Cast a Blue Shadow (2 page)

2

The Night Before—Friday, November 1 6:00 P.M.

THE ALBERTA clipper cut into Holmes County right when the weather crew on FOX 8 News in Cleveland had predicted it would. A hint of morning sun had earlier given way to gray skies, and the temperature had dropped twenty degrees by 9:00 A.M. By noon, most of the Amish settlements had six to eight inches of new snow on the ground, and buggies were traded for sleighs throughout the region. By evening, the clipper had pushed east, and moist air from the south blended sleet with the blowing snow, adding another four inches or so to the mix. Snowplows, active all day, still had not cleared the secondary roads by dusk, and the sheriff’s office issued a travel advisory. As night fell, Amish farmers bedded down livestock, latched barns tight, stoked fires in wood stoves, and gathered their families inside.

Sheltered from the storm, Juliet Favor pushed open the lid of her tanning bed, swung her slender legs out to the floor, and stood up on the heated redwood planks of her third-floor gym-sauna. She took a royal blue towel from a gold hook on the wall and crossed to the mirrors on the other side of the warm attic room. Nude, as she dried her arms and shoulders, she studied her tan in the floor-to-ceiling glass. She had every right to be pleased with what she saw, but a too critical eye for matters physical failed to recognize the true beauty in her form. For Juliet Favor, the tan had only momentarily been adequate.

July and August in the Mediterranean had laid down a deep copper hue. In the salons of Paris, between this year’s strategic nips and tucks, she had managed to hold most of her color. October in Rio had deepened her copper to a bronze that she had thought would last for months.

But tonight, assessing her reflection, she shook her head and muttered a curse. Stay in the States for another two weeks, she thought, and you’ll have no color left for Jamaica.

So, be done with Ohio. Wrap it all up. Tomorrow, if possible. Let them squirm, the whole lot of them. Dominate as Harry always had. They hadn’t deserved Favor money for years.

Closer to the mirrors, Juliet lifted artfully colored blond hair behind her left ear and ran a finger lightly along the skin where an incision had been made. She felt nothing unusual, and smiled. She pulled the other ear forward and peered sideways into the mirror. Nothing there either, she saw with approval. Dr. Verheit of Paris—you do such nice work. On this point, she could afford to be congratulatory. Where else but Paris for those little fixes that kept a woman of fifty-three looking not a day over forty?

She was diminutive and proportioned well. Her narrow face was pleasant enough when a rare smile found a home there. To new acquaintances, aging seemed to have ignored Juliet Favor. The truth, as old friends knew, was that she had anticipated its advances skillfully.

She turned left and right in front of the mirrors and smiled briefly. Then she stepped into the recessed space where one of six large dormer windows faced west.

The season’s first bitter storm blew snow and sleet against the glass, and the roofline carried a mournful tune as the wind played its music on the gutters outside. Winter air penetrated the seams of the window, and she felt the blizzard’s chill near the floor, on the tops of her bare feet. Eyes closed, she dropped the towel over her toes and stiffened, pulling pins from her hair to let it down over her shoulders. She fluffed her hair with thin fingers and shook it out fuller. Eyes open, she shuffled closer to the windowpane, stood on tiptoes, and looked out warily at the storm. With her forehead pressed against the cold glass, she studied the service drive far below. White flurries danced brightly in the floodlights, and she saw snow drifting in high mounds along a line of bushes on the west side of the mansion. After a quick assessment, she retreated from the window and wrapped the towel tightly around her chest.

From a stainless steel rack in the center of the large exercise room, Favor selected two five-pound free weights. On the other side of the room, near the stairs that led down to her second-floor master bath, she leaned a shoulder against an intercom button as she flexed one arm and then the other, waiting for her butler’s reply. In short order, “Yes, Ms. Favor” came from a deep, calm voice through the speaker on the wall.

“Daniel,” she scolded, “you know I hate snow. Turn off the floodlights.”

“Right away, Ms. Favor.”

“Daniel, were you trying to annoy me?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then turn out those lights!”

“At once.”

“Wait. What have you laid out for me?”

“Oh, just a few frumpy old things, ma’am.”

“Knock it off, Daniel,” she said, pumping her arms faster now, and smiling.

