Sons of Fortune

“Just great. I’m afraid Mom and Dad are out at some function, but I could make you a cup of tea?”

“No thank you, I have to be back in time to chair a meeting of the Hospital Trust, but please remember to pass on my best wishes to your parents.”

Jimmy carried one of Fletcher’s suitcases up to the spare room. “I’ve put you next to me,” he said, “which means we have to share the same bathroom.”

Fletcher put his other suitcase on the bed, before studying the pictures on the walls—prints of the Civil War, just in case a southerner should come to stay and might have forgotten who won. They reminded Jimmy to ask Fletcher if he’d finished his essay on Lincoln.

“Yes, but have you found out Diane’s phone number?”

“I’ve gone one better. I’ve discovered which coffee shop she goes to most afternoons. So I thought we might just drop in casually, say around five, and should that fail, my father has invited her parents to a reception at the Capitol tomorrow evening.”

“But they might not come.”

“I’ve checked the guest list, and they’ve accepted.”

Fletcher suddenly remembered the trade-off he’d agreed on with the senator. “How far have you got with your homework?”

“Haven’t even started,” admitted Jimmy.

“Jimmy, if you don’t get a pass grade next term, Mr. Haskins will put you on probation and then I won’t be able to help.”

“I know, but I’m also aware of the deal you struck with my father.”

“Then if I’m to keep it, we’ll have to start work first thing tomorrow. We’ll begin by doing two hours every morning.”

“Yes sir,” said Jimmy, snapping to attention. “But before we worry about tomorrow, perhaps you should get changed,” said Jimmy.

Fletcher had packed half a dozen shirts and a couple pairs of slacks, but still hadn’t a clue what to wear on his first date. He was about to seek his friend’s advice, when Jimmy said, “Once you’ve unpacked why don’t you come down and join us in the living room? The bathroom’s at the end of the hall.”

Fletcher changed quickly into the shirt and slacks he’d bought the previous day at a local tailor his father had recommended. He checked himself in the long mirror. He had no idea how he looked, because he’d never taken any interest in clothes before. Act casual, look sharp, he’d heard a disc jockey telling his radio audience, but what did that mean? He’d worry about it later. As Fletcher walked downstairs, he could hear voices coming from the front room, one of which he didn’t recognize.

“Mom, you remember Fletcher,” Jimmy said as his friend strolled into the room.

“Yes, of course I do. My husband never stops telling everyone about the fascinating conversation the two of you had at the Taft game.”

“That’s kind of him to remember,” said Fletcher, not looking at her.

“And I know he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

“That’s kind of him,” said Fletcher a second time.

“And this is my kid sister, Annie,” said Jimmy.

Annie blushed, and not only because she hated being described by Jimmy as his kid sister: his friend hadn’t taken his eyes off her from the moment he’d walked into the room.

“Good evening, Mrs. Coulter, how nice to meet you and your husband, and this must be your daughter Diane, if I remember correctly.” Mr. and Mrs. Coulter were impressed because they had never met the senator before, and not only had their son scored the winning touchdown against Hotchkiss, but they were registered Republicans. “Now, Diane,” continued the senator, “I have someone I want you to meet.” Harry Gates’s eyes swept the room searching for Fletcher, who had been standing by his side only a moment before. “Strange,” he said, “but you mustn’t leave without meeting him. Otherwise I won’t have kept my end of the bargain,” he added without explanation.

“Where’s Fletcher disappeared off to?” Harry Gates asked his son once the Coulters had joined the other guests.

“If you can spot Annie, you won’t find Fletcher behind; he hasn’t left her side since he arrived in Hartford. In fact I’m thinking of buying him a dog leash and calling him Fletch.”

“Is that right?” said the senator. “I hope he doesn’t think that releases him from our deal.”

“No, he doesn’t,” said Jimmy. “In fact we studied Romeo and Juliet for two hours this morning, and guess who he sees himself as.”

The senator smiled. “And which part do you imagine fits your character?” he asked.

“I think I’m Mercutio.”