LOGINGraysonMr. Tull filed the affidavit at nine on Monday morning, and by half past ten Pruitt's counsel had answered it in a single line.He read it to us in the stamp room at five, standing, with his bow tie crooked and a smear of ink on his cuff. "The Fund notes the affidavit and will state its grounds in chambers, to the court alone." He laid the page on the blotter. "It is a politeness and a threat in one sentence, which is what I should expect. He means to say it first to the judge, with you in the room, Grayson, and he means to watch your face while he does.""Then I will give him nothing to watch.""You will give him less than that. You will give him a gray suit." He took up his case. "I shall be at the courthouse at half past eight. Tell nobody what you have not been told."He had been gone a quarter of an hour when Mark came in with a brown envelope.It was the same stiff paper as Sunday's, sealed with the same black blob of wax. Mark held it by one corner. "A man left it at th
ElianaHe was early, as he had said. When Ostrander took Jonah's blanket down to the jetty at twenty to nine, the dark launch was already against the piles with its engine ticking, and Nolan Reed stood on the boards beside it with a folded gray blanket over one arm.He handed Mrs. Tate down into the stern, and asked first whether she would rather have his hand or the rail. She took the rail. He gave me the blanket without a word and I put it over Jonah, and he turned to the wheel, and the island went away behind us.It was an hour and a quarter up the Sound. Jonah woke at the second buoy, found the spoon in his fist, and held it out over the side to the gray water. It fell, and I made a sound, and Nolan, who had not seemed to be watching, put the engine into neutral and brought the launch round in a slow half circle. Teague leaned over with a boat hook and lifted the spoon out of the Sound.Nolan wiped it on his sleeve. He held it out to my son, handle first, and Jonah took it and exa
GraysonMy father signed at four o'clock, in the library, with a man from Rye standing at his elbow in a tweed cap and a brass stamp case under his arm.It took eleven minutes. Mr. Tull read the affidavit aloud once, slowly, and my father said "Yes" at the end of each paragraph. Then he wrote his name in a hand that shook only on the first letter. The man from Rye pressed his seal into the paper and said that a Sunday cost extra, and Mr. Tull said that it did not, and put the sheet into his case and shut it.Mr. Tull tapped the case. "It goes to the clerk of the court at nine tomorrow. A copy goes to Mr. Pruitt's counsel at ten, which is when I should like him to be having his breakfast."My father stood in the middle of the carpet with his cut hands open at his sides. He looked at his hands. "It is lighter than I expected." My grandfather said nothing, but going out he put one hand flat between my father's shoulders and left it there as far as the door.At six the dining room was lit
ElianaOstrander came back from the shore at three with wet sand on his shoes and a list he had not written down.He gave it to me at Nora's kitchen table, counting on his fingers. "A boat that is on no paper of Mr. Pruitt's. A notary who has never heard his name. One witness who cannot be bought by a man he has never met. A dock with a gate, and men on the gate who do not leave it for a cup of tea." He stopped at the fifth finger and looked at it. "A way off this island that is not the bridge. I have walked the front twice, ma'am. Nobody on it has all five.""Then it is not on the island.""No." He turned his hand over. "I know one man who has all five. He told you to your face, in a room at the bank, that he never wanted to be the one holding the door."I had been keeping that name out of my head since Nora's back bedroom, and I found I had done it with some care. Mrs. Tate was rocking Jonah by the stove. She did not look up, but her chair stopped."No.""I said that to you once mys
GraysonI held the print under the lamp for a long time before I let myself look at the face.I looked at everything else first. The glass of the bus window, which was dirty at the corners. The reflection in it of a baker's shutter.A yellow board above the rear glass, with a black numeral on it, a nine, and beneath the numeral, in smaller letters that the photographer had caught with a good deal of care, CITY ISLAND. A child's hand against the pane, small and creased at the wrist, with a spoon held in the fist. The border of the paper, white and clean, and five words in a hand I had learned to know across a lobby.Then I looked at her.She was thinner, which was the first thing I saw, and I could not make it go away. Her hair was pinned back in a way I did not know and her coat was a plain dark wool I had never bought her, and under her eyes were the marks of a month without sleep. She was looking away from the lens and from the child's hand, at something to the left of the picture,
ElianaThe number nine bus ran out of road at a quarter to eleven, and the road it ran out of was a causeway a mile long.I had not asked where it went. Mrs. Dolan had said far enough, and I had held onto that for an hour with Jonah asleep against my shoulder and the sun moving across the back of the seat in front.We came down through a long street of shuttered shops and low houses with their boats hauled up in the front yards, and the sea appeared between two of them, flat and gray under a pale sky, and the conductor called out a name I did not catch."City Island." Mrs. Dolan stood up and took her pail. "My cousin Nora keeps a house here. The only house on the island that has never in its life asked a question."Ostrander looked out at the water. "One road in."He had come up the aisle from the platform and stopped beside our seat with his hat in his hand. He kept his voice low and watched the water on both sides of the causeway and the single strip of road that crossed it."One ro







