For this trip, though, I decided Jeff Benson of Worcester, Massachusetts, would rent cars and manage any other transactions. I was becoming shy of publicity.
I let myself in to the Boyer Embassy in Georgetown. It was two side-by-side three-story townhouses, small by Boyer standards but large enough to entertain in intimate senatorial style.
I’d been there a dozen times during the twelve-year Washington residency. As a younger child, I’d not been welcome. I only visited Melvin and Angela when they were back home. In high school and college, when there was less chance of my breaking something valuable, I came for weekends two or three times a year. It had been empty, except for short visits, for the eight years that he’d loaned his Senate seat to Forrester.
This habitation was even more hostile in my memory than the big house, and now it was mine. I would stay in it and do as I wished. Maybe I’d shatter a Limoges plate on the Dutch-tile floor.
After I let myself in, though, I tiptoed up the stairs and set my suitcase quietly on the guestroom bed. But then, standing on the balcony over the living room, I got hold of myself and spoke to the ghosts.
“You’re dead, Melvin.”
There were even echoes.
“It’s my house now.”
And that was all I needed.
I walked through every floor, sweeping the memories away like cobwebs. Not that there were cobwebs. The place was still cleaned weekly and kept ready in wistful hope of being used.
There was no pink in the house anywhere. Angela had taken her things when they moved out, and she didn’t travel with him when he came for business. Nothing there looked like she had touched it, or like anyone had touched it. Even the bedrooms were professionally furnished and barren of soul.
I found the Matisse. It didn’t look very significant.
I read for a while that evening, but I soon found my eyes straying from the pages. I finally started walking the house again, looking through the rooms more carefully than I had before.
Yes, Melvin had been a senator. I was eight when he was first elected, three years after my mother died, and Eric and I had already been banished to the boarding schools that were our childhood. He’d married Angela a year later, here in Washington. She was twenty-eight, he was forty-three. We did not attend the wedding; at our young age, we could not be trusted to act with the proper decorum.
Our teachers and classmates all knew that Melvin was a senator. Of course, everyone at the school was cut from our same cloth, but even among the wealthy families and social elites, a senator would stand out. And if Eric and I had no real father, a senator would do.
Eventually the schools had rendered me presentable enough to be shown. I don’t know whose hands I shook. There may have been cabinet secretaries and ambassadors. I know there were other senators. Those were the years the questions had started, the first Why am I here? It might have been from meeting so many important people and wondering what my value was.
The monthly checks started when I was in college. There was to be no making a living or working to put food on the table for me. No job to take my mind off the questions.
And now what? This was where Melvin had lived for twelve years. Maybe I’d find something here for myself.
12
I was up early Saturday to explore the neighborhood. The meeting was at ten.
No wonder Melvin had been drawn here. This was a place for the powerful. It was written in every storefront and every discreet, elegant facade. He’d had equals here who weren’t natural enemies, as well as many other powerful people who had been less than equal. Only a handful had been higher.
I walked to Capitol Hill. Melvin often had. Five blocks to the head of Pennsylvania Avenue, then four miles to the Capitol. The only thing that kept it from being a straight shot was the White House smack dab in the way, and what thoughts that must have put in his head. But he was a realist; he only owned one state, not the whole country. Ultimately he’d come back home, where his reign was unquestioned. Caesar or nothing.
And one of the few men who could question his position back home was Bob Forrester. So Melvin had lured him away, to where Bob could build his castle and Melvin owned the sand it was built on.
I came to the senate office buildings and was expected. Then I was accepted into the outer office of the senator. The greatest man is still only a man, so his wealth and power have to be visible in other ways. Big Bob was only a man—but through the window was the Capitol, and beyond it the Mall and the monuments and the departments and the great city. A man in that office would know he was very powerful.
The man stood as I entered his inner temple. “Jason Boyer,” he said, standing taller than me. “I remember meeting you before, at your father’s house.” He stood very still, like a monument himself. It made him seem unmovable.
“I remember it, too,” I said, choking back the sir. “It was after the election, at the end of his last term.”
“Long ago.” He turned to the window to make sure I had noticed the spectacle. “I want to offer you my sympathy concerning him. I didn’t have an opportunity at his funeral.” I was trying to remember. He hadn’t been at the cemetery, only at the church. He’d sung the hymns off-key.
“Thank you.” There are many shades of gray. Nathan Kern’s hair, for example, was the discreet color of rain clouds. Bob Forrester’s was light, marbled with darker veins. Each strand either black or white.
“I’ve entered a resolution in the Senate honoring his memory. There are still people here who remember him.”
“Thank you again,” I said. Since the first greeting he hadn’t faced me. “Senator, I don’t need to take much of your time. I wanted to meet you because your association with Melvin goes back a long time and was important to him.”
He turned just his head toward me for a moment, and then away. “Yes. Although I’m afraid I didn’t know him well personally.”
Then he sat, and did not ask me to.
