"I've never asked you before. What business are you int Stanford studied her. It was refreshing to be with someone who knew nothing about him.
"I'm retired,' he told her. ' just travel around, enjoying the world."
"And you're all by yourselff Her voice was filled with sympathy. ' must be very lonely.' It was all he could do not to laugh aloud. ', I am. I'm glad you're here with me.' She put her hand over his. ', too, caro.' Out of the comer of his eye, Stanford saw the two men leave. When luncheon was over, Stanford and Sophia and Dmitri returned to town. 28 Stanford headed for a telephone booth. ' want the Cr6dit Lyonnais in Paris ...' Watching him, Sophia spoke to Dmitri. ''s a wonderful man, isn't het ''s no one like him." you been with him long?" years,' Dmitri said. ''re lucky." know.' Dmitri walked over an@ stood guard right outside the telephone booth. He heard Stanford saying,'Ren& You know why I'm calling ... Yes ... Yes ... You will? ... That's wonderful!' His voice was filled with relief. ' ... not there.
Let's meet in Corsica. That's perfect. After our meeting, I can return directly home. Thank you, Renv Stanford put down the receiver. He stood there a moment, smiling, then dialed a number in Boston. A secretary answered. "Mr. Fitzgerald's office." is Harry Stanford. Let me talk to him.", Mr. Stanford! I'm sorry, Mr. Fitzgerald is on vacation.
Can. someone else ... ?' .'No. I'm on my way back to-the States. You. tell him 1 want him in Boston at Rose Hill at nine o'clock Monday morning.
Tell him to bring a copy of my will and a notary."'ll try to -I "Don't try. Do it, my dear.' He put down the reoeiver and stood there, his mind racing. When he stepped out of the telephone booth, his voice was calm. ' have a 29 little business to take care of, Sophia. Go to the Hotel Pitrizza and wait for me." right,' she said flirtatiously. ''t be too long." won't.' The two men watched her walk away. ''s get back to the yacht,' Stanford told Dmitri. ''re leaving.' Dmitri looked at him in surprise. ' about ... T ' can screw her way back home.' When they returned to the Blue Skies, Harry Stanford went to see Captain Vacarro. ''re heading for Corsica,' he said. ''s shove off.' @ ' just received an updated weather report, Signor Stanford.. I'm afraid there's a bad storm. It would be better if we waited it out and -" want to leave now, captain.' Captain Vacaffo hesitated. ' will be a rough voyage, sir. It's a libecdo - the southwest wind. We'll have heavy seas and squalls." don't care about that.'The meeting in Corsica was going to solve all his problems. He turned to Dmitri. ' want you to arrange for a helicopter to pick us up in Corsica and take us to Naples. Use the public telephone on the dock."
"Yes, sir.' Dmitri Kaminsky walked back to the dock and entered the telephone booth. Twenty minutes later, Blue Skies was under weigh.
Chapter Four
His idol was Dan Quayle, and he often used the name as his touchstone. @ , ' don't care what you say about Quayle, he's the only politician with real values. Family - that's what it's all about. Without family values, this country would be up the creek even worse than it is. All these young kids are living together without being married, -and having babies. It's shocking. No wonder there's so much crime. If Dan Quayle ever runs for president, he's sure got my vote.' It was a shame, he thought, that he couldn't vote because of a stupid law, but, regardless, he was behind Quayle all the way.. He had four children: Billy, eight, and the girls - Amy, Clarissa, and Susan, ten, twelve, and fourteen.
They were wonderful children, and his greatestjoy was spending what he liked to call quality time with them. His weekends were totally devoted.
to the children. He barbecued for them, played with them, took them to movies and ball games, and helped them with their homework. All the youngsters in the neighborhood adored him. He repaired their bikes and toys, and 31 invited them on picnics with his family. They gave him the nickname of Papa. On a sunny Saturday morning, he was seated in the bleachers, watching the baseball game. it was a picture-perfect day, with warm sunshine and fluffy cumulus clouds dappling the sky. His eight-year-old son, Billy, was at bat, looking very professional and grown up in his Little League uniform. Papa's three girls and his wife were at his side. It doesn't get any better than this, he thought happily. Why can't all fwnifies be like ours? It was the bottom of the eighth inning, the score was tied, with two outs and the bases loaded.
Billy was at the plate, three balls and two strikes against him. Papa called out, encouragingly,'Get'em, Billy! Over the fence!' Billy waited for the pitch. It was fast and low, and Billy swung wildly and missed.
The umpire yelled, ' threel' The inning was over. ' were groans and cheers from the crowd of parents and family friends. Billy stood there disheartened, watching the teams change sides. Papa called out, ''s all right, son. You'll do it next time!' Billy tried to force a smile. John Cotton, the team manager, was waiting for Billy. ''re outta the game!' he said. 32 ut, Mrcotton ...' @Go on. Get off the field.' Billy's father watched in hurt amazement as his son the field.
He can't do that, he thought. He has to give pilly another chance. ru have to speak to Mr. Cotton and At that instant, the cellular phone he carried Valig. He let it ring four times before he answered it. Only one person had the number..He knows I hate to
"W be disturbed on weekends, he thought angrily. R I tly, he lifted the antenna, pressed a button, e uctan And spoke into the mouthpiece. ' I line voice at the other end spoke quietly for several minutes. Papa listened, nodding from time to time. Pinally lie said, '. I understand. I'll take care of it.' He put the phone away. ' everything all right, darling?' his wife asked. '. I'm afraid it isn't. They want me to work over the weekend. I was planning a nice barbecue for us tomorrow., His wife took his hand and said lovingly, ''t worry about it. Your work is more important.' Not as important as my family, he thought stubbornly. Dan Quayle would understand His hand began to itch fiercely and he =atched it. Why does it do that? he wondered. r1l have to see a dermatologist one of these days. John Cotton was the assistant manager at the local supermarket. A burly man in his fiffies, he had agreed 33 to manage the Little League team because his son was a ballplayer. His.