A Dutchman in Paris

Two weeks after he’d seen his doctor and gotten the diagnosis, Palmer was on a plane headed for Atlanta. It had taken him two weeks to wrap things up, and despite a lifetime of frugal habits, quite unnecessary considering his net worth, he’d booked a seat in first class, and also despite the warnings of his doctors, he drank Champagne the entire ride. He was in an oddly celebratory mood, as he was paying a final visit to his only daughter and his beloved grandchildren, to give each of them a gift to remember him by.

Finishing a final glass before landing, he tried to think of what would make each of them happy. His daughter Jenny would be quite pleased at the retirement of her home mortgage, so that was easy enough. And a new pickup truck would thrill his oldest grandson Marc. The youngest grandson Jack, being only nine, would be happy with a puppy, probably a collie, to replace the family’s beloved dog Holly who had died suddenly the month before. It was a gift for his granddaughter Sally that perplexed him.

The last time he’d seen her she seemed to be a girl of fourteen going on forty. As a very young child she’d been courageous and headstrong, willing to take on any challenge, and Palmer remembered with fondness how she had enjoyed plunging her little fists into the smelly green muck of a nearby creek, lifting handfuls of the goo, squeezing it delightedly in her fingers and repeating over and over, Ooey gooey mud!

But something had happened to her which nobody could explain. At the age of eight she had begun to withdraw into herself. She excelled at her schoolwork and did her home chores well enough, but always with the same air of careworn resignation. She had a convict’s hatred of authority, and Palmer recalled her saying once on a long vacation drive, after hours of silence, I hate the goddam cops. She shunned touch and any show of emotion, and Palmer wondered if there was any object on this earth he could deliver that could bring forth even a smile.

His dark-haired daughter picked him up at the airport. She was a woman approaching fifty but she could easily pass for thirty due to her Asian heritage on her mother’s side. To Palmer’s sorrow, she was alone. He had so looked forward to seeing his grandkids.

As usual, his daughter had laid in plenty of wine and other goodies to feed him, but he insisted on their going out to eat. Two hours after his arrival they were heading for a Thai restaurant. When they got there Palmer headed to the restroom, checked his face in the mirror, combed his still-thick steel-gray hair, and noted with satisfaction that, as far as he could tell, he did not look at all like a dying man. His palpitations had been temporarily held in check by some new medications, and his appearance was so robust he was sure his daughter would have no hint of his impending demise. Palmer had made elaborate plans to go out in a blaze of glory, in a manner which his progeny could recall in later years and say, Grandpa, wow, he sure went out with a bang!

After a desert of bananas in coconut cream, he tapped his glass with a spoon and said, Attention kiddies. I have an announcement. I have cashed in an investment I made long ago, and I want to give each of you a nice present. Be thinking of what you’d want so when we get home you can tell me. Don’t worry too much about how much it’ll cost but please, no Lear Jets or mega-yachts.

When they were in the car and buckled up, he patted his daughter Jenny on the thigh and said, This includes you, kid. I was thinking, just as a suggestion, that it’d be nice if you didn’t t have a house payment.

Her dark eyes gaped. Dad, come on. Palmer said nothing, his usual way of letting her know he was serious.

On the ride home it was pretty quiet in the back seats and Palmer expected the kids were in deep contemplation. When they got home he assembled them in the family room and said, Okay, has anyone decided?

Jack was the first to speak. Can I have another dog, Grandpa? I want a collie but mom says they’re too hairy so can I have maybe a beagle?

Good choice, Palmer said. A beagle it will be. He looked at his grandson Marc, who at 6’4 was sprawled across the entire length of the couch with his feet handing over the edge. It was hard to get two words out of Marc, but the prospect of having his wish granted perked him up. I got a job working at a music store for the summer and I start up at Georgia Tech in the fall. My scholarships cover the school expenses but I don’t have a way to work. I got a serious yearning for a Ford F 250, a red one, with─"

Marc! his mother whispered loudly, Get real.

Palmer raised his hand. Okay, but an F250 is a bit big. Can you settle for a 150, with all the options but not too big an engine? He saw that Jenny was about to interrupt so again he raised his hand. The boy’s got to have a decent ride and with the grades he’s gotten he deserves it. An F150 it is.

They all looked at Sally. She was gazing out the window at the setting sun, so absorbed in that sight she didn’t seem to notice there was anyone else in the room. Palmer went to her and patted her on the shoulder. Okay, little girl. What’s it gonna be?

She shrugged.

Don’t tell me… you really wanted a Lear Jet and I’ve disappointed you.

She shook her head. Palmer sat beside her on the loveseat, scooted close to her and said, I’ll get you anything else you want, and if you want to keep it a secret you can whisper it to me.

But Sally had no desire to keep her wish a secret. She looked at Palmer, her cold grey eyes asquint, and said, Okay then… I want a giraffe.

Palmer thought he’d heard her right, but repeated, A giraffe? You mean a nice big stuffed one?

