A Grand Gesture

A Grand Gesture

                Every evening Imelda Marx took a stroll to the park just down the road. It was a busy time of day. When the sun rose the neighborhood emerged to enjoy the first burst of her warmth and light.  Bands of color stretched out along the distant horizon, highlighting the city skyline. Sunshine glittered against the buildings and gently woke the inhabitants to another day. People here were generally happy, although they had little reason to be. Businesses were evacuating the city due to recent tax hikes. No one had any money. Job prospects were bleak. As a community, people came together to get through the worst recession in years, finding creative ways of making money and helping each other. Imelda was proud to live in an area where people still cared about each other.

                She was about to turn into the park when the loud noise of a jubilant crowd entranced her. She turned toward the pleasant sound and was greeted with an exhilarating scene. A woman about Imelda’s own age was standing on her third floor balcony throwing cash to an exuberant mob. Imelda had never seen such a thing. People in cars were stopping to watch the show. A policeman was trying in vain to maintain order. Grownups and children alike were scooping up cash out of thin air, and gleefully shouting thanks to the lady in red on her balcony. Across the narrow street from the woman’s balcony stood a young girl with a guitar case joyously taking it all in. A young lady pushing a stroller paused to grab some quick cash. Several men in suits and ties partook in the festivities.  An early morning dog walker or two stopped to scoop up a few bills. Children danced in the street, reaching and swiping their hands in the air. A policeman tried in vain to maintain order while the cars passing by paused to check it all out. A $100 bill floated up over the cars and landed right in front of Imelda. She quickly snatched it up and made her way across the street.

                The crowd was dispersing happily when Imelda reached the far side of the street. “Hey,” she called. “Does anyone know that woman?”

                “Sure,” replied an old woman who had stood apart from the fray. “Her name is Nancy. She lives on the 3^rd floor. Very nice, that one,” the old woman smiled. She wore circular glasses and a purple ribbon with realistic purple flowers stuck to it. The woman was a bit short but seemed to be perpetually smiling. Imelda had noticed her peeking around a building while the woman in red threw cash from the balcony.

                “We should do something nice for her, to say thanks,” Imelda suggested. She gripped her purse tightly. It was a nervous habit that came out when she couldn’t decide what her next move should be. Her own short, red, poufy hair stuck out of both sides of her hat, which was accentuated by a large bow. A large purple coat with faux pink fur trim enveloped her plump body, and a thrift store necklace adorned her neck. “I don’t know about you, but I could sure use this money.  I wanted to say thank you right away, but she just disappeared. Any ideas?”  The crowd had disappeared while Imelda spoke. Only the guitar player and the old woman remained.

                “I could play a song if you two want to sing. My name is Ellen,” said a young girl with short dark hair tied back with a thin ribbon and circular glasses similar to the old woman’s. A large guitar case was under her arm, and she wore a collared shirt with a cardigan and skirt, like a school girl uniform.  She shook hands with both of the women. “I agree with you that we should thank her. It was very kind to share what she has with us.”

                At that moment the man with the briefcase slinked over. His thin mustache shied away from his lying lips. A top hat perched atop a devious mind, and a dark purple suit covered his ample frame. He moved slyly and with purpose.  “I may be able to help,” he offered. “A woman like that needs more than a song. She could hire a hundred songwriters and take her pick. No, a woman of her caliber, of her station in life requires more, and I may be able to help.”

                Imelda had a bad feeling about this. If the old woman felt the same, she kept it to herself. Ellen was disappointed that her simple heartfelt song idea got shot down so thoroughly. Ignoring the others’ misgivings, the man continued, “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mr. Melvin Sands, and I am a businessman of the highest order. I’ve dined with royalty, lunched with presidents, spoke with rock stars and rubbed elbows with some of the finest actors of our time. Any star personality you can think of, I guarantee you I’ve met them. I know everyone there is to know, and a few shady characters besides. But let’s not talk of dark dealings. You need someone who is accustomed to dealing with the wealthy class, and that is me.”

                Someone is very full of himself thought Imelda. All I wanted was to say thank you, but now she wondered, was that enough? Should they do more? The old lady appeared to be thinking it over, and Ellen was absentmindedly strumming on his guitar when she spat out, “Ok, you can speak for us.”

                “Splendid! Let’s get on with it right away. Come on now! Who knows when she will be home again, and if we delay we might miss her. How dreadful would that be? Very busy the very rich are, and we mustn’t make her late. There you go, get inside.” Mr. Melvin Sands was definitely charismatic, if also a bit pushy.

