Chapter Two

 

Plumbing the Depths

 

            Francis X. Malone often spent a few hours at McGillicuddy’s Bar and Billiards Parlor after a long day of scheduling his plumbers, keeping his inventory up and working on the books. In fact, Frank, as he was known to the patrons of Sean McGillicuddy, went on jobs now and then himself. He knew his way around Maplewood, from the Heights and its upper-class denizens to Pigsville, the indelicately named area down near the river, the old factory section of town that was slowly being gentrified. Frank’s hangout was not far from the railroad station, now a commuter-train stop on the way to the District.

            Frank ordered his usual draft beer. His first draught was always the best, as most of his friends would attest. Ben Schaefer, his CPA, came in and sat at the stool next to Frank. That was not unusual, even though they rarely did business together much before tax time. The two were regulars but, likely as not, they would join other friends should one of them not have stopped in for a drink that evening. Ben would usually keep Frank abreast of the events of the day. Ben’s business had pretty well settled in after the years he had been practicing accountancy, and his staff did the routine work. That gave him time for leisurely lunches at various restaurants and cafes, although his favorite was Collins’s Cozy Cafeteria, now run by a second generation after being established shortly before the War; also it was no longer a cafeteria. Needless to say, Frank’s business benefited from Ben’s referrals.

            Supper at home was, unfortunately, a lonely meal most nights for Frank. In the days after his divorce, when the children were in grade school, he had a housekeeper. Now the kids were old enough to take care of the house and the meals, and they got in a habit of not waiting for Frank. Lilly was 23, Frances 19 and Francis Jr. 17. They would make a plate and put it in the ice box, a term Frank still used for the refrigerator. As his eating habits evince, Frank was not a paragon of fatherhood. Fran and Franky were still young enough to have deserved more attention from dad. Lilly was old enough, of course, but as the oldest child, and being a daughter, she might be expected to be like a mother to her siblings. After all, that type of behavior was commonly observed by sociologists, was it not? Any way, Frank looked at his relationship with his children that way. Also, he couldn’t be that bad since the judge awarded him custody of the children, recognition that his bill of divorce against an errant wife was upheld by the legal system.

            Lilly had just received a degree in history from the local state university branch. She had discovered the business world was not too interested in such credentials and academe required more than a B.A. Fortunately, Lilly had her old room at home while she figured out how she might earn a living on her own, something she was eager to do. She was between boyfriends.

            Not so with Fran. She had one, and several exes. Life was pretty hectic for her, at home and at the university, where she had enough sense to be studying business rather than some pedagogical subject. She was bright enough to get by with little effort in school, leaving plenty of her time for Danny --- Daniel I. Rapaport. Fran and Danny shared several classes; they also shared time between classes. Danny was always around, on campus and at the Malone house.

            Franky was a senior at Maplewood High after attending parochial school. He was a lot like his old man. That fact had not escaped Frank, who was content not to attempt to change his only son, whom he hoped would join him in business, and inherit its assets and carry on. Plumbing had been good to him and it could continue to be for Franky. As for Franky, he was insightful enough to realize that – at least for the time being – plumbing was probably in his future. He already had spent a several summers with Al Simmons, a master plumber, as he made calls. The job was not all that bad, Franky reasoned; as boss, he would not be making calls forever.

 

            Ben sipped his beer. He seemed to be worried, or at least concerned, about something. Frank was not one to pry. Ben finally spoke up. “I usually don’t like to talk about my clients, but I have a problem.”

            “So?”

            “Sister Mary Clare over at the Dominican Day School has a couple of problems. You’re a Catholic, maybe you can help me.”

            “So?”

            “Well, her budget is a little short and the plumbing in the old building is giving her a lot of trouble.”

            After a little talk, Frank was persuaded to call the sister and see what he could do. What he did led to a long relationship and some cut-rate work, something Frank did not want to advertise, especially to his commercial customers.

