Mrs. Slocum-Lofton had indeed become Lofton County's toughest tycoon, without debate … in September she had looked into the face of the Ridgeline Fire and calmly evacuated her neighborhood. In October she had pretty much bought up a billion dollars worth of stuff in the “fire sale” that followed the disaster and then completed an end to the wrath of the Black and Latino communities in the way she had acknowledged the wrong of herself and her neighbors and made personal reparations through giving her land on the ridge for their memorial. Now in December, she could look into the face of raving madness and do what needed to be done to get a full confession out of Robert Lee Braxton.
Mrs. Slocum-Lofton's forever beloved late husband, Aaron Slocum-Lofton, had seen that she would become that kind of woman while courting her while she was very young.
“I want you on my side,” he had said to her. “Pardon a man for keeping a prize like you out of the hands of his younger rivals.”
She had smiled.
“What makes you think you can do that?” she had purred. “We just met last week!”
“What makes you think I can't, Miss Madison, any week of the year? You're here, aren't you, sitting with me in your parlor, after only a week, and not out there footloose and fancy free with those playmates that think they can step up to husbands. That may be. I was that age once. Look how long it took me to be sitting and courting a woman of worth, though! So, being a man myself, and knowing how we are, I would advise you not to wait on anyone to be good and ripe, but latch on to what is ready in front of you.”
“You don't mean to call yourself low-hanging fruit, do you, Mr. Slocum-Lofton?”
“No, because you are tall and so is your intellect – so you'll reach up past the low-hanging fruit and get what you need.”
“So, how come you didn't become a playmate husband to someone else?”
“Two reasons: first of all, you weren't born yet, and second, I am the playmate to your mind!”
She had started laughing at last, and that had started him laughing … they would always entertain themselves with these playful sparring matches. But there was serious matter in this exchange from the beginning.
“I see you are a man with ready answers for everything, Mr. Slocum-Lofton,” she said after dabbing her eyes.
“Not quite. I do need one answer from you – a yes – and then we can work out the answers to everything else in life.”
“You just started courting me, Mr. Slocum-Lofton. Fine time to run a proposal in.”
“I agree,” he said, and she started laughing again. “You'll find I'm a big stickler for letting it be known what I want up front, because I respect the people with which I spend my time. I'm not low-hanging fruit and you're not either, Miss Madison. I already know I've got to do some reaching to have you. Now you know where you have to reach with me – up front.”
“You're more than a bit forward, Mr. Slocum-Lofton.”
“Yes, ma'am, I am,” he said, “but if you plan on making progress in your life, forward is the direction you'll need to move in. See if any of my rivals understand that as well.”
They hadn't. Mr. Slocum-Lofton privately laughed as his 18 rivals began to disappear from the scene, because the highly intelligent Miss Madison was doing exactly what he knew she would, even without fully understanding why! He had simply provided a standard for comparison that his rivals were not mature enough to understand or meet, and every time he had a date with Miss Madison, he just reinforced and added to the standard.
It was not just that he had more money to spend on creating experiences – nay, his younger rivals, knowing he was richer than them all, were driving themselves broke trying to compete – but it was that he was the playmate to Miss Madison's mind. She was still very young and hugely curious about the changing world's biggest ideas, things a debutante Southern belle in 1951 wasn't supposed to concern herself with – but with her huge intellect and dynamic personality, it was inevitable that she should want to be an actor in or at least an understanding observer of the changes that had come and were coming. She also had her father's knack for understanding investments, although he had not developed her in that way.
So, Mr. Slocum-Lofton came with the greatest pick-up line ever: “You know, Miss Madison, I saw the most interesting article in National Geographic today” – or, The Wall Street Journal, or The Atlantic, or Scientific American, or Time, Life, and even The Crisis, Amsterdam Press, or the Chicago Observer. Mr. Slocum-Lofton even subscribed to what then were called Negro publications, and already knew that change was coming in terms of civil rights.
Aaron Slocum-Lofton's idea about how to prosper in the 20th century was simple: don't fight any of the big waves of history, but learn how to ride them. This fearless view of history and the future was all new to Miss Madison because rare among Southerners, but she was hungry for this. He fed her mind and spirit, and let his rivals break their budget on things she was not as interested in!
Not that Mr. Slocum-Lofton was cheap. Oh, no. He just didn't flaunt his money the regular way. He knew he only had to impress three people: Mr. Madison, Mrs. Madison, and Miss Madison, and the Madison parents cared about tradition and money. So: for Mr. Madison's birthday, Mr. Slocum-Lofton commissioned an entirely new play, complete with musical underscore – about James Madison, Father of the Constitution. He also had a reception done with period food, drink, and entertainment. All this for an audience of three, and some close Madison family friends – an unmistakable show of respect for tradition and money that wowed all of them.
Miss Madison had something to say about that, of course.
“The way you are going,” she teased, “any one of them might be willing to marry you.”
“Well, if I can snatch up everyone around you and get them comfortable on my side of this thing, you'll just be coming home upon marrying me.”
But there were also more private gifts … like the blue velvet case around a blue rose cast in steel that itself was a bottle for a perfume Mr. Slocum-Lofton had commissioned for Miss Madison. She had cried about that.
“You understand me, don't you?” she said.
