By the time Thorn got his act together, he realized he would not be able to make a Friday evening flight to New York City. Instead, he opted to go into London for dinner in one of his favorite restaurants, spend the night in a hotel, and head to the airport in the morning.

A much more civilized departure.

One of the problems with living so far out in the country was that things had to be planned in advance. But Thorn wouldn’t trade his situation for the world. His butler school was on a magnificent estate—the perfect setting for such an establishment.

Hours before daylight, Thorn lay awake in his bed at the Andrews Hotel. He was restless, tossing and turning so much that the bedcovers were turning into a knotty mess. He had an early morning flight, and the news from Cousin Archibald that he wanted to buy the Settlers’ Club was too delicious to be true. Thorn expected to destroy Maldwin’s career, but then to set up his own butler school in the very building where Maldwin had failed was beyond his wildest dreams.

Suddenly, Thorn bolted up in the bed. He had a brilliant idea. He would contact his friend in New York in the morning. He turned on the light and grabbed the hotel notepad and pen sitting by the phone. He jotted down some ideas and dropped the pad back into the night table drawer.

Turning out the light, he sighed happily. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

42

Back at the club, the phone was ringing off the hook. Members who had heard or heard about Clara’s television announcement were calling in and complaining. To the right of the front door was the all-purpose mail room, reception area, and general epicenter for the club’s activities. Whoever was working there answered the phones, greeted the guests, and usually watched a little television. Will Callan, a longtime employee who had no interest in retirement, was on duty when Regan, Thomas, and Janey returned to the club from Ben’s apartment.

“There’s been a lot of excitement tonight, boss,” Will observed as he handed Thomas a stack of messages.

“Tell me about it,” Thomas replied.

“Clara really pulled a good one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t believe my ears. I’m sitting here working and all of a sudden I hear Clara’s voice. I turn and look at the TV—it’s one of those true-crime shows, and Clara’s telling all about what happened here last night. I said to myself, ‘Oh boy.’ Next thing you know, the phones light up.”

Thomas took a deep breath and turned to Regan and Janey. “That thoughtless woman! I don’t think I can take much more. I would love to see what my horoscope predicted for today.”

Janey reached out her hand to gently pat his. “Part of it is my fault.”