 

            The third quarter at the university was nearly over when Frank learned that Franky had made Beverly Ann Henderson pregnant. He had met her in their English class. They dated. They enjoyed each other’s company. They thought they were in love. They were no different than most of the students. They found themselves in a Motel 10 room. They learned later what many young people have learned, and they decided to deal with it honorably. That’s how Frank learned that he was to be a grandfather, albeit of a bastard. Franky learned that he was going to become more involved in plumbing earlier than he had anticipated.

 

            Little Franklyn Malone liked kindergarten at St. Matthias School. Lilly, whom he treated much like he did his mother, saw to it that she took him to school on time, picked him up at noon when his daily stint at coloring and pasting and alphabet learning was completed. Lilly had yet to get a real job and was content, as was Frank, to stay at home and run things. She enjoyed having Franklyn around, deeming him as practice for when she could lovingly rear her own children, should that ever come to pass. Fran Rapaport would take over whenever Lilly had to tend to job hunting, shopping trips to the city or the local mall, or whatever. Fran was one of the lucky young women --- a starting career in the cyberspace industry and her marriage to her high school sweetheart turned entrepreneur brought financial success in a matter of only a few years.

 

            Franky tried to be a good plumber, or so he thought. His dedication to plugged toilets and dripping faucets and installations in new houses was lacking. His father’s hired overseers bemoaned their seeming fate of someday having to answer to Francis X. Malone Junior. Franky was shoved from foreman to foreman, Frank hoping that one of them would straighten him out.

            Straight living was something Franky steered away from. His inattention at work was only a little less attentive than that he paid to Beverly Ann. The couple lived in the extended Malone household, a situation that did little to bond the young couple. Love, as Father Utermollen was given to saying at weddings he witnessed as clergyman, is the giving of oneself to the spouse. The young Malones had not yet risen to that room of mysticism.

 

            As they lunched at the Cozy Cafeteria, Ben asked Frank how things were going at home. Frank allowed as how he tried not to be at home too much. Some minor poet once said “It takes a heap of livin’ to make a house a home,” a thought that was validated by Frank’s relating the current situation in his place of residence. Things had not much improved over the years, now that Franklyn was finishing the eighth grade at St. Matt’s. Franky was what had been called in the old days a “no account,” spending nights, sometimes days, away from home and the job – and paycheck -- his father was reluctant to take from him. Beverly Ann was a somewhat more attentive mother than Franky was a father; she would not get great grades from social workers, however, should they have been directed to the Malone manse.

            Franklyn, his grandfather’s greatest concern, was not a bad kid. But his backtalk and slovenly dress and sometimes unguarded speech around the house, bothered Frank considerably. He did not wish to see the boy grow up to emulate his dad. All in all, Frank though still owning and keeping an eye on his business, was semi-retired. Franky was not his successor as chief operating officer without using that title. Instead, Frank was paying Al Simmons to tend to day-to-day supervision of the company. That salary and the expense of keeping Lilly, Franky and Beverly Ann and their son were encroaching on his income.

            Frank ordered another round as Ben empathized with him. Ben wondered how Maplewood High would affect Franklyn. He opined that the school was not a particularly helpful place for its alumni that occupied the Malone homestead, as least from Frank’s recounting of what went on there. Frank was reluctant to bad mouth the high school for he, too, had got his diploma there. But he had to admit that perhaps his alma mater had let down the rest of his family, or so it seemed. Only Fran seemed to have turned out all right, and that was because of Dan. Yet, Dan also had graduated Maplewood High.

            Ben asked if he were still doing work for Sister Mary Clare at Dominican. Frank said he was. But Dominican was too expensive to consider for Franklyn, although the school’s kindly discipline might be exactly what the boy required if he were to make something out of his life.

 

            “Look, Sister, I have a proposition to make you.” Sister Mary Clare got a wry smile on her face, thinking that Frank might have chosen a different word, perhaps “deal” would have sufficed.

            “What do you have in mind?”

            Frank, not given to stumbling speech after nearly a lifetime of business dealings, was a bit inarticulate as he began explaining his current financial position and his wish to get Franklyn straightened out before it was too late. After a few minutes of trying to choose his words carefully, he blurted: “I’ll do all your plumbing for free from now on if you and your sisters teach Franklyn.”

            “Well, Mr. Malone, I believe that can be arranged.”