Chapter 18

When the secretary left, hugging and kissing at the door, my robe and underpants not meant for display, handing me a check discretely and before I could comment said she had no cash and her husband would never know, walking back the short distance to campus, I threw another sandwich together and brought it and what was left of the wine down to the basement.

"Who made all the noise?" asked the Amazon, looking dusty from cleaning and measuring.

"A new client I think," I said.

"Sounded like she needed you," said the Amazon.

"I hope so," I said. I showed her the check. Lower than usual, I had no reason to complain. Other clients had rich husbands or their own abundance. She didn't. We discussed the need for me to open a bank account. "I suppose Mom and I aren't attached to each other's interests anymore."

"I'm a bad influence," said the Amazon without emotion.

"You saved me," I said. We embraced and got excited, but didn't pursue it beyond communicating love.

"I think I'm going to make me a pallet on the floor," she said sing song style, thinking the same thing as me. "I figure on being down here a lot, and if you have women, I'll be out of the way, and if we have guests, you could join me."

"Don't hold me to making the king size bed first," I said.

"I'm going to build some windows and a door first. Never was a glazer, so I may have one come and show me his technique. I do want to make the frames. Two doors actually because I want a screen, and I guess two frames for each window for the same reason. It's cool near the ravine. I like that. A crosswind sounds heavenly. Once that's done, it'll be my bed down here. I guess it should be comfortable for two. Nothing fancy though, just sturdy," she said with a wink. "Then it'll be the bed. Eventually I want to build things to sell and I plan to advertise for repair in the region, including the City. Write me an ad and your sister can design it."

The phone rang reminding me of the earlier call. "Princess is coming up this weekend," I said.

"Cool. Is everyone forgiven?"

"Looks like. I guess I'm a hero for saving the poet. My sister experienced stupidity with her silly friend, making the princess seem like a genius. And her reading coming up has her writing again."

"And you miss each other," the Amazon completed. My sister yelled down that the call was for me. I nodded to the Amazon's statement. "We need an extension down here," she said. I nodded again, but thoughts of a table for the phone made her absent. I went up to the main floor.

The young poet talked to the ranger on the phone. Apparently he wanted a wilderness adventure. He seemed pleased when he handed me the phone. The phone in Montauk passed to the old flapper...

After minutes of excited babble, I asked the old flapper to translate what she'd said. The rich heiress wanted to visit Barrytown with an architect from a firm building an art museum bearing her family name in the City and a contractor also involved with the museum. The heiress decided to make the project here a partnership between her and the old flapper. It involved a retreat for artists and artisans named after her dead sister with core residents of my choosing and I would be caretaker. I couldn't help laughing.

"Does she know how young I am?" I asked. "And I look even younger."

"Just dress up like you know how and be charming," said the old flapper. "Too bad rumor has it she prefers women, or you could be especially charming."

I thought of the president's secretary. I told the flapper about the woman's desire and her experience. "Fast work stud. Call her," said the old flapper. "I'll hire her."

"I think she likes her job," I said

"She can work part time. Take her to the City and buy her a fabulous dress."

"And when exactly am I supposed to do that?" I asked. "When is this woman coming exactly?"

"Thursday evening."

"Two days," I said, shaking my head.

"I know. I'm excited. See if she's got a nice cocktail dress or ... damn. I wish you weren't out in the boondocks. Let me think."

"You didn't even ask me how I planned to go to school and do this."

"It's going to take time to get ready. The architect and contractor have to see what they're dealing with, but we're hoping for completion some time next summer or earlier. You should visit to make sure things happen the way we hope."

"To tell you the truth, I don't plan on returning to school."

"Really? Is that wise?" I explained the GED and my math professor neighbor. "Hold on," she said. I explained it again to my mother.

"You like it there?' asked my mother after a brief debate about not graduating high school. The brevity came from a lack of energy on my mother's part. I doubt I convinced her.

"I love it, Mom. You're invited anytime."

"I've got work to do here. The mistress and I are going to put me back together somehow. I think she wants to be there. Your daughter does too, but I take precedence."

