Will resolved to get tough but he knew that making resolutions was easy. His new Goodyears filled his window display space, and today he busily installed brake linings on the Ford sedan that Tony Filardo dropped off that morning. His business from Italians increased monthly, and he was thankful for that. When treated fairly, these first generation Americans became loyal customers.
Mr. Parker, a teller at the Ashley Springs Community Bank, inquired about a new Ford roadster and even spent time looking through the pretty promotional pictures. A bright red, five-window coupe caught his eye.
“You’ll look mighty sporty in that when you drive about town,” Will said.
Parker said he’d get back to him.
Will’s spirits lifted. Maybe he could get a little farther ahead of the red line.
The bell which Will recently installed interrupted his pleasant rumination. He’d decided to install the doorbell when he found it difficult to hear customers while he worked in the rear. Will shielded his eyes from the morning sunlight that surged through the bay window. “That you, Charlie? How can I help?” Charlie Nesbitt was one of Will’s favorite customers. When he lived at home on the farm, Charlie and his wife, Esther, were his parents’ neighbors and best friends.
“I need to take Esther to St. Louis to see her sister. We got a call saying she’s pretty sick, may not last much longer. I don’t know if I can make it though. Tires are bad. I need a set of seventeen inchers. I’ll make the payments.”
What was it with seventeen-inch tires? Will felt that he was the one with family at risk. He sighed, sat down, and pulled the spiral ledger from his desk drawer. “You know I’d like to help, but I can’t do it anymore.” He held the notebook out and flicked through the pages. Tough, gotta stay tough, he thought. “All these entries are customers who owe me.”
“I’m sorry, Will. I suppose I’m in there, too. Still owe on that engine work.”
“I’m not meanin’ to push you for that money, but I can’t do more credit. You probably heard that Ernie Peavey ran off with his secretary. Well, he ran off with my seventeen-inch tires, too.” Will walked to the window display and placed his hand on a tire. “The kids gave me the cash to buy this set. I can’t do it, Charlie. I don’t have the money to replace these.”
“I’m not sure what I’ll tell Esther.” Charlie Nesbitt hung his head. “She’s in a bad way. They’re close, her sister and her. I’ll just have to chance it, I guess.”
Will slammed the ledger down and stepped toward the door. “Let’s look at those tires.”
Charlie followed him into the street.
Will walked around the Model A, a frown on his face. “Not good, Charlie. Don’t think you’ll get far. Can’t you delay the trip until you can afford the tires, or… I’ll tell you what.” He turned to Charlie. “Wait until I get a little money ahead. Mr. Parker was in this morning. You know, the bank teller. He’s interested in a new car. If I get that money, I’ll give you credit. I’ll do that, Charlie.”
“I don’t think we can wait much longer. The doctor told Esther that Susan may not have a month left.”
“Try to delay a bit.” He grasped Charlie’s arm lightly. “I should get that money soon. Not likely you can survive a trip and not have a blowout. That front left one doesn’t have many miles left in it.”
“It wouldn’t be the first tire I’ve changed, except I don’t have a spare.”
“No spare? I’ve got an old tire out back. It’s not much, but it’s no worse than that front one.” Will pointed to the bald tire. “You can have it for free. Try to hold out a bit longer. I’ll call when Parker buys that car.”
A week passed, then two. Will didn’t hear from Parker, but when he dialed home to tell Mary he would be late for supper, Mrs. Clark told him that Parker purchased a new Oldsmobile that very morning. She also said that Charlie and Esther Nesbitt left for St. Louis. Will slammed the receiver onto the hook. Charlie had no business risking their lives.
That night at supper Will and Mary sat alone. The girls were away practicing for the village’s annual summer concert. Will told Mary the Nesbitts had left town. “I should have given him the tires. He always pays his bills. Mother’ll never forgive me if something happens to Esther.” Will shook his head and grimaced. “You know how much Mother likes her.”
“Will, stop your worrying. Most of what we worry about won’t happen anyhow. You can’t be responsible for everyone. Your name’s not Carnegie, you know. Besides, where would you get money to replace those tires?”
Will forked through his beans. “I know. I had little choice, but I just have a bad feeling.”
“Eat your supper, dear. I promised Ruby and Catherine that we’d go to their performance tonight. They’ve been practicing all week. Ruby’s voice is stronger, but Catherine’s is so sweet it brings tears to my eyes when she sings ‘Londonderry Air.’”
“That and ‘Galway Bay’ are my favorites.” He cleared his throat. “Oh, Danny boy — ”
Mary gave him a push. “Git outa here, you big lug.”
* * *
Will spent most of the next two weeks on barns, working on two lightning rod jobs which came his way. He always felt better when he led his horses from their stalls and drove his wagon into the country. Even the rigging felt good in his hands. And it felt like home every time he drove past the fields and into a farmer’s yard. He’d slow Fanny or Mabel and survey the crops. He always felt excited when he saw new growth emerge after the rains, and he’d look the cattle over carefully whenever he approached a barn where the cows milled around the yard. He tried to identify the high producers, those that he’d want for his herd. And he inhaled deeply whenever he smelled the pungent odor of corn silage. Why, even the manure smelled good to him.
