Sons of Fortune (6 page)

Fletcher’s
father raised an eyebrow. “If I remember correctly, Senator Gates is a
Democrat,” he said with mock disdain.

“And
a former Hotchkiss football captain,” said Fletcher. “His son Jimmy and I are
in the same class, and he’s my best friend, so Mom had better sit next to the
senator, and if you don’t feel up to it, Dad, you can sit on the other side of
the field with the Tail supporters.”

“No,
I think I’ll put up with the senator.

It
will be so rewarding to be seated next to him when Tail scores the winning
touchdown.”

It
was a clear autumnal day and the three of them strolled through a golden carpet
of leaves all the way to the field. Ruth tried to take her son’s hand, but
Fletcher stood just far enough away to make it impossible. Long before they
reached the field, they could hear the cheers erupting from the pre-game rally.

Fletcher
spotted Jimmy standing behind an Oldsmobile wagon, its open tailgate covered in
far more sumptuous food than anything he’d seen for the past two months. A tall
elegant man stepped forward. “Hello, I’m Harry Gates.” The senator thrust out
his politician’s hand to welcome Fletcher’s parents.

Fletcher’s
father grasped the outstretched hand.

“Good
afternoon, Senator, I’m Robert Davenport and this is my wife, Ruth.” “Call me
Harry.

This
is Martha, my first wife.” Mrs. Gates stepped forward to welcome them both. “I
call her my first wife-
well,
it keeps her on her
toes.”

“Would
you like a drink?” asked Martha, not laughing at a joke she had heard so many
times before.

“It
had better be quick,” said the senator, checking his watch, “that is if we
still hope to eat before the kick-off. Let me serve you, Ruth, and we’ll let
your husband fend for himself. I can smell a Republican at a hundred paces.”

“I’m
afraid it’s worse than that,” said Ruth.

“Don’t
tell me he’s an old Bearcat, because I’m thinking of making that a capital
offense in this state.” Ruth nodded. “Then Fletcher, you’d better come and talk
to me because I intend to ignore your father.”

Fletcher
was flattered by the invitation, and soon began grilling the senator on the
workings of the Connecticut legislature.

“Andrew,”
said Ruth.

“Fletcher, mother.”

“Fletcher,
don’t you think the senator might like to talk about something other than
politics?”

“No,
that’s fine by me, Ruth,” Harry assured her. “The voters rarely ask such
insightful questions, and I’m rather hoping it might rub off on Jimmy.”

After
lunch had been cleared away they walked quickly across to the bleachers,
sitting down only moments before the game was due to begin. The seats were
better than any prep could have dreamed of, but then Senator Gates hadn’t
missed the Tail match since his own graduation. Fletcher couldn’t contain his
excitement as the clock on the score board edged toward two. He stared across
at the far stand, to be greeted with the enemy’s cries of, “Give me
a ,
give me an A, give me a...” and fell in love.

Nat’s
eyes remained on the face above the letter A.

“Nat’s
the brightest boy in our class,” Tom told Nat’s father. Michael smiled.

“Only
just,” said Nat a little defensively; “don’t forget I only beat Ralph Elliot by
one grade.”

“I
wonder if he’s Max Elliot’s son?” said Nat’s father, almost to himself.

“Who’s
Max Elliot?”

“In
my business he’s what’s known as an unacceptable risk.” “Why?” asked Nat, but
his father didn’t expand on the bland statement, and was relieved when his son
was distracted by the cheerleaders, who had blue and white pom-poms attached to
their wrists and were; performing their ritual war dance.

Nat’s
eyes settled on the second girl on the left, who seemed to be smiling up at
him, although
H e
realized to her he could only be a
speck at the back of the stand.

“You’ve
grown, if I’m not mistaken,” said Nat’s father, noting that his son’s trousers
were already an inch short of his shoes. He only wondered how often he would
have to buy him new clothes.

“Well
it can’t be the school food that’s responsible,” suggested Tom, who was still
the smallest boy in the class. Nat didn’t reply. His eyes remained fixed on the
group of cheerleaders.

“Which
on’ of them have you fallen for?” inquired Tom, punching his friend on the arm.

“What?”

“You
heard me the first time.”

Nat
turned away so that his father couldn’t overhear his reply. “Second one from
the left, with the letter A on her sweater.”

“Diane
Coulter,” said Tom, pleased to discover that he knew something his friend
didn’t.

“How
do you know her name?”

“Because
she’s Dan Coulter’s sister.”

“But
he’s the ugliest player on the team,” said Nat. “He’s got cauliflower ears and
a broken nose.”

“And
so would Diane if she’d played on the team every week for the past five
wears
,” said Tom with a laugh.

“What
else do you know about her?” Nat asked his friend conspiratorially.

“Oh
it’s that serious is it?” said Tom. It was Nat’s turn to punch his friend,
“Having to revert to physical violence, are we? Hardly part of the Tuft code,”
added Tom. “Beat a man with the strength of your argument, not the strength of
your arm; Oliver Wendell Holmes, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh,
stop droning on,” said Nat, “and just answer the question.” “Don’t know a lot
more about her, to be honest. All I remember is that she goes to Westover and
plays right wing on their hockey team.”

“What
are you two whispering about?” asked Nat’s father.

“Dan
Coulter,” said Tom without missing a beat, “one of our running backs-I was just
telling Nat that he eats eight eggs for breakfast every morning.”

“How
do you know that?” asked Nat’s mother.

“Because
one of them is always mine,” said Tom ruefully.

