Read Online Schmidt Steps Back by Louis Begley - Free Book Online Page A

elderly woman, whom she introduced as Madame Laure, bearing a large tray with a decanter, Perrier, and ice and what looked like a glass of tomato juice for Alice. Once he had told her how sorry he was about Tim, and she had asked about his limp, he was at a loss about what to say next and felt that she might be too, in which case he should perhaps leave. At the same time, he didn’t think it was within the bounds of good manners to finish his drink and say good-bye less than thirty minutes after he had arrived. What’s more he didn’t want to leave: he was too content to find himself in this tranquil room in the company of a lovely and very elegant woman. A woman, it must be said, who intimidated him, although he felt certain that such was not her intention. If he wanted to stay, it was clear that he must get beyond the exchange of banalities, the sort of formulas that Emily Post probably recommended as appropriate for a conversation between a senior partner and the widow of one of his juniors, to whom he has come to pay his respects.
    Alice, he blurted out finally, there is something that hasbeen troubling me very much about the way Tim went off the air: he didn’t let me know he was planning to retire or his reasons; he didn’t tell me anything. Then came the dreadful news that he was dead, but not a word from him between his retirement and that awful day. Something must have gone really wrong. We had worked together very closely from the time he came to the firm until a few years before you and he left for Paris.
    He knew, of course, she answered, that you were unhappy when he started doing so much work with Lew.
    Alice dear, I used to think of him as the son I would have liked to have. His working for Lew didn’t change that. I hope he didn’t think it did. That would be one heartbreak more.
    Without any warning, she started to cry, tears streaming down her cheeks while she remained completely silent.
    His gesture made awkward by the limp, he reached the sofa, sat down beside her, and spontaneously, without having formed an intention to do so, put his arm around her shoulders. Alice, he said, I am so terribly sorry, please stop, I’m sorry I asked those questions. I’ll leave right now if you like, if it will make it easier for you to regain your calm.
    Still sobbing, she shook her head and hurried out of the room. Schmidt returned to his armchair and waited uneasily.
    There was a tremor in her voice when she reappeared, but she was no longer crying. It’s such a long and sad story, she said. Are you sure you want to hear it?
    He nodded.
    She looked at her watch and said, In that case you must stay for lunch. Please excuse me again while I say a word to Madame Laure.
    She came back, offered him another whiskey, and after amoment of hesitation poured a much smaller one for herself. Lunch will be ready in a quarter of an hour: very simple, cold chicken and salad. I hope that’s all right. Then she added, Can what I tell you remain
entre nous
? You won’t feel that you need to discuss it with the firm?
    He assured her that his questions had been those of a grieving friend. It would not occur to him to talk about their conversation to the firm—from which he had in any event retired—unless she specifically authorized him to do so. Thereupon she apologized, saying that she couldn’t understand why she had made that request. Perhaps it was because she would be discussing for the first time certain things with someone who wasn’t already aware of them. His visit was more welcome than he could imagine. It had made her realize how badly she needed to tell that story from beginning to end to someone who would listen sympathetically, who had known Tim well before Paris. And so, while they drank their whiskeys, then over lunch and afterward, when they took coffee in the library, she talked nonstop. At first he thought that he was hearing about a prolonged marriage spat, some rather selfish and high-handed behavior on