Bleeding Heart (19 page)

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I know how you feel. And it
is
hard to understand. But we just have to keep trying. I’ll tell you what, though—I’m pretty sure walking around with a knife in your hand is going to do you a lot more harm than good.”

On my way out, I took one last look at the hillside I’d come to know so well. The sun had slipped behind the clouds, and the distant mountains were backlit with an orangey, otherworldly glow. I remembered looking at this same view with Mackenzie. Had it really been only a few weeks back? It seemed like decades ago now. I’d taken him on a tour of the nearly completed gardens, and he’d told me:
It’s really incredible what you’ve accomplished, Alice. You’ve actually moved rivers—like Le Nôtre did for the Sun King at Versailles. It’s amazing what money can buy, isn’t it?

It was amazing, too, what money could destroy. Or the prospect of it, anyway. I thought of the many lives that Mackenzie’s death had undone. Mine. Mara’s. Gwen’s. Eleanor’s and her son’s. In the last moments of his life had Mackenzie’s thoughts flashed on us, and the countless employees and shareholders whom he’d let
down? Because he must have known that it was over. That he was never going to be able to come through on the many inflated promises he’d made to all the people who depended on him. Who believed in him. Who, like Eleanor, still kept seeing him out of the corner of her eye. Torn about what to feel toward him. Unwilling to pass final judgment on him. Unable to let him go.

O
livia and Franny came up for their annual summer visit at the end of July. As usual, my daughters took the week off from work to spend what Olivia called “quality time” with me. Their husbands would be joining us over the coming weekend. In the past, I’d try to clear the decks during their vacation, but this year I really needed to keep working. Along with all the usual demands of managing a landscaping business at the height of the season, I was doing everything I could to drum up new clients. Complicating matters, Mara and I had run into a lot of problems and complaints about the fixtures we’d tried to return. Very few of the suppliers wanted to reimburse us for the full price of the items, and I had to threaten a couple of times to take legal action. An empty ploy, as I didn’t have the wherewithal to hire a lawyer.

The worst thing, though, was dealing with all the dunning calls from the various nurseries and garden supply outfits I owed money to. Mara and I tried to let most of these go directly to voice mail, but occasionally I’d find myself talking to some irate supplier who’d managed to get through to me directly: “You’re ninety days
past due. We’re putting you on credit hold. Don’t even
think
about ordering from us again.”

“Yes, I know,” I would respond in my most soothing tone. “I’m sorry, but I’m owed a lot of money myself and I’m afraid I won’t be able to pay you until—”

But nobody seemed to care that I, too, had been stiffed. That was
my
problem. One that, as the weeks passed, seemed further and further from any sort of resolution. Though I continued to pay my workers out of my personal account, my little nest egg was almost tapped out. I’d looked into cashing out my retirement plan prematurely, and discovered that I would lose easily a third of it to the IRS if I did so. I was waking up in the middle of the night routinely now, going around and around with all this. I’d get out of bed exhausted before the next demanding day even began. And it got harder with Olivia and Franny under my roof, because I was determined not to let them know just how bad things really were.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m working that out,” I told them vaguely the night they arrived from the city and asked me for an update on the Mackenzie situation. I was so happy to see them—my beautiful, vibrant, successful daughters!—that for those first few hours at least I was able to put my problems aside. They’d come up for a much-needed break from their own work and worries, and that’s exactly what I planned to give them. If I wasn’t able to be with them every minute, so be it. Though I initially tried not to let them know that I’d be tied up pretty much the whole time they were visiting.

“Let’s go up to Williamstown tomorrow and see a play!” Franny suggested over a late supper of gourmet goodies they’d brought with them from the city. Unlike me—or perhaps because of me—neither of my brainy daughters had really learned to cook. They survived on takeout in the early years of their professional
careers, then both had the good sense to marry men who knew their way around a kitchen.

“We could have lunch at the Clark and then go to a matinee,” Olivia said. “What’s playing now, Mom?”

“I’ve no idea, sweetie. This is my busy time, remember? I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass on the matinee, but I could meet you on the way back for dinner. There’s a new place in Lenox I’ve been wanting to try.”

In this way—skipping their day trips and shopping excursions, but having ready suggestions about what the three of us could do together at night—I was able to juggle work and my daughters’ expectations through most of that week. Thursday evening we planned to have a picnic supper at Tanglewood and listen to the concert on the great lawn. I’d promised to make my mustard-and-herb fried chicken—a childhood favorite of my daughters—and had every intention of heading back to the house around four thirty to start cooking. But right around that time Mara, who had been placing an order with Finari’s, our local garden center, put down the phone and said, “You’d better pick up. Ted wants to talk to you.”

Ted Finari, founder and owner, was one of the good guys of this world. He was the first to extend credit to me when I started my business, and had been a booster of Green Acres ever since, often sending new business our way. We were on ninety days payables with him and, at this point, only a few weeks in arrears. But I still picked up the phone with a sinking heart.

“Hey there, Alice,” he said. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve been hearing some kind of troubling things around town. Is it true you got screwed by that fracking billionaire?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” I said, glancing across the room at Mara. She was pointing at her watch, and I remembered that she’d asked to leave early, too. She and Danny were helping Eleanor get ready
for a tag sale she was hosting in Pittsfield on Saturday. Eleanor was giving up her own small one-bedroom apartment to move in with her son. I nodded at Mara, waved toward the door, and watched her leave as I listened to Ted’s reply:

“Oh, man, what a scumbag! What’s this country coming to that a guy like that can screw over honest, hardworking people? Where are the laws, for chrissakes? Where’s the accountability?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing, Ted,” I told him, hoping that I was wrong, and that he’d just called to commiserate.

