A Short History of a Small Place (36 page)

Now according to Mrs. Phillip J. King, Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell figured that he would take it upon himself to strike up a bargain with the Gottliebs when he pulled up in front of the Gottlieb acre and a half and saw with his own eyes that not a single Gottlieb out of the entire five duck brigade Gottliebs seemed very much carried away with the sport of the hunt, so Mr. Glidewell’s keen legal mind set in to gyrating, Mrs. Phillip J. King called it, and Mr. Glidewell deduced and calculated and arrived at the conclusion that since the sport of the thing did not seem to have much appeal for the Gottliebs, they must be in it for the ducks alone. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said with an additional gyration or two Mr. Glidewell reasoned that there were more ways to bag a duck than with a rifle and so commenced the negotiations straightaway. “A duck,” he said, “or a drake if you prefer, fully dressed from the market and delivered to you on a monthly basis.”

“A duck?” big Buster said back to him.

“Or a drake, if you prefer.”

“A duck a month?” big Buster said.

“Precisely.”

“For how long?”

“For as long,” Mr. Glidewell told him, “as Mr. Nance wishes to keep you from shooting at his ducks.” And Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Glidewell looked sideways at Mr. Alton and at Mr. Alton’s daddy and both the Nances together nodded their approval.

“A duck a month,” big Buster said and gaped to his left ar his daddy and then to his right at his three boys. “Why mister,” big Buster said, “I can get a whole year’s worth of ducks in an afternoon” which was followed almost immediately by a sharp “Ha!” from J.G. who this time raised his head up from between his legs to say it.

“That is our offer, Mr. Gottlieb. We do hope you’ll consider it,” Mr. Glidewell said.

But big Buster hardly waited for him to close his mouth. “You and him over there,” he said pointing to Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, “and them two Nances yonder had best collect up together and take another vote. I got no use for your one duck a month.”

“What sort of offer did you have in mind, Mr. Gottlieb?” Mr. Glidewell wanted to know.

“I was thinking more along the lines of two ducks a day, fully dressed, acourse.”

“We’ll confer,” Mr. Glidewell said.

“You do that,” big Buster told him.

And according to Mrs. Phillip J. King, Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, and Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy all gathered around the front left fender of Mr. Glidewell’s European sedan and recommenced the exhaustive considerations that they had not ever commenced in the first place. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Alton’s daddy was all for knuckling under to the two ducks a day and so be done with it, but Mr. Alton convinced him that even a Gottlieb could be made to bend some and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell took up with Mr. Alton while Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, leaned against the front headlamp with his hands in his pockets and chewed on a weed in what Mrs. Phillip J. King called silent contemplation. She said Lyle was not much given to snap judgements.

And when the conference finally disbanded, Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell approached big Buster with a freshly considered counter offer. “One duck,” he said, “dressed and delivered fortnightly,” which sounded considerably better to big Buster than one duck a month and sounded considerably better than two ducks a month until he found out that that was what it was and so stamped his foot twice and went back to insisting on his two ducks a day. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said the Nances and their attorney and their attorney’s aid collected again at the front left fender of Mr. Glidewell’s car and again Mr. Alton’s daddy was prepared to give way but once more Mr. Alton and Mr. Glidewell teamed up to talk him out of it while Mr. Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, sucked on his weed stem in silence. And this time Mr. Glidewell came away from the conference with a counter offer that sparked big Buster to only one stamp of the foot, so Mr. Glidewell immediately counter offered again and again big Buster stamped his foot but a little less vigorously than before so Mr. Glidewell counter offered again and this time big Buster did not stamp at all but instead conferred with his daddy ever so briefly before coming out with a counter offer of his own. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said it went back and forth for a goodly time with each party chiseling away at the other until finally the great flurry of counter offers on top of counter offers slowed up almost to a standstill and after a period of somber and weighty consultation with his clients, Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell made what he called the ultimate and irrevocably final concession at one duck fully dressed and delivered every fourth day, to which big Buster said, “Done,” even before he looked at his daddy, who, in the heat of the negotiations, had sunk down nearly out of sight in the folds of his comforter.

“Then we’re agreed,” Mr. Glidewell said.

“Well, we’re nearly agreed,” big Buster told him. “To tell you the truth,” he went on, “around here we don’t much care for duck. It’s tough and stringy, don’t you know. So if you’re going to bring us something every fourth day why not make it a chicken instead.”