That made me angry. This was rudeness without reason unless there was a reason. My agenda was only to introduce myself and attempt to toss in the governor’s name. The senator had his own agenda.
“I didn’t mean socially. I’ve inherited his estate and his responsibilities.”
“Indeed.” It was a dismissal! He’d accepted the meeting for the purpose of snubbing me.
I did not accept it. It was a measure of the five days since my meeting with Clinton Grainger that I was not feeling at all intimidated in this conversation. As long as I was standing and he was sitting, I was taller. “You understand what I mean, Senator.” If he would look at me at all, he’d have to look up.
He did look up and saw that I was still there. “Then take responsibility for your father’s embarrassment in the governor’s mansion. So far you haven’t been able to.” He had taken up his reading glasses. “And now, if you could excuse me. It has been a pleasure.”
“I doubt that,” I said. I walked out, but this time it was not a retreat, just a strategic move into camp, where I could begin my siege.
I sauntered back toward Georgetown, and it was an irate saunter. Melvin’s kingdom was not passing to his heir easily.
I was back well before noon. I ate at an Indian restaurant, the hottest meal on the menu, and then I took a cold shower. Afterward I was still angry.
More walking finally helped, and I was civil enough later in the afternoon to call for a progress report from Katie, of which there was little, and to give a progress report to Fred, of whom there was much.
“Did you discuss the governor?”
“The senator brought the subject up.”
“Did you suggest that Bright was ineffective?”
“It was not necessary to use that word. Bob supplied a much more pointed one. He’s going to be a problem, Fred. He used the meeting to insult me.”
“Bluntly?”
“We didn’t even make it up to blunt,” I said. “Do I have another war going?”
“Not necessarily. H
e has no reason to take any action against you, and we need nothing from him at the moment. It is just his opening position.”
“For negotiations. Right. Would he attack if he had a reason?”
“No. He is not offensive.”
“I’d say he is.”
“No less than he finds you. Hopefully he will continue to find Governor Bright the same.” Fred was bemused. “No, he usually is defensive rather than offensive. It is intriguing. It may mean he feels vulnerable.”
“He didn’t act like it. Who did Melvin use to control the state parties?”
“There are several people. That will be another set of meetings when the time comes.”
“Kings have lots of meetings. I think I’d rather march an army into battle, the way kings used to do it.”
“They probably had meetings back then, too. Some things are basic to the human soul.”
I wandered the streets that evening and contemplated the basics of the human soul. The streets were crowded with Saturday merrymakers. It was a warm evening for October, but of course, I was in the South.
I mingled with them but I was not merry. These were basic human souls. They lived without what I had but they still lived, so it must be possible. Why would they want to? What were they doing here? Even without a billion dollars, they would still have the compromises and conflicts.
But I was not part of them. I was above the crowd, or outside it at least. There wasn’t a correct preposition. What was the wall? The money? I was richer than all of them together, yet I was the one on the outside. What would it be like to be one of them?
13
Sunday I toured museums for a while. There are too many things in the world.
My homecoming Sunday night filled my wife with joy. Her weekend had been more fulfilling to her than mine had been to me. She had a house.
“It’s empty,” she said. “We could move in now.”
“Was it anybody’s we know?”
“No. A man named Gilchrist. He had some computer company that made him rich, and then he lost it. I didn’t ask for details.” She had no interest in people who lost their fortunes, or how.
“Is it new?”
“Just a few years old, and it’s beautiful. Can you come to see it tomorrow?”
“Sure. About one thirty?”
She asked about my weekend, for show, but her attention was riveted on the new project. I was soon in my office.
I looked around the room, with its view over the back lawn and garden, the dark cherry desk, the bookcases and books. It was a comfortable place, and I’d miss it. But the first question I had to deal with was: Should I tell Katie that it had been broken into?
It was subtle, but I knew. Papers were not as I’d left them, the chair was at a different angle, and the books especially were noticeable. Governor Bright would not benefit from anything I had there; I was sure he was the ultimate culprit. I was glad Melvin’s papers were in the bank.
I looked in the back of my desk drawer. I kept a cash envelope there, for convenience, with a few thousand dollars in it. It was out of place but intact.
Surely Melvin’s office at the big house had been burgled, also. If Angela found out, she’d panic. Maybe the security there was good enough to keep the governor’s minions at bay.
No, there was no need to tell Katie. I looked up the Gilchrist dwelling on the Internet. It was time to get out of our insecure little house.
Sometimes wealth is so wonderful. I used a fair amount Monday morning, and when I picked up Katie and Francine after lunch, I had a surprise for them. We drove thirty minutes away from town, even past a few farms, and then turned in at a discreet gate.
It was a nice place. It had that rough, rustic, honest feel that only a great deal of money can create. There was lots of stone and wood, a cozy, twenty-foot-tall fireplace that had taken a crane to erect, a friendly country kitchen that a Boston restaurant would envy; and just like any other old farmhouse, it had an indoor pool, wine cellar, sauna, greenhouse, and ten bedrooms. To complete the rural theme, it was on seventy acres.
