297: It took more ...
Herb ’n’ Lorna, Chapter 8 continues
IT TOOK MORE than two months for Herb to dispose of the coarse goods Ben gave him, develop eleven new couples (and how he yearned for Lorna while he worked, how much his imagination was enlarged by thinking of her), sell his list of Five-Foot-Shelf customers, sell his old Studebaker Four, and buy a new-to-him Studebaker Series 19 “Light Six.” Lorna carved coarse goods for Luther while she waited for Herb’s return, and together, though apart, they accumulated a nice little nest egg.
AT HERB AND LORNA’S WEDDING, Lester Piper appeared to have regained all of his old spark. He so charmed Richard Huber that Richard spent hours trying to persuade Lester to leave what he supposed was a fairly good position in Boston and move to Chacallit, where the air was clear and the rushing waters of the Whatsit were mellifluous and pure, and to try breathing some life into his sales department. To Richard Huber’s surprise (but much more to the surprise of Millie and Ben Piper), Lester accepted.
There was some talk in Chacallit when Lester and Millie arrived and put up with the Hubers until they found a place of their own, and there was some resentment when Lester assumed his duties, but in a few months even the people who had resented him most when he arrived had to admit that Lester Piper was the best salesman they’d ever seen.
HERB AND LORNA arrived in Babbington on a cold and rainy Sunday night. The town looked deserted. Main Street was nearly dark; the only light came from night lights in a few shops, from the streetlamps at the intersection of Bolotomy and Main, from the police station, and from a garage across the street from the police station. Of these, the first that Lorna and Herb saw, coming into town from the west, were those at the police station and the garage.
“Well,” said Herb, “it’s not quite what I’d imagined.”
“How can you tell?” asked Lorna. “I can’t see a thing.”
“That’s what I mean. I had imagined a clear night, a moon, moonlight on the ocean, something like that.”
“Sounds like the night we burned the ballroom,” said Lorna.
“There’s something,” said Herb. “Looks like a police station up ahead.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Lorna.
“And a service station. Speedy’s Reliable Service.”
Herb pulled into Speedy’s and dashed through the rain into the station. There, at an oak desk, bent over a copy of the Babbington Reporter, was Officer Dan Whitley, youngest son of the renowned scoundrel and noted angler Andy Whitley, the mayor of Babbington at that time. After a moment or two spent standing, patiently, just inside the door, clearing his throat and shuffling his feet now and then, Herb decided that Dan was asleep. He retreated soundlessly to the door, opened it, backed out into the rain, and reentered, this time with a heavy tread and loud exclamations.
“Whoo!” he exclaimed. “It’s not a fit night out for man or beast!” He stamped his feet and shook the rainwater from his hat.
Dan, startled, sat up straight, shook himself awake, and rubbed his eyes.
“Say, I didn’t startle you, did I?” asked Herb.
“Me?” asked Dan. “Heck no. You just kind of surprised me. I was pretty intent on what I was reading here, that’s all.”
“What’s that?” asked Herb.
“Obits,” said Dan.
“Uh-oh,” said Herb. “Nobody close to you, I hope.”
“Hm? Oh, no. Not anybody special. Well, there is a cousin in here today, kind of a distant one, though. Couple of other people I knew enough to say hello to. I read ’em all, though. Don’t matter to me who they are. It’s kind of a study with me, a study of human nature. You find out a lot about people this way. ’Course, you have to know how to read between the lines sometimes, but it’s funny how much you don’t know about somebody till he’s dead.”
Herb and Dan spent a moment in silent contemplation of that idea, and then Dan looked at Herb as if realizing for the first time that Herb was someone he didn’t know at all, not even to say hello to.
“Say,” Dan said, “what’re you doing out on a night like this? You in some kind of trouble?”
“No,” said Herb, “no trouble. My wife and I — ”
“Lost?”
“No, I — ”
“Passing through? Want some gas?”
A toilet flushed somewhere behind Dan, and he jerked his thumb in the direction of the sound.
“Speedy’ll be right out,” he said. “I’d pump you some myself, but I’m on duty.”
“That’s okay. I don’t need gas,” said Herb. “Just directions.”
“Said you weren’t lost,” Dan pointed out. He narrowed his eyes.
“No. Yes. That’s right, I’m not. Lost. I — we — we’re going to settle here.”
“Here? In Babbington?”
“Yes, in Babbington.”
[to be continued on Tuesday, July 19, 2022]
In Topical Guide 297, Mark Dorset considers Studebakers; Disappointment: Expectations Unrealized; and Obituaries from this episode.
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