'Eventually, as happens, my money attracted more money. Other people began sending their daughters there, and giving generously.
'By the time Henri's daughter was ready to enter the fifth grade, Adirondack had changed a great deal. She was sent there on a scholarship; she did quite well. She went on to college, and to medical school. She lives in New York now. I look her up when I go in, an old friend of her mother's.
'I've continued to support the school, and the answer to your question is that that's where my money goes. I'm not alone anymore in this, so now I concentrate my efforts in two areas: I sponsor a number of scholarships, and I underwrite Adirondack's programs in the visual arts.'
The road curved, straightened again at a place where, in daylight, the view stretched fifty miles. Now there was only blackness, and distant lights.
'Do you see,' she asked, 'why I was unhappy with Lydia's prying into this? I knew it was unrelated to the burglary. And I had kept it secret for so long.'
'Yes,' I said. 'I do see. And thank you for telling me. I know it was hard.'
She surprised me with a wry smile. 'Telling you wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.'
I hesitated, said, 'Eve? Who chooses the scholarship recipients?'
She threw me another glance, said, 'There's a panel. They have certain criteria. Occasionally I recommend someone. I don't abuse my position and my candidates are never turned down. Why?'
'MacGregor's girls go to Adirondack,' I said. 'His arrangement with Grice was paying their tuition. That's what it was all about, his girls.'
Eve said, 'And you want me to make sure they can continue? You want to do that for him, even now?'
'Especially now. It's what he sold his soul for.'
We spoke very little after that, as we covered the dark miles. I lit a cigarette and stared out the window and thought about Eve educating two generations of girls, other people's daughters, helping them to see so much, and so clearly, that in the end a nursery woman's daughter becomes a doctor, and a wild fifteen-year-old can identify, with certainty, unsigned canvases no one has ever seen before.
Chapter 22
Eve unlocked my cabin door, came in long enough to turn the light on in the front room. Her eyes fell on the piano, which gleamed softly. 'I am sorry,' she said, 'that you won't let me hear you play.' She smiled her small smile, studied me. 'I imagine you're quite good.'
'No. I'm not.'
She smiled again, didn't answer.
Her eyes swept over the room, came back to me. 'Are you sure you'll be all right?'
'Yes,' I said. 'Now that I'm here.'
'Then I'll leave you here. Do you want me to come in the morning with your car?'
'No. I'll find my way over tomorrow. Thank you, Eve.'
She took my hand, held it a moment. Then she turned and left.
I worked my way out of my jacket, found a glass and the bourbon bottle. I needed music, and I knew what I wanted: ensembled playing. Music made when people know each other, can anticipate and understand each other. I put on Beethoven, the Archduke Trio. I stretched out on the couch, sipped at the bourbon, felt the music flow around me. The soloistic, separate parts of the trio wove, danced, glided forward and back, created together what none of them was, alone.
It was an illusion, but it was beautiful.
I slept until one the next afternoon. Sometimes after the music was over and the bourbon was gone Id made my way into bed, and after that I was aware of nothing except the strange, sad images of my dreams.
When I awoke I was aching and stiff. My head hurt, but not as badly as the day before, not as badly as I'd expected. I stumbled to the outer room, clicked on the hot water, built a fire, put the kettle on. The day was gray again, silent, but with an expectation in the air.
I put bourbon in the coffee and made the coffee strong. After it was gone I showered, tried to soothe my aching shoulders under the rhythm of the pounding heat. I shaved, inspected in the mirror the shiner ringing my left eye, blood under the skin from the bullet that might have killed me. I was a mess. You could read the week's accumulation of trouble on my face.
Still, I didn't have to wait long on 30 before a pickup, heading south, stopped for me. Antonelli's was north of my place, and Eve Colgate's house north of that, but before I did what I needed to do today I had to eat.
'Thanks,' I said as I climbed into the truck. 'I wasn't sure anybody would stop for someone who looks like this.'
The driver, a big, unshaven man, laughed a big, friendly laugh. 'You kiddin'? Safest guy in the world to be with is a guy who's finished makin' trouble for someone else.'
We shared a smoke and some idle talk about the nearness of spring. He let me off at the Eagle's Nest, a small, shiny diner that still had most of its original aerodynamic chrome.
At the counter I ordered steak and eggs, homefries, toast, and coffee. I took the first mug of coffee to the phone, called the hospital. I asked them how Tony was and they told me he was better, out of danger now. Then I asked for Lydia's room.
The phone rang five times and I was about to give up when a groggy voice answered in slurred Chinese.
'English,' I said. 'It's me.'
'Oh, goody, it's you,' she said. 'Where are you?'
'At a diner, having breakfast. How do you feel?'
