Bakersfield. Chamber of commerce. Not exactly a cosmopolis but at least there was
some semblance of civilization. Like sidewalks. At night I helped my husband put the paper to bed. Such as it was.”
She lifted the mug and drank. “Have you read the rag?”
“Twenty years’ worth.”
“Lord. Where’d you get hold of it?”
“Beale Memorial Library.”
“You are motivated.” She shook her head. “Twenty years’ worth. Orton would be shocked. He knew what he’d come down to.”
“He didn’t like publishing?”
“He liked publishing fine. He would’ve preferred running the The New York Times. He was a Dartmouth boy. The Intelligencer-doesn’t that reek of East Coast sensibilities? Unfortunately his politics were somewhere to the right of Joe
McCarthy, and after the war that wasn’t very fashionable. Also, he had a little problem.” She pantomimed tossing back a drink. “Hundred-proof rum-developed a taste for it when serving in the Pacific. Lived to eighty-seven, anyway. Developed palate cancer, recovered, then leukemia, went into remission, then cirrhosis, and even that took years to kill him. His doctor saw an X ray of his liver, called him a medical miracle-he was oodles older than me.”
Laughing, she finished the soup, got up, poured a refill, came back. “The
Intelligencer was Orton hitting bottom. He began his career at The Philadelphia
Inquirer and proceeded to embark on a downward slide for the rest of his life.
Treadway was our last stop-we bought the rag for next to nothing and settled into a life of crushing tedium and genteel poverty. Gawd, I hated that place. Stupid people everywhere you looked. Social Darwinism, I suppose: the smart ones leave for the big city, only the idiots remain to breed.” Another laugh. “Orton used to call it the power of positive backpedaling. He and I decided not to breed.”
I made sure not to look at the dolls in the kitchen.
She said, “The only reason I stayed there was because I loved the guy-very good-looking. Even handsomer than you. Virile, too.”
She crossed her legs. Were those eyelashes batting?
I said, “The Ardullos don’t sound stupid.”
She gave a dismissive wave. “Yes, I know: Butch went to Stanford-he told anyone who’d listen. But he got in because of football. Everyone else liked him, but I didn’t. Pleasant enough, superficially. One of those fellows who’s convinced he’s a magnet for females, puts on the Galahad act. Too much confidence in a man is not an endearing trait, particularly when it’s unjustified. Butch had no fire-stolid, straight-ahead as a horse with blinders. Point him in a direction and he went. And that wife of his. An oh-so-delicate Victorian relic. Taking to her bed all the time.
I used to think it was phony baloney, called her Little Miss Vapors. But then she surprised me and actually died of something.”
She shrugged. “That’s the trouble with being malicious- occasionally one is wrong, and a nasty little urge to repent seeps in.”
“What about Scott?”
“Smarter than Butch, but no luminary. He inherited land, grew fruit when the weather obliged. Not exactly Einstein, eh? Which isn’t to say I wasn’t shocked and sickened by what happened to him. And his poor wife-sweet thing, liked to read, I always suspected there might be an intellectual streak hidden somewhere.”
Her lip trembled. “The worst thing was those babies…. By the time it happened,
Orton and I had just sold the paper and moved down here. When Orton read about the murder in the Times, he vomited, sat down at his desk, and wrote a story-as if he were still a journalist. Then he ripped it up, vomited again, drank daiquiris all night, and passed out for two days. When he woke up, he couldn’t feel his legs. Took another day to convince him he wasn’t dying. Great disappointment for him. He cherished the idea of drinking himself to death, sensitive soul. His big mistake was taking the world seriously-though I guess in a case like that you’d have to. Even I cried. For the babies. I wasn’t good with children- found them frightening, too much vulnerability, a big girl like me never seemed suited to those little twig bones.
Hearing what Peake had done confirmed all that. I didn’t sleep well for a long time.”