Sons of Fortune

“Well, I can tell you one thing, he’s a hell of a street-fighter and doesn’t like losing.”

“That’s exactly what they say about you,” said Al with a smile. “Anyone else?”

“Two or three other names are being bandied about, but so far nobody’s come forward. Let’s face it, few people had even heard of Carter until New Hampshire.”

“And what about this man,” said Al, holding up the cover of Banker’s Weekly.

Fletcher stared at the headline NEXT GOVERNOR OF CONNECTICUT? “But if you read the article, Al, you’ll see he’s strongly tipped to become the next chairman of Fairchild’s if the two banks can agree on terms. I glanced through the piece on the plane.”

Al flicked through the pages. “You obviously didn’t get as far as the last paragraph,” he said, and read aloud, “Although it’s assumed when Murray Goldblatz retires he would be succeeded by Cartwright, this position c

ould just as easily be filled by his close friend, Tom Russell, should the CEO of Russell’s decide to allow his name to be put forward as the Republican candidate for governor.”

Once he and Annie had returned to their hotel and gone to bed, Fletcher couldn’t sleep, and it wasn’t just because the bed was more comfortable and the pillows softer than he was used to. Al needed to know his decision by the end of the month, as he was keen to get the party up and running behind their candidate.

Annie woke just after seven. “Did you have a good night’s sleep, darling?” she asked.

“I hardly slept a wink.”

“I slept like a log, but then I didn’t have to worry about whether you should run for governor.”

“Why not?” asked Fletcher.

“Because I think you should go for it, and can’t imagine why you would have any reservations.”

“First, I need a long session with Harry, because one thing’s for sure, he’ll already have given the idea a lot of thought.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said Annie. “I think you’ll find he’s more preoccupied with Lucy for class president.”

“Well, perhaps I’ll be able to grab a moment of his undivided attention to discuss the governorship of Connecticut.” Fletcher leaped out of bed. “Would you mind if we skipped breakfast and caught an early flight? I want to have a word with Harry before going on to the Senate.”

Fletcher barely spoke on the journey back to Hartford, as he read and reread the article in Banker’s Weekly on Nat Cartwright, the possible new deputy-chairman of Fairchild’s or the next governor of Connecticut. Once again, he was struck by how much they had in common.

“What are you going to ask Dad?” said Annie as their plane circled Bradley Field.

“For a start, am I too young?”

“But as Al pointed out, there is already one governor younger than you, and two about the same age.”

“Second, how does he rate my chances?”

“He wouldn’t be willing to answer that until he knows who your opponent is.”

“And third, am I capable of doing the job?”

“I know what his answer will be to that question, because I’ve already discussed it with him.”

“Thank God we didn’t take this long to land when we flew in to Washington last night,” said Fletcher as they circled the airport for a third time.

“Will you still stop by and see Dad before you go to the Capitol?” asked Annie. “He’s bound to be sitting up in bed waiting to hear your news.”

“I always intended to make Harry my first stop,” said Fletcher as he drove his car out of the airport and onto the highway.

It was a bright autumnal morning when Senator Davenport arrived back in town. He decided to drive up the hill and past the Capitol before cutting across to the hospital.

As they came over the brow of the hill, Annie stared out of the car window, and began weeping uncontrollably. Fletcher pulled over to the hard shoulder. He took his wife in his arms, as he looked over her shoulder at the Capitol building.

The United States flag was flying at half mast.