O'hara's Choice - Leon Uris [107]
At Tobermory, every pumpkin in Rhode Island that survived Halloween was purchased and its innards had been gutted for one of a thousand pies.
A concrete pond that was dug by engineers from Dutchman’s Hook held a slim two inches of water, enough to freeze over for curling matches and ice skating.
Rooms were assigned at the three homes and a beachside resort hotel and its staff hired for the overflow, second cousins and such.
Daisy got it all ready. No banister rail went undecorated and sleighs were on standby in case they got a decent snow.
On the third day before Thanksgiving, Kerrs arrived from everywhere. Welcome parties were held at the homes of Malcolm and Donald in order to save the grand climax banquet for the main house.
Matching faces with places and times flown by led to jolly stuffy kisses, backslaps, and pinched cheeks. Horace commended himself for his largesse and was in high spirits.
He had not exactly spoken or written to Upton, but had had a representative in London extend an invitation. Upton returned a kind note by cable that he was otherwise engaged but appreciated the thought.
Thank God.
There was a treasure hunt for the children with a grand prize of a hundred-dollar gold piece from great-uncle-uncle-cousin and second cousin of all of them, Horace, and an ice hockey exhibition between the Providence Pilgrims and the Springfield Manufacturers, and music up from Baltimore consisting of teachers and students from the Peabody Institute, with top-quality soloists.
. . . and nonstop activity for the kids.
Why didn’t I do this a century ago? Horace wondered.
The children were fed at their own afternoon affair, served by a black staff dressed as Pilgrims and Indians. Those who were still awake into the evening were skillfully attended to by nannies and governesses.
Daisy had arranged the tables in the grand salon in a circular manner so that rank was not an issue.
For favors, there were golden cuff links of ships, golden brooches of ships, and models of the greatest of the Kerr ships.
Malcolm and Donald arrived in handsomely tailored jackets as former vice-commodore and commodore of their Chesapeake Yacht Club.
They glutted themselves into a state of slow motion as the glee club from the naval training school sang hymns of thanks and humility.
With toast upon toast the gentlemen enjoyed their cigars.
. . . until all that one craved now was a snooze. Horace zeroed in on the moment. Before he lost his captives, he clinked his glass with a spoon and held his arms wide like a preacher.
The room quieted. Don’t drag it out, Horace, nail it now.
“. . . I am so filled, as though I have launched the ship of my life. For our final toast I am going to let you in on a deep secret that I planned to hold until Christmas. The moment is so soaring it demands I share it with you.”
Well, that sobered them up.
“You are, of course, all aware of the great work of the Kerr Foundation, begun by our beloved patriarch, Angus—”
“Hear! Hear!”
“—who passed on to me his great bent, and charitable institution over which I have presided, with the assistance of my brothers, Malcolm and Donald”—who stood and were cheered.
Horace listed the foundation’s generosity, orphan home, the church, a school for Negro children of exceptional promise, support for the arts including the purchase of a permanent box at the Metropolitan Opera, a stud farm to perfect quarter horses, grants to over twenty-three charities, “which I shall not list . . .”
Backdraft of laughter.
“. . . and now, our crowning achievement.”
Silence raged.
“My daughter Amanda has been inspired to establish a college in her name for the advancement of women’s education . . .
“Therefore . . . to that end . . .
“I am proud to announce that the Kerr Family Foundation has purchased eight hundred and thirty-seven acres of pristine land midway between Baltimore and Washington along the Patuxent River near Severn.”
The room arose, profoundly.
“I grant