Laney told her father to take the college money if that was what he truly wanted. She would find a way to complete her education. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so angry, and that afternoon, she defeated her Princeton opponent 51- 1, 15- 2 in an intercollegiate squash match. Later, she returned to Elliot House, her residence, and went to the dining hall for dinner. As she walked through the food line, she paused, mesmerized. Who is that? she thought. The girl behind her urged her to keep moving, but the image of Johnny Sullivan wouldn’t soon leave her mind.
Sully was serving ice cream when Laney Ashford walked by. She had never seen anyone as handsome, and he was equally taken aback. Time seemed to stop for a few moments, but eventually, the reality of the queue intruded, and Laney moved on.
She arrived for supper early the following evening, but he was absent, much to her disappointment. However, two nights later, he showed up with thick black hair and a broad smile. She wasn’t the only woman in Elliot House admiring the tall Irishman, yet he seemed most interested in returning her glances. She noticed a note underneath the saucer when she picked up her ice cream. It contained a name, Sully, a phone number, and the words, call me.
Three hours later, a man picked up the receiver and said,” Yo, Sully, here.” She informed him that she had received his note, and they conversed until 2:00 A.M. The couple met for coffee in Harvard Square the following afternoon, followed by drinks at Cronin’s Pub two nights later. Laney Ashford knew she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a townie and, to boot, an Irishman. But what could she do? You might as well tell an exhausted person not to fall asleep. There was no going back. A fire had been lit, and the die had been cast. She had hit the jackpot, or had she?