Respond immediately, love
Lionel.
Neil said on finishing the letter, “Margaret, this isn’t fair.”
“Let Sam and Carrie read it and we’ll talk.”
Carrie read it first and then Sam. Margaret ordered more drinks for everybody and then they were set to talk about it.
“I’ll say again, Margaret, this just isn’t fair. You know I’ve had my heart set on going to New York and so has Sam.”
“It would help Lionel enormously and it would make your mother happy.”
Neil continued, “And that bit about the Monmouth clan in their kilts clustered together in time of Low-land danger has the sound of you, not Lionel.”
“Guilty, I must say. I thought it might insert a tone of gravitas to the letter if we had to send it in the mail. But it is a subject not without merit. Your family does need help and it’s only fair, considering what the family has done for you over the years, that you return it in kind.”
“No, Margaret. I remember those summers with Lionel. Santa Fe is a Podunk backwater with mostly third-rate painters posing as important and grand. It will never be on the edge of art.”
She turned to Sam, “What do you think, Sam? Just one year in Santa Fe, which heaven knows is not a backwater dump but an important, international-artist conclave. You could save most of your salary and it would give you a year of living expenses in the bank before you go to New York.”
“It makes sense, Mrs. Bronson, but if Neil doesn’t like it. . . .”
Neil interrupted, “Besides, Carrie is not mentioned in the letter at all. She has a degree, as well, and we were planning to stay together this next year.”
“I am sure Lionel can find a place for Carrie, as well.”
They went into dinner and tried to discuss other things. Margaret steered the conversation to the Cote d’Azur, criminal overdevelopment, but her heart was not in persiflage. She turned to Carrie for her next assault.
“Carrie, my dear, would you take a teaching position at the Monmouth School? Wouldn’t it be a good way to get armed for the art career you all want eventually in New York?”
“Mrs. Bronson, I couldn’t if Neil is against it.”
Margaret said, “Ah, well, Neil. Son. It’s up to you. Surely a short year out of a long life, and the Monmouths gave you the great advantage of longevity as well, would not be too much to ask. Think how fast the last year has passed. You would be in Soho or Tribeca before you know it, doing whatever it is you can’t do in Santa Fe.”
Sam had been quiet until now. “Maybe your mother is right, Neil. When these last five hundred dollars are gone, that’s it. We each have thirty landscape paintings, correction: twenty-eight, as our sole assets. There certainly is a chance that the exhibit in London won’t materialize or if it does, that we don’t sell as many pictures as Carrie anticipates. Waiting on tables in New York is okay, and it’s what I’ve always planned. But why, if we don’t have to? Thirty-two thousand.”
Neil said, “I still say no. Life is too short, despite the alleged Monmouth longevity, to take detours here and there. And people have a way of getting stuck in the sand in Santa Fe, not going on to their potential.”
Sam said, “But we would all be there together. And maybe we could learn something in the teaching of art for a year. It never entered my mind before, but I am sure we would have time to work on our own paintings, a portfolio to show to New York galleries. I think we should say yes.”
Carrie nodded her assent, looking guiltily at Neil. He realized that the tide had turned on him and he certainly did not want to be in New York without Sam and Carrie. He could scarcely go on there alone and let the two of them help his own uncle two thousand miles away.
“Okay, Margaret, I give in.” Neil thought of the dozens of other times he had said the same thing, the dutiful child.
“You always were a good boy, giving into mama’s wishes.”
“Don’t push it, Margaret. I agree, but I have some requests, no, demands, before this can take place. First, we all have houses, nice houses, provided for us so we can, in fact, save our salaries for New York. And there will be separate studios for each of us.”
Margaret said, “I have been given authority to offer whatever it takes. I think that your housing was understood, but I will clarify that with Lionel. The Casa Marriner is a huge compound, you know, with many back buildings and unused parlors.”
“Also, you won’t just ‘find a place’ for Carrie, you will offer her exactly the same position and salary as Sam and me.”
“Done, of course.”
“And I get to teach plein air painting. After this summer at Gordes, it interests me more than I would have thought.”
“Also, done. What will you teach, Carrie?”
“I don’t really know at this time. Something about modernism and O’Keeffe, I suppose. Feminist Art in the twentieth century. The Small Painting and Modernism, how does that sound?”
“And Sam?”
“If they have studio courses, I would like to take on those. Studio Workshop with Professor Bonifacio. “
“I am sure Lionel will be delighted with all of this.”
With that, Margaret went to the front desk to make arrangements for her flight home. She kissed Neil and shook hands with the other two. The dinner and the interview were over, but the others stayed on to finish the wine.
Sam said, “I wonder of the State Department knows about her. She could make a difference in the Middle East.”
“And the two of you dare question the power of women,” Carrie said.
“I learned as a boy to just step aside when Margaret wanted something. It just wasn’t worth the bruises to oppose her. So we are all going to Santa Fe.”
5
Wood Over Water
“Hello, Hetty, is that you?” Carrie said.
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