Moral Compass Read online

  Moral Compass is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Danielle Steel

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  DELACORTE PRESS and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Hardback ISBN 9780399179532

  Ebook ISBN 9780399179549

  randomhousebooks.com

  Book design by Virginia Norey, adapted for ebook

  Cover design: Derek Walls

  Cover photograph (forest): © Arcangel/Irene Lamprakou

  v5.4

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Dedication

  By Danielle Steel

  About the Author

  The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.

  —ATTRIBUTED TO EDMUND BURKE

  Chapter 1

  It was the day after Labor Day, one of those perfect, golden September mornings in Massachusetts, as the students of Saint Ambrose Preparatory School began to arrive. The school was over a hundred and twenty years old, and its imposing stone buildings looked as distinguished as the colleges where most of the students would be accepted once they graduated. Many illustrious men had attended Saint Ambrose and gone on to make their marks on the world.

  It was a historic day for Saint Ambrose. After ten years of heated debate, and two years of preparation, a hundred and forty female students were about to arrive and join the eight hundred male students. It was part of a three-year program that would ultimately add four hundred young women to the student body, bringing it to a total of twelve hundred students. This first year, they had accepted sixty female freshmen, forty sophomores, thirty-two juniors, and eight seniors, who had either recently moved to the East Coast, or had some valid reason to want to change schools as a senior and not graduate with the class they’d gone through high school with until then. Each of the female applicants had been carefully vetted to make sure she was up to the standards, morally and academically, of Saint Ambrose.

  Two dorms had been built to accommodate the new female students. A third would be finished within a year, with a fourth scheduled to be built the year after that. So far, all the new additions and changes had gone smoothly. There had been lengthy seminars for the past year to assist the existing faculty with the transition from teaching at an all-male school to co-ed classes. Its advocates had insisted that it would improve the academic standing of the school, as girls tended to be more dedicated to their studies at the same age, and settled down to academics earlier. Others said it would make the students better rounded, learning to live and work, collaborate, cooperate, and compete with members of the opposite sex, which was after all more representative of the “real world” they would be entering in college and thereafter.

  The school’s enrollment had diminished slightly in recent years, with most of their competitors having already gone co-ed, which most students preferred. They couldn’t stay current and compete if they didn’t go co-ed. But the battle had been hard won, and the headmaster, Taylor Houghton IV, was one of the last to be convinced of its benefits. He could see endless complications as a result, including student romances, which they didn’t have to deal with as an all-male school. Lawrence Gray, head of the English department, had asked if they would be renaming the school Saint Sodom and Gomorrah. After thirty-seven years at Saint Ambrose, he had been the most vehement voice against the change. Traditional, conservative, and privately a bitter person, his objections were eventually overruled by those who wanted the school to keep up with the times, no matter how challenging. Larry Gray’s sour attitude stemmed from the fact that ten years into his tenure at Saint Ambrose, his wife had left him for the father of a tenth-grade boy. He had never fully recovered, and never remarried. He had stayed for another twenty-seven years since, but was an unhappy person though an excellent teacher. He wrung the best academic performance possible out of each of the boys, and sent them off to college well prepared to shine at the university of their choice.

  Taylor Houghton was fond of Larry, affectionately calling him their resident curmudgeon, and was fully prepared for Larry’s grousing throughout the coming year. Larry’s resistant attitude toward modernizing the school had resulted in his being passed over as assistant headmaster for many years. He was two years away from retirement, and continued to be vocal about his objections to the incoming female students.

  When the previous assistant headmaster retired, faced with such a major change at the school, the board had conducted a two-year search, and was jubilant when they succeeded in wooing a brilliant young African American woman, assistant headmaster of a rival prep school. Harvard educated Nicole Smith was excited to come to Saint Ambrose at a time of transition. Her father was the dean of a respected, small university, and her mother was a poet laureate teaching at Princeton. Nicole had the academic life in her blood. At thirty-six, she was full of energy and enthusiasm. Taylor Houghton, the faculty, and the board were thrilled that she was joining them, and even Larry Gray had few objections to her, and liked her. He no longer aspired to be assistant headmaster himself. All he wanted was to retire, and said he could hardly wait.

  Shepard Watts, as head of the board, had been one of the most ardent supporters of the plan to go co-ed. He readily admitted it was not without ulterior motive. His thirteen-year-old twin daughters would be coming in as freshmen in a year, followed by his eleven-year-old son in three years. He wanted his daughters to have the same opportunity for a first-rate education at Saint Ambrose as his sons. The twins had already filled out applications and been accepted, contingent on their performing well in eighth grade. No one had any doubt about that, given their academic records to date. Jamie Watts, Shepard’s oldest son, was one of their star students, and would be a senior this year. His scholastic achievements were notable, as was his success as an athlete. He was an all-around great kid and everybody loved him.