“A chicken?” Mr. Glidewell said and looked at Mr. Alton’s daddy, who said, “A chicken?” and looked at Mr. Alton.

“Uh huh,” big Buster told them, “and it’d be alright with us if you went ahead and roasted it, wouldn’t it, daddy?” But the comforter chose not to respond outright so big Buster took the silence as an affirmative.

“One roasted chicken every fourth day,” Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell said, and looked sideways at Mr. Alton who looked sideways at his daddy who nodded at Mr. Glidewell who looked full on big Buster once again and said, “Done.”

And Mrs. Phillip J. King said big Buster shook hands with both the Nances and shook hands with both the Glidewells and she said all the involved parties seemed pleased and satisfied especially Mr. Alton’s daddy, who was a fiend about ducks but had no love for chickens whatsoever. And even before Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell could wheel his car around in the road and head back for the Nance estate, big Buster and little Buster and Dale and J.G. all had hold of Granddaddy Gottlieb’s chair and were hauling it and the comforter and Granddaddy Gottlieb and his filed-down rifle barrel pistol across the front yard and towards the breezeway.

So Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, returned to the Nance estate in triumph, and the former Miss Dupont stood at the parlor window with the tips of her fingers against the panes and watched Mr. Glidewell’s European sedan round the hedgerow and accelerate towards the house. She wanted to catch hold of her husband before he made off with his son and with his attorney and with his attorney’s nephew so she could begin to tell him all about Miss Sissy and her series of relations with Mr. Jackson Dubois Byrd whose name she did not yet know and who himself did not strike her as being the least bit Frenchified or exotic, even for Burlington. But according to Mrs. Phillip J. King, when the former Miss Dupont finally rapped sharply enough on the parlor window to get the attention of Mr. Alton and his daddy and Mr. Glidewell and his brother’s boy, Lyle, they all smiled and waved at her except for Mr. Alton’s daddy, who smile and clasped his hands together and shook them overtop of head and then the four of them rounded the house towards the bungalow as the former Miss Dupont again touched the parlor windowpanes with the tips of her fingers and looked down along the driveway and out past the hedgerow.

Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Alton and his daddy and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, set themselves up on the bungalow patio from where Mr. Alton’s daddy dispatched Mr. Gallos to the kitchen of the big house to fetch back the cook who was instructed to whip up what Mrs. Phillip J. King called a light repast to be served there on the bungalow patio along with a half gallon or so of Mr. Alton’s daddy’s special imported champagne, what Mrs. Phillip J. King called Brewté Shumpanya, which she said was very rare, considerably ancient, and near about as dry as grate ash. And of course Mr. Alton’s daddy and Mr. Alton and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell all three rared back and basked in the glory of their negotiated settlement long before the light repast and the champagne got so far as the patio, and Mrs. Phillip J. King said even Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, managed to bask some himself though he was not much accustomed to basking and so did not pull it off with the grace and ease of his uncle or his uncle’s clients. According to Mrs. Phillip J. King, when they finally got around to it they repasted on shellfish and watermelon rind pickles and artichoke hearts and she said they swilled the Brewté Shumpanya out of fluted crystal glasses which her and Momma agreed was the only proper and acceptable way to do it. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said they were still swilling long after they had finished repasting, and on into the early evening Mr. Alton and Mr. Alton’s daddy and Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell took turns analyzing the finer points of the imbroglio while Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell’s brother’s boy, Lyle, sat silently by until at last he stood up from his chair, raised his fluted crystal glass, and proceeded to toast Mr. Alton’s daddy and Mr. Alton and his uncle Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell, after which he promptly fell over backwards into the cement planterbox.

