Chapter 42

At that point an utterly beautiful black woman came closer and introduced herself. “How do you do?” she said to Jane. “I’m Mary Smith, and you might be just the person for me to be talking to.”

Jane giggled and replied, “I guess we should be better acquainted. My name is Jane Smith, and the two of us must have the most ordinary names in the country.”

“I guess that’s probably true,” Mary replied with a warm smile. Then she added, “That’s my husband out there.” She indicated the giant, John Smith.

Jane’s eyes widened. “But ... but, he’s in the Hall of Fame, isn’t he?”

“He used to be a pretty good football player, I guess,” Mary admitted. “But lately, he’s been more occupied with indoor sports.” As she said it, she gently rubbed her crotch and moaned.

Jane rubbed her own and responded, “You, too?”

Mary just grinned and nodded her head. “But it’s so good...”

Jane quickly changed the subject to get away from such a sensitive issue. “You said that I might be the one you should talk to. What did you mean by that?”

“Could we talk about it after practice?” Mary replied. “Perhaps over a drink?”

“I ... sort of have a date,” Jane admitted, blushing.

“With Samuel Johnson?” Mary asked.

“Why, yes. But how did you know?”

“Because there’s a small group that includes the Bradleys, the Taylors, the Cliffords, the Stewarts ... We sort of live in each other’s pockets, and,” she confided, “gossip incessantly!”

“Are you sure it would be all right?” Jane asked.

“I’m certain!” Mary replied emphatically.

Meanwhile, out on the practice field, the players were taking a break and the NFL “coaches” were having an informal conference.

John Smith asked Jim Burt, the Giant’s guard: “What do you think of John Taylor? Is he any good? And what about Tim Johnson?”

Instead of responding, Burt glared at David Wilson and said, “A helluva friend you are! Johnny Taylor is your brother-in-law, for God’s sake! Why didn’t you warn me?”

David was embarrassed. “I didn’t think he was very good,” he admitted sheepishly. “In fact, to get it all out on the table, I tried to discourage John from even applying to Notre Dame. And when I learned he was coming here to Hillsdale, I was utterly delighted. I thought this would be more his speed.”

“That’s a laugh and a half!” Burt exclaimed. “Wilson, let me give it to you in words of one syllable: He’s faster, quicker, and stronger than you are, right now! But he’s not good enough to play for Notre Dame? Is that what you were saying?”

“He and his friends have only played for a small boy’s prep school. I thought Notre Dame would be way out of his league.”

“Well, let me give you the hot scoop!” Burt retorted. “He could go a few miles east and be starting for the Detroit Lions on opening day this year!”

“Honest?” Wilson asked. “You’re not kidding?”

“No, I’m not kidding! That kid is good.” Burt paused and then said, “David, let me put it this way: He’s better than you were on your very best day. Is that clear enough?”

“Good Lord!” David murmured. “Honest?”

“Honest!”

Wilson slowly shook his head. “The fact of the matter is that I’ve never seen John play. When he’s playing, so are we. So...”

David Wilson thought for a moment and then said, “I just realized ... John doesn’t have a lead blocker when he hits the line.”

“He can’t,” Jim Burt responded. “He’s too fast and too quick. A lead blocker would just get in his way. As it is, if he’s going between guard and tackle, they don’t even bother to block the tackle and end across from them; John’s passing them on the outside while they’re passing the defensive linemen on the inside. Then the guys hit the linebackers and John is gone! The kid’s incredible!”

“What about Tim Johnson?” John Smith asked.

“He’s unreal!” Burt replied. “And for that matter, so is John Running Deer.” He shook his head and added, “If those two guys were in the NFL right now, I would be looking for another line of work. And smart? Good grief! There are moves I’ve been using on guys in our division at least twice a year, every year, since I came into the league, and they still haven’t caught on.

“But those guys? They’re unreal! I used that move once. Just once! The second time, they recognized it instantly and used the only perfect counter. I got killed.”

