The Bazaar of Bad Dreams

She stood looking at him, unsure what to do or say. What she thought was, That desk he’s sitting behind must have cost thousands. It was the first time she had really thought of him in connection with money.

‘Two hundred thousand in cash is what I’m offering. Enough to pay off all the outstanding bills, enough to enable your husband to finish his book – enough, perhaps, to start a new life in … was it Vermont?’

‘Yes.’ Thinking, If you knew that, you’ve been listening a lot more carefully than I was.

‘No need to get the IRS involved, either.’ He had long features and white woolly hair. A sheeplike face she had always thought it before today. ‘Cash can be nice that way, and causes no problems if it’s fed slowly into the stream of one’s accounts. Also, once your husband’s book is sold and you’re established in New England, we need never see each other again.’ He paused. ‘Although if you decide not to stay on, I doubt if my next nurse will be half as competent as you have proved to be. Please. Sit down. You’ll give me a stiff neck.’

She did as he asked. It was the thought of two hundred thousand dollars in cash that kept her in the room. She found she could actually see it: bills stuffed into a padded brown envelope. Or perhaps it would take two envelopes to hold that much.

I suppose it would depend on the denomination of the bills, she thought.

‘Let me talk for a bit,’ he said. ‘I haven’t really done much of that, have I? Mostly I’ve been listening. It’s your turn to listen now, Nora. Will you do that?’

‘I suppose.’ She was curious. She supposed anybody would be. ‘Who do you want me to kill?’

It was a joke, but as soon as it was out of her mouth, she was afraid it might be true. Because it didn’t sound like a joke. No more than the eyes in his long sheep’s face looked like sheep’s eyes.

To her relief, Winnie laughed. Then he said, ‘Not murder, my dear. We won’t need to go that far.’

He talked then, as he never had before. To anyone, probably.

‘I grew up in a wealthy home on Long Island – my father was successful in the stock market. It was a religious home, and when I told my parents I felt called to the ministry, there was no puffing and blowing about the family business. On the contrary, they were delighted. Mother, especially. Most mothers are happy, I think, when their sons discover a vocation-with-a-capital-V.

‘I went to seminary in upstate New York, after which I was assigned – as associate pastor – to a church in Idaho. I wanted for nothing. Presbyterians take no vow of poverty, and my parents made sure I never had to live as though I had. My father survived my mother by only five years, and when he passed on, I inherited a great deal of money, mostly in bonds and solid stocks. Over the years since, I have converted a small percentage of that to cash, a bit at a time. Not a nest egg, because I’ve never needed one, but what I’d call a wish egg. It’s in a Manhattan safe deposit box, and it’s that cash that I’m offering you, Nora. It may actually be closer to two hundred and forty thousand, but we’ll agree, shall we, not to quibble over a dollar here and a dollar there?

‘I wandered a few years in the hinterlands before coming back to Brooklyn and Second Presbo. After five years as an associate, I became the senior pastor. I served as such, without blemish, until two thousand six. My life has been one – I say it with neither pride nor shame – of unremarkable service. I have led my church in helping the poor, both in countries far from here and in this community. The local AA drop-in center was my idea, and it’s helped hundreds of suffering addicts and alcoholics. I’ve comforted the sick and buried the dead. More cheerfully, I’ve presided over more than a thousand weddings, and inaugurated a scholarship fund that has sent many boys and girls to colleges they could not otherwise have afforded. One of our scholarship girls won a National Book Award in nineteen ninety-nine.

‘And my only regret is this: in all my years, I have never committed one of the sins about which I have spent a lifetime warning my various flocks. I am not a lustful man, and since I’ve never been married, I never had so much as the opportunity to commit adultery. I’m not gluttonous by nature, and although I like nice things, I’ve never been greedy or covetous. Why would I be, when my father left me fifteen million dollars? I’ve worked hard, kept my temper, envy no one – except perhaps Mother Teresa – and have little pride of possessions or position.