It was a low blow. She knew how much I loved my daughter. "I miss her too. I'll come by next week." I planned on going to the City at the end of the weekend, bringing the princess back and probably my sister too since she needed things done with her mentor and needed to firm up her gallery opening.

We said our goodbyes and an excited old flapper took the phone. "I have a plan," she said. It worked for me.

I hadn't seen the pixie in awhile and missed her enthusiasm. Since she lived a lot closer to the city, the old flapper suggested having a queer designer or his assistant bring up some clothes in the secretary's size the following evening. The designer had been helped by her early in his career through recommendations to her female friends and fashion editors. She needed to make calls and I realized I did too. She said she'd call back in an hour.

The call surprised the president's secretary. "Did I forget something?" she asked.

"No. Is it okay to call?" I asked.

"Anytime, sweetie. My husband works late. He could have an assistant working, but he figures it's the time when students need him most. He has an assistant to open the library early and deal with the professors' needs or note what she can't help them with. He's often there early too though. It's where he likes to be, which is fine. But even if he's here, you can call. I won't flaunt it, but I won't hide. So why are you calling?"

I told her the situation. The situation excited her. "I can't leave until five, especially since I left early today for some reason," she said. We talked logistics. "I'll follow you in my car. I can't have you picking me up every day. That way you can stay. I'm sure your client would prefer it."

"You don't mind?" I asked.

"You mean jealousy? Are you kidding? I think it's great. Will she?"

"No. She's like you. She sees things straight. In fact I'm thinking of inviting another ex client." I explained the plain woman and the book. "My sister will come too if the other woman comes. I figure we can get the book restarted while you try on clothes."

She gave me her sizes and we said goodbye.

"You need a vacation," I said to the plain woman as soon as she answered the phone. I explained why.

"You're right," she said. "It seems things are a mess in the old homestead and they're going to need my able assistance for at least a month. Call me with the bad news at work tomorrow. My daughter's going to love having the apartment to herself. I can't wait to see you. I've been thinking about it anyway. It's been too long since I had a vacation. My body suffers. But because I haven't, they won't mind."

I called the pixie. "She called," she said. "I'm in. My husband won't be home until late Friday. My kids started boarding school. I'd love to fill the house with lovers and queers." I informed her I had invited the plain woman and my sister. "What will she do when my husband kicks her out? Wait." She chuckled. "I'll have her seduce him. He loves great breasts, and hers are exquisite. I caught him looking a few times at cocktail parties before her divorce. That was a few years ago, but she looks better than ever. I don't know if she'll go for him. He's getting the middle age spread."

"She loves older men," I said.

"Then what is she doing with you?"

"She's a horny woman and I'm the only one she spends the night with."

"And she knows quality when she sees it," complimented the pixie for which I thanked her. "I haven't played with women since college. If I had, she'd be the one. And it will spice up my marriage."

"Speaking of spending the night..."

"Of course, lover. Does the new client mind?"

"She prefers it. You know, no strings attached."

"Except your girlfriend's."

"She's cool."

"I remember a couple of glances."

"I know. I'm sure it still bothers her, but she realizes it's what I do. I think she's feeling better about it."

"Why?"

"Because we agreed we're spending our lives together. I don't know when, but someday I'll ask for her hand in marriage. Probably when she gets pregnant. Probably soon."

"Congratulations," said the pixie. "But I'm not letting you get away. I need you."

"I'm not going anywhere. In fact I'm closer."

"Same day then?" she asked, meaning Wednesdays. I agreed. "Come by anytime, the sooner the better. I'll call by Tuesday night or Wednesday morning if there's a problem."

"I will too," I said.

"I liked going to the City, but every week got old."

"We can always go to the penthouse on occasion."

"Okay. Great. I can't wait to see you."

"Me neither," I said.

"When is the earliest you can get here?" she asked. I told her about the timing of the secretary. "Why don't you come ahead? I'll give you the directions. They're easy. Then your new friend can drive down when she's done. I really can't wait."

I agreed and we said our goodbyes and I related the changed plans to the secretary with a quick call, ending with her saying sweetly, "I know how she feels. You could become an expensive habit."

