“That would be me,” Doc said. “Can I tempt you into a game? I’m tired of beating Jack.”
“Absolutely,” Brandon said agreeably. Jack cleared away the remnants of the chicken while Doc set up the chessboard on the card table. Soon they had launched into a game Alice had never bothered to learn.
“I couldn’t help noticing the feller machine you’ve got parked out back,” Brandon said to Jack as he moved a pawn forward.
Jack grunted. “Yeah, that thing is costing me four thousand dollars a week, and I can’t use it when it’s raining this hard.”
“Why didn’t you clear the trees when you initially cleared the golf course land?” Brandon’s question provoked one of those dashing grins from Jack.
“That was before we got the idea for the amphitheater,” he said. “It’s going to have a view of the waterfall on one side, with Saint Helga’s Spring behind it. A gorgeous venue like that can attract PGA tours and television rights, so I’m not sparing any expense. The quicker I can clear the trees, the quicker I can break ground.”
“The local students are going to have a lot to say about that,” Alice said. “If the integrity of the spring is in danger, they’ll go into full eco-warrior mode. That means protests and petitions and even breaking equipment.”
“Sabotage?” Jack asked.
She nodded. “It’s happened before. They’re already mad about the golf course, and will go into overdrive if they learn SaintHelga’s Spring is going to have a tacky amphitheater plopped in front of it.”
Given Jack’s darkening expression, it looked like her words were starting to have the intended effect. “Yeah, well, the students aren’t here. By the time they get back from their summer vacations in Saint-Tropez or wherever rich kids spend their summers, the amphitheater will be a done deal. Right now, they’re not here and they don’t know about it.”
“Oh, they’ll know about it. Trust me.”
Brandon, ever the gentleman, deliberately changed the subject. “What are you going to charge for a round of golf?” he asked Jack.
Alice nearly choked on her own breath when she learned a round of golf would cost two hundred dollars on a typical day, and more on weekends. “Why would anyone squander that much money to broil in the sun all day?”
“Why would anyone squander their day reading a novel about made-up people?” Jack countered. He didn’t sound mad, he sounded amused. “Pardon me, Professor, but I don’t see Jane Austen as being any more valuable to society than a decent round of golf.”
Alice drew a breath and straightened her spine. “Jane Austen belongs in the pantheon alongside Shakespeare and Dante, and the only reason she’s not there is because the male guardians of the canon won’t let a woman past the gates. Jane Austen didn’t need to create improbable plots about war or carnage or revenge. Her characters are the stuff of legend. Her novels are masterpieces of sparkling wit and social observation that celebrate the triumph of human reason over baser instincts.”
She shouldn’t have rambled on so much, but Jack was listening to every word, his expression rapt. Then he had to spoil everything by opening his mouth. “Jane Austen writes long-winded novels filled with boring tea parties and women wearing ugly nighties.”
“The dresseswererather frumpy,” Brandon said, but Alice would not concede.
“Regency gowns weren’t flashy, but they were feminine and graceful without putting half a woman’s body on public display. Our world would be a better place if people had the self-control to abide by the civilized norms in a Jane Austen novel. Meanwhile, golf is a mindless waste of time and money.”
Instead of being insulted, Jack warmed to the subject. “You may not appreciate sweaty games of sportsmanship, but competing is hardwired into every red-blooded man’s DNA. As soon as cavemen started walking on two feet, they competed. Who could run faster, throw a rock farther, drag home a bigger antelope. Look at Professor Tilney. Within ten minutes of spotting that chessboard, he rolled up his sleeves and wanted a match. Competition is normal human nature.”
“Maybe it’s aman’snature,” she pointed out, and once again, Brandon sided with the barbarians.
“Are men not human?” he asked. “If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you poison us, do we not die?”
Referencing Shakespeare’sThe Merchant of Venicewasn’t going to make Alice see value in golf. It was three men against one woman, and she was losing.
“Face it, Alice,” Jack said. “Sports and competition are bred into us, and that’s a good thing. Instead of going to war with the Russians, we go to the Olympics and fight it out on ski slopes and race tracks. Sports let mankind blow off steam. If I didn’t have golf when I was growing up, I’d have landed in jail a million times.”
The statement made her pause. She’d never known anyone who’d gone to jail or was even at risk of such a fate. What sortof man was Jack Latimer? It didn’t really matter. He was simply wrong about the value of sports.
“The way to rescue America’s at-risk youth is through academics, not sweaty locker rooms and pointless contests of strength.”
Jack remained cheerfully unconvinced. “That may have worked foryou, but guys like me need an outlet to compete and conquer. Not everyone’s salvation will be found in a library. I think you need to open your mind, Professor.”
Did she? Alice had three brothers, and all of them would probably agree with Jack.
And to her mortification, she had to consider that he might be right about the value of sports.
The rain lasted all afternoon, but Brandon eventually got his samples, and Alice got an unexpected lesson in opening her mind.
Chapter Nine
