THE CALVERTS
Chapter Ten
May, 1916
Rose moved around
the small apartment, dusting and sweeping. From the corner, she could hear
Nadia and Christopher laughing over some game.
Rose stretched and
put the dust cloth into a pile of clothes to be washed. Much had happened over
the four years that she had been living with the Calverts, caring for John’s
daughters. Mary was six years old and in school now, and Nadia would start
school the following fall. Christopher was three years old, a mischievous,
energetic child who reminded her more of his father every day.
They had moved from
the tiny apartment in the slums two years earlier, when John had been promoted
to foreman of his department at the factory, and now lived in a somewhat larger
apartment a few blocks away from the factory. There was more space for all of
them, enough room so that the two girls had a bedroom to themselves, while Rose
shared a room with her son, and John slept alone. There was even a separate
kitchen and living room, and Rose was housekeeper as well as caretaker for the
children.
Sometimes, Rose
looked around at her small, confined world, and wondered what had happened to
her plans to head out for the horizon. It wasn’t that she disliked the
Calverts, or their home, but she had left the upper class behind with the idea
of finding something different, something that she hadn’t experienced before.
So far, aside from learning domestic labor and becoming a mother, she hadn’t
done much, and her life was in many ways as restricted as it had been before
she had left her old life behind.
Rose often looked
longingly at audition notices in the city, still dreaming of becoming an
actress, though she was now twenty-one years old and had done little outside
the home in her life. John didn’t consciously put restrictions on her, but she
knew that he felt that her primary job was in caring for the children, and as
long as she remained in his employ, this was what she had to focus her energies
on. Still, Nadia was nearly ready to start school, and if she left, Christopher
would come with her. They wouldn’t really need her anymore, though she knew
that the girls had grown attached to her. It would be hard to leave them
behind, and she wasn’t sure if she could make it on her own, especially with a
small child, but she wanted to try. For the time being, though, she was still
needed as nanny to the girls, and she would at least wait until fall to make
any changes.
A knock sounded on
the door as she put the broom away, and she hurried to answer it, shooing the
two children and the barking dog back. It was a safer neighborhood than the one
they had left behind, but one never knew who might knock on the door uninvited.
A man in the
uniform of an upper class servant stood at the door. "Good morning, Ma’am.
Would Mr. Calvert be about?"
Rose shook her
head. "He’s at work right now. May I tell him who dropped by?"
"There’s no
need, Ma’am. I’m from the home of his mother-in-law, Elizabeth Anders. She sent
me to bring this letter, since it seems that you don’t yet have a
telephone."
"No, we
don’t," Rose told him, taking the sealed white envelope. John’s name and
address were written on it.
"Please see
that he gets it as soon as possible. Mrs. Anders says that it’s urgent."
"May I ask
what it’s about?"
"I really
can’t say, Ma’am. I was only instructed to bring the letter. I wasn’t told what
it said."
"All
right." Rose set the letter on a high shelf near the door, out of the
reach of Christopher’s curious fingers. "I’ll give it to him as soon as he
gets home."
"Thank you,
Ma’am."
Rose closed the
door, her own curiosity almost overwhelming her. Why was Elizabeth Anders
having someone deliver a letter to them?
They had seen her
on many occasions over the past few years, though never at her own home. James
Anders disliked his working class son-in-law, and wanted no part of him, his
daughters, or his "cousin" and her son. It was just as well, Rose
thought, that he didn’t want to see them. She had no wish to return to the
upper class, even as a visitor, and sometimes worried that Elizabeth would
realize that she had once been Rose DeWitt Bukater, and that word would get
back to her mother. Rose knew that she no longer had anything to fear from Cal,
as he had married in 1914, but she had no intention of returning to her old
life. Fortunately, Elizabeth had never made the connection, or if she had, she
had never mentioned it.