I told her we'd figure it out and said goodbye.

A few minutes later the phone rang, and the old flapper and I confirmed. "Should I bring cash?" I asked.

"He'll bill me. Be sure she gets something casual and something dressy. I told the designer, but he can be a bit distracted. Give me her sizes." Once done, she said, "I heard you're coming by next week. I'm glad, but I hoped for a before and after with your mom."

"I mostly want to see my daughter."

"I understand darling. But not me?"

"I promise at least one night of endless sex."

"At least," growled the old flapper. "I'd love to discuss it more, but our park ranger friend wants to talk to our poet friend."

I handed the phone to the young poet eagerly hanging near. I stood by my sister while she studied the subtle colors she worked expressively on the large canvas in the back corner of the room. She glanced at drawings of the great poet, the young poet, trees, buildings, nudes frolicking naked in the creek, a junky sitting on a stoop. Seemingly random, I asked for meaning. "I am trying to get in between the country and the city. How are they the same? How different are they? And who am I in relationship to them. How am I different?"

The young poet interrupted. "Could you get your girlfriend for me? I need to ask her something."

I fetched the Amazon. The young poet asked for her truck. When asked why, he told her he wanted to get lost with the ranger and Grandma in the woods. "I have errands," said the Amazon. "I'll drop you guys off and pick you up when you're ready. How long will you be lost?"

"I guess that depends on me." He talked on the phone. "Up to five days says the ranger."

"I'll find a place to stay in Woodstock. You can hitch down when you're done and we can go pick up your tents and gear. It will give me an opportunity to make friends and sales. When are you going?"

"Tomorrow?" he said tentatively.

"No problem," said the Amazon.

"Princess is coming Friday," I said.

"Have her come to Woodstock on Saturday. I'll let you know where I'm staying. Let her see the artisan world in action."

"Okay. And the rich heiress is coming on Thursday."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She wants to check out the retreat."

"We should bring her to the old couple with the orchard and the horses. I bet they'd love reminiscing. I'd come back for that. You guys won't be done by then."

We agreed. The Amazon and the young poet planned to meet Grandmother and the ranger at the train station before noon and head off to their adventure.

That night the Amazon and I made love, sexual and emotional. When we took a break for a midnight snack, my sister continued working on the canvas. We revisited our conversation. The young poet went out drinking and fucking his dancer, so talking woke no one.

"You have these two images," my sister continued, pointing at drawings of the skinny-dippers and the junkie. "What do you notice that's similar?"

"They reflect their environment," I said.

"Good," said my professor sister. "How do they reflect it?"

"The junkie is the City and the skinny dippers are the country," suggested the Amazon.

"What do you mean?" asked my sister.

"The nudists are without any man made covering. They are as natural as the world around them."

"And the junkie?"

"He's as cloaked as the City, as hardened and even has the man made environment within."

"That's how they reflect. Different environments reflect differently. But how are they the same?"

"I don't know. They're in some ways within themselves. The one skinny dipper is obsessed with the other, fantasizing maybe, not being really in the environment. The junkie seems the same, lost in his own world while being lost in the real world."

"Good. But forget about the people. The people are just there, not the subject of the drawing. Everything is the subject. Forget backgrounds."

"They're both dense," I said. "There's incredible detail. It's like a jigsaw with every piece having the same value. You don't even notice the people immediately."

"Exactly," said my sister. "You think of the City as being this noisy place with things happening everywhere all the time wherever you are. But look at the country. It's quieter, prettier maybe, not designed by man, there are hardly any straight lines, and yet it's just as full." Setting the drawings aside, she pulled out a fresh one of me driving the Morris smiling, looking peaceful, and talking as I watched the road.

"I'm definitely the central subject," I said.

"And look how many things he's doing," said the Amazon.

"And yet look how little there is to notice," said my sister. "The world whizzes by. You need to concentrate on it, but only what's just ahead so you stay in the lane. You can't go too fast or too slow, so you press the gas pedal deliberately. You're smiling, and it seems an inner smile. You're talking, so you're thinking about what you're saying and how it would be heard. Maybe it's a conversation, so you're listening and cogitating what's said."