The Gate House   ::   Demille Nelson

Sincerely yours,

Ethel Allard

I looked at the four pages in my hand, then looked out the window at William Stanhope, sitting impatiently in his car, waiting for his wife and daughter to finish with their visit.

I opened Susan’s phone book and dialed William’s cell phone.

I saw him find his phone in his jacket pocket, look at the Caller ID, then answer, “Yes?”

I said to him, “William, this is your future-son-in-law. Come in here. I need to speak to you.”



CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE



“I still don’t understand,” Susan said, “how you convinced him to change his mind.”

“I can be very persuasive,” I replied.

She’d been questioning me about this, on and off, since her parents left an hour ago, but mostly she was just happy and relieved that it had turned out so well. She called it a miracle, and maybe it was. Thank you, Ethel, and tell that angel at the Heavenly Bar to give you another sherry. It’s on me.

We were sitting in the shade on the patio, celebrating with a few beers, and Susan asked me, “What can I make you for lunch?” She promised, “Anything you want.”

“I was thinking of yogurt. But a pepperoni pizza wouldn’t be so bad.”

Without comment, she picked up her portable phone, called information, then connected with a local pizza parlor. She’d have to memorize that number.

The protocols involved in ordering a pizza seemed to be a mystery to Susan Stanhope – Sicilian or regular? – but she was making good progress. She said to the pizza man, “Hold on,” then said to me, “He wants to know if there is anything else you want on that?”

“Well, how about sausage and meatballs?”

She added that to the toppings, listened to another pizza question, then asked me, “Do you want that cut into eight slices or twelve?”

I remembered a joke that Frank had once told me and I replied, “Twelve – I’m hungry.”

She smiled, then gave our phone number and address – Stanhope Hall, Grace Lane, Lattingtown – no, there’s no house number, just look for the gatehouse – then she called the gatehouse to clear the deliveryman.

I sat with my bare feet on the table and took another swallow of beer.

Susan returned to the subject of William’s apparent capitulation and said to me, “I know my father, and I know that these are going to be tough negotiations.”

“I’m a good negotiator.” Especially when I have the other guy’s balls in my hand, and I’m squeezing.