“How about those California boys?” Smith asked.

Mike Cassidy replied, “I’ll tell you what my wife said. And she’s possibly the best passer alive. She said simply, Tony Kramer is far better than I’ll ever be right now! And she’s serious.” With a grin he added, “Hell, he’s not that good, though. I’ll bet there aren’t more than 25 NFL teams he could start for at quarterback this season!”

David Wilson just laughed. “You know what? I was talking to John Running Deer. He’s delighted to be coming to school here. He says he likes playing football, but really didn’t think they had a chance of making the team down in South Bend. It’s what I mentioned earlier: They’re from a very small prep school. And Notre Dame is one of those schools that uses very few walk-ons. If you’re not recruited and there on an athletic scholarship, they’re really not too interested.”

“But what about the California boys?” Smith asked.

“They would be a very different story,” Wilson admitted. “Tony and Paul took their team to the California Division I title. And given the size of the state, that means something. I really don’t know how seriously Notre Dame might have recruited them, though. They might have conceded them to Stanford or USC without a fight.”

Then Ron Jackson spoke up. “I’m really going to get it from my son, Ron, tonight. I can hear him now: ‘Gee, Dad, are you sure they pay you to play football?’” He shook his head and added wryly, “And, quite honestly, I can see why he might say that, too. Paul Christian is good! And I mean the very best!”

Looking at Ken Bradley and Kevin Cavanaugh, he asked, “You guys are paid to catch passes. What do you two think?”

“Well,” Ken replied with a grin, “I’m not planning on giving up my day job as a senior vice president of Chicago Trust, and I don’t think Kevin will stop serving as senior vice president–manufacturing of Chicago Steel, either.” To his best friend he asked, “Am I right, Kevin?”

“I really think you’re being unfair,” Kevin retorted. “I mean ... Just because he’s twice as fast as we are, bigger, and with surer hands ... I mean ... He’s not nearly in our class. After all, we’ve fathered seven kids apiece. And Kelly still loves me and Cathy still loves you. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

“It does to me and it does to you,” Ken admitted, “but unfortunately it doesn’t cut much ice with the NFL.”

Then Bill Carson spoke up for the first time. “We were planning on just staying a couple of days,” he said, “but you know what? On Saturday, Hillsdale is having an end-of-spring-practice scrimmage with the University of Michigan Wolverines.” He grinned evilly and added, “And you know what? I think this little school with only 1,100 kids is really going to whup their asses! And I really want to be here to see it, and I’m sure my wife, Gloria, will want to see it, too. What do you guys think?”

“I think it’s going to be a lot of fun, is what I think!” John Smith exclaimed. “You know what? I think those boys are going to be crawling back to Ann Arbor! It will be great!”

At the conclusion of the practices, Ann and Little Bit were surprised to find themselves invited to join the meeting between Mary and John Smith, Jane Smith, as well as Sam Johnson. They were to meet at a lounge in town, so the girls went back to their hotel to change.

They were the first to arrive, and it wasn’t yet five o’clock. As a result, the place was nearly empty although the staff was preparing for the after-work crowd. To their delight, they found an available seating area in a corner near the fireplace set up with comfortable lounge chairs. They deemed it perfect for the occasion.

You may remember that at the Wilkerson Institute, there were three major forms of appearance: classy, flashy, and trashy. That evening Little Bit and Ann were doing “classy” to a fare-thee-well. Both were wearing their magnificent engagement diamonds — they had left them at the hotel while working with the cheerleaders — as well as diamond chokers. The two were wearing their minks when they arrived, and were accompanied by Gus and Sheba, both of whose coats were glistening. The great cats were present because Caitie had assured them that they were very handy to ensure that other patrons didn’t get too inquisitive. It was Caitie and the guys who had worked on the tigers with their brushes to ensure that their coats gleamed. And they certainly did!

