The Experiment by Robin Lamont

Author:Robin Lamont
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robin Lamont
Published: 2019-05-09T15:32:34+00:00

CHAPTER 17

Stuart Ostrovsky arrived at the Byer home clutching a bouquet of flowers he’d brought for Dillon’s mother. It had been a longer drive than he’d anticipated to this wealthy enclave an hour outside of Boston, and his back was still stiff as he gaped at the expansive front hall, its marble tiles, cream-colored brocade walls, and the sparkling chandelier that hovered over him like a spaceship. He knew that Dillon’s family was financially comfortable, but he hadn’t expected this: the ten-foot iron gate, the mansion, the valet parking.

A uniformed maid approached with a smile. “I’ll take those for you,” she said, holding out her hand for the flowers. He was reluctant to part with them, having envisioned handing them to Dillon’s mother himself. “They’re for Mrs. Byer,” he said.

“Of course,” replied the maid. “I’ll make sure she gets them.”

Feeling as though he had no choice, he let her take the bouquet and lead him through a richly upholstered living room, then a game room with a pool table and oiled mahogany bar, and finally through French doors to the patio. He hesitated at the threshold. His PhD in molecular developmental biology and genetics was not adequate preparation for the social skills necessary to navigate the Gatsby-like garden party spread out before him. A grand white tent had been erected near the tennis court, the stone patio hosted two separate bars, and there seemed to be more catering staff than guests.

When Dillon had first invited him, he’d mumbled something about a party at his family’s place in the country, but the scientist had gotten it into his head that he was going to a backyard barbeque. He’d imagined a pool and a badminton set. Remembering he’d almost worn shorts, he broke out in a sweat. A buff, young waiter found him immediately and asked if he’d like a drink.

Ostrovksy sucked in his stomach. “I’ll take a beer.”

The waiter rattled off a few exotic brands he’d never heard of, so Ostrovksy nodded at the last choice. “That one sounds fine.”

Moments later, it appeared in a flared beer glass, ice cold and delicious. He went in search of his business partner, praying that he would not have to talk to anyone else. Finally, he spotted Dillon inside the tent at a table with three men. Luncheon not yet served, they were the only ones seated and had pushed aside the carefully laid place settings to set up shop. Like most of the other men at the party, they wore sport coats – all but one who was more casually dressed in tangerine pants and a blindingly-white polo shirt.

“Stu, m’boy!” cried Dillon when he saw Ostrovksy walk over. He jumped up to clap his partner on the shoulder. “Dad, this is the guy I’ve been talking about. Brilliant, nothing less.”

The man in brightly-colored pants half rose to greet him. He was, of course, Dillon’s father. They had the same Germanic cheekbones and wide jaw. Only his silver hair and weathered skin, deeply tanned after a summer of golf, set them apart.

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