On the occasions
when they had seen Elizabeth, she had visited them at their apartment, or had
met them somewhere nearby, sometimes taking the children places that John could
not afford to take them, or had not the time for. Rose usually accompanied
them, and Christopher was as inclined to call the older woman Grandma as the
two girls were. John had told Rose that Elizabeth had accepted Mary and Nadia
as her granddaughters after learning of Miriam’s death. They were the only
grandchildren she would have, and even though they were no relation to her, she
had taken them under her wing because they were John’s daughters, and, as such,
Miriam’s stepdaughters, though Miriam had died before Nadia had become a member
of the family.
Christopher also
called her Grandma, and had ever since he had learned to talk. No one had ever
bothered to correct him. Elizabeth was Grandma, Rose was Mommy, and John was
Uncle John. Mary and Nadia had no particular classification; they were cousins,
Rose had told him, but he cared about little beyond the fact that they were
playmates and sometimes tormentors. He had asked Rose on occasion why he didn’t
have a daddy like other children did, and Rose had always shaken her head, and
told him that his daddy was in heaven, watching over him.
*****
When John got home
late that afternoon, Rose gave him the letter, then lingered nearby, hoping
that he would tell her what it said. She had eventually given up holding it to
the light and trying to read the words through the paper, but she was still
curious, and cast sidelong glances at John as he read it.
When he finally set
it aside, she could no longer restrain her curiosity. "What’s going
on?" she asked, looking at the paper lying on the table.
John looked a
little bewildered. "It seems that my father-in-law died of a stroke just
last week, and in his will he left everything to his wife, who it seems is his
only living relation. The odd thing is, she says that she needs my help with
certain aspects of the will."
"Your
help?"
He nodded. "I
can’t imagine why. I’m not a lawyer, nor someone familiar with what she now
owns. The only thing I can think of is that she might want to give something to
Mary and Nadia. At any rate, she wants us all to come to visit this coming
Sunday, so she can discuss the will with us. I don’t imagine that James Anders
left anything to any of us, but Elizabeth has taken the girls as her
granddaughters, and she might want to give something to them."
"That might
be. Are you going to visit with her on Sunday?"
"I think so.
The girls will want to see her, and we haven’t visited the house since we
arrived back in 1912. You’ll bring Christopher, too, of course."
"Of course. He
thinks she’s his grandmother, too."
"Well, you’ll
probably like seeing the house. I don’t know if the girls remember it, but it
should seem like old times to you. It’s an elaborate mansion in a wealthy part
of the city."
Rose nodded, but
she wasn’t so sure she wanted to come. Who knew who she might meet in that
neighborhood? She had studiously avoided places that she would have frequented
as a member of the upper class, and she didn’t know if she wanted to go back
and face her memories.
*****
On Sunday, the
Calverts and the Dawsons took the El as close as they could to Elizabeth
Anders’ upper class neighborhood. They walked the rest of the way, the children
in awe of the stately houses and well-groomed lawns, so different from the
apartment they lived in. John, too, looked at the houses with admiration,
wondering what it would take to have such a house. Certainly, it would cost
much more than he was ever likely to be able to afford.
Rose’s thoughts
were turned inward as they walked along the wide, well cared for streets.
Holding Christopher by the hand, she looked at the buildings, at the people on
the yards and walking along the sidewalks, remembering when she had been a part
of this world. It had been a long time, so long that she scarcely remembered
what it was like to live in a fancy house, with servants to wait upon her and
every imaginable luxury hers for the asking. She had given that life up, and
she wasn’t sorry, but there were times when she remembered this life longingly,
for it hadn’t been all bad. It spite of the strictures imposed upon upper class
women, she had known times of happiness growing up, before her father had died
and her mother had begun to impress upon her the importance of making a good
marriage to shore up the sagging family fortunes.
Rose pushed these
thoughts away as they turned up the walk of a large, three-story brick mansion,
not unlike the one she had grown up in. A wrought-iron fence surrounded the
house, and the lawn and gardens were neatly groomed, daffodils blooming in
profusion along the fence.
