have many skills that could be put to better use. And certainly more…moral.” She folded her napkin neatly and placed it on the edge of her plate. “I do hope I am not overstepping my boundaries as your hostess, but…” Mrs. McGuire shook her head. “I apologize in advance for my curtness. But surely your mother does not approve of your activities.”
Jon looked down at the table. This wasn’t the first time he’d been asked to justify his particular line of work. Usually accompanied by curses and swearing, the question always hung in the air over him, like Damocles’ sword. Silently he pulled off his right glove, letting the brass and copper metal shine in the dim electric lights of the dining room.
Her eyes went wide. Biting down on her lower lip, she stared at the useless fingers caught in the metal embrace.
“A reminder of how cruel man can be to man.” He picked up the fork with his left hand, pushing the chicken bone around the empty plate. “There are always circumstances beyond our control that demand us to make decisions that others may not agree with. And debts that must be repaid.” His mind flew back to London and the night before his departure.
“You cannot just…go West.” Daniel Handleston waved his hand in the air, spittle flying from his lips.
“I will not allow it.”
“Why?” Jon paced around the room. “You have William to run the estate and Edward right behind him. You don’t need me.”
“Is that what you think? That I don’t need you?” His father placed one hand on the bald pate of a sculptured head, the bust itself resting on a cherry oak pedestal. “I need you to be active in the family business, Jon. I need all of my sons to be knowledgeable in the ways of the business world.”
“Which is how we ended up in the Americas. In the South.” Jon held up his right hand, the metal brace roughly gripping his fingers. “We put our money on the wrong horse, Father. It’s time to admit that and move on. For me to move on.”
The loud snort echoed through the room. “Son, maybe when you get a bit older you’ll see that time tends to shift all things. Our investments haven’t been lost, just delayed.” Striding over to the window, the older man looked out onto the finely manicured lawns. Overhead, an airship headed towards the Great City in the distance, rising slowly through the grey, smoggy clouds to clear a smaller, faster aircraft that dipped and weaved towards the landing area near the house. The single-wing craft puttered along, the lone propeller keeping the plane aloft. Finally the ship bounced to a rough stop along the brown strip, the engine spewing white smoke as it shut down. Servants ran to the rear of the plane, starting to unload the baggage tied to the luggage rack. The female pilot undid the straps holding her in place and stepped off the machine, taking off her leather helmet and goggles. She looked towards the house and waved a hand in the air, smiling.
“Your mother is home.” Turning back, his father shook his head. “My decision is final. I did not put all that money into your…ailment to have you run off like a common thief.”
“You talk to me of honor and yet deny me this?” Jon shot back, his voice rising in intensity. “I will not pay off this debt with your tainted money. I cannot.” He opened and closed his right hand, wincing as the raw skin protested the action. “I cannot play here. Too many people know me, know us. I need to go to the Americas where no one knows of us and thus I have no fear of gaining my victories dishonestly.” Jon sighed. “I know you would pay others to lose intentionally for me to complete this task. But it is something I must do by myself without aid of our name.” He straightened up. “You speak to me of honor, Father. This is something I must do.”
Daniel let out a grunt. “Son, I understand the principle. But you cannot expect to do the impossible.”
He glanced at the crippled hand. “You
Jon looked down at the table. This wasn’t the first time he’d been asked to justify his particular line of work. Usually accompanied by curses and swearing, the question always hung in the air over him, like Damocles’ sword. Silently he pulled off his right glove, letting the brass and copper metal shine in the dim electric lights of the dining room.
Her eyes went wide. Biting down on her lower lip, she stared at the useless fingers caught in the metal embrace.
“A reminder of how cruel man can be to man.” He picked up the fork with his left hand, pushing the chicken bone around the empty plate. “There are always circumstances beyond our control that demand us to make decisions that others may not agree with. And debts that must be repaid.” His mind flew back to London and the night before his departure.
“You cannot just…go West.” Daniel Handleston waved his hand in the air, spittle flying from his lips.
“I will not allow it.”
“Why?” Jon paced around the room. “You have William to run the estate and Edward right behind him. You don’t need me.”
“Is that what you think? That I don’t need you?” His father placed one hand on the bald pate of a sculptured head, the bust itself resting on a cherry oak pedestal. “I need you to be active in the family business, Jon. I need all of my sons to be knowledgeable in the ways of the business world.”
“Which is how we ended up in the Americas. In the South.” Jon held up his right hand, the metal brace roughly gripping his fingers. “We put our money on the wrong horse, Father. It’s time to admit that and move on. For me to move on.”
The loud snort echoed through the room. “Son, maybe when you get a bit older you’ll see that time tends to shift all things. Our investments haven’t been lost, just delayed.” Striding over to the window, the older man looked out onto the finely manicured lawns. Overhead, an airship headed towards the Great City in the distance, rising slowly through the grey, smoggy clouds to clear a smaller, faster aircraft that dipped and weaved towards the landing area near the house. The single-wing craft puttered along, the lone propeller keeping the plane aloft. Finally the ship bounced to a rough stop along the brown strip, the engine spewing white smoke as it shut down. Servants ran to the rear of the plane, starting to unload the baggage tied to the luggage rack. The female pilot undid the straps holding her in place and stepped off the machine, taking off her leather helmet and goggles. She looked towards the house and waved a hand in the air, smiling.
“Your mother is home.” Turning back, his father shook his head. “My decision is final. I did not put all that money into your…ailment to have you run off like a common thief.”
“You talk to me of honor and yet deny me this?” Jon shot back, his voice rising in intensity. “I will not pay off this debt with your tainted money. I cannot.” He opened and closed his right hand, wincing as the raw skin protested the action. “I cannot play here. Too many people know me, know us. I need to go to the Americas where no one knows of us and thus I have no fear of gaining my victories dishonestly.” Jon sighed. “I know you would pay others to lose intentionally for me to complete this task. But it is something I must do by myself without aid of our name.” He straightened up. “You speak to me of honor, Father. This is something I must do.”
Daniel let out a grunt. “Son, I understand the principle. But you cannot expect to do the impossible.”
He glanced at the crippled hand. “You
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