“None taken,” Des said quietly, as the frozen, windblown rain continued to pelt the windows.
“Now you just hold on one second, Grandmother,” Aaron countered. “I have allowed you your say-”
“You have allowed me nothing, you little twit.”
“But I don’t believe I should have to apologize for living in the greatest country in the history of the earth.”
“I think that we in the studio audience are now supposed to clap our hands like seals,” Ada jeered.
“This is the land of opportunity,” Aaron pronounced, his voice resonant and assured. “Everyone is free to make his or her own way, however they choose. The only thing holding them back is their own damned government robbing them blind to pay for bloated bureaucracies such as Social Security, which is nothing more than a spectacularly failed Ponzi scheme that was forced upon us by dreamers and fools.”
“Dreamers and fools,” Ada said, nodding her head. “That’s what we were. Some of us still are. Not you, though. You are a true, red-meat American, Aaron. And good for you, I say. But do me a small favor, will you? Give me an example of one moment of pure joy that it’s brought you in your entire adult life. One moment that wasn’t based on the manipulation and misfortune of others.”
Aaron sat there with his mouth open, at a loss for words. Which Mitch felt had to be a first.
“You can’t, can you?” Ada went on. “And that’s terribly sad. Because I can think of a hundred moments, a thousand moments. We had passion, Aaron. We cared about other people. You don’t. All you care about is sounding clever on national television.” She raised her chin at him, her eyes fierce. “My God, if your father could see you now…”
“My father was a loser,” Aaron snapped.
Norma let out an astonished gasp.
“You are way out of line, buddy,” Teddy said angrily. “My brother was a great man, and you’re not going to run him down-especially in front of your mother. Try that again and I’ll take you outside and pop you one.”
“Oh, go play your stupid piano, Teddy,” Aaron said to him savagely. “No one is interested in what you have to say.”
From across the table, Des locked eyes with Mitch. Behind those heavy horn-rimmed glasses, hers were wide with amazement. She had a few months of service in Dorset under her belt, but she still could not get used to this-wealthy white people behaving badly.
“Hey, come on now,” Les interjected, forcing a cheery smile onto his smooth pink face. “Let’s all relax and enjoy our meal, okay?”
Carly stayed out of the line of fire entirely. Just kept staring bale-fully across the table at Hannah. Mitch wasn’t sure why. He did know that Hannah was growing very uncomfortable under her gaze.
“I feel bad for you, Aaron,” Ada went on. “You’re my grandson, and I love you, and you have no idea how they’re exploiting you.”
“And just exactly who is they?” he demanded, seething.
“Why, the ruling class, of course. You’re not one of them, Aaron, and you never will be. You’re merely their court jester, all dressed up on television in your little bow tie. Should you displease them, they will unplug you. And you will cease to exist. You do know this, don’t you? You are such a realist you must realize this particular fact of-”
“Why did you even come back?” Aaron erupted at her. “You’re a horrible hateful woman! I wish you had stayed in Europe. And I’m sorry I schlepped all the way up here to see you. Carly made me. She said I’d be sorry if I didn’t. Well, guess what? I am sorry. I am really, really-” Aaron jumped to his feet, kicking over his chair, and fled from the table.
“Does the truth frighten you that much?” Ada called after him as he went charging across the dining hall, his footsteps heavy and clumsy.
“Leave him alone, Mother,” Norma pleaded. “He’s very young.”
“He’s an ass,” Ada shot back.
Teddy shook his head at her in amazement. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you, old girl?”
“And why should I?” she demanded.
“No reason,” he said, smiling at her. “No reason at all.”
The commotion brought Jory out of the kitchen. She righted Aaron’s chair, then refilled the wineglasses with the last of the Cotes-du-Rhone they’d been drinking.
“We’ll be needing another bottle, Jory,” Les said. “Would you mind getting one from the cellar?”
“Be happy to,” she said brightly, heading back through the kitchen door.
“I’d better see to dessert,” sighed Norma, massaging her temples with her fingers.
“You seem tired tonight, dear,” Les observed. “Let Jory take over.”
“I’m quite all right,” she insisted.
“Always the steady little plugger, my Norma,” Ada said, needling her. “Always the one to keep her troublesome personal feelings bottled up inside.”
“Yes, Mother,” Norma said irritably. Ada had pricked a tender nerve.
Mitch was wondering what that particular nerve might be when a tremendously powerful gust of wind rattled the dining hall windows, followed almost at once by a sharp, frighteningly loud crackle somewhere outside-and then by a thud that practically shook the castle to its foundation.
“My God!” Hannah cried out in alarm. “What in the hell was that?”
“That, my dear, was the sound of a very large tree coming down,” Les responded quietly.
Hannah shook her head in disbelief. “But why did it…?”
Another crackle interrupted her-and a second tree crashed to the ground. This one seemed even closer.
This one also plunged the entire castle into darkness.
Or something sure as hell did. The only illumination in the cavernous dining hall came from the candelabra on their table and from the flickering, amber glow of the fireplaces. The doorway to the entry hall was nothing but a black void. Likewise the kitchen door.
“Just a localized blip,” Les assured them. “Our power goes off like this all the time when there’s a storm. It usually comes back on again in a second.”
But it didn’t come back on again in a second.
Des went over to the windows and looked outside, shielding her eyes with a hand. “I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I don’t see a single light on anywhere in Dorset. Or across the river in Old Saybrook or Essex.”
“It’s the ice storm,” Mitch said. “The trees can’t handle the extra weight, not when there’s this kind of wind. It can split them down the middle.”
“And right down onto the power lines,” Des added grimly. “This looks bad. Very bad.”
“Poor Jory is stuck down in the wine cellar,” Norma suddenly realized. “I’d best take her a flashlight.”
“I can do that,” offered Spence.
“You’d better let me,” Les said. “Those old cellar stairs are tricky, Spence. You might fall and hurt yourself.”
As Les started for the kitchen, candelabrum in hand, Norma began lighting the candles that were set on the other tables.
Over by the windows, a pager started beeping.
“That’s me,” Des said. “I need to check in.”
“I’m afraid the phones will likely be out, too,” Norma told her.
“It’s okay, I’ve got my cell.” Des grabbed a candle, excused herself and retreated in the direction of the taproom.
Now Mitch heard a door slam somewhere, followed by heavy footsteps. Someone with a powerful flashlight came clumping into the dining room from the kitchen. It was Jase. The shy caretaker was covered with ice and panting so hard for breath that the key chain on his belt was jangling like a tambourine. “There’s… there are…” He could not get the words out, he was so agitated.
“What’s happened, dear?” Norma asked him gently. “Go ahead and tell us. Speak right up.”
“It’s the t-trees!” he stammered. “They’re coming down all over the place!”