Free Schmidt Delivered by Louis Begley Page A

have much—it would increase his sense of dependency. So we borrowed as much as we could from the bank, and I put in Mom’s money.
    There were endless advantages to be found in the exercise of a psychoanalyst’s profession. How it served to torment the father of the woman your son was going to marry, Schmidt had already seen. This was a new vista: you could back out of a financial commitment you made to that son and his wife and end up with them convinced you were doing them a favor. Empowering them! That was probably the fashionable expression.
    I see, he told her.
    Immediately, Schmidt was sorry he had repeated himself. It was time to break the habit of those automatic rejoinders. They steadied the nerves, but so would keeping his eye on the rosebush. There was no way out. However much he hated it, he had better go on with his questions.
    And what did you and Jon do about title to these properties—I mean who owns what? I assume the house in Claverack is in your name, but what about the apartment? Are you both liable for the money you borrowed from the bank?
    We thought we should take title in both our names, in Claverack and in the city. I think I signed on the loan. Jesus, Dad, give me a break. Isn’t that what married couples do?
    Not always, not when there is such a financial imbalance. That’s something you will have to sort out, since I gather there is trouble between you. Is there trouble? What about you and Jon? What is Jon going to do? I don’t understand your ducking a subject that really seems very urgent.
    Dad, can’t that wait? I’m trying to talk to you about my work and my life.
    From within the house, Schmidt picked up welcome, happy noises. The whir of the juicer. The kitchen radio tuned to the Southampton University station. Carrie was up. His rosy-fingered dawn with the instincts of a grande dame. She would have understood that they were having that father-and-daughter talk on the porch and wouldn’t venture near them unless it went on so long those same instincts told her it was time to come to his rescue. Impossible to count on that anytime soon, but he might just sneak out on the pretext he was getting a glass of water, and hug her, plunge his hand into the dark cleavage still warm from the bed.
    I am just trying to get a full picture, and I think what has happened to you and Jon as a couple is very much at the center of it. I had a talk with Jack DeForrest a couple of days ago. What he told me wasn’t just unattractive. It rocked me. Jon is in bad trouble. So I think we will have to talk about that sooner or later, and frankly I don’t quite see how you can think about quitting your job and starting a new business of your own without taking him into consideration.
    Later, Dad. Can I get you to understand that?
    Yes, you can. I have already understood that much. What is it then that you want? A loan, or do you want me to invest in this operation? In either case, I think I should first get to meet your partner, Mr. Polk, and take a look at your business plan. I suppose you’ve prepared one. Certainly Mr. Polk will need one if he wants to borrow from a bank. I guess I am quite ready to go either way, if your project makes sense.
    He couldn’t immediately remember when she had given him a look like that. Ah yes, when he told her that Mary and he couldn’t afford to buy a hunter with serious show potential, and certainly couldn’t afford to keep such a horse in the city. And after that? Perhaps never; he may have shattered her illusions forever with that refusal. But this time, he wasn’t saying no; he thought he was saying yes. What could be the matter?
    Gee, Dad, this isn’t real, I can’t believe it. I didn’t think I was going to see a banker. I thought I was talking to my father who’s rich enough to give people BMWs as presents. Yeah, I was stupid enough to think that since my father has only one child—that’s me, remember—he might just give me the money, as a present,