Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [46]
They listened to all of this with very little comment. Finally Douglas inquired about horse thieves.
Well, Mr. Bridge answered, no doubt the family had its share, because few families have not had their black sheep, but their names were not recorded for posterity. Why? Why was he asking?
No reason. Just asking, Douglas said.
51 New Neighbors
On the lot where the cave used to be there was now a red-brick Colonial house with French windows, with six square white pillars fronting the portico, and a brass lion’s head on the door. The garage, which was a smaller replica of the house except for the pillars, had room for three cars. Throughout the winter, regardless of bad weather, the workmen had been there. Now the house was almost finished.
“I can’t help wondering who’ll move in,” Mrs. Bridge said. “Nobody seems to know.”
“Whoever they are, they’ve got money,” he said. “Great Lord, the amount that place must have cost!”
Carolyn asked if they had seen the weather vane atop the chimney—a copper rooster. Douglas remarked that the workmen were building a barbecue oven in the back yard.
Ruth said, “I hope they’re more exciting than the rest of the people in this neighborhood.”
“We ought to be finding out very soon,” said Mrs. Bridge.
The new family moved in on the first day of May. Their name was Snapper. Leo Snapper was short and swarthy, with a long, straight nose and quick, reddish eyes like the eyes of a fox. His wife Edith was taller, thin as a mannequin, with elaborately coiffured pearl-gray hair. She walked with a cane, as though she did not see very well. They had two daughters several years older than Ruth whose names were Judith and Olivia, and there was an Oriental chauffeur.
Carolyn said, “Are they Jews?”
Mrs. Bridge replied: “I don’t see what difference that makes. Do you?”
“No,” Carolyn said. “I just wondered.”
“How come they never say hello to anybody?” Douglas asked.
“That’s not our affair,” his mother said. “But goodness, doesn’t she look like the Empress Josephine with that hair?”
“I wonder what business that fellow is in,” said Mr. Bridge more to himself than to anybody else.
“I was asking Lois,” Mrs. Bridge said. “I believe it’s import-export.”
“They got a dog,” Douglas said, “only it’s a poodle.” He was disappointed about the dog because a poodle was an indoor, unnatural sort of dog. Except for the weather vane, which he liked, and the remote possibility that he might be invited to a barbecue, he was generally disappointed with the new neighbors.
“I saw their cars,” Carolyn said. This, she felt, was the notable thing about the Snapper family. “They leave the garage doors open to show off. I’m not sure what one of them is, but two of them are Cadillacs.”
“One’s a Cad,” Douglas said wearily. “One’s a Buick. One’s a this year’s Olds. You can tell from the fenders a mile away.”
Ruth was disappointed that there were no sons in the family; however, the haughty sophistication of Judith and Olivia almost made up for this. She wanted to get acquainted with them. She hoped they would introduce her to the men they knew.
“Well,” Mr. Bridge observed, “just as long as they’re decent people. That’s the main thing.”
“Oh, I’m sure they are,” said his wife. “I think we have an awfully nice neighborhood.”
“I do, too,” he said. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”
52 LS
He had spoken lightly about the Snappers, but he was apprehensive. Three cars seemed unnecessary and therefore pretentious, and the copper rooster was absurd, and the woman’s hair style was flamboyant. A conservative, cultivated family with less money would have been preferable to a vulgar millionaire. Then, just a few days after the Snappers moved in, the weather turned warm and their awnings were put up. Leo Snapper had his initials on the awnings. The initials could be read half