shifted his weight and let go of Martha’s hand, as if he had forgotten she was there.
Favor came forward slowly, reached up to rest a gentle hand on Sonny’s shoulder, watched his downcast eyes for a moment, and said, “We Favors look for A’s. What would Daddy think?”
Sonny shrugged and tried to hide his embarrassment by avoiding the eyes of both women. His shoulders seemed to carry a heavy yet familiar burden.
“Now, Sonny,” Favor said. “Step into the parlor so Martha and I can talk. I’ll bring her out to you.”
AFTER a long, appraising silence, Juliet Favor said to Martha Lehman, “I presume, Martha, that your costume signifies some religious sect.”
“It’s Mennonite, ma’am,” Martha replied.
“Not Amish? I hope you’re not one of those backward country girls. Sonny’s future can harbor none of that.”
Taken aback, Martha managed only, “Ma’am?”
“I have plans for Sonny, Martha. You can appreciate that, I’m sure. I’ve known plenty of trashy country girls who figured on breeding their way into wealth.”
Martha took a step forward and defended herself. “My family is conservative Mennonite. I see no reason to apologize for that. It’s a sect derived from the old Black Bumper Amish.”
“Black Bumper Amish?” Juliet repeated, intrigued despite herself.
“Yes. They drove cars, but painted the bumpers and shiny metal parts flat black. But, even if I were Amish, you have no reason to fear my relationship with Sonny.”
“Fear? My dear girl, I assure you I do not fear anything about you. You may be in college, but you’re still just a plain country girl with designs on my boy. You know our family has money.”
Martha, unsettled, made no reply.
Juliet Favor stepped up to Martha, a scant five inches from her face, and continued talking softly, taking satisfaction that Martha’s eyes sought the carpet at her feet, and that her cheeks and ears flamed red.
IT TOOK no more than six minutes. Martha came alone to Sonny in the parlor with pools in her eyes. She looked at him with a lost expression, and the tears spilled out onto her cheeks. He embraced her, feeling more confused than sorry.
“Mom’s not so bad once you get to know her,” he said awkwardly. “She thinks of family, first. Duty, obligations, her ‘legacy.’ Give her a chance, Martha. She’s had it rough since Dad died, and I think she overcompensates.”
SONNY left Martha in the parlor and came back nervously through the main foyer, where a grand staircase led to the second-floor hallway with the master bath and bedroom. This was the front staircase. A rear one led from the kitchen at the back of the house to a second-floor vestibule with two bedrooms, each with an attached bath.
Sonny crossed in front of the main stairs and marched across the marble floor, into the bar. Passing through, he entered a library and turned left to take a door to Daniel’s office and prep room adjoining the formal dining room on the other side. He found his mother there with the butler, in a long, narrow room, which Daniel had fitted with a small desk and a laptop, china and crystal cabinets, and a chest for silver service. There were also prep tables for dinners, and a tall refrigerator with glass doors, holding beverages of all descriptions. A wet bar stood against the wall beside the refrigerator. The narrow aisle down the middle of the room was wide enough for only two people to pass comfortably.
Favor poured herself another drink as Sonny squeezed past her and took a 7 UP from the refrigerator. Juliet sipped her drink slowly and appraised her son carefully. Daniel stood silently at the far end of the narrow room, by the swinging doors to the kitchen and pantries beyond.
Eventually, Sonny managed to ask, “What did you say to her, Mom?”
“Why, nothing at all, really, Sonny. Of course I wanted her to know how important your studies are to us. You’d agree to that, wouldn’t you?”
“I guess so, if that was all.”
“Of course. Now, what’s the problem?”
“She’s crying.”
“She’s the emotional type, Sonny. I saw that right away. She’ll be fine.”
“I’ve never seen her so upset,” Sonny said, confused by his emotions. He felt guilty again, but did not understand why. It seemed to him that he had often felt this way, even as a child, and that he had, in some unnatural way, grown accustomed to it. “I want you to like her, Mom.”
“I’m sure I will, Sonny. Now don’t leave the poor thing alone too long.”
Sonny looked to Daniel for reassurance, but Daniel avoided his gaze.
Favor let a moment pass as she sipped her drink, and then she took her son by the arm, escorted him back into the library, and headed him toward the front parlor. Back in Daniel’s room, she said, “That kid’s going to need nursemaiding all his life.”
“He’s still young, Ms. Favor,” Daniel said.
“He’s a spineless dope. Not recognizable as Harry’s son,” she muttered, squeezing her temples between thumb and forefinger. She rubbed at the back of her neck, eyes shut tight. “You call Dick Pomeroy?” she asked, weakly. “I’m out of medicine.”
“Professor Pomeroy will arrive ahead of the others.”
“Good,” Favor said, with her eyes still closed. “DiSalvo is next, right?”
“He’s due any minute.”
“Show him into the parlor.”
“Sonny and his young lady are probably still there.”
“I know that!” Favor snapped. “I want Sonny to hear that I’m changing my will. Want to see if that will snap him around.”
“You’ve got DiSalvo until 8:20, and then it’s President Laughton.”
“Him you can leave in the foyer,” Favor schemed. “It’ll serve him right for opposing me on the board. Let him hold his hat for a good ten minutes in the front foyer. I want you to leave the doors to the parlor open so he can see me working with DiSalvo. I’ll take Laughton into the bar, then, when I think he’s heard enough. You be sure Sonny gets there too, if I don’t have him with me then. And please see to DiSalvo while I’m talking to Laughton. He gets hungry, so please bring him something.”
“I do recall, ma’am. I’ll see that he’s taken care of.”
HENRY DiSalvo pushed his boots through the white drifts on the steps to the wraparound front porch. The porch was lighted brightly by several hanging fixtures, but he had walked the last fifty yards up the drive in the dark. His face and glasses had been pelted with snow and sleet, and his long black coat was plastered white in front. He rang the door chimes, and Daniel, waiting for him inside, opened the doors immediately. DiSalvo brushed off his overcoat before entering, and, once he was inside with the doors closed, Daniel took his coat, gloves, and hat.
From a briefcase, DiSalvo took out a pair of brown penny loafers and stood, first on one foot and then on the other, to pull off hiking boots and put on the loafers. Daniel steadied the elderly gentleman by holding his arm.
“We are serving martinis and hors d’oeuvres now,” Daniel said, “and Madam hopes you’ll stay for dinner later this evening.”
“I could use a drink,” DiSalvo replied. “And Daniel, I had to leave my car about halfway down the drive. Stuck in the snow, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll see to it,” Daniel said. “Ms. Favor will join you in the parlor, Mr. DiSalvo.”
DiSalvo handed Daniel the keys to his car, and, knowing the house well, took the doors to his left, went into the spacious parlor, and walked to the far wall, by the fireplace. As he warmed himself