To say the girls made a grand entrance would be to understate the case by orders of magnitude. The presence of the tigers along with their classy bearing, their furs and their diamonds served another purpose: The staff completely forgot to check the girls’ ID. So when Little Bit quietly inquired about available white wines, the manager himself brought over the wine list.

He was smart enough to realize in an instant that the girls knew far more about wines than he did. The fact was that the list included some wines that were surprisingly good. Little Bit and Ann debated the relative merits of several of the establishment’s best and finally settled on one, but only after the manager had retreated to check their supply. Ann felt it would be terminally tacky to have to change wines after only one bottle because the lounge had only a single bottle in stock. To the manager’s great relief, he had several, so that’s what the girls ordered.

With an exchange of winks, they ordered brie with crackers and fruit, and finally they asked for bowls of Snapple lemonade for the tigers. Both Gus and Sheba really sat up straight when they heard that they were going to be taken care of, too. Little Bit reached into her purse and took out five hundred-dollar bills “as a down payment on the evening.”

Mary and John Smith were the next to arrive. Mary was carrying a very fat leather-bound loose-leaf binder. Both stroked the great cats and explained that they had gotten to know them while staying with the Williams in Vermont. “They have two of their own now,” John explained, “George and Martha. And now, we learned, Martha gave birth to cubs, and the Williams children just adore them. Bobbie sent us a video, and it’s darling. You should see the kids rolling around on the floor with the cubs! They’re all loving it. And Bobbie did a painting of the scene, too.”

At that point Jane Smith and Sam Johnson arrived. I suspect that the group really caused some consternation in the lounge. From the outset, both Little Bit and Ann appeared to be dripping with money, and her advance payment did nothing to counter that image. Then they were joined by four black people, the two women looking like queens, while both men were huge. And then, of course, there were the two tigers. By that time — it was after five — although the lounge was starting to fill, the newly-arriving patrons gave the tigers as much open space as they possibly could.

“Hey! This is pretty cool,” Ann commented. “It appears we can have a nice quiet conversation in this corner in spite of the crowd.”

Little Bit poured the wine, and Jane raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem?” Little Bit asked while suppressing a grin.

“You’re drinking!” Jane replied.

“You’re right. I find that the body needs a certain fluid intake each day for health. Don’t you agree?” She pouted and added, “Besides ... I’m practically a married woman,” she added, displaying her diamond.

My sisters could see that Jane was nervous. Finally, she blurted out that she had been asked by President Arnn to be the new chief librarian. She was looking at Sam Johnson fearfully when she made her announcement.

Sam quickly allayed her fears. He took her into his arms and kissed her soundly. “That’s the greatest news, ever!” he exclaimed.

Jane, still reeling from the power of his kiss, decided that he was being sincere. For her, the worst of the evening was already over. Then she turned to Mary who was smiling warmly after witnessing their kiss. “You wanted to talk to me about something, Mrs. Smith,” Jane said. Then she added, “I hope you don’t mind my having invited the girls to join us?”

“Don’t be silly!” Mary exclaimed. “From what I’ve heard, it was a phone call from their older sister, Kristin, that started it all. So, no; I don’t mind a bit.”

Mary paused and studied the glass of wine in her hand. Both my sisters felt that they were in the presence of a queen. Mary Smith was truly majestic as she sat there. Finally, she began, “Miss Smith, I am the richest woman in Chicago. I say this not to brag, but because it bears on what I would like to do.”

Then she explained how, through her daughter April, she had first met Emily Amelia Hardwick and had become her heir. She told of Emily and Mike Casey and the Battle of Midway. “Emily never married,” Mary continued sadly. “She remained a virgin, waiting for her lover.” With tears in her eyes, she described Emily’s death. “‘He’s come for me, Mary!’ Emily said just before she died. And when she died, she had the happiest smile on her face I have ever seen. I’m certain that she’s in Mike Casey’s arms right now. In fact,” she said with a smile trying to break through her tears, “I’m not sure if Mike has stopped fucking her yet, even though she died more than ten years ago.