“Stone floors are always cold.” Francine had maintained a running commentary of flaws.
“I like cold floors,” I said.
“You shouldn’t make your wife walk on them.”
“I’ll teach her how to wear shoes. I think she has some.”
“There are only a few rooms with the flagstones,” Katie said.
“We’ll have rugs.”
“There aren’t enough cabinets in the kitchen, either.”
We were standing among the dozens of them. “There are plenty,” Katie said. “And there’s a whole pantry, too.”
“It’s not a pantry,” I said.
“What?” Katie opened the door. The room was about six by ten with two walls of shelves and two of floor-to-ceiling cabinets, with a plain wood floor and no windows. “Of course it is.”
“No it isn’t.”
“He wouldn’t know,” Francine said.
“No,” I said. “It’s the mother-in-law suite.” I leaned my elbow on one of the hard shelves. “This is where she sleeps. And why do you think the door locks from the outside? There’s even room for more than one.”
Katie only rolled her eyes, but Francine couldn’t resist snapping back.
“I wouldn’t put it past you to have another wife tucked away somewhere. What were you doing over the weekend, anyway?”
I ignored her again. “Are you sure you like it?” I said to Katie.
“I think it’s wonderful,” she said. There was no doubt she thought so.
“Well . . .” I put just a little doubt in my voice.
“What? Is it too much?” Would the candy be snatched from her hand?
“I told you,” Francine said. “He can’t afford it.”
I ignored her again. Katie had my complete attention. “It’s yours, babe. I bought it this morning.”
Oh, what a gratifying reaction. Her mouth fell open, and she leaped onto me with a hug as big as the house. Francine smiled, too, but tried to hide it.
All it takes to create happiness is money.
14
Tuesday morning, and even if Katie was no longer occupied with looking for a house, moving would be a much more consuming task. Would we just bag up our few belongings, load them on the mule, and haul them to the new homestead?
“Jason, I don’t know if any of this furniture will work in the new house. Mother and I have been discussing it. The living room suite would just be swallowed in that great room. And the table has been all right for a French Provincial dining room, but it would be completely out of place on that flagstone floor.”
Completely. She could make do, of course, but I could feel her pain.
“It’s okay, Katie. I want the house to be right. Of course you can get new furniture.”
“Thank you, Jason.” She gave me a sweet hug. Was she starting to take seven-digit checks for granted? Or maybe the task of furnishing all those acres of rooms was weighing heavily on her mind. Fortunately, she was not easily daunted.
Three days passed, and by Friday of my second week I was settling into a routine. There had been no distant thunder from the governor’s mansion, Fred and I were back on speaking terms, and Eric had behaved for a whole week. I’d behaved for a whole week. Was there anything really wrong with this life?
The day of the move had been set, three weeks hence, although we’d really be camping there until the rest of the furniture had been delivered. Much more money was flowing out of the bank account, and I decided it would be necessary to economize. I’d have to not buy another house for at least a month.
“How’s Angela?” I asked Katie that night at dinner.
“Life is very hard for her.”
“How so?”
“Loneliness. She has nothing to live for.”
She was just sitting in that house every day? “What could she be living for?” I asked. Not that I wanted to know. Any reason Angela had to live wou
ld probably have the opposite effect on me.
“I’ve been thinking. Could she do anything for your foundation?”
“Surely.” Nathan would be back from Africa on Sunday. What could be done? “I wonder if she would be on the board?”
“Maybe. I’ll ask her.”
“Should I ask her?”
Katie shook her head. “She’s still offended from when you ransacked Melvin’s office.”
“I didn’t ransack it! I took papers that were business related.”
“She said you left it a mess.”
“Of course I didn’t.” And then I knew. “I was there Thursday a week ago. When did she actually look in the office?”
“I don’t know. We talked about it Tuesday at lunch.”
What should I say to Katie? Apparently the governor had sent a messier team to Melvin’s office than he had sent to mine.
“I’ll apologize to her. I really didn’t mean to. I’ll call after dinner.”
“Maybe you should.”
After Angela’s maid answered, it was five minutes before she came to the phone, which gave me a long time to think.
“Yes?” came her little purr.
“Angela, this is Jason.” Which she knew.
“Yes?” Exactly the same.
“I wanted to ask you to do something for me.” That was the best I could come up with in five minutes.
“I’m not sure I’d be able to, Jason.”
“I guess it would really be more for Melvin.” Take that.
“What would that be?” If a marshmallow could talk, that’s what it would sound like.
“I’d like for you to be on the board of the Boyer Foundation.”
“Oh.” It wasn’t the word, just the vowel sound, drawn out, like a marshmallow being stepped on, real slowly. “Oh. I don’t know if I could.”
“I’m sure you could. You could be his voice on the board. You must understand his vision for the foundation better than anyone.”
The Heir Page 10
