9
WHEN THE COUPLE returned from their honeymoon, it was to their newly purchased bungalow in Clayville. Two ladies from the Semmes Gulf Associates staff had thoughtfully furnished it with new kitchen appliances and basic pieces of furniture, leaving most of the remainder to Marcia's taste. The refrigerator and cupboards of the little house were filled with groceries. An inexpensive set of cooking utensils, dishes, and flatware were laid out, with the expectation that these would be replaced by Marcia. A bright floral arrangement sat upon the kitchen table. A working telephone under the name of "Cody, Ainesley" had been placed upon a shelf above the kitchen sink.
As they left for Sanibel Island and their honeymoon, Elizabeth had quietly handed Marcia a small leather handbag with her name engraved on it. A checkbook showing a balance of forty-two thousand dollars was discreetly tucked inside.
For his part, Jonathan had slipped Ainesley an envelope of thick white linen paper embossed in gold with Jonathan's name and the return address of Marybelle.
"This is a personal gift for you from the family," he said. Inside was a note handwritten in precise Palmer script.
Dear Ainesley,
Welcome to our family. We debated for a while over the best wedding gift to give you personally, and finally decided the nicest would be something that aids you in your new position and family life. (We discussed this secretly with Marcie!) So if you would pick out a new pickup truck that you consider best, Elizabeth and I are looking forward very much to purchasing it for you.
Sincerely,
Jonathan Semmes
The Monday following their return from the wedding, Marcia happily set out writing to-do notes to herself and calling friends. Ainesley departed for his new job at the Clayville Hardware and Auto Parts Store. He arrived at eight A.M. on the dot, walked in, and warmly shook hands with Jesse Nichols. They sat down and chatted for a while. Then Nichols took Ainesley on a guided tour of the premises and its well-stocked shelves. They were interrupted every few minutes or so by customers. Ainesley, already familiar with most of the products, cheerfully assisted with the sales.
He noticed that there appeared to be no other employees. But just before noon a heavyset woman of about fifty came in and was introduced to Ainesley as Dolores. She proceeded to the coffeemaker, drew a cup, no sugar or cream, and settled down by the cash register. By this time Ainesley could see that the store was a nickel-and-dime operation. No matter, he thought, it's a living. In a year or two I'll be in charge, and we'll see what happens then. I'll bet I can make some serious money out of this place.
Three weeks later, Jesse Nichols telephoned Jonathan Semmes and said, "He's doing just fine, Mr. Semmes. He shows up on time, he works hard, and he seems to enjoy the job. It's certainly taken a lot of pressure off me."
Then he added, laughing, "It gives me time to go to the bathroom once in a while."
Jonathan relayed this good news to Cyrus. "Well, keep your fingers crossed, Cy. He's got serious limitations, of course, but I think eventually we might be able to move him someplace or other into middle management. And thank God Almighty, Marcie's safe. Elizabeth says she's deliriously happy."
But if Jonathan and Cyrus thought Ainesley could be remodeled into a small-bore Semmes, they were wrong.
In the years immediately following the wedding he stayed close to his young wife, but after the birth of Raphael, he began to return to the delectations of his bachelor days. Further education and financial security were not high on his list. Partying with old friends once a week were among the pleasures that meant the good life to Ainesley Cody. So were occasional one-night stands with women picked up at bars, hunting anything legal that moves, and trash fishing, where the angler drops a baited hook in and is satisfied with whatever bites. In his mind, a job was a part of life you tried to do well and something you had to do to meet obligations, but nothing you lived for. Honest compliance to a boss's orders was in his code of honor. Striving to attain his personal potential was not.
By his early forties, Ainesley's daily cigarette consumption had risen to two packs a day. That went well with three beers fortified by a frequent pint of Jack Daniel's. The index and middle fingers of his right hand were stained yellow with cigarette tar. With the addition of low-stakes poker and an aversion to unnecessary physical activity, Ainesley had grown a sizable paunch. His chances of reaching old age were growing dimmer by the year. His manner had become more abrupt and irritable. He had picked up chronic bronchitis, frequent coughing, and a shortness of breath that should have sent him to a doctor. But Ainesley disliked hospitals and didn't trust doctors. When Marcia raised the issue of his mortality he declared, "I'll go when the Good Lord calls me."