  Shepard was an investment banker in New York, and his wife, Ellen, was a full-time hands-on mother, and head of the parents’ association. She had worked for Shepard as a summer intern twenty years before, and married him a year later. Taylor and his wife, Charity, were extremely fond of them, and considered them good friends.

  Taylor and Charity had one daughter. She was married, a pediatrician, and lived in Chicago. Charity taught history and Latin at the school, and was excited that she’d be teaching girls this year. From a staunch New England family, she was perfectly suited to the life of being married to the headmaster of a venerable prep school. She was proud of Taylor and his position. He was ten years away from retirement and loved the school. Despite its size, there was a f
amily feeling to it, and Charity made a point of knowing as many of the students and parents as she could. Like other members of the faculty, she served as counselor to a group of students, whom she followed for all four years. She would be working on college applications with her senior counselees almost as soon as they started school, writing recommendations for them, and advising them on their essays. Most of the students of Saint Ambrose applied to Ivy League colleges, and an impressive number of their applicants were accepted every year.

  Taylor and Nicole Smith were standing on the steps of the administration building, watching students arrive, when Shepard Watts and his son Jamie drove in. Shep left Jamie to find his friends, and came up the steps to greet Taylor and Nicole. She looked bright-eyed and excited as she watched the procession of SUVs file in and go to designated parking areas for each class of students.

  “How’s it going?” Shepard smiled at the assistant headmaster.

  “It’s looking good,” she said, smiling broadly. “They started arriving at 9:01.” The parking lots were almost full as Shepard glanced at Taylor.

  “Where’s Larry?” He was usually on hand to observe the arrival of the students.

  “They’re giving him oxygen in my office,” Taylor said, and all three of them laughed. Taylor was tall and athletic looking, with salt and pepper hair and lively brown eyes. He had gone to Princeton, like all his male relatives before him. Charity had gone to Wellesley. Shepard was a Yalie, a handsome man, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, and was their most effective fundraiser. He simply would not take no for an answer, and brought in an astonishing amount of money from current parents and alumni, and he was a generous donor as well. Despite the demands of his business, he was a devoted father. For the past three years, he had amply demonstrated his dedication to the school.

  The three stood on the steps, watching the SUVs arrive and go to the parking lots where they could unload bicycles, computers, and as many of the comforts of home as the students were allowed to bring. There were long tables manned by teachers, who were handing out dorm assignments. As always, there was a mild degree of confusion, as parents wrestled with duffel bags and trunks, boxes and computers, while returning students went to look for their friends and find out what dorm they would be in. All the information had been sent to them digitally a month before, but the dorm assignments and schedule for the day were being handed out again for those who hadn’t brought the papers with them. Freshmen were assigned to suites with four to six students, seniors were in singles or doubles, and sophomores and juniors were in rooms set up for three or four students. The female dorms followed the same system. There would be a female teacher in each dorm to help anyone who was sick or had a problem, and to see that everyone behaved and followed the rules.

  Gillian Marks, the new athletic director, had been assigned to one of the female dorms. Their old athletic director of twenty years had quit the moment it was confirmed that the school would be accepting female students. Gillian was an upbeat person and had been thrilled when they offered her the job. She was a star in her own right, and at eighteen had won a silver medal in the Olympics for the long jump. She had set a record that hadn’t been beaten yet. She was six feet two, thirty-two years old, had been the assistant athletic director at a girls’ boarding school, and was excited about the prospect of working with males too.

  Simon Edwards, a returning math teacher, was going to help her coach the boys’ soccer team. He had lived in France and Italy for two years after college, and loved the game. He had previously taught at a top private co-ed day school in New York and had come to Saint Ambrose the year before, wanting the experience of teaching at a boarding school. He had come back with enthusiasm now that they were going co-ed. He was the youngest member of the faculty at twenty-eight. He and Gillian had met in August to talk about his coaching the boys’ soccer team. Tryouts for the teams were starting the next day. The school had an Olympic-size indoor pool, donated by a member of the alumni, and a strong swimming team. Gillian was going to be coaching girls’ volleyball and basketball too.

  Taylor and Nicole watched Gillian greeting the freshman girls in their parking area, and Simon Edwards was welcoming the freshman boys. Returning students and their parents knew the routine, and where to get their dorm assignments, as the students threaded their way between their friends, happy to see them after the summer. As they watched with Shepard, they saw Steve Babson arrive. He had the longest history of academic probation of any student in the school. He barely managed to squeak through every year. His father, Bert Babson, was a cardiac surgeon in New York, who rarely showed up at the school, and was harsh about his son whenever the staff at Saint Ambrose communicated with him. His frightened, somewhat disoriented wife came to visit her son alone, and experience told Taylor, as well as Steve’s advisor, that Jean Babson had a drinking problem, which she kept in control when she came to the school. There were hints that Steve didn’t have an easy home life, with an aggressive father and unstable mother, but he had made it to senior year, and he was a sweet kid. He was a good-looking, slightly disheveled boy with brown curly hair and innocent brown eyes. There was a big, friendly, lovable puppy dog look to him that went straight to his teachers’ hearts, and almost made up for his poor grades.

