Free The Lockwood Concern by John O'Hara

In the paper this morning it just said accidental death. They had the funeral yesterday. I heard you paid for it." "Where did you hear that?" "In town." Well, as a matter of fact I did, but people don't have to know those things," said George Lockwood. "It was a good thing to do, in my opinion," said Andrew. "There's no law compelling you to do it, but people felt better about it." "That isn't why I did it." "Oh, I know that well enough. But that's why it was a good thing to do." "Say it. What's on your mind?" Andrew stood up. "Well, nobody could say it was your fault. I don't mean to hint that it was. But one or two said the wall was high enough to keep people out. You didn't need the spikes." "I see. What else did they say?" "That was all." "I think there was more." "Well, there was more, but along the same lines. They said the spikes weren't necessary. They said that last spring, and since Tuesday they said it all over again. Here you been living all your life in a house with only a little iron fence - I'm telling you what I heard. Not my opinion. I All your life here, out in the open where people can see everything going on. Then all of a sudden you decide to build a house out in the Valley. You put up a high wall, and on top of the wall you put spikes. And to cap the climax, you knock all the houses down on Oscar Dietrich's old farm. One fellow said, what comes over a man that he wants all that secrecy?" Andrew paused. "You know, Mr. Lockwood, as man to man," he continued, "I work for you, and you always treated me decent, so I stick up for you. But this is a different matter." "Thank you for sticking up for me. What's the different matter?" "Well, it isn't you I have to stick up for." Andrew looked questioningly at George Lockwood, silently asking him to help him out with the next statement. "Well, who else, if not me?" "Your wife. Mrs. Lockwood. Some are blaming her. You lived in this house all your life, your parents lived here, and I understand your father was born here. Some are saying that the new house, and the wall, and the spikes on top, and ruining Oscar Dietrich's farm and all. That's only since you married again." "The whole thing was my idea." "Sure, but some you can't convince of that." "I haven't tried to convince anyone of anything." "I know. I'm just telling you what some people say. You never mixed much with the people in town, but they're used to you." "My first wife didn't mix with them either, if they expected the present Mrs. Lockwood to get chummy." "Yes, but with your first wife there was a reason. She was sickly, and they all knew it. The present Mrs. Lockwood is a strong, healthy lady. I'm just telling you what they say." "Andrew, you came here from New York. Small-town life is still new to you." "I like it, though." "Yes, but you didn't know, for instance, that when my mother married my father and came here to live, the women in the town thought she was a snob because she'd only speak English." "How do you mean, sir?" "My mother came from Richterville, only ten miles away, and she spoke Pennsylvania Dutch and English, but my father didn't speak much Pennsylvania Dutch, so my mother spoke only English. The people in the town didn't like that. They'd speak to her in Dutch, and she'd answer in English. The point is, they'd have found some reason to criticize her, whatever she did or didn't do. Do you know why?" "Well, I guess there could be a lot of reasons." "One. She was the wife of Abraham Lockwood. My father. And he'd gone ten miles away to choose his wife. History is only repeating itself. But I'm very glad you stick up for me, and I assume you do for Mrs. Lockwood as well." "That you can assume," said Andrew. "I had to hit one fellow a knock in the chin." "For what he said about Mrs. Lockwood?" "He took it back." "I'm all for chivalry, Andrew, but don't get hurt. Goodnight." "Goodnight, sir." Geraldine Lockwood returned to the red brick box the next afternoon. "Good, a fire," she said, on