May 12, 1964
Chauncey Delafield stood at the bar in the library of the Reynolds home, nervously mixing another drink for himself.
“All right now, Dana, take it easy, take it easy,” urged Archie Reynolds, sitting on the couch next to his daughter.
Dana, red-eyed, was tearing a tissue to shreds as she spoke.
“Just calm down. We can’t understand you if you’re talking and crying at the same time.”
“I can’t help that,” Dana said impatiently.
Delafield leaned against the fireplace.
“Tell us the story once again, all the way through,” uged her father. He was having difficulty controlling his anger.
“After the ceremony he said he wanted to have lunch and a chat. We went to Edward’s. That’s a little place on Sixty-first and Lexington where we go occasionally …”
“Yes?”
“We were having a hamburger, and he was talking about his new career, his plans to be in every paper, every day, and about how the Governor was going to be so pleased he wouldn’t know how he ever got along without J.T. Did I tell you the Governor sent you his best regards?”
“If I had known about this before he was sworn in, the Governor wouldn’t have been quite so friendly to him, I assure you! In fact, Wright wouldn’t have been sworn in as dogcatcher.”
“That’s probably why he waited until after he was sworn in to tell Dana,” Chauncey said.
“The sniveling sneak. Go ahead, darling, tell us the rest of what happened.”
“Do I have to? I’ve been through it all already.”
“I’m sorry this upsets you, baby,” said Archie, “but I want to hear exactly what happened, so I know what I have to do.”
“Do about what?” Dana said impatiently. “The fact is that J.T. doesn’t think we should see each other anymore because our relationship isn’t going anywhere and he doesn’t want to waste my time. Getting J.T. to want to see me is a little beyond even your influence, Daddy.”
“There is something to be said, at least, for his upfront honesty,” said Delafield.
“Don’t start temporizing,” Archie said sharply. “After seeing Dana steadily for … how long is it?”
“Not steadily, Daddy.”
“How long have you been seeing him?”
“Three years.”
“And after all the things we’ve done for him, all of which he was delighted to accept, now he realizes that your relationship isn’t going anywhere? Why didn’t he realize it before we moved the world around so he’d have a bigger space in it?”
“I don’t know, Daddy.”
“Why didn’t he realize it before you brought him into the firm, Chauncey?”
Delafield had no answer.
“And you can bet he knows the Governor isn’t able to un-appoint him now. The Governor would have egg on his face if he did. This little Mr. J.T. Wright is one conniving piece of work.” Reynolds was furious.
“I don’t know that all of this was calculated like that, Daddy.”
“I agree with Dana, Archie. You judge him too harshly.”
“I’ve been around this world a bit, and I know a hustler when I see one. I’m going to call the Governor at home anyway. Even if nothing can be done, at least the Governor will know he’s got a snake working for him.”
“Don’t you dare, Daddy. Does everybody in the world have to know I’ve been dumped?”
“There’s something in what Dana says, Archie.”
“If he wanted to just use me for our family’s influence, he could just keep stringing me along, couldn’t he? Maybe it was—even if it hurts—an act of honesty and, actually, kindness.”
“That’s right, Archie.”
“Don’t give me that,” Reynolds lashed out. “After all Dana’s done for him, all the time and affection she’s lavished on him, that’s what she gets? A kick in the teeth? How dare he do this to a Reynolds?” He seethed, pacing the floor. “He must be a faggot,” Reynolds snapped angrily. “That’s what it must all be about.”
Delafield thought back, trying to see if he had overlooked something.
“He’s a faggot,” Reynolds repeated flatly, pacing the room again.
“Oh, Daddy. That can’t be.”
Reynolds turned. “Why not?”
“It just can’t. I mean—”
“He’s pretty chummy with DeValen, isn’t he, Chauncey? Why do you suppose DeValen has been so insistent about J.T. handling his affairs? Think about that.” His eyes narrowed.
“Daddy, I can’t believe—”
“Why else do you suppose that he told you all this—that he doesn’t want to see you, marry you, inherit a life of absolute luxury. How could anyone pass all this up—except if he’s a faggot?”
“You really think so?” Dana asked thoughtfully.
“Of course.”
“No, it can’t be that, Daddy,” Dana said. “He’s just more interested in himself and his idea of success.”
“Don’t be defending this pansy to me,” Reynolds said angrily.
“Do you think Daddy’s right, Uncle Chauncey?” Dana asked, turning to Delafield.
“I couldn’t say. He never seemed to be a pansy to me.”
“Taking advantage of a girl like Dana, as good and pure as a girl could be. Don’t worry, Dana darling, your uncle and I will take good care of this debaucher of our family name.”
“Daddy. J.T. didn’t do anything like that to me. Truly. He really didn’t.”
Reynolds studied Dana. “Well! Doesn’t that tell you what I’ve been saying is true? Ask yourself, Dana, in light of what you now know. Isn’t he a queer?”
Reynolds fixed a drink for himself at the bar.
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Delafield.
Dana was silent, pensive.
“Want a little vermouth or something, darling?”
“Vodka on the rocks would be fine.”
Reynolds looked at Delafield and raised his eyebrows.
“I guess you could be right, Daddy,” said Dana, still thinking, brooding. “A pansy? God! How disgusting!”