“I mean, first Madoff, and then AIG and all those too-big-to-fail banks! It’s really infuriating! I get so pissed off just thinking about it—” As Ted continued to rant and rave about the injustices of our current brand of capitalism, it began to occur to me that he was stalling. He was embarrassed and uncomfortable about coming to the point.

Finally, after another few minutes of this, I asked him, “Is there a particular reason you called, Ted?”

“Yes, there is,” he said with none of his earlier bluster. “Oh, shit! I’m sorry, Alice, but I can’t keep carrying you. We’ve got plans to expand the center next fall and the bank is asking for all sorts of assurances before they agree to financing. My accountant warned me that they’ll be going over our books with a fine-tooth comb. I’ve got to have everything current.”

“And by ‘current,’ you mean . . . ?”

“I’m really, really sorry, but I’ve got to put you back on thirty days,” he said.

He did sound sincerely apologetic. For all the good that did me. In many ways, Finari’s Garden Center was the lifeblood of my business. We bought almost all our regular stock from them, and this was one of our bigger months for ordering plants and shrubs. Even including the new, expensive nurseries I went to for the exotic
plantings I used at Mackenzie’s, I owed Finari’s more than any other single supplier at this point. If I couldn’t manage to pay them, Green Acres wouldn’t be able to keep going.

“I understand, Ted,” I told him. “I don’t know what’s going to happen here. I’m swamped with debt because of all this. But thanks for helping me out as long as you did. I really appreciate it.”

“Damn it, Alice! I wish things could be different.”

“Me, too,” I said, hanging up the phone. I sat at my desk and dropped my head into my hands. I was too exhausted to cry. I’d run out of excuses. I knew I had no choice now. I’d have to call Sherry the next day to begin the process of mortgaging the house—and put in jeopardy one of the things I cherished most in my life.

I have no idea how much of the conversation Franny actually overheard. But, obviously, it was enough. The screen door slammed as she came in, and she walked right up behind me and began massaging my shoulders. It was something she used to do to comfort me during the bad times after her father left.

“I thought so!” she said. “I told Olivia you were still in trouble. It’s that damn Mackenzie guy, isn’t it? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Why do you think?” I said. “I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself. I feel like a fool and a failure. Your sister’s right. There does seem to be something about me that’s drawn to cheats and liars.”

“Leave it to Olivia to go straight for the jugular,” Franny said. “Well, at least I know what’s happening now. I was beginning to think you were mad at us for coming down so hard on you after that
Times
piece ran.” She patted me on the arm and said, “Okay, you, up and out of there. We need to get back to the house and let Olivia in on all of this. And I mean
all
of it, Mom. I think we both deserve to know
exactly
where things stand, okay?”

We never made it to Tanglewood that night. We sat down around the kitchen table and I told them the whole story. But this time I
didn’t sugarcoat the facts or hold anything back. I made it clear that I knew I’d let my pride and ambition trample all over my better judgment. I pointed out how I’d ignored a number of important warning signs that Mackenzie was in trouble and untrustworthy. How I’d recklessly spent an enormous amount of money that wasn’t even yet in my possession. I was as hard on myself—and as honest—as I could be. And when I was done, I sat back with a sigh and waited for the recriminations to start.

Instead, Olivia reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

“I’m sure you have every reason to be proud of that garden,” she said. “I don’t think you should lose sight of that, okay? That you created something really amazing.”

I’d been fine up until then. But my tough-minded, highly critical older daughter’s kindness took me completely by surprise. My eyes filled with tears.

“Thank you,” I said as Franny handed me a napkin.

“That said,” Olivia went on, “it’s pretty clear Green Acres is teetering on the edge of collapse, and you’ve got to do something immediately to shore up the financial structure.”

“Wouldn’t mortgaging the house make the most sense?” Franny asked. “Aside from this mess with Mackenzie, you’ve got a very viable business going, Mom. Interest rates are still pretty low right now. What’s the problem? Is it that you’re worried about making the payments? It seems to me you could swing them pretty easily.”

“No, that’s not it,” I said. How could I explain this to my practical, hardheaded offspring? I took a deep breath, and decided that I had to at least try:

“I know you don’t remember your grandfather all that well. You were still only girls when he died. But that last summer when we were all up here together, he made me promise him something. . . .”

They were silent for a minute after I finished. Franny was the first one to speak.

“But taking out a mortgage doesn’t mean you’re going to lose the house, Mom. That could only happen if you defaulted on the loan. It seems to me that a mortgage is a really sensible way of tapping into all the equity that you’ve built up in this place over the years.”

“I know,” I said with a sigh. “You’re right, of course. I’ll—”

“No, I understand,” Olivia said. “It’s not about equity. It’s about family—and what Granddaddy said. This place doesn’t belong to just you—it’s a part of all of our lives. And you don’t feel right about cashing in on it.”

“Exactly,” I said, looking across the table at my older daughter, who was full of surprises suddenly. Olivia and I had often been at odds with each other over the years. It felt especially good to discover that we both felt the same way about something I thought was so important.

“I’m going to talk to Allen,” Olivia announced. “Goldman’s having a good year, and he’s been promised a big bonus. And I’ve got some non-retirement money kicking around. Between the two of us, I’m sure—”

“No, between the four of us,” Franny said. “Owen and I aren’t exactly hurting either.”