Chapter Nineteen #2
Alice walked him over to an older man with silver hair and a military bearing who stood at the head of the table.
“Jack, this is my father, Grayson Chadwick.” It would be easy to be intimidated by a man who once served as secretary of state under two different presidents, but Jack was used to dealing with big shots at country clubs and met the man with a firm handshake.
“You must have robbed the entire county of slate to build that fantastic retaining wall out front. Is it Buckingham slate?”
Grayson gave a growl of appreciation. “Vermont slate. I wanted that smoky gray tone that wouldn’t crack in the winter. It cost a fortune to import.”
“Good slate is worth it,” Jack replied.
“Tell that to my wife. That wall has been standing there for thirty years, and she still gripes about the cost.”
A household helper named Sharon wheeled a dinner cart into the dining room, and everyone took their seats.
During the drive, Alice had told him that Sharon had been with the family “forever.” Maude didn’t cook, and some of Alice’s earliest memories were standing at Sharon’s elbow, watching and learning and dreaming of the day she too could cook.
Grayson sat at the head of the table, while Jack and Alice sat beside each other, Maude and Adam opposite them. Sharon quickly filled each of the plates, but when she came to the empty place setting, the maid cleared it.
“We aren’t waiting for Quentin?” Jack asked, and a chill came over Maude’s face.
“He heard the siren. If he can’t arrive on time, he won’t perish from missing a meal.”
Grayson gave a brief blessing, then silverware clattered as everyone began cutting into the chicken Florentine.
Before Alice took a single bite, her father pierced her with a pointed look. “What’s this nonsense about renovating some old house?”
Alice cleared her throat before answering. “It’s not nonsense,” she said. “It’s where we think the Saint Helga legend originated, and if I can prove it, I’ll have the makings for a really great academic paper.”
“That will be a first,” Grayson said, and Alice visibly wilted for a moment before rallying.
“The Roost has the potential to be a learning center. Half of it will be modeled after an old tavern, serving high-end drinks and food. The other half will be a learning center where we can host small classes or conference talks or can rent out for special events.”
Maude frowned. “But what is the use of that sort of arcane education?” she asked. “Why don’t you put your efforts into something useful?”
“History can be useful,” Adam began, but Maude interrupted him.
“Bah! You waste time on a golf field.”
“Golf course,” Jack corrected.
“Golf course,” Maude conceded with a stiff nod.
“None of those things deserve public funding. Next week the county is voting to cut Physical Education programs in the schools, and the proposal has my full support. Schools should focus on reading, writing, and critical-thinking skills rather than squandering money on football or track. Look at Adam. All that money we dumped into fencing and riding lessons, and he had to settle for a silver medal.”
Adam dropped his fork to glare at his mother, who sent him a tight smile. “I’m just teasing, darling,” but it didn’t sound like teasing to Jack.
Alice’s father took up where Maude left off. “Gym class is a distraction from serious learning,” Grayson said. “Most of the students playing high school football turn in substandard grades. Their time would be better spent with a rigorous tutor, not in gym class.”
The dining room reeked of elitism, and Jack couldn’t remain silent. “I was one of those dumb kids in the back row who teachers never thought would amount to anything,” he said.
Beside him, Alice stiffened and sent him a panicked glance, but Jack wasn’t ashamed of the struggles he’d endured, and met Grayson’s critical glare squarely as he spoke.
“I had my share of problems and hated being trapped at a desk while a teacher droned on. School wasn’t my thing—academics just didn’t click for me.
But gym class, that one hour each day, showed me what kids like me could gain from moving, even if I couldn’t always join in.
Watching others push through challenges, or trying small exercises when I could, taught me resilience and how to keep going despite life’s hard knocks. ”
“Plenty of studies indicate that an accomplished tutor could have achieved better results,” Maude said.
Jack folded his arms, ignoring Alice’s pleading look to let the subject drop.
“Sorry to disagree, but sports can teach some of the most important lessons in life. Seasoned athletes know that real competition never comes from your opponent. It comes from learning your own pain threshold and developing your ability to persevere. An hour of gym class can let a kid test himself against hard, objective demands. Those kids may not be able to memorize the Constitution or love a Jane Austen novel, but someday those dumb jocks are going to climb telephone poles and build your houses and serve in your military. They need to learn to read and write and all that other good stuff you teach them in school . . . but a lot of them need that one hour of gym class where they can be successful and blow off some steam and learn the value of teamwork. People who say that sports is a distraction from academics have it backwards. Success in sports sets kids up for success in other areas of life. At least, that’s how it was for me. ”
He leaned back in his chair, satisfied that he’d made his case. Maude and Grayson both scowled and Alice looked like a doe caught in the headlights, but a gleam of respect showed in Adam’s face.
Jack was glad Alice suggested he bring his golf clubs, because he was going to be tested this morning.
It wouldn’t be a contest of skill, but whether he could keep his sanity while playing with these men.
After hearing each man’s golf handicap, it was obvious he was the best golfer, but the raw competitiveness between Adam and Grayson Chadwick was astounding.
