The rug was pulled out from under the feet of college student Blair Blankenship the day his father died.
During the month's of his father's demise, he regretted his choice to matriculate in Florida rather than at his father's beloved Yale. The travel by train, north and south, prevented him from being as close to the dying man's side as he would have liked. He managed, however, to be present during the final death scene that he remembered being as drawn-out as Camille's.
He enter his father's bed chamber into a setting that was like a Gothic scene out of Dickens; the smell of the sick room, the shadows of nurses cast high on the walls, and the rail thin from under bed sheets. He bent over the pale skull and kissed the already cold forehead.
But the arrow through his heart came two month's afterward in the form of correspondence from the law offices of Conklin & Conklin. It seemed that his father, whom he thought was "well positioned" (that was what society along the Hudson River euphemistically referred to as "rich"), died owing much more than his assets could cover.
It was then that life for Blair changed suddenly. There would be no more allowance, no hobnobbing with the Palm Beach elite, no college, no nothing. Yes. Life for Blair turned to a nightmare. Now what? he thought morosely.