  Gabe Harris had come up from New York with Rick Russo, and Shepard groaned when he saw Rick’s mother. She was wearing a pink Chanel suit and stiletto heels in the middle of the country in Massachusetts. Her hair was freshly done, and as always she was wearing an inch of makeup. Shep knew that if he’d been any closer, he would have been overcome by her perfume. Rick’s father, Joe, owned high-end luxury shopping malls in Florida and Texas, and was by far the biggest donor to the school. In the past three years, he had given them an annuity for a million dollars, so they put up with them. Rick was the opposite of his parents. He had light brown hair, a quiet demeanor, gray eyes, and could have blended into any crowd, which was what he wanted, so he didn’t stand out like his parents. He was an excellent student. He was a quiet, unassuming boy who never showed off, unlike them. Shepard found Joe Russo unbearable, but as head of the board, he had to be pleasant to him, given the huge amount of money Russo donated to the school. Adele Russo was driving the new Bentley SUV that Shepard knew sold for just under three hundred thousand dollars. And the boy who’d ridden with them, Gabe Harris, was considered a good kid. He was a mediocre student, but he tried hard, and was one of their star athletes. He was hoping to get an athletic scholarship for college. He was one of the few scholarship students they had. He was the oldest of four children. Gabe’s parents were investing heavily in him, to show his younger siblings that he could make it and so could they. His father, Mike Harris, was one of the most successful personal trainers in New York, and his mother, Rachel, managed a restaurant. They worked hard to keep their son at Saint Ambrose, and he did his best to live up to their expectations. He was going to play soccer as well as football as a senior this year, and was a powerful tennis player too. He had broad shoulders from working out with his father, wore his hair in a buzz cut. He wasn’t tall but looked manly and had intense blue eyes.

  They saw Tommy Yee arrive with his father. Tommy was a gentle, kind, very sweet Chinese American boy, an only child and had nearly perfect grades. His father, Jeff, was a dentist in New York, and his mother, Shirley, was the head of a prestigious accounting firm. Tommy spoke fluent Mandarin and Cantonese, was gifted in physics, strong in math, and a prodigy on the violin. He played in the school orchestra, and his parents expected nothing less than perfection from him. He was hoping for early admission at MIT, and from everything Taylor heard from his teachers, he would get it. Taylor knew that his parents pushed him hard and expected only the best from him. Their demands and expectations left him little time to hang out with friends.

  Shepard left them then to find Jamie and get his room assignment. He knew he had a single this year, in the same dorm with several o
f his classmates. Shepard promised Taylor he’d stop by to say goodbye before he left. He had work to do until then, setting up Jamie’s stereo and his computer, and a small refrigerator seniors were allowed to have in their rooms so they could eat or have snacks while they did homework, or studied for exams.

  Boarding school was more like college these days, with almost the same amount of freedom and independence for the older students, the privileges that came with age. The only difference was that cars were not allowed on the campus. Students could only go into the nearby town on weekends, with permission, on their bikes or on foot. But on campus, they were treated like adults, and were expected to treat the faculty and each other with decorum and respect. Drugs and alcohol were not allowed, and they had had only a few incidents, which were quickly handled. The students involved were expelled. There were no second chances where drugs were concerned, and the board fully agreed with the policy.

  The therapist on campus, Maxine Bell, stayed in close contact with all of the advisors to make sure that they weren’t missing any important signs of students with depression, or suicidal tendencies. They had had a heartbreaking incident five years before, with a student who had taken his own life. He’d had top grades and strong family support, and a romance that went wrong. He reacted violently to it and hanged himself. There had been three suicides in the last twenty years, far fewer than their competitors. One of the top rated boarding schools had had four suicides in the last two years. It was something all of the institutions worried about, and Maxine was everywhere, and knew an amazing number of the kids. She went to their games and some practices, hung out in the cafeteria, and knew many students by name. She kept her finger on the pulse of Saint Ambrose. Betty Trapp, the school nurse, was another source of information for Maxine, since all the students knew Betty, and went to the infirmary to have her fuss over them when they were sick. A local doctor came when called, and there was a hospital ten miles away, with helicopter service to Boston. The school functioned like a well oiled machine, and there was no reason for it to be any different now with girls.