Fletcher looked down at the crowd in front of him. It was his fourth speech that day, and it wasn’t yet twelve o’clock. He missed Harry’s presence at those Sunday lunches, where ideas could be tested and found wanting. Lucy and George were happy to add their contributions, which only reminded him how indulgent Harry had been when he had come up with suggestions the senator must have heard a hundred times before, but never once hinted as much. But the next generation certainly left Fletcher in no doubt of what the Hotchkiss student body expected of their governor.
Fletcher’s fourth speech that morning didn’t differ greatly from the other three: to the Pepperidge Farm plant in Norwalk, the Wiffle Ball headquarters in Shelton and the Stanley tool-workers in New Britain. He just altered the occasional paragraph to acknowledge that the state’s economy would not be in such good shape without their particular contribution. On to lunch with the Daughters of the American Revolution, where he failed to mention his Scottish ancestry, followed by three more speeches in the afternoon, before attending a fund-raising dinner, which wouldn’t produce much more than ten thousand dollars.
Around midnight he would crawl into bed and put his arms around his sleeping wife and occasionally she would sigh. He’d read somewhere that once, when Reagan was out on the stump, he had been found cuddling a lamppost. Fletcher had laughed at the time, but no longer.
“Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?”
r /> Nat had to agree with his son’s assessment. Juliet was beautiful, but not the sort of girl Luke was likely to fall for. With five other females in the cast, he tried to work out which one it could possibly be. When the curtain came down for the interval, he thought that Luke had given a moving performance, and felt a glow of pride as he sat there in the audience listening to the applause. His parents had seen the play the night before, and told him that they’d felt the same pride as when he had performed Sebastian in the same hall.
Whenever Luke left the stage, Nat found his mind wandering back to the phone call he’d taken from Washington that morning. His secretary assumed it was Tom playing one of his practical jokes when he was asked if he was available to speak to the president of the United States.
Nat had found himself standing when George Bush came on the line.
The president congratulated him on Fairchild and Russell’s being voted Bank of the Year—his excuse for the call—and then added the simple message, “Many people in our party hope you will allow your name to go forward as governor. You have a lot of friends and supporters in Connecticut, Nat. Let’s hope we can meet soon.”
The whole of Hartford knew within the hour that the president had called, but then switchboard operators also have a network of their own. Nat only told Su Ling and Tom, and they didn’t seem all that surprised.
“The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine.”
The father’s mind switched back to the play.
Nat found that people began to stop him in the street and say, “I hope you’ll run for governor, Nat”—Mr. Cartwright—even sir. When he and Su Ling had entered the hall that evening, heads had turned and he sensed a buzz all around him. In the car on the way to Taft he didn’t ask Su Ling if he should run, simply, “Do you think I can do the job?”
“The president seemed to think so,” she replied.
When the curtain came down following the death scene, Su Ling remarked, “Have you noticed that people are staring at us?” She paused. “I suppose we’ll just have to get used to our son being a star.”
How quickly she could bring Nat back down to earth, and what a governor’s wife she would make.
The cast and the parents were invited to join the principal for supper, so Nat and Su Ling made their way over to his house.
“It’s the nurse.”
“Yes, she gave a very sensitive performance,” said Nat.
“No, you fool, the nurse must have been the one Luke’s fallen for,” said Su Ling.
“What makes you so sure of that?” asked Nat.
“Just as the curtain came down, they held hands, and I’m fairly sure that wasn’t in Shakespeare’s original stage directions,” said Su Ling.
“Well, we’re about to find out if you’re right,” said Nat as they entered the principal’s house.
They found Luke sipping a Coke in the hallway. “Hi, Dad,” he said turning to face them. “This is Kathy Marshall; she played the nurse.” Su Ling tried not to smirk. “And this is my mother. Wasn’t Kathy fantastic? But then she plans to major in drama at Sarah Lawrence.”
“Yes she was, but you weren’t bad yourself,” said Nat. “We were both very proud of you.”
“Have you seen the play before, Mr. Cartwright?” asked Kathy.
“Yes, when Su Ling and I visited Stratford. The nurse was played by Celia Johnson, but I don’t suppose you’ve even heard of her.”
“Brief Encounter,” Kathy responded immediately.
“Noël Coward,” Luke said.
“And Trevor Howard played opposite her,” said Kathy. Nat nodded at his son, who was still dressed as Romeo.
“You must be the first Romeo to have fallen for the nurse,” said Su Ling.