                The four of them made their way into the apartment building. It seemed so much bigger inside. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, and little tables with fresh cut flowers in the most original vases of all shapes and sizes were all along the walls. In the center of the room was a wide open circle. The floor was made of the finest marble, and was a pale grey color. The chandelier hung above the circular space in the center. It was beautiful. Imelda vaguely wondered if the woman in red was a dancer. The group approached a spiral staircase in the far corner of the room. Mr. Sands was taking it all in.                

                The second floor housed a small common sitting area. Ellen vaguely remembered people in the windows on the second floor during the cash shower. She supposed there were a number of apartments on this floor. The sitting area was well furnished, but not as fancy as the room downstairs.

                The third floor had only one door. The stairs abruptly stopped in front of it. Curiously, the door was made up to look like an outside door. It had a small pane of glass near the top, and a large pot of flowers on either side, framing the welcome mat. The address was spelled out beside the door in dark letters like most houses had. And the walls were covered in stonework, like Imelda had seen on some of the fanciest houses in the neighborhood. This was definitely one interesting lady!

                It was the old woman, who stepped forward, rapped on the door, rang the doorbell and called out, “Nancy, some people here would like to see you!” She stood in the doorway despite Mr. Sands’ best efforts to push her aside. The door opened, and the woman in red stood before them. Her broad smile spread across her face, revealing the most perfect rows of white teeth any of them had ever seen. Golden hair framed her friendly face in a regal manner. The red suit was pressed and tailored to her precise shape. The shoes were flat and sensible, but still stylish and very expensive looking. That smile made her approachable, but she also gave off an aura of prestige and privilege. Behind those well made up eyes, twinkled a quiet intelligence that told the women that she was no fool. At the same time, she managed to make the women feel comfortable and a little intimidated.

                Nancy bent down slightly to give the old woman a warm hug. “Mrs. Wheatfield, how nice of you to stop by and you’ve brought friends I see. Hello, I am Nancy Dashfield, and this is my home.” Nancy announced. “What can I do for you?”

                Imelda started, “My name is Imelda and I saw what you did out there today. It was extremely kind of you to share with all of those people outside. I was out for my evening stroll when the scene down this road stopped me dead in my tracks. I am so glad I caught sight of you out of the corner of my eye. I was about to enter the park across the street and miss the whole thing! Unfortunately, I am all too used to seeing people with their heads down, their bellies rumbling, and a generally downtrodden disposition, but not today. There was a palpable excitement in the air. It was exhilarating,” Imelda clutched her dime store purse a little tighter. For the first time, the others noticed her hat and coat were worn in places, and probably came from the thrift store as well. “I just had to find out what all the excitement was all about. As I crossed the street, I noticed that the cars passing by were slowing to look. You made so many people happy today. I thought it was only right to come and thank you personally. Thank you so much for your generosity.”

                Nancy smiled at Imelda. “I enjoy helping others. It feels right. Thank you for your kind words.”

                Ellen stepped forward. “Ms. Dashfield, I too saw the scene out there. It was wonderful to see everyone smiling again. I personally witnessed a young nanny pushing a baby in a stroller. She is a classmate of mine who dreams of going to college and does as many odd jobs as she can find to save money. You see, her father lost his job in a fancy office building downtown. Her mom watches kids, but hardly makes any money at all. She would rather help someone in need than work for someone who can pay her what she’s worth. Mindy, my friend, scooped up plenty to help herself and her family. I know that money will make a huge difference for them. She was so excited she ran off before Imelda here rounded up the thank you crew. I know Mindy would have come with us.  I myself caught a few stray dollars, and now I can go to music camp. It was never possible before. My family does alright, but we just don’t have enough for things like camp anymore. It means a lot to me personally. I wanted to thank you for bringing hope to so many of us. We really appreciate it.”

                Nancy was positively beaming. “Oh please, I’m blushing! Can I let you in a little secret? Do you know why I live here instead of some grand old fancy house in the suburbs? I love the view! I can see the park from here, with all the kids playing and laughing. I love to see all of the hustle and bustle down below on this little street. It is the perfect spot for the very best view of the city, in my opinion. I wanted to give something back to the community that has brought me so much joy. So thank you. I have heard you play many a song on many an afternoon. Those songs were just lovely and so heartfelt.”

                It was Ellen’s turn to blush.  An original song was the way to go after all. Ellen had no idea that her music was appreciated by anyone. She played to herself on that little block by the park a lot, but no one ever complimented her like that before. It felt wonderful! She set her guitar case down and started to remove the instrument, much to Nancy’s delight, when Mr. Sands stepped in.

