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Ohio Athletic Conference

       1970 Champions

       Millersburg College

       Henry Luke DiSalvo, Coach

       Harry Newton Favor, Captain

      He eased the trophy into place, turned his back to the fire, and reacquainted himself with the Favor parlor. The decor was French Provincial, and DiSalvo knew some of the smaller armchairs to be authentic Louis XIV. The long drapes on the front window had been chosen by his wife in France, twenty years ago, when the DiSalvos had vacationed with the Favors on the Continent. His Elaine was gone now, and so was Harry Favor. Feeling melancholy, he took a seat in front of the windows, on a divan covered in yellow flowered fabric. He opened his briefcase, set a black Thinkpad across his knees, and punched up the documents in the Juliet Favor account. From the file menu, he chose the second document on the list, Last Will and Testament. He began proofreading out of habit.

      Soon Daniel reappeared with a silver tray of martinis and canapés and announced Favor and her son. Favor entered the room with an expansive sweep of her arms and said, “Tonight, Henry! All the details ready?”

      “Right here,” DiSalvo replied and tapped the screen on his laptop. Awkwardly, he tried to rise to his feet holding the laptop open, and Favor said, “For heaven’s sake, Henry, sit down.”

      DiSalvo dropped back onto the divan and said, “Tonight we’ll finalize, and by tomorrow I’ll have all the documents prepared for your signature. My calendar is yours for the entire day.”

      “We should be done by 4:00,” Favor said. “They’re all going to try to see me early, I’m sure, but Daniel knows the appointment schedule. You’ve got Sunday scheduled for the second group, too?”

      “Yes. The other academic departments,” DiSalvo said. “Those from Saturday’s banquet.”

      Daniel crossed the room to DiSalvo and bent deferentially to offer the tray to the lawyer. DiSalvo selected a plate of crackers and pâté, which he set on an antique table beside the divan. He also took a martini and sipped lightly before setting the glass on a silver coaster next to the plate.

      “Take a seat next to Mr. DiSalvo there, Sonny,” Favor instructed. “We’ve matters to discuss.”

      “I want to call to see if Martha got home all right,” Sonny answered and turned to the door.

      “Nonsense!” Favor barked. “Sit down and sit down now, Sonny.” Her eyes narrowed fiercely, and to cover her irritation, she stepped to the windows to make a show of adjusting the curtains. There she glanced out briefly at sleet raking the front porch, and sighed heavily.

      “Where’s your Lexus, Sonny?” Favor demanded and turned to see her son taking a seat on a delicate antique chair. “Not the Louis XIV, Sonny! Show some common sense, will you. I swear, Daniel, show Junior where to sit.”

      She turned back to look out the front parlor windows, and Sonny caught a reflection of her expression in the window glass. His eyes tipped to the carpet. “Martha took the car,” he muttered.

      Spinning around, Juliet said, “You’re going to have to plow, Daniel. Too many people tonight not to plow it out at least once.”

      “Right away, Ms. Favor,” Daniel answered. He set the martini tray on a round table with maple inlays near the fireplace and left through an ornate door to the large dining room.

      “Sonny, I expected better from you, bringing a Plain Jane like that to see me. And to let her drive your Lexus! What’s wrong with your head?”

      “She wanted to go back to town in the worst way, Mom. What did you say to her?” Sonny asked, taking a seat next to DiSalvo.

      “She could have gotten a ride back with any of a dozen people tonight.”

      “I didn’t know that, Mom.”

      “You didn’t ask.”

      “I hope you didn’t hurt her feelings.”

      “I’ve got plans for you, Sonny. Don’t make me think that you’re not ready.”

      Confused by his emotions, Sonny glanced nervously at DiSalvo.

      His mother said, “You are supposed to move into the business, Sonny. Now I’m not sure you’ll measure up.” She drained her martini glass and crossed the room to pour another drink from her green pitcher.

      “What are you talking about?” Sonny asked.

      “I’m reorganizing the whole estate,” she replied. “Why do you think Mr. DiSalvo is here?”

      Instinctively, Sonny reached for an anchor. “I’ve got a trust fund. I’ll have that in three years, and you can’t touch it.”

      “True, Sonny. The trust is yours. Your sister’s is the same, but it was supposed to go to her next month.”

      Sonny stood up and paced in front of the divan.

      With slow, deliberate words, Juliet said, “I still have the authority to delay both your trusts until you’re thirty, if I don’t like the progress you’ve made.”

      “You wouldn’t,” Sonny said and stopped pacing to face his mother at the fireplace.

      Juliet Favor sipped her drink, looked at her son over the top of her glass, and said, “Henry.”

      DiSalvo pulled up another document on his screen and read, “I, Juliet Favor, deem that Sally Newton Favor is not presently competent to take responsibility for the trust left her by my late husband, Harry Newton Favor, and I do hereby suspend implementation of said Trust until her thirtieth birthday.”

      “That means, Sonny,” Juliet explained, “that Sally is going to have to get by on an allowance of $4,000 a month until she is thirty.”

      “You wouldn’t,” Sonny repeated, less confidently.

      “Who’s her current lover?” Favor asked.

      “You know, Mom.”

      “Exactly. We’re not going to have that sort of thing among the Favors.”

      “You’ve got no right to control her life like that, Mom.”

      “I am simply delaying the onset of her trust. Perhaps she’ll change her mind.”

      “What about Martha?”

      “Don’t be silly. I won’t hear you talk this way.”

      “What are you gonna do, Mom? Take away my trust too?”

      Favor pointed a finger at the laptop.

      DiSalvo chose another document and began to read. “I, Juliet Favor, deem that Samuel ‘Sonny’ Newton Favor is not competent . . .”

      “Stop it!” Sonny shouted, arms stiff at his sides and eyes watering.

      Pointing at DiSalvo’s laptop, Favor hissed, “Dump that Mennonite loser, or I’ll sign it. I swear I will, Sonny.”

      Sonny froze in the center of the parlor, back straight, arms to his sides, making impotent fists. DiSalvo blushed for the boy and closed the laptop slowly. Juliet walked to Sonny and lightly embraced him. He stiffened. She took a step back, rested her left hand gently on his shoulder, and lifted his chin with the slender, tanned fingers of her right hand.

      “Listen to me, Sonny. You’ve no idea how vast your father’s fortune really is. How vast mine is. And yours, if you measure up. Daddy always meant to bring you along himself, but he didn’t live that long, did he? Instead, when he knew he was ill, when you were eight, he began training me. So that I could be there when you came of age. Now you’re already a freshman. That gives us only three years. You’re going to have to excel at your studies. I’ll demand an MBA after college. I have Harvard in mind, and I’ve already started working on that. Your grades

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