Throughout breakfast and the ten-minute drive to the golf course, father and son engaged in a relentless needling match like two gladiators fighting for dominance.
How someone as soft and gentle as Alice managed to survive in the competitive maelstrom of her family was miraculous.
By the time they arrived at the golf course, Quentin was already waiting for them.
“Very thoughtful of you to skip dinner last night,” Grayson barked at his youngest son. Quentin had a poet’s face with dark hair and soft brown eyes. Unlike Alice, who quivered in trepidation near her parents, Quentin let the insult roll off him without a ripple of concern.
“I found a nest of bobwhites that are in trouble and have been caring for them.”
Grayson rolled his eyes, but Jack was curious. “What’s a bobwhite?”
“They’re a type of quail that nests on the ground and their habitats are getting wiped out by all the development around here. There are four chicks, and they need to be fed every couple of hours, so I’ll head back home after nine holes.”
Grayson muttered something under his breath about quitters, but Jack instantly liked a man who cared for someone in need, even if it was only an abandoned nest of chicks. Anyone who’d been helpless at some point in their life understood the value of open-handed compassion.
Quentin’s look was as serene as a cat napping in the sunshine while they headed to the first tee box. That was when Jack noticed Quentin was barefoot.
“I like to feel the grass and soil beneath my feet,” he said. “Studies prove that contact with soil leads to a healthier microbiome and triggers the release of serotonin. I never wear shoes unless I have to.”
The elder Chadwick continued taking subtle digs at Quentin during the first three holes.
He critiqued Quentin’s lackluster golf swing, his sloppy board shorts, even his bad taste in music.
Watching a bully in action was infuriating, but Quentin was thirty-one and perfectly capable of standing up for himself if he chose to.
The remarkable thing was, he didn’t seem to care.
Nothing fazed his easygoing demeanor, so Jack bit his tongue and silently vowed to let his game do the talking, determined to wipe the floor with Grayson on the course.
By the fourth tee, the elder Chadwick quit belittling Quentin and turned his ire toward Alice. “Why isn’t that woman suing the college to get her job back?” he groused after they all arrived at the next tee box.
“She signed a nondisclosure agreement,” Adam said.
“In England,” Grayson pointed out. “The cat is out of the bag all over the world, so why isn’t she fighting for her job?”
Jack had often wondered the same. When attacked, his instinct was to go on the offensive, but Alice retreated.
He’d carry a lance into battle for her if she asked, but the world of academia was a foreign land to him.
It was up to Alice to decide if she wanted to wade back into the quagmire of fighting to win tenure.
Grayson set the ball onto a tee, positioned himself, then took a hearty swing that launched the ball cleanly, rising high and true—one of those outstanding hits that was impressive for a man of any age, let alone one in his late seventies.
The instant the ball stopped rolling, Grayson went back to attacking Alice.
“She ought to drop all that folklore nonsense about ancient legends and put her nose to the grindstone by writing a scholarly paper of actual merit. Maybe then the academics will take her seriously. That woman needs to get off the fainting couch and do something with her brain.”
Jack stepped up to the tee and placed his ball. “Maybe she defines success differently than you. I rather like Alice’s nose exactly as it is.”
“You didn’t have to pay for eight years of college so she could read a bunch of Jane Austen novels,” Grayson retorted.
“You didn’t have to pay for it,” Quentin said. “She could have gone to a public college on scholarship; you were the one who insisted she go to Princeton.”
The statement didn’t go over well with Grayson, who went on the attack. “I was right to push her into Princeton. A degree from Princeton is a pedigree, a lifetime pass, not some flimsy certificate from a third-rate state school. Jack! You’re up.”
Jack stepped forward with a cocky grin as he placed his ball on a tee. “Are you sure you want to play with a guy from a third-rate state school? The stink might rub off.”
Grayson merely growled, though the other two men smiled at the comment.
Jack took his swing, easily sending the ball past Grayson’s hit and landing a mere two yards from the hole.
Both of the younger men congratulated him, but he was getting tired of this mind game.
It looked like Grayson was gearing up to continue badmouthing Alice, and Jack didn’t want to hear it. He turned his attention to Adam.
“You’re two strokes below par,” he said in a complimentary tone. “How long have you been playing on this course?”
“Ever since I picked up a golf club when I was about twelve,” Adam replied.
“I only wish Alice and Quentin had a fraction of Adam’s talent,” Grayson said.
Quentin helped turn the conversation away from assassinating Alice’s character. “Tell us about your golf course, Jack.”
Over the next few holes they spoke only of golf course design and famous clubs where they’d played. Then Adam said something interesting.
“The golf course at Camp Lejeune is a wreck,” he said. “Rumor has it that it’s going to get a complete renovation in the next year.”
Jack stilled. He typically focused on designing new courses rather than handling renovations, but he was always on the lookout for future contracts to bid on. “Have they hired a designer yet?”
“I don’t think so,” Adam said.
Jack filed away the information for future reference.
As always, the best business leads usually came during situations like these.
Soon he would be moving on, leaving Alice and her family behind.
What an irony that the most meaningful relationship he made among the Chadwick family might be networking with her brother for a lead on landing a new golf course contract.