                “Pardon me madam, but I also would like to extend my warmest greetings and humbly thank you for your kindness and generosity. I am Mr. Melvin Sands, world traveler and champion of the poor and downtrodden. Here before you is a man who has built homes, served food, brought clothing and other necessary supplies to those in need all around the world. After providing assistance in every corner of the globe, I decided to focus on those in need in my own backyard. I have dined with kings and queens madam, and none of them have impressed me half as much as you and the generosity you have shown today.”

                All eyes focused on Nancy, who apparently had never heard such a complimentary treatment of herself. Her huge smile spoke for her. “I was only trying to help. It was nothing, really…” she trailed off.

                “On the contrary, my fine friend. You underestimate yourself and your accomplishments, a common trait among the greatest benefactors of our time. Don’t sell yourself short! You are an inspiration! You’re an angel among us! I stand in awe of your heartwarming gesture. I was beginning to doubt such souls still existed among us. But I digress. The children need me, and I mustn’t disappoint them.”

                The old woman spoke up,” Sir, I’m sorry, but what children?”

                Mr. Sands turned and looked gravely at the four women. “As it happens, I was on my way to deliver what paltry sums I was able to scrounge up for the poor sweet children at the orphanage up the road. I know times are tough all over, but these little ones have gotten the worst of it. Children suffer the most in trying times. We can’t all be as philanthropic as Nancy, but I do what I can to help them. Well, good evening, ladies,” and he turned to exit.

                The old woman was the closest to Mr. Sands, and spoke up first. “Excuse me, Mr. Sands. I would like to help those children. It seems only fair to honor Ms. Nancy’s kind-hearted gift by sharing some of it with them. Here you go.” She handed Mr. Sands a large wad of cash.

                Mr. Sands bowed shallowly, and replied, “Thank you miss, I’m sorry. I don’t believe I caught your name.”

                “Doris,” she replied, “Doris Clayborne.”

                “My kind thanks Ms. Clayborne. The children will appreciate your charity,” Mr. Sands responded regally.  This greatly pleased Doris.

                Not to be outdone by this old woman, Imelda stepped forward. “I too would like to help.” She took out a stack of cash she’d collected that day, saving only one bill for herself. Reconsidering, she placed the last bill on top of the neat pile and handed it to Mr. Sands.

                “Splendid! You ladies are true humanitarians! I am in awe,” Mr. Sands declared proudly. “I love this country! Even the children are acutely aware of the suffering of others.”

                At that moment, Ellen handed Mr. Sands the biggest stack yet. She included all of the money she grabbed today and some that she had been saving in her guitar case for music camp. “Maybe I can go to music camp next year,” she offered to no one in particular.

                “Hold on, hold on!” Nancy interjected. “Ellen, you will go to music camp this summer. I am touched that you would give up the camp you wanted for the children you have never met. Imelda I will replace some of your contribution as well. And Doris, you know you are always welcomed here. You will never starve.” She turned her attention on Mr. Melvin Sands. “I too will contribute. Needy people are everywhere, in every community. Until we are all fed, clothed and sheltered, this world needs people like you to assist in every way possible. I thank you for what sounds like a life of service. Here is a donation for the orphanage, and here is a check for yourself, to thank you for all the good work you’ve done. I only wish it could be more. Thank you.”

                Mr. Sands was struck dumb for a moment, but quickly recovered himself. “The altruism in this room is overwhelming. The orphans will be quite pleased. I am eternally grateful. Thank you so very much for this kindness, and may God bless you!” With that, Mr. Sands left the apartment. He casually made his way down the stairs and out onto the street. He estimated his take to be at least $2000, maybe closer to $4,000, which was very close to the amount of cold hard cash he’d taken in. Now for the personal check. Melvin Sands was ecstatic. The personal check made out to him was for the sum of $1,000. He’d made nearly $5,000 in minutes! He felt rich.

                Once he’d rounded the corner and started up the next block, he noticed a small dirty boy in shabby clothes. He looked as though he hadn’t eaten well for months. The boy hurried over to Mr. Sands, and asked him, “Excuse me Sir, could you spare a dollar, please?” The child looked up at him expectantly.

                Mr. Sands scoffed, “No you dirty thing. Get away from me!” Melvin hurried away as fast as he could. To his right in the distance, he could see the building that used to house the orphanage up until 5 years ago, when it was overrun and had to shut down due to a lack of funding. It certainly sufficed to provide Mr. Melvin Sands with funding, he thought devilishly to himself as he strolled into a better part of town to enjoy the good life.

               

Reviews

[Marie]

A very cynical story inded. But very good. I don't generally read pieces this long, but I got interested fromthe beginning and read it all the way through.

[JLD]

Thank you for your comment and your honesty.I am glad I held your interest and I'm glad you enjoyed it!