“A gray pants suit with a red carnation, and a peach and rose chiffon evening gown with a low neckline.”

“Perfect, Daniel. We start at 8:00. Right?”

“7:30, Ms. Favor. Sonny called for an appointment.”

“What’s he want? He knows I’ll see him in New York.”

“As he explained it to me, ma’am, he’ll be introducing a young lady from the college.”

“Sonny’s got a girl?”

“Apparently so.”

“Humph. If you say so,” Favor said, pumping the weights very slowly now. “Then switch to a blue business suit with a short skirt, Daniel.”

“Will you require assistance dressing tonight, Ms. Favor?”

“Of course, Daniel. Please draw my bath. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

Favor switched off the intercom, dropped her blue towel, and padded across the soft redwood flooring to an antique cherry vanity beside a treadmill. From the top drawer she took out one of a dozen pairs of her late husband’s boxer shorts and stepped into them, snapping the elastic at her waist. From the second drawer, she chose a white sports bra. She slipped into it, and bent over at the waist to adjust herself in front.

The floodlights outside switched off, and the windows went dark. She thumbed down a light switch on the wall beside her, and the room darkened, too. Stepping onto the treadmill, she stared at the glass in a south-facing window. Now the only light in the room came from the red and green display on the panel in front of her, reflected in the windowpane. She paced vigorously on the machine, her eyes registering only vague patches of color as she thought in the dark about the people the evening would bring. First, a college president, so exasperatingly pliable. What had she ever seen in him? Professors—so completely absorbed in their academic lives. So dull and myopic, as Harry had always said. But there were the better ones. Passionate, resourceful, and principled. Deans and chairpersons, too. Some keepers there, to be sure. And if some served as play toys over the years—who cared?

But Sonny—what a disappointment. He’d never be the equal of his father. So, face up to that now, she mused.

And Harry. Oh, what a man he had been! It had been six years, now. Six years and seven months, or something near that, anyway. There had been so much left to do.

But never mind. He had given her his legacy in time to make a difference. To dominate. To manage a fortune. She had always thought that her marriage to Harry Newton Favor would be the only thing that could ever matter to her. But, oh, how wrong!

She was running now, sweating lightly and smiling. Through superb conditioning, she had passed rapidly into her runner’s endorphin zone, where, for her, there was always a clear and sustaining vision of purpose.

Fortune.

Wealth.

Money—the only reliable commodity.

A vehicle for power, to be sure, but also a surpassing comfort just to have it. To grow it. Money enabled everything in her life. It was a means, a resource, a currency. And used properly, it could be transformed into anything. Possessions. Health and vitality. Power. Travel. Even time. Money bought time for everything.

But using it was only scant half to its greater challenge—keeping it. The simple possession of wealth, Juliet Favor figured, was key to this world and all it held. She had learned this hard lesson as a poor girl. True, it could buy anything, take her anywhere, set her free with all the time she needed. It garnered influence and power. That we’ll see tonight, she thought. But having and holding wealth gave the truest joys. To use it, yes, obviously. But to have it, to keep it—that transcends it all. Most people never understood that. Wealth had long ago become both the foundation and the strong-hold of her soul. And this was the legacy she intended to leave her children. Well, at least her son. If he proved equal to the task.

AT AN oval dressing mirror, Juliet Favor watched as Daniel Bliss pinned the red carnation to the lapel of her blazer. He was a tall, thin, elderly gentleman dressed in a tuxedo. His white hair was brushed back and lay close to his scalp. His angular face was accented by high cheekbones and thin lips. Gray eyes watched Juliet attentively, but with a practiced, reserved disinterest.

“Have you prepared both pitchers of drinks?” she asked.

“Yes,” Daniel replied. “Yours is the green Tiffany. The Waterford is for everyone else.”

“Sonny is here?”

“In the parlor, ma’am.”

“Set up in the bar, Daniel, and take them in there. I’ll be down shortly.”

“We’re on the clock, ma’am,” Daniel remarked.

“I know that well enough,” Favor replied, reaching up to pat the butler’s cheek playfully. “I want her to cool her heels a bit. Fix them both up with drinks, Daniel. We don’t want to be inhospitable.”

“Very well, ma’am, but I doubt she’ll have one,” Daniel said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see,” Daniel replied and walked out into the hallway to take the grand staircase to the first floor.

