Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [89]
93 The Jeweler’s Son
During dinner she suddenly remarked: “Guess who I ran into? Harvey Glatz.”
Mr. Bridge lowered his knife and fork. “The devil you did! What was he doing here?”
“He lives here now.”
“He does, does he? I didn’t know that. What sort of business is he in?”
“He’s a furrier.”
“Is he! Well, let’s hope you haven’t taken to buying furs,” he laughed. Then he continued: “I wasn’t aware you knew young Glatz. If I did, I’d forgotten. He was some years older than you.”
“I didn’t know him. I was at the ballet last Tuesday with Steve when he came up to us at intermission and told me his name and said he was from Kansas City.”
“So! How is he doing?”
“Brooks Brothers suit. Shoes by Florsheim. Pergolesi tie. He’s lost most of his hair. How old is he?”
“I’d have to think. I suppose Harvey must be thirty by now, or, if not, he’s close to it. He’s a nice young man. He’s all right. His father was a nice man, too. Every member of that family is decent.” He paused a few moments with a thoughtful expression. “Well, that was quite a coincidence. Glatz Jewelry is still at the same location on the street floor of my building. How many years they’ve done business there I have no idea. They occupy a larger floor space than any other company in that building. Great God, I couldn’t begin to estimate how much money that firm makes. There were four of those men originally. They were Lithuanian Jews. One of them died several years ago and another one, I understand, is in Germany. I expect his people must be quite worried. He went over there to try to get some relative out, and I don’t believe they’ve heard from him. Lord knows what could happen, the way things are these days. Then there was Harvey’s father, Milton, who was the one I knew best. He was a fine, upstanding man. I was sorry when he passed away. The fourth one of those brothers is the man who runs the business now. I see him occasionally. He has a daughter.”
“Harvey thinks quite a lot of you.”
“Oh?” Mr. Bridge said, and reached for his wine glass. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. I always liked young Harvey.”
“He told me something about you.”
“He did? What was that?”
“He told me you once did some legal work for him.”
“Yes, that’s so. I did. Quite a while ago.”
“Did you send him a bill?”
“Why do you ask?”
“He told me that when he didn’t get a bill from you he called the office, and Julia said ‘Forget it.’ ”
“I told her not to send him a bill.”
“You never charged him?”
“No, I didn’t. He was a nice young fellow who was in the midst of some difficult times. I believe he was having personal problems and at the same time was attempting to set up a little business in Kansas City and needed every penny he could lay his hands on. He sent us quite a nice basket of cheese and candied fruit that Christmas. You may remember it.”
“You’re a strange person,” Ruth said. “You’re my father and all that, but I really don’t know what goes on inside your head.”
Mr. Bridge laughed uncomfortably. “Well, Ruth, I’m afraid I don’t know what to make of that statement.”
“You’re so hard and so cold and so humorless. Then you do a thing like this. And for a Jew.”
He stopped eating. In a controlled voice he said: “I do not know what you are talking about. The fact that young Glatz was Jewish had nothing to do with it. I would—in fact, I have done the same thing for other people who were not Jewish.”
“Your charity work?”
“If you wish to call it that.”
“That’s what Julia calls it.”
“And just what else has Julia told you about what goes on in my office?”
She reached across the table and rested her hand on his. “Now don’t go home and fire Julia. She isn’t giving away