Dear Marion,

The "quiet talk about the future" with Margrit
which you prescribed in your letter under the subject
"PLEASE" finally took place and in an unexpected way.
I was, as usual, writing on the computer in my third floor
eyrie, when Margrit having decorously knocked on the door,
came in, sat down, and said in a pleasant and friendly way,
she needed to talk with me. "Fine" I said, "I'm always ready
to talk." "Were Margaret and I," she asked, "short of money."
the question having arisen in her mind, because Margaret and
I lived so frugally. No, I replied, we weren't short of money,
but I was much concerned to provide each of our four grandchildren
with assets sufficient so that they would not be compelled
to spend their lives in occupations not congenial to them.
I would lay out my considerations in detail; it would be a
long story; I did not require her to stay to listen; she might
leave at any time. 
=======================
This is where my letter broke off at 1:33 a.m. this morning, Dec 7.
It's now 7:10 p.m. I've spent the entire day reflecting, brooding
about Margrit. The definition, - I'll avoid the term clarity -
of my thoughts makes the situation tolerable for me.  Margrit did
stay to listen to my account of the family finances from 1939 to
2009, although what I told her seems to have given her little if
any food for thought.

This morning Margrit presented Margaret with a three page
memorandum with details of her plans. She wanted me to talk
to her about them. I have the impression my detachment, my
sanguine acceptance of her risk-taking, disconcerts her. I was
very candid with her in my description of our situation, and I
withheld only my psychiatric diagnosis, - which I have also not
articulated to you, because I believe that the validity of such
a diagnosis derives solely from empirical evidence; and where
the evidence is so complete and compelling, giving Margrit's
conduct a name has no virtue except to link it to the universality
of human behavior. 

Since I am concerned not to create additional emotional problems
for Margrit by reciprocating her secretiveness and thus preparing
the ground for the efflorescence of paranoia, I told her I would
telephone Roald Kirby, and after the telephone call, I offered
to tell her what had passed between us. Significantly, she did
not want to know. Similarly, - and you may be aghast at my 
indiscretion, - I told Margrit about our correspondence, yours
and mine, and offered to let her read what we have written to
each other. As I had anticipated, Margrit took my disclosure
in stride, and said she didn't want to read the correspondence,
she didn't want to know the details. My explanations are: 
a) that she trusts us, and b) that she doesn't want her fantasies
disturbed. 

We agreed that we should leave for the airport at 8 a.m. It was
Margrit's choice and should get her to the gate at 9 a.m., an
hour early. Takeoff is scheduled for 11 a.m. She is very eager
and anxious to get away; and contrary to her usual disposition,
wishes to take no risks of missing her flight. Margrit says she
wants to come back to Belmont in a year for a visit of 10 to 14
days. I wonder whether she will ever come back, and if so, under
what circumstances? Margrit is very ambivalent. Judging from
past behavior, I expect she will telephone as soon as she
arrives at Roald Kirby's house, to tell us that she is safe, -
and will continue to telephone more or less frequently and
regularly, - to tell us how much she loves us and to assure
herself that we remain available to her. That's allright,
I have no objection. It's a useful exercise for my senses
of humor and irony.

I'm uncertain how I must respond to your experience in the
elevator. I know nothing about elevator engineering, and perhaps
it was not as dangerous as I fear. In any event, you have
survived. It shouldn't be necessary for me to point out that
you have a tort claim against whoever is responsible for
elevator maintenance in your building. From the circumstance
that a legal claim exists, it doesn't follow that one should
necessarily assert the claim. Often it seems better to accept
as compensation the circumstance that one has miraculously
escaped serious injury or death.

Jochen