New England White (Vintage Contemporaries)
Stephen L. Carter
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Lemaster Carlyle, the president of the country's most prestigious university, and his wife, Julie, the divinity school's deputy dean, are America's most prominent and powerful African American couple. Driving home through a swirling blizzard late one night, the couple skids off the road. Near the sight of their accident they discover a dead body. To her horror, Julia recognizes the body as a prominent academic and one of her former lovers. In the wake of the death, the icy veneer of their town Elm Harbor, a place Julie calls "the heart of whiteness," begins to crack, having devastating consequences for a prominent local family and sending shock waves all the way to the White House.
sorry, Mr. Huebner. I didn’t mean to. Your door was open.” Maybe the cold Yankee eyes forgave her, but not by much. “Can I do something for you, Mrs. Carlyle?” “Uh, well, yes. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions, if you have a minute.” Julia shivered. Some of it was aftershock, some of it was fresh fear, some of it was cold. Her fingers in particular were chilly. She wondered where Goetz had tossed her bitten glove. “Not about the lampposts. I’m not the one who knocked them down, Mrs.
intended, confused. “Not worse. Less likely.” “Then how do you explain Anthony Tice? Astrid? Astrid said Kellen had evidence that would—” “Change the outcome of the election. Yes. But that would be true even if the evidence was manufactured.” He paid the rude clerk and even gave him a fair-sized tip, because the Lemaster Carlyles of the world tip everyone, even if the currency is not always cash. He pulled back onto the highway. “I’m not saying I believe it. I don’t know what to believe. I’ll
their numbers, the size of the class must be reduced, meaning less tuition money, and a fresh round of layoffs. Julia had complained to Lemaster last night that some of his people seemed to imagine a world full of twenty-two-year-old geniuses dying to spend two or three years preparing for the ministry, but he had told her that he could not interfere, that Kepler would have to mend its own fences. She returned to Kepler frustrated and embarrassed and probably angry at her husband for his many
before opening his own. Of course. He realized what had bothered him during his interview with Nathaniel Knowland. What had the div student told him about the night he saw Kellen Zant? There had been a woman with him, a skinny phantom, a black woman with a British accent, wearing what might or might not have been a white rain slicker. They had climbed into Zant’s gold Audi TT on Town Street, across from the stadium. The woman drove, Bruce remembered. And Kellen Zant got in first on the
reading heavy symbols into normal wear and tear because she wanted them to be there. Nevertheless, because she was organized, she took several shots of the mirror with her digital camera, both in the mirror and lying on the counter, several of them close-ups of the hallmark, and downloaded them to her laptop, then sent them along the Internet to Kodak, where she stored digital images. Patience was not natural to her, but if the mirror was a message, Julia knew she would, given time, figure it