New York - The Novel

there. Even Nicholas Murray Butler put in an appearance. An event like this, after all, was quite useful for the university. Keller was put at a table and made to sign copies of his book. They cleared two hundred, and Rose bought another fifty to give away to friends who’d spread the word.
    Edmund Keller was overwhelmed by her kindness. And he gave back in return. For the highlight of the evening was the charming speech ofthanks that he gave. His years of lecturing had made him a quite delightful and polished performer. He made them all laugh, closing to loud applause; but what gratified Rose most of all were the words he spoke about the Master family.
    “This event is a particular pleasure and honor for me. More than sixty years ago my father, the photographer Theodore Keller, had the good fortune to come to the notice of one of this city’s oldest leading families, when Mr. and Mrs. Frank Master became his patrons and started him on his successful and, if I may say, eminent career. I was glad some years ago, at Columbia, to have the pleasure of teaching their great-grandson Charles Master, whom I nowadays call my friend. And if he could see us now—I hope he can—I know how delighted my father would be to see his son also honored by the kindness and support of the Master family today.”
    Sixty years of patronage, one of the city’s oldest leading families. Old money. Rose beamed at him. This party had really turned out better than she could have expected.

    It wasn’t very often that Uncle Luigi went to church, but on Sunday he did, and to keep him company, Salvatore went too.
    The last two weeks had been very difficult for Uncle Luigi. As the clerk at the brokers had predicted, the market had been going up, clawing its way back toward the peak of early September. Yet Uncle Luigi could not help being troubled. His savings had really accumulated in a remarkable way. He didn’t want to stop working yet, but if he did stop, he had enough to live quite a pleasant life of retirement. He’d never told him, but he’d already stated in his will that Salvatore should inherit his money. It seemed only right. So from a personal point of view, and for his nephew’s sake, he had a duty to safeguard those savings.
    Several times he’d almost sold up. Each time, though, the voice of the broker’s clerk had echoed in his head: “I’d hate you to miss out.”
    No one wants to look like a fool. No one wants to be left behind.
    Finally, in the hope that a visit to church might give him inspiration, or at least clear his mind, he gave religion a try.
    The Church of the Transfiguration was quite well attended that morning. But the priest did not fail to notice that Luigi, whom he knew perfectly well, had put in a rare appearance. Since he hadn’t been to confessioneither, Uncle Luigi decided not to take the wafer—he didn’t want to come even closer under the priest’s eye. He listened to the sermon, though.
    It was a sermon about Christ’s temptation in the desert. It surprised Uncle Luigi that the subject should be chosen now, since it normally belonged in Lent, but he paid close attention. The priest reminded the congregation how Our Lord had gone up to a high place, and the devil had urged him to jump out into the void, since the angels would surely save him. “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God,” Christ had replied. We must accept God’s will, the priest explained. We must not overreach, or make bets that God will help us. This, and much more, the priest said, and Uncle Luigi listened carefully.
    Salvatore had not been so enthralled. He’d fidgeted irritably.
    “I’m sure I heard a sermon like that when I was a child,” he remarked to his uncle when they got outside.
    “And what did you think of it the second time?”
    “Not much,” he said.
    Uncle Luigi
was
thinking about the sermon, though. He was thinking about it a lot.

    Wednesday, October 23, was a windy day. As usual, William Master was driven to his office in his Rolls-Royce.
    There were quite a few Rolls-Royces in New York, these days. A decade earlier, the company had set up an American factory in Springfield, Massachusetts. But only the richest people had them. The sight of Mr. Master arriving at his brokerage house in the Rolls each morning had become quite a tradition. It was reassuring. It was good for business.
    William had had this model for five years. The grand old Silver Ghost had given way to the Phantom now. William’s