Ride Away Home by William Wells

Author:William Wells
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Permanent Press

I FIND the boys seated in leather club chairs in the oak-paneled bar, located off the lobby beside the hotel’s main dining room. Oil paintings on the walls depict scenes of fox hunting and blue-water sailing. Harold signals to a waitress that we’re ready to order drinks. I ask for a beer, the others cocktails or wine, except for Langdon, a Southern dandy of the old school, who wants a Ramos Gin Fizz.

“I like this hotel,” I tell them. “Very antebellum. A throwback to a time when Northerners were still welcome in the Old South.”

Victor Purcell replies, “And with this recession, our Yankee greenbacks are welcome. I know the owner. He’s a big-time real estate developer. Built Hilton Head, among other things.”

The drinks arrive.

“No offense, Jack, but …” Alan begins.

“Which guarantees that you are about to offend,” Tom says.

“Point taken. But I was wondering why you chose tax law. It seems rather …”

“Arcane?” Tom says. “Boring? No offense, of course.

” Everyone is smiling.

“I didn’t know what specialty I’d choose when I was in law school,” I tell them. “At my law firm, a senior partner is assigned as mentor to each new associate. I drew the head of the tax department, probably because I earned a joint law and accounting degree.”

“Smart boy,” says Tom, the Harvard Business School professor. “It’s all about the numbers.”

“I didn’t have to choose tax law,” I explain. “But the department head was approaching retirement age. He liked me and said tax could be a fast track to partnership. I never regretted it.”

Miles Standish, who, I recall, owns a publishing company, stands and raises his glass for a toast. The others all stand too, holding their glasses high. I follow their lead.

Harold explains: “The first year we stayed here, Miles offered a toast with a literary reference, with the challenge that, if we could identify its source, the drinks were on him.”

Miles clears his throat.

“Here’s to we few, we happy few, we band of brothers!”

“Here, here,” they all say, clinking glasses. “To we band of brothers!”

After a moment of contemplation, Alan says, “It’s from that book and TV series about a WW Two infantry platoon.”

“Band of Brothers,” adds Tom.

“Incorrect,” Miles says. “These are, of course, the immortal words of King Henry V, put in his royal mouth by the late great William Shakespeare. His St. Crispin’s Day speech on the eve of the Battle of Agincourt. Stephen Ambrose did take his book title from the work I cite. So, once again, I’ve stumped you fellows, which, as you well know, I always enjoy immensely.”

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