She lowered her eyelids and turned away, implying that he knew she meant a real giraffe, and if he didn’t come across as promised, he was just another sorry-ass adult who didn’t mean what they said.

After a few seconds of silence, everyone in the room laughed except Sally’s mother. Sally, get serious. You know Grandpa can’t get a giraffe.

Palmer raised his hand. Hold on. Let’s think about this a little. He patted Sally on the shoulder, and said. Let me see what I can do.

That night, after the kids and his daughter were in bed, Palmer sat in a battered leather chair sipping whiskey despite his precarious coronary condition, and pondering how to deal with this impossible responsibility that had been laid before him: he had interpreted his granddaughter’s request as a test, and thought it his job to restore her sense of trust in adults.

He was about to formulate a plan when he stopped to think of this more seriously. Truth was, the child was decades ahead of her siblings. She already knew that nine-tenths of what adults taught her was bullshit. That lesson would come much later and more painfully to her two brothers, who were not gifted with her powers of perception. So why should he try to restore in her a faith she would have to lose again eventually?

He remembered his own childhood. What a shock it had been, the ghastly revelation that those who were supposed to know everything important actually knew so little, and that they hardly believed their own incantations, repeating them because they knew no other words. Palmer had been a year younger than Sally when this awful truth had dawned on him. The only thing that had softened the blow was his realization that those in charge really did love him and were doing their best.

So there was nothing he could do to permanently banish her distrust. But, if he somehow fulfilled his promise, even though her request was outrageous, it might make her see the other side: that those who had misled her had not done it intentionally or with malice.

Just before his last sip of whiskey, he’d formed a vague idea of what to do. He had little hope of succeeding but at least he would have displayed to his granddaughter his ardent attempt to keep his promise.

The next day he was up before the rest of the family. He sat at the dining room table and thumbed his cell phone, tapped a number, waited and after five rings a deep hoarse voice said Isaac Palmer, what the fuck you want?

Hello Harry. Been a long time. Got a minute

Harry lived in Peru Indiana, still known as Circus City, where he’d been born. He was retired but he’d spent most of his life among circus people. If anyone knew how to lay hands on a giraffe, it would be Harry.

After Palmer laid out his problem, Harry said, This’ll teach you not to make idle promises to kids. But I got an idea. I’ll get back to you.

An hour later Harry called back. He said that Ringling Brothers Circus had just announced that they were closing up business. They ‘d made arrangements to dispose of their animals but still had one giraffe. It was old and a bit gimpy with a bad foot. For the right price you can get it. They’ll put up a show of concern about whether you’ll give it a good home, but if you offer them enough I bet they won’t be too inquisitive.

Harry rang off, made a few more calls and got back with Palmer, told him the price, which made Palmer wince, but what the hell, he couldn’t take his money with him. Okay Harry, done deal, now what about getting it up here to Georgia?

The Ringling people agreed to move the giraffe by train as far as Jacksonville, Florida, but from there it was Palmer’s problem. Palmer had made his money in the trucking business, starting with hauling tankers full of oil from a terminal in Midland Texans. He’d branched out over the years, specializing in long distance hauling of big machines. He still had contacts who could deal with this challenge.

By 10 A M, the family was beginning to stir, so Palmer walked down to the subdivision clubhouse to engage in two hours of calls. He made deals and arranged to wire money, then wondered how to break the news to his daughter about the arrival of the new family pet.

He conjured numerous ways of telling her, thought of making it a surprise, then decided she had to know or the shock might overwhelm her: she had a lot going on in her life, and having to deal with piles of giraffe shit and the possible damage to her precious cherry tree might be too much.

Palmer also had to get ahold of the necessary people for advice on the proper care of a giraffe. He knew that the meddling of one grouchy neighbor could get a complaint lodged and the animal removed, but in Palmer’s state of mind, seeing only a short time on earth remaining for himself, he was indisposed to worry beyond the immediate future.

So the next day he felt confident in telling Sally that her wish was soon to be granted. And after enduring her sneer of disbelief, he went to his daughter Jenny, who was in the laundry room. Kid, I got something to tell you. I got that thing Sally wanted.

She could tell by his tone that Palmer was not joking What? You mean, you got her a real giraffe?

Should be in Jacksonville by Monday and here, probably by Wednesday. But don’t worry. I made arrangements with some knowledgeable people to bring in feed for it and clean up the mess. You won’t have to do much at all.

Jenny folded her arms. You could’ve said something to me about this. I can’t believe you just went and did it without talking to me.

Palmer wanted to say he agreed with her, and he wanted to tell her that if this were not a special circumstance he’d never have done it, but he feared she might get a hint of his impending doom and he was determined to avoid her having any. He wanted to leave this world in a way that his grandkids would think heroic, or at least, interesting.

Look Jenny, the guy who arranged it, he said this giraffe is on its last legs so to speak, and it shouldn’t last long. Maybe only a year or two.

Dad, my neighbors are a bunch of busybodies. Do you have any idea what they’ll say?

"Don’t know. If they raise a stink I’ll get my lawyers to tie it up in court, but if you have