Orville, steady and ready as the hour chime.
“Fortunately,” Harry said, “my father is not even close to retiring. Are you, Father?” In his precise syntax, Harry inserted the same two sentences into the same pause after the same Porter preamble Sunday after Sunday.
Herman, who often said nothing, today was clearly feeling objectionable himself.
“No, I’m not close to retiring,” he agreed, but didn’t stop there. “How can I retire? I’ve got no one to take over the family business.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Alice. “Could you pass the biscuits, please?”
Esther refused to keep her mouth shut. “Alice, darling,” she said, passing the bread basket across the table. “Perhaps you can also take over our father’s business? Father has such high regard for you.”
Harry laughed. Alice chuckled uncomfortably into her napkin. Before anyone else could take a breath, Esther calmly continued. “He loves you, Alice, like a daughter he never had.”
Everyone got feverishly busy cutting up their meat—everyone except Ben.
“Mr. Barrington, sir,” Ben said, putting down his knife and fork, “I don’t know if Harry mentioned it, but our Lime Alley buildings are full.”
“Harry didn’t mention it,” said Herman. “Harry was busy telling me we were charging too much rent to the immigrants.”
“We are,” Harry said.
“Why don’t we just let them stay there for free then?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t we?”
Herman put down his own fork. “Because of the Sherman Act of 1890, son. Also, do you really feel that able-bodied human beings should not have to pay rent on their dwellings or are you just being contrary? Residences that someone’s money renovated, upgraded, painted, put water and plumbing in, ran electricity into?”
“Not just someone’s money, Herman,” said a rotund and robust Orville Porter. “Yours.”
“Harold, answer me, do you feel all that should be received gratis?”
Ben kicked Harry under the table and hastily continued. “Harry is just joking with you, sir—”
“Actually, I—”
Ben kicked him again, harder. “The next liner is due in on Tuesday, and we’re out of room. Three full ships are coming in week after next. What do we do? We have nowhere to put anyone.”
Herman went back to buttering his bread and pouring himself a drink. “Benjamin, I’m taking care of it. We have four more buildings nearly ready on Charter and Unity; almost two hundred apartments.”
“Will they be ready by Monday?”
Looking Ben over with admiration, Herman smiled. “Probably not by Monday, but very soon. You boys have done a fine job managing the buildings for me. Too good a job. I don’t know what I’m going to do when you go back to school.”
“Well, next year your son will graduate,” Ben said. “He can manage Lime Alley for you full time.”
Now it was Harry’s turn to kick Ben under the table.
“I’m not holding my breath,” said Herman. “In the meantime, Unity and Charter just need painting and some furniture.”
“By Monday?”
“Ben, have them move in, give them a discount on the rent, and tell them we’ll paint and furnish in the next week or so and as a bonus keep their rent the same.”
“Good idea. Perhaps we can also convert the back of Old Wells House, sir? I know there are at least eleven apartments we could put back there.”
Herman nodded his approval. “Good thinking. I’ll talk to my man first thing Monday morning.”
“We have one apartment available on Lime Alley,” Harry interjected. “The family decided not to stay. Left after one night.”
“Ah, yes.” Ben said that so dramatically that everyone’s ears perked up. “I’m being facetious,” he assured them, seeing their curious expressions. “Really, Mother.”
“Not entirely, um, facetious,” said Harry.
“Harry’s right,” Ben said, hand on his heart. “Truth is, I have been hit by a raven-haired thunderbolt.”
Everyone smiled in delight, except Harry, and Esther, who became paler if that were possible, lost another shade of herself, and squeezed her suddenly tense white fingers around the tines of the fork, as if trying to stab herself with them.
Herman followed his delight with advice. “Benjamin, I hope it’s just an infatuation.”
“No, sir,” said Ben. “It’s more than that, I’m afraid.”
“Ben, stop it,” said Harry.
“Yes, Ben, stop it,” echoed Esther, wilting noticeably by dessert, rum cake with coffee, shoulders sunk with maidenhood.
“Where is the family from?”
“Sicily. They got tired of living under a mountain that kept vomiting fire.”
Herman shook his head. “Do yourself a favor, Ben, stay away from unsuitable Sicilian females. They’re trouble.”
“For more reasons, Father, than you can possibly imagine,” Harry muttered under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear.
“I know them all,” said Herman.
“Not this one.”
“Son, why do you think you’re the only one who knows everything?” Herman’s attention turned back to Ben. “You should stay away from things in which there is no future,” he went on.
“Oh, I agree, sir. The bananas are the future. I’m sticking with them.”
“There’s no future in them either. They’re a funny little fruit that will never catch on. But I’m pleased they amuse you.”
“Mark my words, sir,” said Ben. “They will absolutely catch on. We’ve got a businessman here in Boston, Andrew Preston, who started the United Fruit Company. He is one of the reasons I switched to engineering.”
“A man who runs a banana company,” Elmore asked, “is the reason you’re studying engineering?”
“Ben,” asked Harry, “isn’t Andrew Preston your mother’s friend?”
“Oh?” said Herman with a sly smile at Ellen. “That’s disappointing.”
While Ellen blushed, a nodding Ben was all infectious smiles. Even Esther didn’t look quite so pale anymore: they had stopped talking about Italian girls in North End.
“He’s
