The Master's Chair (The Chronicles of Terah) Read Online Free PDF

“We’ll have to pretend that I’m pregnant and tell her that the child is ours. She can’t ever know that it’s adopted.”
    “You do understand that if you were to adopt my friend’s son, I’ll have to have free access to everything, don’t you?” Pallor asked.
    “Certainly. That’s no problem,” Mr. Haverston said. “We just have to insist that Mummy never find out that he’s not ours. She’d cut me off in a heartbeat, and then where would we be?”
    Where indeed? Pallor thought. “Where would you raise your son? Here, in Aspen?”
    “Sometimes,” Clarissa said. “We have this condo, a house in Boston, the condo in Palm Springs, and a house in Bermuda. We find that things go better if we stay wherever my husband’s mother isn’t.”
    “I see,” Pallor said. “What about school?”
    Mr. Haverston spoke up. “When the time comes for school, you can help us pick out a good boarding school, maybe something overseas.”
    Pallor nodded and stood up. “Well, I guess that about covers everything I had. Do you have any questions?”
    Clarissa nodded. “Just a couple. Is the mother all right? And do you know anything about the father? I mean, we don’t want a child who’s going to be handicapped or crazy or anything.”
    How about a sorcerer? Or a seer? Pallor thought. “I assure you, she’s intelligent, sane, and healthy, and so is he. She just can’t keep the child. She has a career that’s very important to her and it takes all of her time.”
    “Well, not quite all of her time,” Clarissa giggled.
    “When will you be bringing us the child?” Mr. Haverston asked.
    Pallor hesitated and then said, “I’m afraid there might have been a miscommunication. I’m interviewing several couples for the mother. She has the final say. I’ll get back with you in about a month, one way or the other. And if she decides that she’d like for you to raise her son, we’ll sort out all the details then.”
    “Well, should I go ahead and announce my pregnancy?” Clarissa asked.
    “No, not yet,” Pallor said, thinking never, if it were up to him. “The baby isn’t due until mid-March. There’ll be plenty of time to make announcements later.” Then Pallor thanked them for their time and left.
    ~ ~ ~ ~
    His flight from Aspen to Des Moines didn’t leave until 4:00 Thursday afternoon, so Thursday morning, before checking out of his hotel, he reviewed the folder on the Peters. They were both in their early forties and had grown up on adjoining farms. After they married, their parents had sold them both of the farms for nominal amounts, so while on paper they were worth quite a bit, as far as working capital was concerned, they were living season to season. A bad year would pretty much wipe them out. Their only fallback was a couple hundred acres of woodlands that could either be sold outright or cut for lumber. They had used lumber from a few of the acres to pay the initial fees with their lawyer. Neither of them had gone to college, but both had finished high school, and Mr. Peters had taken several extension courses through a local community college.
    By the time he had arrived in Des Moines, picked up his rental car, grabbed a bite to eat, and driven to Ottumwa, he was bushed. All he wanted was a shower and a bed.
    After he checked into his motel, he pulled out the directions to the Peters’s farm and compared them to the area map that had been left for him in the rental car. He had told them to expect him at 9:00 Friday morning, so he figured he’d need to leave Ottumwa by 8:00, giving himself an hour to find the place. He set his travel alarm clock for 6:30 and went to bed.
    At ten minutes till nine the next morning, he pulled off the narrow country highway onto a dirt track that served as the Peters’s driveway. As he drove toward the house, he looked around him. The barns all seemed to be in good shape: good roofs, fresh paint, yards clear of debris. The few pieces of farm equipment that were out