Cast a Blue Shadow. P. L. Gaus
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Daniel. We start at 8:00. Right?”
“7:30, Ms. Favor. Sonny called for an appointment.”
“What’s he want? He knows I’ll see him in New York.”
“As he explained it to me, ma’am, he’ll be introducing a young lady from the college.”
“Sonny’s got a girl?”
“Apparently so.”
“Humph. If you say so,” Favor said, pumping the weights very slowly now. “Then switch to a blue business suit with a short skirt, Daniel.”
“Will you require assistance dressing tonight, Ms. Favor?”
“Of course, Daniel. Please draw my bath. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”
Favor switched off the intercom, dropped her blue towel, and padded across the soft redwood flooring to an antique cherry vanity beside a treadmill. From the top drawer she took out one of a dozen pairs of her late husband’s boxer shorts and stepped into them, snapping the elastic at her waist. From the second drawer, she chose a white sports bra. She slipped into it, and bent over at the waist to adjust herself in front.
The floodlights outside switched off, and the windows went dark. She thumbed down a light switch on the wall beside her, and the room darkened, too. Stepping onto the treadmill, she stared at the glass in a south-facing window. Now the only light in the room came from the red and green display on the panel in front of her, reflected in the windowpane. She paced vigorously on the machine, her eyes registering only vague patches of color as she thought in the dark about the people the evening would bring. First, a college president, so exasperatingly pliable. What had she ever seen in him? Professors—so completely absorbed in their academic lives. So dull and myopic, as Harry had always said. But there were the better ones. Passionate, resourceful, and principled. Deans and chairpersons, too. Some keepers there, to be sure. And if some served as play toys over the years—who cared?
But Sonny—what a disappointment. He’d never be the equal of his father. So, face up to that now, she mused despondently.
And Harry. Oh, what a man he had been! It had been six years, now. Six years and seven months, or something near that, anyway. There had been so much left to do.
But never mind. He had given her his legacy in time to make a difference. To dominate. To manage a fortune. She had always thought that her marriage to Harry Newton Favor would be the only thing that could ever matter to her. But, oh, how wrong!
She was running now, sweating lightly and smiling. Through superb conditioning, she had passed rapidly into her runner’s endorphin zone, where, for her, there was always a clear and sustaining vision of purpose.
Fortune.
Wealth.
Money—the only reliable commodity.
A vehicle for power, to be sure, but also a surpassing comfort just to have it. To grow it. Money enabled everything in her life. It was a means, a resource, a currency. And used properly, it could be transformed into anything. Possessions. Health and vitality. Power. Travel. Even time. Money bought time for everything.
But using it was only scant half to its greater challenge—keeping it. The simple possession of wealth, Juliet Favor figured, was key to this world and all it held. She had learned this hard lesson as a poor girl. True, it could buy anything, take her anywhere, set her free with all the time she needed. It garnered influence and power. That we’ll see tonight, she thought. But having and holding wealth gave the truest joys. To use it, yes, obviously. But to have it, to keep it—that transcends it all. Most people never understood that. Wealth had long ago become both the foundation and the stronghold of her soul. And this was the legacy she intended to leave her children. Well, at least her son. If he proved equal to the task.
AT AN oval dressing mirror, Juliet Favor watched as Daniel Bliss pinned the red carnation to the lapel of her blazer. He was a tall, thin, elderly gentleman dressed in a tuxedo. His white hair was brushed back and lay close to his scalp. His angular face was accented by high cheekbones and thin lips. Gray eyes watched Juliet attentively, but with a practiced, reserved disinterest.
“Have you prepared both pitchers of drinks?” she asked.
“Yes,” Daniel replied. “Yours is the green Tiffany. The Waterford is for everyone else.”
“Sonny is here?”
“In the parlor, ma’am.”
“Set up in the bar, Daniel, and take them in there. I’ll be down shortly.”
“We’re on the clock, ma’am,” Daniel remarked.
“I know that well enough,” Favor replied, reaching up to pat the butler’s cheek playfully. “I want her to cool her heels a bit. Fix them both up with drinks, Daniel. We don’t want to be inhospitable.”
“Very well, ma’am, but I doubt she’ll have one,” Daniel said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see,” Daniel replied and walked out into the hallway to take the grand staircase to the first floor.
Favor watched the time carefully and descended at 7:38 P.M. In the bar, she found her son in blue jeans and a green-and-white Millersburg College sweatshirt. He crossed the room to his mother and attempted to embrace her, but she held him stiffly by the shoulders and permitted only a brief, formal kiss on her cheek.
“You disappoint me, Sonny. Surely you can dress better than this for such an occasion.”
Sonny Favor blushed. His gaze fell to the floor, and, glancing anxiously at a young girl in plain dress, he knew she had seen his shame. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Martha Lehman,” he managed to say.
At the teak and walnut bar, Juliet Favor poured a drink and remarked, “Now there is a girl who can dress for an occasion.”
Martha Lehman stood with good posture and a hopeful smile at the other end of the ornate bar. On her head was a white lace prayer cap. Her brown hair was up in a Mennonite bun. Her cotton blouse was light pink with white buttons, and her long skirt was forest green. Over those, she wore a white apron, tied behind her neck and waist. She had on black hose and black string-tie shoes. A small pair of wire-rimmed glasses accented her eyes, which were blue. Her cheeks flushed rose as Favor turned to appraise her from head to toe.
“Miss Lerman,” Favor said and came along the bar holding out her hand.
“It’s Lehman,” Martha said. “Martha. And how do you do, Mrs. Favor?”
“Ms. Favor,” Juliet said with a smile.
“Ms. Favor, then,” Martha greeted again and turned her eyes nervously to Sonny. “How do you do.”
“That remains to be seen,” Favor said and asked, “You’re not having anything to drink, Martha?”
Sonny and Martha stepped away from the bar and held hands. Favor turned her back to them, drained her glass, and poured another drink from the green Tiffany pitcher. Still with her back turned, she watched them in the mirror behind the bar and said, “I presume you’ve found time for your studies, Sonny. Has he, Martha?” She turned slowly to them and added, “You have been letting Sonny study some, now, haven’t you, young Martha Lehman?”
Martha blushed and started to say something. Sonny spoke up. “I’ve been studying plenty, Mother. Got at least a B in ’most everything.”
“’Most everything’! Sonny, where in the world did you learn to talk? Favors are raised to do better.”
“Almost everything,” Sonny corrected.
“And some C’s, no doubt.”
“I’m doin’ fine,” Sonny said weakly.
“Sonny, Sonny,” Favor said disapprovingly and sipped