And as Mrs. Phillip J. King heard it Mr. Alton and his daddy did not desert the bungalow patio even after Mr. Wade Shorty Glidewell excused himself and departed in his European sedan with his nephew heaped up in the backseat, and she said they continued to entertain themselves with a combination of swilling and basking that held them on into the night, so when Mr. Alton’s daddy finally did bring himself up from the bungalow to the big house and on into his bedroom to his bed, the former Miss Dupont was already in it. And even before Mr. Alton’s daddy could stretch full out and blow once, the former Miss Dupont tugged on his pajama sleeve and called his name in what Mrs. Phillip J. King said was a most woeful and afflicted way. But what with all the swilling and the basking, the swilling mostly, Mr. Alton’s daddy didn’t make much of any response right away and Mrs. Phillip J. King said the former Miss Dupont very nearly tugged his pajama top clean off him before she got him to talking though he was in no state to talk and so hummed and grunted and did not really exhibit much civilized diction. But the former Miss Dupont figured Mr. Alton’s ears were probably fit enough to receive what she had to say even if the rest of him was a little bit overswilled, so she stuck her nose up against the right side of Mr. Alton’s daddy’s head and said, “Our son’s wife is carrying on with a millworker.”

“harryathome?” Mr. Alton’s daddy replied, and snorted once.

“She is having a romance.”

“hohands?”

“She is cheating on your son with a common laborer.”

“heating?”

“They meet in the afternoons at his house in the mill village and spend hours doing God knows what.”

“honsin!” Mr. Alton’s daddy said, which is what he usually said about anything that was not a duck though generally his tongue had a little more snap to it.

“I’ve seen them” the former Miss Dupont told him. “Mr. Gallos has too. We’ve followed her to the mill village.”

“holloweder?” Mr. Alton’s daddy said.

“It’s hard to lose a Bentley at that end of town,” the former Miss Dupont replied.

And according to Mrs. Phillip J. King, of a sudden Mr. Alton’s daddy sat up on the pointy ends of both elbows and glared at his wife. “My Bentley?” he said.

So they both lingered by the parlor window with their fingertips against the panes until Miss Sissy wheeled the Bentley out from the garage and on around the hedgerow, after which Mr. Alton’s daddy bolted for the former Miss Dupont’s sedan and then waited there for the former Miss Dupont who refused to bolt herself since she knew where they would end up anyway. And Mrs. Phillip J. King said Mr. Alton’s daddy was forced to drive though he did not much like driving but couldn’t avoid it since Mr. Gallos was presently otherwise engaged in carrying a delicately roasted chicken with a parsley garnish on a silver platter around to the backside of the duck pond and on through the pine grove. Of course everything but the chicken and the roasting was entirely the idea of the cook, who could not bring himself to put the thing in a paper sack as he had been instructed. So Mr. Alton’s daddy drove at something considerably less than the speed of desire and the former Miss Dupont attempted to direct him, but since the former Miss Dupont did not drive herself she generally paid the most of her attention to where she had arrived and not how she came to be there, so she was ever contradicting herself in the middle of a righthand turn or in the middle of a lefthand turn and Mrs. Phillip J. King said it began to look like the former Miss Dupont might direct herself and Mr. Alton’s daddy straight into an ambulance ride to the Alamance county hospital. But somehow or another the former Miss Dupont and’ Mr. Alton’s daddy and the former Miss Dupont’s sedan ended up in the mill village though they arrived at the backside by the plant, and Mr. Alton’s daddy drove systematically up and down the streets until the former Miss Dupont spied his Bentley, which happened to be the only Bentley in the vicinity at the moment and was in fact one of the few Bentleys in the southeastern United States.

Of course Miss Sissy was already inside scratching Dardanelles behind the ears while she waited for Mr. Jack Dubois Byrd to come home and mingle with her, and Mrs. Phillip J. King said the former Miss Dupont and Mr. Alton’s daddy had to pause in front of Mr. Jack Dubois Byrd’s house for near three quarters of an hour before Mr. Jack Byrd himself came down along the sidewalk from the plant and got indicated to Mr. Alton’s daddy by the former Miss Dupont who pointed with her finger and said, “Him.” And according to Mrs. Phillip J. King, Mr. Alton’s daddy and the former Miss Dupont continued to pause in front of Mr. Jack Dubois Byrd’s house throughout the duration of the afternoon’s relation, which was of course only one in a series and which by itself lasted close to an hour and a half as Mrs. Phillip J. King figured it. So it was well beyond two hours after Mr. Alton’s daddy and the former Miss Dupont arrived at the mill village that they got to look at what they had come to look at in the form of Miss Sissy and Mr. Jack Dubois Byrd caught up together in what Mrs. Phillip J. King called a sweltering embrace right there in the front doorway, and she said the former Miss Dupont raised her arm and commenced to point at them, but Mr. Alton’s daddy told her, “Put your finger away. I see it.”