Martha got up reluctantly and opened the door. There stood a young man in a blue Amish blouse, black vest, and heavy denim jacket. He held a black felt hat in his hands.
Martha said, “Oh, it’s you.” She turned around and walked back into the room.
The Amish man said, “A fellow let me in. Can we talk?” followed by something in Dutch dialect. Martha answered in kind, and waved him into the room.
6
Friday, November 1
8:50 P.M.
WHEN Arne Laughton, president of Millersburg College, entered the front door of the Favor mansion, Daniel was waiting to take his coat and galoshes. The two exchanged glances when they heard Favor break out into laughter in the parlor next to the front foyer. Daniel folded the tall president’s long coat over his arm and said, “If you don’t mind, sir, Ms. Favor won’t be but a minute.”
Puzzled, Laughton looked in at the parlor door and saw Favor seated on the divan with her back to him. He caught DiSalvo’s gaze and waved awkwardly to the lawyer. DiSalvo acknowledged the president with a fractional tip of his head. In a far corner sat Sonny Favor, fidgeting.
Laughton stepped back into the foyer. Daniel offered a straight-backed chair, and the president sat with his slender hands on his knees, listening to whatever brief snatches of conversation he could understand. Intermittently, he made out key phrases, and, with growing concern, he moved his chair closer to the parlor door. He listened intently and ran his fingers nervously through white hair. By the time Favor came out to him, Laughton thought he had overheard the loss of a sizable portion of Millersburg College’s longterm funding.
“MY DEAR Mr. President,” Favor said, and took Laughton’s outstretched hand in both of hers. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. It’s business, you see, with Mr. DiSalvo.”
She reached up and linked her arm in his, and with Sonny following, she guided the president into the bar, where she poured two drinks and toasted, “To Millersburg College!”
Laughton held his martini aloft and repeated the toast. He took a substantial swallow and said, “Forgive me, Juliet, if I show too much concern. Or if my concern is misplaced. But do I understand correctly that you’re to reduce funding for our college next year?”
“Why, Arne. You’ve been listening at keyholes again.”
Laughton blushed and stammered, “I’m sorry, but . . .”
With a dismissive wave of her hand, Favor said, “Arne, Arne. You can’t expect the Favors to carry the college indefinitely.”
A flush rose in Laughton’s face, and he gulped the rest of his drink. Unsure what to say, he held out his glass, and Favor refilled it, smiling.
“Arne,” Favor said, handing over the refill. “You didn’t support me for chairwoman of the board of trustees last May.”
“Juliet,” Laughton began.
Favor interrupted. “Oh, come now, Arne. Surely we needn’t worry about such little matters as these. As much as the Favors have been a friend to this institution? Not at all. But this can be repaired easily, Arne. There’s the December meeting yet, and we can’t operate too much longer with an interim chairman. He’s not that good, anyway, don’t you agree?”
“Juliet, I don’t think . . .”
“Sure, Arne, sure. Now I do hope you’ll stay for dinner. Nine o’clock in the formal dining room. And you’re dressed just right.” She stepped close to the president and played coyly with his tie, as if their relationship permitted her an extra measure of familiarity. “Always such a gentlemen.”
Laughton straightened his tie. “I’m not sure, Juliet.”
“I insist. Please. See Daniel. And we will talk some more after dinner.”
“I hardly think this is the sort of thing to discuss over dessert,” Laughton said gruffly.
“Such a tone!” Favor chided. “I won’t sign any papers until tomorrow, anyway, so you needn’t worry about your precious money. There’s time yet, and we should use it. Don’t you agree? Please, Arne. Stay just a bit longer and we’ll sit down to a nice meal. Daniel is preparing sautéed Casco Bay sea scallops with peanuts and chives, plus Backaofa Alsace Style sea bass, or lamb with haricots à la Tourangelle. So how can you resist, Arne?”
“Perhaps, but I’m going to have to do something about my car.”
“What’s wrong out there?” Favor asked with indifference.
“Your Daniel has plowed a lane, but not much more than that. And in front of the house there are three cars, now, with little room for more. The drifts keep piling up, and I’m not sure any of us will be able to leave, if it keeps up out there.”
“Is it any better around back?” Favor asked, cataloging in her mind the people yet to arrive. To Sonny she quipped, “At least we don’t have your Lexus to worry about, do we?”
“Haven’t been around back,” Laughton said uneasily, watching the blood rise in Sonny Favor’s cheeks.
“Can you please check with Daniel?” Favor asked Laughton, turning her back to Sonny.
Somewhat offended, Laughton replied, “Certainly, Juliet. If you wish.”
“Thank you, Arne. And please tell Daniel to turn on the lights all around the house. I’d like him to plow again, too, this time wider. Yours is not the last car that has to get up my drive tonight.”
JULIET led Sonny back to the parlor, where they found Sally Favor and Jenny snuggled up to either side of a blushing Henry DiSalvo on the divan.
Favor erupted, “For crying out loud, Sally!”
“Mother dear,” Sally said, obviously still drunk. She hugged DiSalvo as if he were a fuzzy bear.
“I had hoped you’d left,” Favor said coldly.
“Can’t get down the drive, Mommy. Guess we’ll stay for dinner.”
“You’ll do no such thing!”
“You see that, Sonny?” Sally drawled. “Mommy’s true colors.”
“Why do you always have to push it, Sally?” Sonny complained.
“Because you won’t stand up to her!” Sally shot back. “You’re pathetic, Sonny. Stand up to her.”
Sally bounded suddenly to her feet, took Sonny by the arms and pulled him into the center of the room. “Stand up to her just once, Sonny.”
“You’re drunk,” Sonny muttered.
“So what?”
“I don’t see why you have to be so rude to everyone,” Sonny complained.
“Just to her, Sonny. Do you really think you can keep your trust?”
“Just three more years.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t you hear her lawyer?”
“You were listening?”
“Oh, Sonny! Grow up.”
Sonny shook his head and retreated to the fireplace, where he sullenly tapped the smooth brass rugby trophy on the mantel. Enraged, Sally closed the distance to him quickly, seized the trophy in both hands, and threw it onto the plush carpet in the direction of her mother. It gave a heavy thunk and rolled a foot or so to her mother’s feet.
Mrs. Favor launched herself at Sally, grabbed her by the neck, and twisted. In the brief scuffle that ensued, their legs became entangled, and they spun and fell to the floor as if spite and rejection had conspired to stir a vortex that dragged them down.
Stepping forward, Sonny managed to separate the two stunned women without getting