Master of the Game by Sidney Sheldon

 

 

They had wonderful times together. Kate was the chatelaine of vast estates. She had acquired homes in Palm Beach and South Carolina, and a stud farm in Kentucky, and she and Tony visited all of them during his vacations. They watched the America’s Cup races in Newport, and when they were in New York, they had lunch at Delmonico’s and tea at the Plaza and Sunday dinner at Lüchow’s. Kate was interested in horse racing, and her stable became one of the finest in the world. When one of Kate’s horses was running and Tony was home from school, Kate would take him to the track with her. They would sit in her box and Tony would watch in wonder as his mother cheered until she was hoarse. He knew her excitement had nothing to do with money.

“It’s winning, Tony. Remember that. Winning is what’s important.”

They had quiet, lazy times at Dark Harbor. They shopped at Pendleton and Coffin, and had ice-cream sodas at the Dark Harbor Shop. In summer they went sailing and hiking and visited art galleries. In the winter there was skiing and skating and sleigh riding. They would sit in front of a fire in the large fireplace in the library, and Kate would tell her son all the old family stories about his grandfather and Banda, and about the baby shower Madam Agnes and her girls gave for Tony’s grandmother. It was a colorful family, a family to be proud of, to cherish.

“Kruger-Brent, Limited, will be yours one day, Tony. You’ll run it and—”

“I d-don’t want to r-run it, Mother. I’m not interested in big business or p-power.”

And Kate exploded. “You bloody fool! What do you know about big business or power? Do you think I go around the world spreading evil? Hurting people? Do you think Kruger-Brent is some kind of ruthless money machine crushing anything that gets in its way? Well, let me tell you something, Son. It’s the next best thing to Jesus Christ. We’re the resurrection, Tony. We save lives by the hundreds of thousands. When we open a factory in a depressed community or country, those people can afford to build schools and libraries and churches, and give their children decent food and clothing and recreation facilities.” She was breathing hard, carried away by her anger. “We build factories where people are hungry and out of work, and because of us they’re able to live decent lives and hold up their heads. We become their saviors. Don’t ever again let me hear you sneer at big business and power.”

All Tony could say was, “I’m s-s-sorry, M-m-mother.”

And he thought stubbornly: I’m going to be an artist.

 

 

When Tony was fifteen, Kate suggested he spend his summer vacation in South Africa. He had never been there. “I can’t get away just now, Tony, but you’ll find it a fascinating place. I’ll make all the arrangements for you.”

“I was s-sort of h-hoping to spend my vacation at Dark Harbor, M-mother.”

“Next summer,” Kate said firmly. “This summer I would like you to go to Johannesburg.”

Kate carefully briefed the company superintendent in Johannesburg, and together they laid out an itinerary for Tony. Each day was planned with one objective in view: to make this trip as exciting as possible for Tony, to make him realize his future lay with the company.

Kate received a daily report about her son. He had been taken into one of the gold mines. He had spent two days in the diamond fields. He had been on a guided tour of the Kruger-Brent plants, and had gone on a safari in Kenya.

A few days before Tony’s vacation ended, Kate telephoned the company manager in Johannesburg. “How is Tony getting along?”

“Oh, he’s having a great time, Mrs. Blackwell. In fact, this morning he asked if he couldn’t stay on a little longer.”

Kate felt a surge of pleasure. “That’s wonderful! Thank you.”

When Tony’s vacation was over, he went to Southampton, England, where he boarded a Pan American Airways System plane for the United States. Kate flew Pan American whenever possible. It spoiled her for other airlines.