The Last of the Stanfields(90)
Once Robert was patched up, Hanna sat down across from him and took his hands, the look in her eyes surprisingly gentle and loving.
“I should be furious with you. I was furious around nine o’clock, I was. Around ten, I was even more furious. But by eleven, there was no way I could stay mad a minute longer. I panicked, I was so worried about you. When the clock struck twelve, I made a vow before God and heaven that I wouldn’t be mad at all, as long as you came home in one piece. By two in the morning, I was convinced you were dead. But here you are. So, no matter what happened to you, it couldn’t be as bad as all the thoughts that ran through my head. Now, listen to me, Robert. Tomorrow, there are two ways this can go. The first, I pack my suitcases and leave. You’ll never see me again. The other option is you tell me everything, every last detail of what happened, and I stay. As long as you didn’t kill anybody, and you make me a promise that it’s the last time you’ll ever do anything so stupid.”
Robert chose the latter, telling his wife the whole truth and vowing to never again commit a crime. Hanna forgave him.
Robert planned to beg his boss not to turn him in and to promise to pay back the money for the lost truck. But when he arrived at the truck depot two days later, his boss cut in before Robert could even say a word. The man looked like he had seen better days.
“A pair of rotten gangsters stole your truck for black-market stuff! Can you believe that? What’s worse, when the cops showed up and caught them in the act, the loons drove the truck straight into the river to save their own hides! I went down there myself yesterday when they dragged it out of the Hudson. It’s nothing but a junk heap now. So, as you can imagine, I got hit hard, money-wise. Insurance won’t be enough to replace it. There’s no easy way to say this, but I got no truck for you to drive, and I can’t pay you to sit on your hands. What can I say? I sure am sorry, kid.”
With a heavy heart, his boss paid Robert a day’s wages as consolation and sent him on his way. Even if he was no longer part of the black-market scheme, Robert still had to find a way to pay for the merchandise he had lost in the Hudson. He doubted that his other “bosses” would be nearly as forgiving. Settling his debts without a car or a job would be no small feat, especially since he’d promised to stay on the straight and narrow. When he got home, Robert bared all the ugly details of the situation to Hanna, who decided to take matters into her own hands. After Robert had acted so recklessly, she knew their survival was entirely up to her. And even if her husband did manage to find an honest job, one working salary wouldn’t be nearly enough to settle the debt. Robert was against the notion of his wife going to work, but Hanna told him to go to hell with his old-fashioned ways. Before the war, Hanna had accompanied her father on visits to his wealthy New York clients, many of whom had swooned over a young girl so knowledgeable about art. Hanna was her father’s daughter, after all. She had grown up immersed in Sam Goldstein’s world and was confident she could carve out a place for herself in the local art scene.
She visited every gallery in the city over the following week. Some of Sam’s former clients met with her out of respect, lamenting her father’s tragic fate over tea and biscuits. Such a wonderful man, it’s a horrific tragedy . . . but what a relief that you managed to make it out alive . . . so many innocent lives lost . . . They would run through a whole catalog of catastrophes before inevitably arriving at their own hardship—the struggle to survive in a wartime art market—as explanation for why they simply couldn’t do a thing to help her.
And then Hanna went to see John Glover, an English gallery owner who’d had a very close relationship with Sam. He’d opened a gallery in New York in 1935 and decided to make the move there in 1939, right at the onset of the war. Now, he hoped to return to London the moment the ink on the armistice had dried. The weakened Nazi forces were retreating on all fronts, losing battle after battle, and it was only a question of months before Hitler would be forced to surrender. In the meantime, Glover decided to take a chance on Hanna. If she proved herself, he would let the young woman manage his affairs in the United States when he went back to England. Beyond the modest starting salary, Hanna was offered the priceless experience of working side by side with the man himself.
John Glover came to Hanna’s aid when she needed it most, which she would never forget. It is rare in life to encounter someone as pure and benevolent as Glover. He was an exceptional man, with a kind soul and a strong sense of humility. Small of stature, Glover had round glasses, a goatee, and an enormous heart.
The gallery owner would come for dinner twice a month at Hanna and Robert’s ground-floor apartment in a brownstone on Sixty-Seventh Street. Hanna never felt an ounce of shame hosting him in their threadbare studio apartment. As Robert became friends with the gallery owner as well, Glover once more helped the couple by entrusting him with cross-country deliveries of valuable paintings, vases, and sculptures.
Germany surrendered on May 8, 1945. By the time Japan followed suit and officially brought World War II to a close, Europe had already moved on. Life for the young couple took a turn for the better. Hanna worked tirelessly at the gallery, helping Robert pay back his debt little by little. She took to her new profession with the passion of a fanatic, often traveling to meet clients for the purchase or sale of pieces. All the while, her new mentor kept a watchful but trusting eye on her development. Hanna worked countless hours and gave her all, until the blood, sweat, and tears at last began to pay off. And every day without fail, her walk home across Fifty-Ninth Street to Columbus Circle continued. She would gaze up at that other life she craved so desperately, her eyes tracing the facades of the prestigious buildings overlooking the park.