Chapter 3: Redirection

As soon as they were out of sight of Jean’s family, however, Hardy turned the boat to a new heading. Jean looked at Hardy in askance, and Hardy said “There’s someone you need to meet first, and he lives outside Clayton in this direction.” Jean shrugged and made himself comfortable for the ride.

After about twenty minutes of high-speed travel, Hardy slowed down to a crawl, and began examining the shoreline of a nearby island very carefully. He apparently found what he was looking for, because he abruptly turned the boat to the left and headed for what appeared to Jean to be a solid wall of trees. As they approached, however, the wall developed a dimple, and eventually the dimple turned out to be the inlet to a channel that snaked its way deeper into the island. The channel twisted and turned so severely that the bordering trees kept visibility to less than a hundred meters.

After rounding several of the tight bends, a short dock appeared, leading to a ramshackle house. The house was built on pilings and stood out over the water.

Hardy hailed the house “Eli! Eli, are you home? It’s Hardy, and I’m bringing a friend!”

Jean heard a voice call back, but couldn’t make out the words. The boat continued to approach the dwelling, and he observed a wizened face peering from the doorway. The man in the door was shorter than average, and obviously older than either he or Hardy. He could, in fact, have been old enough to be Hardy’s father.

When they were close enough, the elderly man tossed them a line, and they made fast to the dock. Hardy began the introductions.

“Eli, this here is Jean Pasteur. He’s the newcomer who took over the empty parcel next to mine. He’s a good fellow and has a great family, and I thought I’d introduce him to the neighborhood.”

“Glad to meet you young man, and welcome to the swamp” said Eli, looking him straight in the eye. “Eli Warner’s my name, and I’m kind of a fixture in these parts. I’ve lived in this house ever since my Dad kicked me out at the age of fifteen.”

Jean took the proffered hand, and said, “Thank you very much, sir. I’d like to take advantage of your experience, and I’d be grateful to hear everything you want to share about life in this area. I plan to make it my home from now on.”

Eli continued gazing at Jean unwaveringly, and said to Hardy “This is a very polite young man. Seems pretty smart, too.” Eli pushed a pair of rocking chairs toward the two, and Hardy grinned and nodded as they sat down. The men chatted, traded information and lies, and after a short while Eli’s wife appeared with a tray of drinks.

“All we have is tea and beer,” she said, “and Eli can’t have any beer for a few more days.” Eli’s face went sour at that remark, but he felt the need to explain.

“My doctor has me on a restricted diet,” he said. “I can only have two beers a week, and not on the same day. Says it messes up my blood, somehow. I don’t believe it though. I think he just thinks that anything I enjoy as much as I do a cold beer, can’t possibly be good for me.”

The men visited for nearly an hour before Hardy said, “Eli, I know you could talk ‘til the cows came home, if we had any cows, but I got things I need to do today. I’ll bring Jean back another day, or he can come back by himself sometime, but we need to go now.”

Reluctantly their host agreed to their departure, with an invitation and an admonishment to return soon. They shook hands all around, said their goodbyes to Eli and his wife, and left in the airboat.

When they were out of sight, and out of earshot, Jean turned to Hardy and said, “The Warners are nice people, and I really enjoyed our visit, but what was that all about? You didn’t do any business there that I could see.”

“I didn’t go there to do business,” Hardy replied, “I introduced you to Eli so you could do business.”

“What do you mean? Did I miss a cue or something? Was I supposed to make some kind of proposal to Eli?”

“No, you did exactly what you were supposed to do. Simply meet the man, be yourself, and enjoy the visit.”

Jean still didn’t exactly understand how that was supposed enable him to do business with anyone, anywhere, but he reluctantly settled down and went along for the ride.

Hardy, in order to mollify him somewhat, said “it’ll become clearer in just a little while. I’m taking you into town now, and there’s where you’ll do business.”

Not long afterward, they approached the town dock, and caught a line tossed by one of the ragged teen-aged boys hanging around there. As they climbed out of the boat, Hardy fished a worn five-credit note out of his pocket, and showed it to the boy, saying “look after my boat while I’m in town, and this is yours when I get back.” The boy nodded vigorously, and took up a defensive position near the boat.

The two men sauntered down the dock toward town. When they reached what passed for the main street, Hardy turned to the right and said “The business district is this way,” then he led Jean toward a small cluster of buildings. Actually, the only buildings on the island.

“This here is the bank” he said, pointing to a nearby, low concrete structure. “It’s a branch of the Bank of Nerites, and you need to talk to the fellow in charge, in order to arrange a loan to buy a houseboat. His name is Ben. I’ve got to go to the general store and order some supplies, so you’re on your own.”

“But why would he make a loan to a total stranger?” Jean frowned.

“Trust me” Hardy said, “Besides, what have you got to lose, except the time?”

Giving up, Jean veered off and headed for the bank.

“I’ll be back soon,” Hardy yelled, as he strode purposefully toward the general store.

Jean entered the building, and as the door closed behind him, he was met by a blast of cool air. This was the first air-conditioned building he had been in since leaving work several days ago. He walked into the small lobby area and saw a small empty desk near the far wall, and two teller stations to his left. One of the teller stations was unmanned, but a pretty, young blonde attended the other.

Jean approached the teller and said, “I was told I need to see someone named Ben, to arrange a loan.”

The teller smiled and pointed to a window set in the opposite wall, saying “He’s with another customer right now, but I’m sure he’ll be free in a moment.”

Jean looked at the window, and saw that there was a small office on the other side of the glass. In the office, there was another desk, and behind the desk a man who looked vaguely familiar, perhaps a little older than Hardy, and not in as good condition. A young couple sat across the desk from the man, obviously talking earnestly to him. He nodded and listened to them intently, occasionally interrupting to say something. None of the sounds of this exchange were audible to Jean.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” suggested the teller, pointing to a divan near the window. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Ah ... no thank you,” Jean stammered, “no coffee, that is. I will take a seat, however.” He then sat on the divan and tried not to appear too interested in the trio on the other side of the window.

After a short wait, the young couple inside stood, shook hands with the older man, and made their exit from the office. The man behind the desk came out with them and said goodbye, then he turned to Jean and asked, “May I help you?”

Jean rose from his seat, and extending his hand, introduced himself. “I’m Jean Pasteur” he said, “and I just moved into the neighborhood.”

The banker accepted the handshake and said “I’m Ben Warner, and depending on who I’m trying to impress, I’m either the VP of this bank branch, or its chief loan officer.”

“Well it’s the latter title that brings me here today,” Jean responded. “I’d like to arrange a loan.” Then it hit him why Ben looked familiar. “Warner,” he repeated,” are you any relation to Eli Warner?”

“Well, yes,” Ben replied carefully, “He’s my father. Where do you know him from?”

“I just met him this morning,” said Jean, “Hardy Saxon and I stopped over at his place on our way to town. Had a real nice visit.”

“I see,” said Ben, nodding, “then you’ve been officially welcomed to the neighborhood. Why don’t you come into my office, and we’ll see if we can do business. Do you have an account with our bank?” he asked, sitting down behind the desk.