Lately, the urge to return to the land edged into Will’s consciousness more than ever before. He had always planned to do it, but the time was never right. Now, what did he have to lose? He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take the strain of a failing business. But it was his family that worried him the most. How could he ask Mary to leave their lovely home? But that wasn’t the pressing problem. How was he going to get out from under his sinking ship?
* * *
Until Saturday afternoon, when their son-in-law stepped into his shop, the Nesbitts were lost in the shadows of Will’s mind. “I didn’t expect you here today. Your sign says you close at noon.”
“Usually, Hank, but I’ve got some paper work. Have you heard from Charlie and Esther?”
“Jane talked to them yesterday. They’re leaving tomorrow. If all goes well, they should be home Tuesday.”
Will thought about the tires and his stomach churned, but he didn’t mention them to Hank.
“Esther believes her sister’s a bit stronger. The doctor said her visit has perked Susan up, and he thinks there may be some remission, but the prognosis is bleak. Esther’s happy they took the trip now, though.”
Will nodded, but he couldn’t keep his mind off the tires.
Then on Tuesday morning the shop telephone rang. It was Mrs. Clark. “Will, Jane just got a call from some burg in Iowa. Esther was killed in an accident this morning, and Charlie’s in the hospital, hurt bad.”
“Dear God, no!”
“I don’t know the details. Hank and Jane are leaving immediately.”
Will closed the shop and shuffled the ten blocks home.
“You don’t know it was the tires,” Mary said. “And even if it was a tire, you had to say no.”
The funeral was Saturday. Thomas, Gertrude, and all their friends attended. Frank was there, two aisles over, but Jesse was nowhere to be seen. Will supposed he didn’t even know, wherever he was. Charlie, still confined to a hospital bed, couldn’t be there. The church was filled with Esther’s family and friends, but Will sat in back.
* * *
After the burial, Will waited in the parking lot by Hank’s car. “Have they found out more about the accident, Hank?”
“I talked with the local police but didn’t learn much. They said Charlie’s car veered across the highway into a truck. I didn’t ask Charlie, not yet.”
When they were ready to return home, Fanny eased forward when Will flicked the reins over her back.
“Esther looked real nice,” Mary said. “You’d never know she was in an accident. It’s too bad Charlie couldn’t have seen her. She looked so peaceful.”
Will didn’t answer. Her death was so unnecessary. They should never have taken the trip. Not on those tires.
Mary grasped her husband’s arm. “Snap out of it, Will. You told him not to go.”
“Do you know that their car veered across the road into a truck? It must have been a blowout. That’s the only possible explanation.”
* * *
Will continued to think about Charlie. He even considered driving to Iowa, but Mary soon dissuaded him of that idea.
“First, Will, the doctors won’t let him come home, so they probably don’t want him to have visitors either. And what’s to be gained?”
Will thought that peace of mind was worth something. He’d feel better if he knew that it wasn’t a tire that caused the accident.
“Talking to Charlie about it won’t bring Esther back, and so soon afterwards, it might make Charlie worse. You’d not want that, would you?”
Will knew that Mary was right, but he fussed all day until his attention was yanked in another direction when he picked up the Ashley Springs’ Weekly that afternoon. When he slipped the newspaper from its wrapper another of Brock McDougal’s advertisements fell to the floor. And when Will reached for it, gigantic headlines grabbed his attention: “THEY DON”T WRITE SONGS ABOUT FORDS”. Then McDougal wrote a ditty in which he asked Lucille and every other lady in Ashley Springs to come ride in his merry Oldsmobile. And he had the audacity to promise anyone who currently owned a Ford that if they’d switch to an Oldsmobile, he’d give them a ten percent reduction in their price and free oil changes for a year.
Will stormed to his desk, crumpled the advertisement, and threw it against the wall. McDougal had badmouthed Fords ever since he opened his Olds dealership two months before the market crashed. Will had thought it was bad timing, but he hadn’t accounted for some people profiting while everyone else went broke. With prices plummeting, cash was king, and those who had cash were Oldsmobile customers. Will didn’t have the money to compete against McDougal’s predatory attacks. Will wanted more than ever to get away from this madness, to get back to a sane life. The farmers he knew might strive to outdo their neighbor, but they always helped when things turned bad.
* * *
Two weeks later, Hank brought Charlie home. Although Dr. Ruggles recommended only family, Will couldn’t stay away. He found Charlie awake in bed, propped up by two pillows. Clean bandages covered the left side of his head, and his left leg, a large cast on it, protruded from under the light blanket. He flashed a wan smile when Will entered the room.
“Charlie, I’m so sorry. Was it a tire?”
“I’ve thought about the accident every day since. I don’t remember much. I must have blacked out. Iowa has those curbs along the road, you know.”
Will nodded.
“We got started early that morning, and the sun was in my eyes. The last I remember is bouncing off that curb.”
Will watched Charlie twist on the bed, could see he was uncomfortable.
“The sheriff told me that the left front tire was flat after the accident, probably from the collision. The other tires were still good. If a blowout pulled me into that curb, it would have been a right tire, don’t you think?” Charlie winced, adjusted his pillow, and pushed himself higher. “Rest easy, Will. I don’t think the tires had anything to do with the accident.”