The Cottage

“I'm serious. They've got to go. We just paid their salaries, they hadn't been paid in three months. And we can't pay them again, we can't keep up this kind of overhead, Coop.” There was a sudden plaintive note in the accountant's voice, as though he knew that nothing he could say or do would make Cooper take him seriously. He always felt as though someone had pressed the “mute” button when he was talking to Coop. “I'm going to give them notice today. They've got to be out of here in two weeks. I'm leaving you one maid.”

“How marvelous. Can she press suits? Which one are you going to leave me?” He had three maids, as well as a cook, and the houseman who'd served lunch. Livermore, the butler. Eight gardeners. And a driver he used part-time for important events. It took a lot of staff to run his enormous house, although he could have done without most of them. But he liked being well served, and indulging himself.

“We're leaving you Paloma Valdez. She's the cheapest one,” Abe said practically.

“Which one's she?” Coop glanced at Liz. He couldn't remember anyone by that name. Two of them were French, Jeanne and Louise, he knew who they were, but Paloma didn't ring any bells with him.

“She's the nice Salvadorian I hired last month. I thought you liked her,” Liz said, as though speaking to a child, and Coop looked confused.

“I thought her name was Maria, at least I've been calling her that, and she didn't say anything. She can't run this whole house. That's ridiculous,” he said pleasantly, as he glanced back at Abe. Coop looked remarkably unruffled by the news.

“You have no choice,” Abe said bluntly. “You have to fire the help, sell the cars, and buy absolutely nothing, and I mean nothing, not a car, not a suit, not a pair of socks, not a painting or a place mat for the next year. And then maybe you can start to dig yourself out of the hole you're in. I'd like to see you sell the house or at the very least rent the gatehouse, and maybe even part of this house, which would bring some money in. Liz tells me you never use the guest wing in the main house. You could rent that out. We could probably get a big price for it, and for the gatehouse. You don't need either of them.” Abe had put considerable thought into it, he was very conscientious about what he did.

“I never know when people are coming from out of town. It's ridiculous to rent out part of the house. Why don't we just take in boarders, Abe? Or turn it into a boarding school? A finishing school perhaps. You come up with the oddest ideas.” Coop looked vastly amused and as though he had no intention of doing any of it, but Abe was glowering at him.

“I don't think you have a full understanding of the situation you're in. If you don't follow my suggestions, you're going to have to put the whole house on the market and sell it in six months. You're damn near bankrupt, Coop.”

“That's ridiculous. All I need is a part in one major film. I got a terrific script for one today,” he said, looking pleased.

“How big is the part?” Abe asked mercilessly. He knew the drill.

“I don't know yet. They're talking about writing me in. The part can be as big as I want.”

“Sounds like a cameo to me,” Abe said, as Liz winced. She hated it when people were cruel to Coop. And reality always seemed cruel to him, so much so that he never listened to it. He just shut it out. He wanted life to be pleasant and fun and easy and beautiful at all times. And for him it was. He just couldn't pay for it, but that never stopped him from living the way he wanted to. He never hesitated to buy a new car, or order half a dozen suits, or buy a woman a beautiful piece of jewelry. And people were always willing to do business with him. They wanted the prestige of having him wear or use or drive their things. They figured he would pay for whatever it was eventually, and most of the time he did, when he could. Somehow, in time, the bills got paid, mostly thanks to Liz.

“Abe, you know as well as I do, that with one big film, we'll be rolling in money again. I could get ten million dollars for a picture by next week, or even fifteen.” He was living in a dream.