“Yes, I do, Selene,” he said gently. “You're not hard to understand, actually. The problem is that many men have made a whole idea of life needing to have someone else to look down on – to be superior to. That includes our potential mates. So, a woman like you who has a mind and a mouth can be a problem even though you don't mean any harm, because you are clearly inferior to no one. You are still very young, so you have a ton of growing to do as well – and that will scare any man who does not have either your capacity or dedication for developing as a person.
“So, what you need to decide on for a husband is not just who is the youngest, most handsome, and most charming, and not even who understands you the best. You need to decide on who will understand you and cherish you for who you are, and who will not try to stifle you in order to make himself feel like a man. You need to decide on who will actually be able to husband you, in the old sense of the word, as your intellect and personality continues to blossom – who will nourish you as a woman as you nourish him as a man, like a well-tended vineyard gives food, drink, and a good living to its owner. You are very young, and you will probably live a long time as someone's wife, so consider what I say to you carefully.”
He had paused, and then gotten up and taken his hat to go.
“Consider this, Selene. I love you, and I know how to love you, and I think you're doing a fine job in learning how I am so that you could love me and know how. But I'm the one that said it, so, let me leave you with a little proof: I love you so much that if I have a rival who loves you more and knows better how to do it, I think you should marry him. You need the very best man, Selene. I won't be mad to lose out to the very best. If you find him, you marry him, because that is what will be best for you.”
“You say that so fearlessly, Aaron,” she said, “when you clearly don't want me to marry any one of your rivals.”
“You know how I am, Selene,” he said. “I don't come out every day into the world fearing the future. Besides, I'm not the one who should worry now. You've got to find a better man than me for you, and I have cut out his work for him – and when your rival cuts out your work for you, you should be worried!”
She had erupted in laughter and thrown a decorative pillow at him.
“You are insufferable – just making trouble for other people!”
“What do you think I've been doing to every man in the world all this time in coming around here?” he said, and threw the pillow back. “You just thought I was coming because you're so beautiful, but no: I've been cutting out the work for every other man in the world. Any man that can get over all the hurdles, trenches, barbed wire, spiked pits, land mines, and such that I have laid out for him to get to you ought to have you – and if anybody does it, you be sure to marry him! Good night!”
He could still hear her laughing halfway down the street.
Still, for all his projected confidence, Aaron Slocum-Lofton had been a little concerned when his chief rival, young Mr. Robert Lee Braxton, had vaulted into the limelight as a hero in Lofton County because he had saved all the children at the burning orphanage in 1952. Of course the young man was to be praised, and Mr. Slocum-Lofton made sure to do so, but he had not expected such mettle in any of his playfellow opponents.
Young Mr. Braxton had indeed proved himself, but not in the way Mr. Slocum-Lofton thought. Miss Madison never told Mr. Slocum-Lofton that she had seen Mr. Braxton tampering with the fuses and starting the fire at the orphanage, because she couldn't process that in her teenage mind herself ... it would be 67 years from 1952 before she could. However, although she had been much more attracted to “Beau Bob Braxton” before that, he had fallen below the standard Mr. Slocum-Lofton had built in her heart and mind with that one act.
Mr. Slocum-Lofton had been out of town that week on a business trip, but had seen Miss Madison in the picture the newspaper had taken of the incident. He had thought about driving all night to get back to Big Loft and not let his rival have his day unchallenged, but then decided against it. Miss Madison had a right to see how her other suitor handled his moment without distraction – and Mr. Slocum-Lofton had never shown Miss Madison any hint of jealousy and desperation. No need to start at a time like that. He would see her when he got back, at the agreed-upon time. He did call, however, to make sure she was all right.
“I'm fine, Aaron,” she said, “although I was badly shaken by the experience.”
He could hear in her voice the horror about which she would never tell anyone but their grandson, 67 years later.
“Is there anything that needs doing for the children affected, or for you, that I can do?”
“No for the children – that's all taken care of already. For me, I really appreciate your calling to inquire about me, and I look forward to your calling on me this coming Friday.”
Mr. Braxton hadn't called – a further nail in the coffin of his hopes.
Mr. Slocum-Lofton had definitely been confident in himself and had a big ego, but he was not a narcissist, and had no need to hurt others to lift himself above them. He had consistently demonstrated what he said – “I love you, and I know how to love you” – and in the end, he had proved himself the best man.
Friday came; Mr. Slocum-Lofton came on time as always, and there was Miss Madison in the parlor, wearing a blue velvet dress, a shy smile, and the perfume he had given her. Nothing more needed to be said, although a great deal more was said between her, her parents, and him. But, from the door, he knew she had accepted him as husband-in-prospectus. There still was not a lot of “hot” attraction on her side, but she was very comfortable close to him, and at last shyly laid her head on his immense shoulder that evening, so there was no revulsion … the rest, she would learn!
67 years later, Aaron Slocum-Lofton's widow sat in the presence of his longest-lived rival, wearing a generous amount of the last batch of perfume Mr. Slocum-Lofton had made for her. It was a well-made scent and had not gone bad in the years since his death … and thus she mocked his rival on the day that his rival thought he would triumph in all his perfidy!
Image by yaoyaoyao5yaoyaoyao from Pixabay