Read Online Second Generation by Howard Fast - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Howard Fast
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thousand dollars—hospital bills, five hundred to the girl to keep her quiet, and bribing a district attorney. Altogether, quite disgusting, but otherwise you would not have graduated."
"My God, did John tell you?"
"Of course he did. I saw no reason why he should pay the costs."
"It was the one rotten scrape I got into. I admit I had too much to drink, and it happened. Thats all. Someday I'll pay back the money."
"I'm sure you will," Jean said gently. "Meanwhile, a few weeks in Boston is not too much penance. You'll still have most of the summer before you go into the bank."
"Then that's decided, that I go into the bank? God damn it, don't I have one thing to say about it?"
"Yes. Certainly. What would you like to do with your life?"
"Do I have to do something with it right this minute? Can't I have a few months to think about it? You and John may imagine that I just bummed away my years at
Princeton, and I know all the smart-alecky wisecracks about the eating clubs, but if you look at my marks, you'll see that I didn't do half bad. I didn't spend four years getting drunk."
"I know that, and I did look at your marks. Many times."
"I just don't see myself sitting in a bank eight hours a day."
"Tommy," Jean said, "one day, not too many years from now, you and your sister, Barbara, are going to be very rich. The stock that my father left in trust for you will amount to many millions. In effect, the two of you own the Seldon Bank, one of the largest financial institutions in America. You know that. It's not just money. Power goes with it, and some respect for the power and some knowledge of how to use it. That's all I mean. Take the rest of the summer to decide. I'm not pressing you. But meanhile you can be very helpful."
"All right, I'll stick it out. And do what?"
"Aside from being my escort and enduring some dinner parties and a few visits to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, I would like you to be very charming and delightful to your Aunt Leona. We're her closest relatives, and I want her collection of paintings. I intend to turn the house on Russian Hill into an art museum. I'm not sure that I want her paintings there. My own taste runs to other things. But they're invaluable, and having them would give me tremendous leverage."
Tom shook his head. "I don't understand that. If you don't like them—"
"I do like them. They're splendid. But I want to found a museum of modern art. I could give these to some established museum and trade off, and at the same time there would be a Seldon Gallery of these paintings. There are ways to do it. I'm tired of hearing about the Crockers. The name of Seldon is just as important."
"Our name's Lavette, mother—except that yours is Whittier now."
"And we're still Seldons. I'm not asking any great task of you. Take Aunt Leona to lunch at the Copley Plaza. Be pleasant. That's all I'm asking."
"I suppose I can do that."
"I suppose you can."
Aunt Leona Asquith was delighted with the invitation.
She came downstairs, where her great-nephew was waiting, wearing a dress of beige crepe de Chine with white satin cording, a short cape of summer ermine draped over her arm against a possible chill, and a broad-brimmed, cream-colored Panama hat. Tom, like most men of his age, accepted older women without actually seeing them. Now, suddenly, he realized that his Aunt Leona had a very trim figure for her seventy-two years, and that once she must have been an exceptionally attractive woman.
"Dear boy," she said, once they were seated in the back of her chauffeur-driven Packard, "this is really very considerate of you. Oh, I know that your mother blackmailed you into it. Nevertheless, you are the most handsome escort I have had in years. Your mother, like so many modern women, has found a substitute for sex. By the way, have you read Havelock Ellis?"
Bewildered, Tom shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not."
"A pity. You must. What was I saying? Yes, a substitute for sex. What do you think of John Whittier?"
"Mother
"My God, did John tell you?"
"Of course he did. I saw no reason why he should pay the costs."
"It was the one rotten scrape I got into. I admit I had too much to drink, and it happened. Thats all. Someday I'll pay back the money."
"I'm sure you will," Jean said gently. "Meanwhile, a few weeks in Boston is not too much penance. You'll still have most of the summer before you go into the bank."
"Then that's decided, that I go into the bank? God damn it, don't I have one thing to say about it?"
"Yes. Certainly. What would you like to do with your life?"
"Do I have to do something with it right this minute? Can't I have a few months to think about it? You and John may imagine that I just bummed away my years at
Princeton, and I know all the smart-alecky wisecracks about the eating clubs, but if you look at my marks, you'll see that I didn't do half bad. I didn't spend four years getting drunk."
"I know that, and I did look at your marks. Many times."
"I just don't see myself sitting in a bank eight hours a day."
"Tommy," Jean said, "one day, not too many years from now, you and your sister, Barbara, are going to be very rich. The stock that my father left in trust for you will amount to many millions. In effect, the two of you own the Seldon Bank, one of the largest financial institutions in America. You know that. It's not just money. Power goes with it, and some respect for the power and some knowledge of how to use it. That's all I mean. Take the rest of the summer to decide. I'm not pressing you. But meanhile you can be very helpful."
"All right, I'll stick it out. And do what?"
"Aside from being my escort and enduring some dinner parties and a few visits to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, I would like you to be very charming and delightful to your Aunt Leona. We're her closest relatives, and I want her collection of paintings. I intend to turn the house on Russian Hill into an art museum. I'm not sure that I want her paintings there. My own taste runs to other things. But they're invaluable, and having them would give me tremendous leverage."
Tom shook his head. "I don't understand that. If you don't like them—"
"I do like them. They're splendid. But I want to found a museum of modern art. I could give these to some established museum and trade off, and at the same time there would be a Seldon Gallery of these paintings. There are ways to do it. I'm tired of hearing about the Crockers. The name of Seldon is just as important."
"Our name's Lavette, mother—except that yours is Whittier now."
"And we're still Seldons. I'm not asking any great task of you. Take Aunt Leona to lunch at the Copley Plaza. Be pleasant. That's all I'm asking."
"I suppose I can do that."
"I suppose you can."
Aunt Leona Asquith was delighted with the invitation.
She came downstairs, where her great-nephew was waiting, wearing a dress of beige crepe de Chine with white satin cording, a short cape of summer ermine draped over her arm against a possible chill, and a broad-brimmed, cream-colored Panama hat. Tom, like most men of his age, accepted older women without actually seeing them. Now, suddenly, he realized that his Aunt Leona had a very trim figure for her seventy-two years, and that once she must have been an exceptionally attractive woman.
"Dear boy," she said, once they were seated in the back of her chauffeur-driven Packard, "this is really very considerate of you. Oh, I know that your mother blackmailed you into it. Nevertheless, you are the most handsome escort I have had in years. Your mother, like so many modern women, has found a substitute for sex. By the way, have you read Havelock Ellis?"
Bewildered, Tom shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not."
"A pity. You must. What was I saying? Yes, a substitute for sex. What do you think of John Whittier?"
"Mother
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