting," said George. "Well, perhaps I am." "Of course you are," said George. "Have you had enough?" "Enough to give me an appetite," said Hibbard. "Then let's have lunch," said George. They had lunch on the screened porch; lobster Newburg, rice, string beans, strawberries, and coffee. "I knew I could count on a good meal at the Lockwoods', and I seem to've done justice to it," said Hibbard. "One thing about Pennsylvanians, we like to eat," said George. "My grandfather used to say, nobody goes away hungry from our table." "I'm glad to see you've carried on that tradition," said Hibbard. "Well, we haven't got so many," said George. "Now if you're ready, we can have the table cleared and get down to business out here. I think we'll be more comfortable than inside. If you'll excuse me while I get my brother's folder." It was now two o'clock and George knew that by judiciously explaining Pen's various holdings, it would be well past four o'clock before he got through. Tina and Geraldine should be returning no later than four-thirty. And so for the next two hours Preston Hibbard was given a history of Penrose Lockwood's investments which was still incomplete when the Packard drove up to the front door. "How nice, you're still here," said Geraldine. "I believe you have met our daughter." "A long time ago," said Tina. "Don't pretend to remember." "I remember the occasion, but the lady herself has changed considerably," said Hibbard. "Well, we won't disturb you," said Geraldine. "Go on with your work." "I think I'll go for a swim. Anyone else?" said Tina. "You couldn't pay me to go in that ice water again today," said George. "However, if Mr. Hibbard wants to show off again he can. We won't be able to finish up today, Hibbard. I'm afraid you'll have to come back some other time." "Why not spend the night?" said Geraldine. "Because he has other things to do," said George. "That's not very hospitable," said Geraldine. "I asked Mr. Hibbard to come down as a favor to me. I can't impose on him anymore. I'm sure he has a full day tomorrow." "I have got a full day tomorrow, but that's not saying I can't spend the night," said Hibbard. "I'd like to spend the night, if that's all right with you." "Of course it is. You mean we could work after dinner?" said George. "Yes, or I could come down again. I'd like to go for another swim. The water'll be warmer now, Mr. Lockwood." "Not warm enough for me. I'll get you a bathing suit. I don't imagine yours is dry." It was Tina who had done it; there could be no mistaking Hibbard's instantaneous attraction to her, and when she reappeared in her bathing suit, swinging a white rubber cap and slightly impatient to get to the ocean, Hibbard was obedient. It was not like Hibbard to be obedient. They were gone nearly two hours. What they had found to talk about did not much matter, but when they came back to the house it seemed to George that Tina was indifferent and Hibbard anxious to please. "What size shirt do you wear?" said George. "Fifteen-and-a-half. Thirty-three-and-a-half sleeve," said Hibbard. "We wear the same size collar," said George. "I'll lend you a couple of shirts. One for tonight, and one for the morning. My pajamas and underwear will fit you. Dinner's at seven thirty. I'll show you your room." "I hope I'm not inconveniencing you, Mr. Lockwood," said Hibbard. "Not a bit. Why?" "Well, frankly, your daughter said you were working too hard and you were here for a rest," said Hibbard. "She made me promise not to do any work tonight." "I suppose she told you I was under a strain," said George. "Yes, she did, and I can very well understand that." "Tina's a very perceptive young woman. She's been very helpful. We'll be having cocktails about seven. On the same porch. Come down whenever you feel like it." Preston Hibbard's efforts, before and during dinner, to ingratiate himself with Geraldine were indicative of a desire to have her on his side. More subtly, Hibbard's wish to have Geraldine on his side was taken by George to indicate Hibbard's intention to see more of Tina. He told amusing stories of his previous visits to the house, and they were directed at Geraldine; he was alert with matches when she needed a light for her cigarette. The small attentions were appreciated by Geraldine, and she all but purred. "We have some tickets to the summer theater at East Sandwich," said Geraldine. "If you two'd like to use them. I don't know what's playing, but you could call up and find out." "I know," said Tina. "It's The Bat." "Oh, yes," said Hibbard. "The play based on The Circular Staircase, by Mary Roberts Rinehart. Would you like to see?" "All right," said Tina. "If we don't like it we can always leave." "Then I think you'd better quickly drink your coffee. These things start early," said Geraldine. "I'll probably have gone to bed when you get home, so I'll say goodnight to you now." "Will I see you in the morning, Mrs. Lockwood?" said Hibbard. "Probably not, so this is goodbye, too. But come again soon. Don't wait for some business to come up. Just come, any time," said Geraldine. When they had gone Geraldine said, "You ought to encourage that, George." "May I ask why?" said George. "Because Tina needs someone like him. He may seem rather dull, but he has good manners, and he's safe, if you know what I mean. Also, I think he's fallen for Tina." "Fallen for her? That's jumping to conclusions, I must say." "Not impossible, though. You always knew right away when you were attracted to a girl." "Don't compare me to young Hibbard." "Oh, I don't know. You have things in common," she said. "Very little. However, if you think he'd be good for Tina, as a sort of stopgap, we can have him down again." "Yes, and don't let too much grass grow under your feet," said Geraldine. "She needs someone now, or she's liable to take up with the wrong kind." "She's been confiding in you?" said George. "Much more than she meant to," said Geraldine. "You being a woman of the world, of course you can read between the lines." "That just happens to be the truth," said Geraldine. "Well, almost time for my French lesson." "Your French lesson?" "I get Montreal on the radio, and it's fun to see how good my French is." "Au 'voir, cherie," he said. "Au 'voir," she said. "Don't stay up too late. At least don't be downstairs when they come home. Give them a chance, George." He was not downstairs, but he was wide awake when they got home. He heard the car - Hibbard's Dodge - and then he saw them walk toward the beach. It was ten minutes to twelve. Two hours later he heard them again, moving about in the kitchen, closing the door of the refrigerator, chair legs moving on the linoleum, the footsteps on the stairs. He wondered how "safe" Hibbard was. He wondered about Hibbard and that gym teacher at St. Bartholomew's. He slept badly that night. The silent house seemed to be full of people lying awake with their thoughts. So it seemed to him, at least. At breakfast George Lockwood was the only member of the family who came down to speed the parting guest. "You're going to see me again this weekend, Mr. Lockwood," said Hibbard. "I am? Here?" Hibbard nodded. "I'm sailing down from Marblehead, some friends of mine. And Tina's joining us. Spend Saturday night in Nantucket. Sunday we'll be at West Chop for lunch, and then I'm coming here to spend Sunday night." "That ought to be nice," said George. "I'm hoping to persuade her to come to Maine two weeks from now. Will you put in a good word for Maine?" "No, but I won't put in a bad word. Tina does as she pleases, and I encourage that." "She has great, great admiration for you. She thinks her father is quite a fellow." "I think she's quite a girl," said George Lockwood. It was the moment, and George Lockwood sensed it, for a restrained demonstration of paternal love. "If I may say so, so do I," said Hibbard. "Glad to hear it. I want her to have more friends on this side of the ocean. Europe is no place for her, not as a permanent thing." "She wants to live abroad?" said Hibbard.