By The Sea, Book Two: Amanda Read Free Page B

rose and rose. Americans, either from a sense
of guilt because he hadn't yet won despite unfailing good
sportsmanship, or just because they liked the man, were making Sir
Tom richer than ever.
    And they rooted shamelessly for him to win
their Cup besides. By 1920 Lipton had seen, from the deck of his
steam yacht, three different Shamrocks go down to defeat.
This year he had high hopes for Shamrock IV.
    To Geoffrey Seton, Lipton at seventy looked
much the same as he had before the war, when Geoff had stayed
aboard his yacht Erin during race week at Cowes: tall,
curly-haired, with a bushy mustache, a hint of a goatee, and very
possibly the same blue-spotted tie. He had twinkling eyes, the only
person Geoff had ever met who did.
    "Come aboard, lad," said the Irishman,
greeting him with a firm handshake, "and take a look at Victoria. Not quite the same cut of ham as my darling Erin, I'm afraid."
    "I was sorry to hear it when Erin was
torpedoed during the war, sir. At least you have the satisfaction
of knowing that she went down doing her noble best as a patrol boat
"
    "She was a beautiful, historic yacht, but
I'd have given her up gladly to save even one of the six crew who
were lost with her," the old man said.
    Hell and damnation , Geoff thought.
This was not where he wanted the conversation to go. Soon Lipton
would be asking to see his war wounds. "Thank God all that's behind
us now, sir," Geoff said meaningfully.
    "You're right, you're right; put it behind.
That's why I'm having a new Erin built, bigger and better.
How about you, then?" he asked with a careful look. "No bigger, no
better?"
    "You might say that, Sir Thomas."
    "Well, it takes time. In fact"—he looked at
his watch—"I'll tell you what, son. I'm due ashore in a while at a
little party, part business of course, and I'd like to have you
come along. I'm thinking you need a little geniality, and I could
use the company."
    He meant it. The extraordinary thing about
Sir Thomas Lipton, world-renowned tea magnate, was that he had
almost no really close friends. A bachelor, an only child, both
parents dead—it made for an isolated man. He hobnobbed with
royalty; he had ten thousand employees; and all of working-class
America adored him. But except for close friendships with Tom
Dewar, the Scotch whiskey magnate, and one or two other pals,
Lipton kept to himself. It was absurd to feel sorry for him, and
yet Geoff did.
    So they left together for Westport, a
bedroom community on the Connecticut shore where harried New
Yorkers could escape the commodities exchange and legal briefs, if
only for the weekend. Geoff offered to take his car, and Lipton
accepted, saying he might be staying the night. Driving on the
right was a harrowing novelty for a Brit, especially through
Brooklyn, but in Connecticut Geoff relaxed and opened it up a bit.
Never mind about the twenty-mile-an-hour speed limit, he told
Lipton. Hadn't Howdy Wilcox averaged over eighty-eight miles an
hour in last year's Indianapolis Speedway contest?
    "This is not," said Lipton as he gripped a
hand strap in the sedan, "the Indianapolis Speedway."
    Geoff throttled back respectfully and Lipton
resumed normal breathing.
    "Say, Geoff," he said after a while, "what
do you know about sculpture?"
    "That depends. What period?"
    "The period of June 1920. The thing was
finished last week, and I was asked my opinion of it. As all the
world knows, my formal schooling is practically nil, and besides,
the thing was ugly in my simple opinion. But I hemmed and hawed and
finally the young lady went away. I say this to you by way of a
warning, because for all I know it may be lurking still in the
house we're bound for, and if it is, you'll be asked what you think
of it sure."
    "Is the young lady the owner or the creator
of it?"
    "She never did say; either way she has
warped ideas, if you ask me. But then, as I say, I'm a simple
man."
    "Well, thanks for the tip." There was a
pause. "Is the young lady pretty?"
    "Equally hard to say.