Early Warning

Henry said, “I got to Carmel one time, but never farther south.” He did not add that he had not wanted to. What a strange boy he had been. He squeezed Philip’s knee under the table.

“Well, you won’t be able to look at anything if you go alone, because you cannot take your eyes off the road,” said Janet.

“Best way is to hitch,” said Lucas. “It’s more likely that the person driving you knows what he’s doing.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Philip. “Am I dressed appropriately?”

“Not if you didn’t raise your own sheep, card and spin your own wool, weave your own fabric, and sew your own outfit,” said Janet.

“You do that in Iowa, right?” said Lucas.

Janet and Lucas looked at Henry. Really, Henry thought, this kid had unusual charisma. He said, “Haven’t sewn an outfit since elementary school. I believe the fabric I chose was mattress ticking. It was very avant-garde.” Everyone laughed. “But, speaking of Iowa, you know who has shown up as the savior of Chuck Colson?” Henry sincerely hoped that these young people knew that Chuck Colson was Nixon’s satanic lawyer, the author of the enemies list that had included, for goodness’ sake, Carol Channing!

“Who?” said Lucas.

Gratified, Henry said, “Harold Hughes.”

Philip, who viewed it as his personal obligation to ignore Watergate, kept on with his lamb.

“That millionaire recluse?” said Janet. “I thought he lived in Florida or Vegas or somewhere.”

“No,” said Henry, “Harold Hughes. He was governor of Iowa and now he’s a senator. I guess he converted Colson to Christianity, and now he’s vouching for him.”

Janet said, “I saw about John Dean. He said he talked to Nixon about the cover-up thirty times or something like that.”

Henry said, “When was that? I didn’t see that.”

“A couple of days ago.” Janet ate another bite of her crab cake, then poked her fork into the last piece, dipped it in the sauce, and lifted it toward Lucas. He opened his mouth, ate the forkful, and smiled. The comfort of this interaction gave Janet a different look from anything Henry had seen before — grace rather than carefulness.

Henry said, “I guess Mom was talking to Lillian about all of this, and she said that Arthur doesn’t believe Nixon did it. He thinks the whole Watergate thing is a frame-up.”

“No shit,” said Lucas. “Tricky Dick is sure letting it happen.”

Henry finished his salmon and said, “According to Arthur, there were two break-ins, and they got away with the first one. The second one, they blocked the lock with a piece of tape. The tape went around the edge of the door rather than up and down it, which would be the normal way. Since it went around, and was white, the security guard was sure to see it. Was meant to see it.”

“Why would they do that?” said Janet.

“Trip to China,” said Henry.

Janet was staring at him. She said, “Did Uncle Arthur say that?”

“That’s my guess. If I saw Arthur, I would ask questions, and if he didn’t shake his head no, I would take that as a yes.”

“Who is Arthur?” said Lucas.

Janet was staring at her empty plate. Henry said, “My sister’s husband. He’s in the know. Whatever the know is, he’s in it.” Lucas and Philip laughed. Janet didn’t. Henry said, “Since Nixon’s a Republican, they’re allowing him not to be shot.”

Silence fell around the table.

Henry said, “I’m joking. Sorry.”

After another pause, Janet asked Philip what his plans were.

“Cross the Golden Gate Bridge and sightsee. Hunt for Patty Hearst,” said Philip. “I have to get used to driving on the right side of the road at some point.”

“Oh God!” exclaimed Janet. looking truly alarmed. “When was the last time you drove a car?”

“The last time I was in England. They say—”

Janet and Lucas exchanged a glance. Ten minutes later, the two of them had agreed to drive Philip to L.A. and back, then to put him safely on the plane to Chicago. Part of Henry welcomed this — the part that had any sense and had not really focused on the potential dangers of sending Philip down Highway 1. But part of Henry did not welcome this at all — the part that felt old and fifth-wheelish as the young people agreed on where to meet, where to go, where to stay, and how much it would probably cost. Janet could move her shifts around, Lucas would be finished with the house he was painting late today, but they had to leave tomorrow to be back by Friday night for his regular gig. Here Henry was, left out once again. Someday, perhaps, he would figure out why he had set himself outside of every social group he had ever known.

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