Read Online The Titanic Plan by Michael Bockman, Ron Freeman - Free Book Online

that she and her husband “were not rich, we only have a few million.”
    On the evening of July 23, 1909, the now 58 year-old Mamie was hosting her annual ball at her cottage, Crossways , a relatively modest dwelling for Newport – only 37 rooms and a manicured lawn that rambled over an acre to a dramatic view of the ocean. The theme of the ball was “Mother Goose.” Everyone attending was to dress up as a nursery rhyme character. Mamie was Mother Goose, in a blue bonnet and carrying a long staff, which she’d occasionally goose her guests with.
    John Astor hated these parties, but as the only Astor left in Newport, he was obliged to go. In tow was his son Vincent. At 17, Vincent was the spitting image of his father. Long and gangly, with a thin, bony face and an awkwardness that was compounded by adolescence, Vincent shuffled through life with his eyes cast shyly down. Ava despised her son for looking like the husband she hated, and constantly berated the boy. Vincent was dressed as an owl, in a feathered suit, with a beak and huge round glasses. Astor came as the pussycat.
    Mamie approached Astor and Vincent as they strolled into the grand living room. “Ah, Mr. Pussycat, been munching on canaries?” she asked.
    “ How are you, Mamie?” Astor muttered.
    “ That’s Mother Goose to you. And to answer your question: my life is a fairy tale!” Mamie cackled at her own joke.
    “ That’s good, Mamie.”
    “ I heard you and Ava are divorcing. I’m sorry about that.”
    “ It’s not quite official yet. But yes, we are ending our marriage.”
    “ Plenty of songbirds here tonight, Jack,” Mamie said, pointing toward a collection of middle-aged women in their nursery rhyme costumes.
    “ Umm,” Astor hummed as Mamie turned away to greet Humpty Dumpty, who was waddling toward them. Astor made his way to the hors d’oeuvre table with Vincent walking a pace behind. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said, cutting through a knot of teenaged girls. “Meow, I recognize some of you, yes. You’re Mary and I bet you’re quite contrary. And you’re Little Red Riding Hood. But who are you, m’dear?” he asked a fresh faced blond girl who was wearing a yellow dress cut low to reveal an eye-catching décolletage .
    “ Chicken Little,” she said. “And you?”
    “ I am the Pussycat and my son here is the Owl.”
    “ Are you being a good puss this evening?” Chicken Little asked.
    “ I haven’t eaten any of your feathered friends, if that’s what you mean.”
    The girl playfully cuffed Astor across his snout. “Good,” she said. “A puss like you should behave himself.” She giggled and so did her friends, all of whom turned away from Astor.
    He moved down the table and spooned some caviar on a small plate.
    “ Dad, those girls were my age,” Vincent said.
    “ I was just having a little fun. No harm.”
    Vincent looked over at the girls. Chicken Little’s eyes caught his. She smiled. Vincent turned red behind his beak and glasses.
     
    For Astor, the dinner was a dreary affair. He was seated next to Tessie Oelrichs, who was dressed as Cinderella, though at age 66, Astor thought she more resembled the wicked stepmother. Tessie prattled on about the good old days with the Mrs. Astor. “Now that was a time of magnificence,” she said to Astor, “and your mother, god rest her soul, she knew how to maintain the necessary boundaries of society.”
    If that was the case , Astor thought, how did she let you in? As Tessie kept chattering, Astor glanced to Vincent, who had the good luck to be seated next to Chicken Little. Astor noticed his son being swept up by her flirtatious charms. He watched how she pursed her lips and pushed close to Vincent, brushing her young breasts against his arm then pulling back with a seductive tilt of her head. He wished he were the one sitting there.
    Two hands suddenly clapped him on the shoulders. Astor whirled to see a grinning fox. “Do I know you?” Astor asked.
    “ If you