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A lifetime course.

He tried to imagine telling Sally Ann he had settled on Curry. His parents would help them get started (probably), even if the Allburtons wouldn’t. He had some savings, and so did Sal (not much). It would be hard, but not impossible (perhaps). He suspected Ted Allburton was wrong about his daughter refusing to marry without his blessing, Phil dared to believe he knew Sal better than her father did in that respect, but what would a marriage lacking that blessing be like? Was it fair to either of them to start out with acrimony instead of support?

So his mind swung back and forth—town or city, lady or tiger—as he breasted one of the long hills on Route 111. A bright yellow sign, hand-painted, caught his eye. 2 MILES TO THE ANSWER MAN, it read. Phil grinned, then laughed out loud. It would be nice if there really was such a guy, he thought. I could certainly use a few answers.

He drove on and passed another sign soon enough. This one was electric blue. ANSWER MAN 1 MILE.

Phil topped another long rise and there, at the bottom of the downgrade, he saw a splash of bright red at the side of the road. As he drew closer he saw it was a large beach umbrella with hanging scalloped sides. There was a table beneath it. A man sat behind it in the shade. Phil thought the set-up looked like the lemonade stands you often passed in the summer. But those were hopeful little kids who had forgotten to add sugar to their puckery brew more often than not, and this wasn’t summer but mid-autumn.

More curious than ever, Phil pulled over and got out of his jalopy. “Hello!”

“Hello yourself,” the Answer Man responded, equably enough.

He looked to be about fifty. His thinning hair was salt-and-pepper. His face was lined but his eyes were bright and interested and unaided by specs. He wore a white shirt, plain gray slacks, and black shoes. His long-fingered hands were folded neatly on the surface of his table. A bag like a doctor’s satchel rested by one foot. He looked like an intelligent fellow, and Phil got no sense of eccentricity about him. He in fact reminded Phil of the dozen or so mid-level and middle-aged lawyers in the firm: solid, respectable men who lacked that final increment of ability which would propel them to partner level. It was that very feeling of comfy corporate normality that made the man’s appearance here beneath a bright red umbrella, sitting in the middle of nowhere in particular, so curious.

There was a folding wooden camp chair on the other side of the table. The client’s chair, presumably. Three little signs had been set up in a row to face the Answer Man’s prospective customers.

THE ANSWER MAN

read the sign in the middle.

$25 PER 5 MINUTES

read the sign on the left.

YOUR FIRST 2 ANSWERS FREE

read the sign on the right.

“What is this, exactly?” asked Phil.

The Answer Man fixed him with a look that was ironic but not unfriendly. “You look like a smart young man,” he said. “A young man who has been to college, judging by the pennant I see on your car aerial. Harvard, no less! Ten thousand men of Harvard cry for victory today!”

“Right,” Phil said, smiling. “For they know that over Eli, fair Harvard holds sway.”

The Answer Man smiled back. “Such young fellows as yourself—and girls, and girls—are so used to asking questions that they don’t even think about what they are asking. And, since business has been slow this morning, I’m going to do you a favor of not answering that question. Which still leaves you with two free ones, if you want them.”

Phil thought that even if the guy had a few screws loose, what he said made perfect sense. He had asked a question to which the answer was obvious. For twenty-five bucks, this man would answer questions for five minutes. That was what was going on here. And that was all.

“Well, say—don’t you think twenty-five smackers for five minutes’ worth of answers is pretty steep? It’s no wonder your biz has been on the slow side.”

“Well, what is steep? No, don’t answer that—you’re not the Answer Man, I am. My rates vary according to my location and my prospective customers. I have charged a hundred dollars for five minutes, and on one storied occasion I charged a thousand. One thousand iron men! Yes! But I’ve also charged as little as a dime. You might say I charge what the traffic will bear. Answers aren’t always painful, young man, but correct answers should never come cheap.”

Phil opened his mouth to ask if the guy was serious, then closed it again. He could easily imagine the Answer Man saying Yes I am, and that’s your second free question.

“How would I know the answers you gave me would be true and correct?”

“You wouldn’t now, but in the course of time, you would,” said the Answer Man. “And that’s—”

“Two,” Phil said. He was grinning widely, enjoying the game. He said, “How much ‘course of time’ are we talking about?” It was no sooner out than he clapped a hand over his mouth, but too late.

“It’s been slow today, so I’m going to give you a third free one,” the man behind the table said. “The answer: it varies. Which helps you get to the truth of my profession—if it’s the truth you’re seeking—not at all. Do you see what I mean about how easy it is to ask questions that don’t aid understanding? It devalues the whole process of asking, doesn’t it? Of delving into matters?”

The Answer Man leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers at the nape of his neck, and gazed at Phil. “I shouldn’t be surprised at how unhelpful the questions of smart people can be, having been in this business for as long as I have, yet somehow I still am. It’s loose. It’s lazy. I have often wondered if smart people really understand what answers they seek in life. Perhaps they just cruise along on a magic carpet of ego, making assumptions that are often wrong. That’s the only reason I can think of as to why they ask such impotent questions.”

“Impotent! Really!”

The Answer Man went on as if he hadn’t heard. “You asked me how you’d know if my answers were the correct ones. ‘True and correct’ is how you put it, which was quite nice. So I gave you one for free. If this were the pre-Christmas rush, I would have seen you back into your car and down the road two minutes ago.”