Elizabeth herself
answered the door, not waiting for a servant to do it for her. She was dressed
in black, the color of mourning, but her appearance was calm and collected,
showing little grief over her husband’s death. James and Elizabeth had not
gotten along well in years, and had scarcely seen each other since the news of
Miriam’s death had reached them four years earlier, in spite of living in the
same house. The mansion was more than large enough for them to lead separate
lives, in spite of living under the same roof. It had been a servant who had
first discovered James after his stroke, and it had been that same servant who
had told Elizabeth that he had died, two days later. She had attended the
funeral, and shown proper mourning, but she hadn’t really been sorry that he
was gone. The affection she had felt for him in the early years of their
marriage had long since disappeared, replaced by enmity at times, and, more
often, indifference. They had been married in name only for many years, even
before Miriam had been born.
"Welcome,"
she told them, smiling at the group.
The three children
ran up and hugged her, shouting "Grandma!"
Elizabeth hugged
each child in turn, then sent them to the kitchen for a snack. Rose looked
questioningly at her, and she nodded, gesturing for her to follow the children
while she talked to John.
Elizabeth led John
to the study, where she sat down behind the large mahogany desk that had once
belonged to her husband. Reaching into a drawer, she drew out a stack of
papers, neatly printed and signed, the last will and testament of James Anders.
"You...ah...wished
to discuss the will with me?" John inquired, looking from Elizabeth to the
stack of papers.
"In a manner
of speaking. As I told you in my letter, I inherited everything from my late
husband--including his business interests. I now head the entire Anders
financial empire, and I’ve already detected several areas that need
improvement. That’s where you come in."
"Me? How
so?"
"I’m looking
for someone I can trust to take charge of certain aspects, such as hiring,
union negotiations, and quality control. You already have experience in union
negotiations and quality control, and I’ve no doubt you understand what
qualities are needed in an employee. I spoke with your supervisor last week,
and he has a very high opinion of you, of your ability to resolve conflicts and
make sure that the work is being done properly. The employees also have a high
opinion of you, which is unusual, from what I’ve seen. Many of the people
currently employed with Anders are unhappy, to say the least. It seems that my
late husband considered profits above all else, to the point where even the
management was upset with the way things were being run. As I’m sure you
recall, Miriam disliked her father’s business practices, and never missed an
opportunity to undermine his position. The fact of the matter is, things have
gotten to the point where we will have massive strikes, and subsequent loss of
profits, if something isn’t done. You have worked both at the bottom of the
workforce, and farther up, so you have the ability to understand where both
sides are coming from."
"I’m not sure
what it is you’re asking."
"I’m trying to
hire you away from the competition. I want you in charge of relations between
the management and the employees, as well as having a voice in the hiring
process and in quality control. We need someone who understands and can
implement these things, and my instincts tell me that you are both trustworthy
and capable of managing such a position."
"I don’t
know," John told her. "I really don’t have that much
experience."
"Neither do
many new managers, but they learn, or they fail, and you are in a position to
understand both sides of the employee-management conflict. You also understand
what kind of people are needed to fill jobs, and how to make sure those jobs
are being done correctly. You would receive training, of course, and any
business education deemed necessary. It would be a great step up for you,
getting you off the noisy factory floor and putting you in a position where you
can effect positive change. Additionally, it would mean a great deal more
money, which would be good for you and the girls."
"And if you’re
wrong? If I can’t take charge as you expect me too?"
"Then Anders
may collapse, but if it doesn’t, you will be guaranteed a job somewhere else in
the company--if you want it."
"That’s a lot
of pressure."
"I think
you’re up to the task, and at any rate, you won’t be doing it alone. I have
been spending a considerable amount of time in the boardroom, the offices, and
the working areas, finding out how things are done. I am looking for people who
can turn things around, improve conditions overall. Would you be willing to try
it?"
John sat quietly
for several minutes, considering. He had a steady job, one that paid the bills
and kept the people under his care fed and sheltered. On the other hand, he
didn’t anticipate moving up much from where he was, and the idea of being a
manager was appealing, even if it was taking a risk. He supposed that if it
didn’t work, he could find another factory job somewhere, and Elizabeth was
right--it would be good for his family to have the additional income such a job
would bring.
John had made up
his mind. "I’ll do it," he told his mother-in-law, shaking her hand
firmly.