small house.
Howard held his mother in his arms. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’m going to stay here and take care of you.”
“No. I don’t want you to give up college for me. From the day you were born, your father and I planned for you to go to college.” Then quietly, after a moment: “Let’s talk about it in the morning. I’m very tired.”
Howard stayed up all night, thinking about his choices. He could go to Harvard on a baseball scholarship or take one of the offers in the major leagues. Either way he would be leaving his mother alone. It was a difficult decision.
When his mother didn’t appear at breakfast the next morning, Howard went into her bedroom. She was sitting up in bed, unable to move, her face pulled up on one side. She had suffered a stroke.
With no money to pay for the hospital or doctors, Howard went back to work at the bank, full-time. He was finished at four o’clock, and each afternoon he hurried home to take care of his mother.
It was a mild stroke, and the doctor assured Howard thatin time his mother would be fine. “She’s had a terrible shock, but she’s going to recover.”
Howard still got calls from scouts from the major leagues, but he knew that he could not leave his mother. I’ll go when she’s better, he told himself.
The medical bills kept piling up.
In the beginning he talked to Betty Quinlan once a week, but after a few months the calls became less and less frequent.
Howard’s mother did not seem to be improving. Howard talked to the doctor. “When is she going to be all right?”
“In a case like this, it’s hard to tell, son. She could go on for months like this, or even years. Sorry I can’t be more specific.”
The year ended and another began, and Howard was still living with his mother and working at the bank. One day he received a letter from Betty Quinlan, telling him that she had fallen in love with someone else and that she hoped his mother was feeling better. The calls from scouts became less frequent and finally stopped altogether. Howard’s life centered on taking care of his mother. He did the shopping and the cooking and carried on with his job. He no longer thought about baseball. It was difficult enough just getting through each day.
When his mother died four years later, Howard Keller was no longer interested in baseball. He was now a banker.
His chance of fame had vanished.
Chapter Nine
H oward Keller and Lara were having dinner.
“How do we get started?” Lara asked.
“First of all, we’re going to get you the best team money can buy. We’ll start out with a real estate lawyer to work out the contract with the Diamond brothers. Then we want to get you a top architect. I have someone in mind. After that, we want to hire a top construction company. I’ve done a little arithmetic of my own. The soft costs for the project will come to about three hundred thousand dollars a room. The cost of the hotel will be about seven million dollars. If we plan it right, it can work.”
The architect’s name was Ted Tuttle, and when he heard Lara’s plans, he grinned and said, “Bless you. I’ve been waiting for someone to come along with an idea like this.”
Ten working days later he had rendered his drawings. They were everything Lara had dreamed of.
“Originally the hotel had a hundred and twenty-five rooms,” the architect said. “As you can see, I’ve cut it down to seventy-five keys, as you’ve asked.”
In the drawing there were fifty suites and twenty-five deluxe rooms.
“It’s perfect,” Lara said.
Lara showed the plans to Howard Keller. He was equally enthusiastic.
“Let’s go to work. I’ve set up a meeting with a contractor. His name is Steve Rice.”
Steve Rice was one of the top contractors in Chicago. Lara liked him immediately. He was a rugged, no-nonsense, down-to-earth type.
Lara said, “Howard Keller tells me that you’re the best.”
“He’s right,” Rice said. “Our motto is ‘We build for
Howard held his mother in his arms. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’m going to stay here and take care of you.”
“No. I don’t want you to give up college for me. From the day you were born, your father and I planned for you to go to college.” Then quietly, after a moment: “Let’s talk about it in the morning. I’m very tired.”
Howard stayed up all night, thinking about his choices. He could go to Harvard on a baseball scholarship or take one of the offers in the major leagues. Either way he would be leaving his mother alone. It was a difficult decision.
When his mother didn’t appear at breakfast the next morning, Howard went into her bedroom. She was sitting up in bed, unable to move, her face pulled up on one side. She had suffered a stroke.
With no money to pay for the hospital or doctors, Howard went back to work at the bank, full-time. He was finished at four o’clock, and each afternoon he hurried home to take care of his mother.
It was a mild stroke, and the doctor assured Howard thatin time his mother would be fine. “She’s had a terrible shock, but she’s going to recover.”
Howard still got calls from scouts from the major leagues, but he knew that he could not leave his mother. I’ll go when she’s better, he told himself.
The medical bills kept piling up.
In the beginning he talked to Betty Quinlan once a week, but after a few months the calls became less and less frequent.
Howard’s mother did not seem to be improving. Howard talked to the doctor. “When is she going to be all right?”
“In a case like this, it’s hard to tell, son. She could go on for months like this, or even years. Sorry I can’t be more specific.”
The year ended and another began, and Howard was still living with his mother and working at the bank. One day he received a letter from Betty Quinlan, telling him that she had fallen in love with someone else and that she hoped his mother was feeling better. The calls from scouts became less frequent and finally stopped altogether. Howard’s life centered on taking care of his mother. He did the shopping and the cooking and carried on with his job. He no longer thought about baseball. It was difficult enough just getting through each day.
When his mother died four years later, Howard Keller was no longer interested in baseball. He was now a banker.
His chance of fame had vanished.
Chapter Nine
H oward Keller and Lara were having dinner.
“How do we get started?” Lara asked.
“First of all, we’re going to get you the best team money can buy. We’ll start out with a real estate lawyer to work out the contract with the Diamond brothers. Then we want to get you a top architect. I have someone in mind. After that, we want to hire a top construction company. I’ve done a little arithmetic of my own. The soft costs for the project will come to about three hundred thousand dollars a room. The cost of the hotel will be about seven million dollars. If we plan it right, it can work.”
The architect’s name was Ted Tuttle, and when he heard Lara’s plans, he grinned and said, “Bless you. I’ve been waiting for someone to come along with an idea like this.”
Ten working days later he had rendered his drawings. They were everything Lara had dreamed of.
“Originally the hotel had a hundred and twenty-five rooms,” the architect said. “As you can see, I’ve cut it down to seventy-five keys, as you’ve asked.”
In the drawing there were fifty suites and twenty-five deluxe rooms.
“It’s perfect,” Lara said.
Lara showed the plans to Howard Keller. He was equally enthusiastic.
“Let’s go to work. I’ve set up a meeting with a contractor. His name is Steve Rice.”
Steve Rice was one of the top contractors in Chicago. Lara liked him immediately. He was a rugged, no-nonsense, down-to-earth type.
Lara said, “Howard Keller tells me that you’re the best.”
“He’s right,” Rice said. “Our motto is ‘We build for
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