As
his parents burst out laughing, Nat continued to gaze down at the A in TAIL.
The first time he’d really noticed a girl. His concentration was distracted by
a sudden roar, as everyone on his side of the stadium rose to greet the Tail
team as they ran out onto the field. Moments later the Hotchkiss players
appeared from the other side of the field and just as enthusiastically their
supporters leaped to their feet.

Fletcher
was also standing, but his eyes remained fixed on the cheerleader with an A on
her sweater.

He
felt guilty that the first girl he’d ever fallen for was a Tail supporter.

“You
don’t seem to be concentrating on our team,” said the senator, leaning over and
whispering in Fletcher’s ear.

“Oh,
yes I am, sir,” said Fletcher, immediately turning his attention back to the
Hotchkiss players as they began to warm up.

The
two team captains jogged across to join the umpire, who was waiting for them on
the center line.

The
Zebra flicked a silver coin into the air that flashed in the afternoon sun
before landing in the mud. The Bearcats clapped each other on the back when
they saw the profile of Washington.

“He
should have called heads,” said Fletcher.

At
half time, Fletcher asked Jimmy’s father, “Can I borrow your binoculars, sir?”

“Of
course, my boy,” said the senator, passing them across. “Let me have them back
when the game re-starts.” Fletcher missed the irony in his host’s voice as he
focused on the girl with an A on her sweater and wished she would turn around
and face the opposition more often.

“Which
one are you interested in?” whispered the senator.

“I
was just checking on the
Tafties
, sir.”

“I
don’t think they’ve come back onto the field yet,” said the senator. Fletcher
turned scarlet.
was ,
A, F or ?” inquired Jimmy’s
father.

“A,
sir,” admitted Fletcher.

The
senator retrieved his binoculars, focused on the second girl from the left, and
waited for her to turn around. “I approve of your choice, young man, but what
do you intend to do about it?”

“I
don’t know, sir,” said Fletcher helplessly. “To be honest, I don’t even know
her name.”

“Diane
Coulter,” said the senator.

“How
do you know that?” asked Fletcher, wondering if senators knew everything.

“Research, my boy.
Haven’t they taught you that at Hotchkiss yet?” Fletcher looked bewildered.
“All you need to know is on page eleven of the program,” added the senator as
he passed the open booklet across. Page eleven had been devoted to the
cheerleaders supporting each school. “Diane Coulter,” repeated Fletcher,
staring at the photo. She was a year younger than Fletcher- women are still
willing to admit their age at thirteen-and she also played the violin in her
school orchestra. How he wished he’d taken his mother’s advice and learned to
play the piano.

The
whistle blew for the third quarter, and after a series of brilliant passes, it
was Hotchkiss’s turn to make it over the end zone, putting them back into the
lead, which they clung onto until the end of the third quarter.

“Hello
Tail, Hello Tail, you’re back where you belong,” sang the senator out of tune,
while the teams took a timeout.

“There’s
still the final quarter to come,” Fletcher reminded the senator as his host
passed the glasses across to him.

“Have
you decided which side you’re supporting, young man, or have you been ensnared
by the
Tafties
’ Mata
Hari
?”
Fletcher looked puzzled. He would have to check on who Mata
Hari
was just as soon as he got back to his room. “She probably lives locally,”
continued the senator, “in which case it will take a member of my staff about
two minutes to find out everything you need to know about her.”

VI

“Even
her address and telephone number?” asked Fletcher.

“Even
whether she has a boyfriend,” replied the senator.

“Wouldn’t
that be abusing your position?” asked Fletcher.

“Damn
right I would,” replied Senator Gates, “but then any politician would do as
much if he felt it might ensure two extra votes at some future election.”

“But
that doesn’t solve the problem of meeting her while I’m stuck in Farmington.”

“That
can also be solved if you’d come and spend a few days with us after Christmas,
and then I’ll make sure that she and her parents are invited to some function
at the Capitol.”

“You’ll
do that for me?”

“Sure
will, but at some time you’ll have to learn about tradeoffs if you’re going to
deal with a politician.”

“What’s
the trade-off?” asked Fletcher.

“I’ll
do anything.”

“Never
admit to that, my boy, because it immediately puts you in the weaker bargaining
position. However, all I want in return on this occasion is for you to make
sure Jimmy somehow scrapes off the bottom of the class. That will be your part
of the bargain.”

“It’s
a deal, Senator,” said Fletcher, shaking hands.

“That’s
good to hear,” said the senator, “because Jimmy seems only too willing to
follow your lead.”

It
was the first time anyone had suggested that Fletcher might be a leader. Until
that moment it hadn’t even crossed his mind. He thought about the senator’s
words, and failed to notice Taft’s winning touchdown until Diane rushed up out
of the bleachers and began a ritual that unfortunately resembled a victory
ceremony. There would be no extra day off this year.

As
the game began, Nat had continued to stare as Diane climbed back into the
bleachers. He wondered how he could possibly meet her. It wouldn’t be easy. Dan
Coulter was a god. How could a new boy possibly hope to scale Olympus?

“Good
run,” hollered Tom.

“Who?”
said
Nat.

“Coulter, of course.
He’s just picked up the first down.”

“Coulter?”

“Don’t
tell me you were still staring at his sister when the
Kissies
fumbled?” “No, I wasn’t.”

“Then
you’ll be able to tell me how many yards we gained,” Tom said, looking at his
friend. He paused. “I thought so, you weren’t even watching.”

He
let out an exaggerated sigh, “I do believe that the time has come to put you out
of your misery.”

“What
do you mean?” “I shall have to arrange a meeting.” “You can do that?”

“Sure,
her father’s a local auto dealer, and we always buy our cars from him, so
you’ll j us
t
have to come and stay with me during
the holidays.”