Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [146]
There was a shout from the hall and Francie put Harry and his fading fortunes to the back of her mind as Ollie flung himself through the door with the usual exuberance he displayed on being let out of school. “Mom, can I go to the warehouse with Philip?” he said eagerly.
Francie sighed. “What about homework?”
“Aw, Mom, I’ll do it later.” He smiled beguilingly at her, and as always, she was reminded of his father. “I promise,” he added, giving her a hug.
Now that he was thirteen hugs were becoming a rarity, and raising an eyebrow she asked, “To what do I owe the honor, master Oliver?”
He shrugged. “Oh, I dunno, you just looked sort of lonely, I guess. See you later, Mom.”
Philip Chen was waiting in the hall. “I’ll have him back by six, Elder Sister,” he said with a tiny formal bow.
She walked to the front door watching them stride away down the street. Ollie was tall for his age, lanky as a colt, and his thick blond hair flopped untidily over his eyes. They were as gray as Josh’s and he had his father’s smile—the same one that had just beguiled her into letting him put off his homework—as well as Josh’s innocent joie de vivre. Ollie half-ran along the street, his body full of urgency and excitement, while Philip Chen’s stride was controlled and deliberate.
Eighteen-year-old Philip was an American Chinese with Western ways. He wore his black hair short and he dressed Western-style, even on Chinese festivals. And that was the way the Mandarin knew it should be. Lai Tsin had wanted him to retain his Chinese background and for most of his life Philip had lived with a Chinese family and attended Chinese school, but each afternoon a tutor had instructed him on the history of America and Europe and on Western culture. He had left school at sixteen and gone to work alongside Lai Tsin, whom he respectfully called his Honorable Father, to learn all aspects of the business. He often accompanied him on his travels to the Orient and the Mandarin treated him as his own son, and there was a great bond of love and trust between them.
Ollie glanced at Philip’s serious face as they swung down the hill to catch a tram on Market Street. Philip Chen was his idol. He was small and serious with a pale skin and thick black hair. His slanted eyes were an unusual light hazel brown with an enigmatic expression. He called Ollie “Little Brother,” he was silent and mysterious and Ollie never knew what he was thinking, but he guessed it was something important because Philip never seemed to clutter his mind with baseball scores or cigarette cards or the horses out at the ranch. Philip always seemed to be thinking of loftier, more exciting things, like the value of the Hong Kong currency against the dollar and the gross tonnage of the latest addition to the Lai Tsin fleet. And that was one of the reasons Ollie wanted to accompany Philip to the office, because he wanted to learn all about the business. He wanted to travel to Hong Kong with the Mandarin and Philip, he wanted to watch their cargoes being loaded and to sail the South China Sea and visit all the exciting ports of the world.
The other reason was because Philip was his only friend. Money talked and so Ollie attended San Francisco’s smartest boys’ school, but he wasn’t really part of it. Oh, the other guys were okay, he played football with them and they chatted with him all right, but he was never invited to their homes. Sure, it hurt a little, but he knew his family was different and though he was proud of them, sometimes it was tough. And it was always lonely. He tried philosophically to shrug it off, telling himself that next year his