Favor watched the time carefully and descended at 7:38 P.M. In the bar, she found her son in blue jeans and a green-and-white Millersburg College sweatshirt. He crossed the room to his mother and attempted to embrace her, but she held him stiffly by the shoulders and permitted only a brief, formal kiss on her cheek.

“You disappoint me, Sonny. Surely you can dress better than this for such an occasion.”

Sonny Favor blushed. His gaze fell to the floor, and, glancing anxiously at a young girl in plain dress, he knew she had seen his shame. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Martha Lehman,” he managed to say.

At the teak and walnut bar, Juliet Favor poured a drink and remarked, “Now there is a girl who can dress for an occasion.”

Martha Lehman stood with good posture and a hopeful smile at the other end of the ornate bar. On her head was a white lace prayer cap. Her brown hair was up in a Mennonite bun. Her cotton blouse was light pink with white buttons, and her long skirt was forest green. Over those, she wore a white apron, tied behind her neck and waist. She had on black hose and black string-tie shoes. A small pair of wire-rimmed glasses accented her eyes, which were blue. Her cheeks flushed rose as Favor turned to appraise her from head to toe.

“Miss Lerman,” Favor said and came along the bar holding out her hand.

“It’s Lehman,” Martha said. “Martha. And how do you do, Mrs. Favor?”

“Ms. Favor,” Juliet said with a smile.

“Ms. Favor, then,” Martha greeted again and turned her eyes nervously to Sonny. “How do you do.”

“That remains to be seen,” Favor said and asked, “You’re not having anything to drink, Martha?”

Sonny and Martha stepped away from the bar and held hands. Favor turned her back to them, drained her glass, and poured another drink from the green Tiffany pitcher. Still with her back turned, she watched them in the mirror behind the bar and said, “I presume you’ve found time for your studies, Sonny. Has he, Martha?” She turned slowly to them and added, “You have been letting Sonny study some, now, haven’t you, young Martha Lehman?”

Martha blushed and started to say something. Sonny spoke up. “I’ve been studying plenty, Mother. Got at least a B in ’most everything.”

“’Most everything’! Sonny, where in the world did you learn to talk? Favors are raised to do better.”

“Almost everything,” Sonny corrected.

“And some C’s, no doubt.”

“I’m doin’ fine,” Sonny said weakly.

“Sonny, Sonny,” Favor said disapprovingly and sipped at her drink.

Sonny was a large, plump boy with black hair and rosy cheeks. He held himself erect for the most part, the result of long years of training in private schools. Now, though, his shoulders had rounded and slumped. He nervously shifted his weight and let go of Martha’s hand, as if he had forgotten she was there.

Favor came forward slowly, reached up to rest a gentle hand on Sonny’s shoulder, watched his downcast eyes for a moment, and said, “We Favors look for A’s. What would Daddy think?”

Sonny shrugged and tried to hide his embarrassment by avoiding the eyes of both women. His shoulders seemed to carry a heavy yet familiar burden.

“Now, Sonny,” Favor said. “Step into the parlor so Martha and I can talk. I’ll bring her out to you.”

AFTER a long, appraising silence, Juliet Favor said to Martha Lehman, “I presume, Martha, that your costume signifies some religious sect.”

“It’s Mennonite, ma’am,” Martha replied.

“Not Amish? I hope you’re not one of those backward country girls. Sonny’s future can harbor none of that.”

Taken aback, Martha managed only, “Ma’am?”

“I have plans for Sonny, Martha. You can appreciate that, I’m sure. I’ve known plenty of trashy country girls who figured on breeding their way into wealth.”

Martha took a step forward and defended herself. “My family is conservative Mennonite. I see no reason to apologize for that. It’s a sect derived from the old Black Bumper Amish.”

“Black Bumper Amish?” Juliet repeated, intrigued despite herself.

“Yes. They drove cars, but painted the bumpers and shiny metal parts flat black. But, even if I were Amish, you have no reason to fear my relationship with Sonny.”

“Fear? My dear girl, I assure you I do not fear anything about you. You may be in college, but you’re still just a plain country girl with designs on my boy. You know our family has money.”

Martha, unsettled, made no reply.