Part 9 (1/2)
True to form, he said, ”Don't count on me sending you any money.”
”I wouldn't dream of it.”
”Like that fool Rob Jacobsen did.”
Maman's eyes darted from me to Paul. ”Robby Jacobsen? What's he got to do with this?”
”Maybe May will explain that for you,” said Paul.
I cleared my throat. ”Robby was under the mistaken impression that we were to be engaged, and that if he kept me in an allowance I would become his wife.”
”That's not how I heard it,” said Paul.
”You can listen to rumors from people who don't know my personal affairs, or you can believe me.”
”Oh, don't go, May,” Maman said. ”You belong here, with your family.”
”I don't want you going, either,” said Gene. ”It's boring when you're not here.”
I wasn't surprised to hear this from an eleven-year-old whose older brother harangued him endlessly about his lessons and ch.o.r.es, though I wished he hadn't said it in front of Paul, who crossed his legs, leaned back in his chair, and said to Gene, ”It's probably just as well. Give you more time to do your lessons.”
Maman said, ”But Portland is so far away.”
I reached for her hand. ”But how can I help you in Menominee? It simply doesn't afford the opportunities of a larger city.”
Maman pulled her hand away. ”I'd rather have stayed in the old house with you than in this new house without you.”
”Oh, Maman, I'll visit. I promise.”
”How can you visit from way out there?”
”Just let her go,” said Paul. ”She'll do whatever she d.a.m.n well pleases anyway.”
I a.s.sured all of them, even Paul, that I would hold them close to my heart, write often, and always consider their well-being.
Before I left, I took Maman aside and showed her my new diamond necklace. ”You mustn't tell anyone about it. It's one of the secret spoils of my broken engagement.”
She couldn't resist trying it on. And then she hugged me. ”My goodness, May, I guess you do know how to take care of yourself.”
THE TRIAL.
THE VALUE OF A DOLLAR.
MENOMINEE-JANUARY 24, 1917
When Alvah Sawyer called Frank back to the stand on day three of the trial, I prepared myself for more s.h.i.+lly-shallying.
”Miss Shaver, we haven't talked much about you.”
Frank folded her hands in her lap, pretending at a humility we both knew was altogether alien to her. ”No, sir.”
”Can you tell us about your parents and your upbringing?”
”I was born in Pittsburgh and am an only child. My father was in property development, and my mother's father was a banker. They ran in circles that hosted dinners for well-off families and served lovely feasts and French wines. You could say I grew up surrounded by generous and wealthy families.”
I noticed Frank was taking pains to put on the proper parlance of her upbringing, which she rarely used in the parlors or dining halls, to say nothing of the streets, of Menominee.
”And did you have to worry about money when you were growing up?”
”Oh, no, I had everything I could want. My parents didn't show off their wealth, but I knew there was plenty of money and that someday I'd inherit it.”
”So you believed money would never be a problem for you?”
”That's correct.”
”You thought it was a bottomless pit, right?”
”Yes, I always thought there'd be money whenever I needed it.”
”Did your family pay for your education?”
”Yes, after I graduated from the University of Pennsylvania they paid for my law schooling at the University of Michigan.”
”And they helped you set up your practice in the Chicago area?”
”They helped me buy a home in Highland Park and sent me a three-thousand-dollar allowance until I started making a respectable income from my practice.”
Where, I wondered, was she going with this-besides showing she could play Little Miss Proper and Innocent? Perhaps Sawyer had encouraged her to strike a virtuous demeanor.
”So there was never any question that money was there for you if you needed it?”
”No question whatsoever.”
”Would it be correct to say that until the events of the last few years you didn't understand the value of a dollar and thought there was no limit to your family's resources?”
”Yes, that would be accurate.”