To Have and to Hold

by Fern Michaels

  “Nope. I’d have kept on digging and planting, though. That kid homed in on it right away. And we’re older and supposed to be smarter.”

  “That’s why we send them to college.” Kate laughed. “It looks so pretty. I can just see Donald’s face. It was worth it, every single backbreaking minute of it. I can use some coffee, how about you?”

  “You aren’t mad at me for calling you a quitter?”

  “Why should I be mad? It was the truth. I would have quit. All my life I’ve been a quitter. When things get hard or I don’t want to deal with them, I crawl into a shell and blank everything out. No, I’m not mad.”

  Later, coffee cups in hand, the kids’ voices echoing up from the pool, Kate said, “What are you going to do, Gus?”

  “I have options,” he said carefully.

  “The Times is no shabby paper. Can you rethink ... Your family is all back there. By the way, did you ever tell them about, you know, the house in Connecticut?”

  “Actually, no. I got an attack of conscience and went back to Stamford. I was going to give the goddamn money back, but the house was empty. I checked around and found out the old man sold out his half of the business to his partner and took off. The guy handed me an envelope. He said my old man said I’d show up sooner or later and he was to give it to me. I expected a letter telling me why he left us. Maybe an ‘I’m sorry’ kind of letter. Maybe he’d asked about Ma or the others. There was no letter, no note. I wanted to bawl. Hell, I did bawl in the car.”

  “What was in the envelope?”

  “The deed to that fancy eight-million-dollar estate. I guess there was a note of sorts. Scrawled across the front of the deed, in pencil, it said, ‘You said you want what I have. Here it is. If you’re reading this, it means you came here to give back the money, and that makes you a fool.’ ”

  “Why didn’t you say something to me? When did this happen?”

  Gus shrugged. “A couple of months ago. I did feel like a fool. I didn’t know what to do, so I called a family meeting. Jesus, you should have heard them. They called me every name in the damn book. In the end it had nothing to do with the money. They wanted to see him. They said they had as much right as I did and I took that right away. My mother’s eyes were so sad. I disappointed her. In time they might forgive me, but I doubt it. I divvied up the money, sent them all checks. But none of ’em cashed them. My mother refused to take a cent. So for all intents and purposes I still have the damn money, and now I have that ... Mafia-looking estate. Oh, I lied. I didn’t get fired. I don’t even know why I said that. So, being a quitter isn’t half as bad as what I am. I guess I was hoping you’d feel sorry for me and ask me to stay out here. The only thing left back there for me is a few friends. My family hangs up on me if I call. I can’t stand to see the hurt in my mother’s face, so I don’t go there anymore.”

  “Oh, Gus, I’m sorry. Life is never easy, is it?”

  “I guess it would be pretty boring if it was.”

  “I’m sure your family will soften in time. Family is so wonderful. You’ll pull together.”

  “I told them what he was like, about his flashy new wife, the big estate, and how arrogant he was. They all refused to believe he didn’t ask about them. Even my mother wanted to know what he said about her. I lied to her, told her he said he hoped she was well. She fucking smiled at me when I said that, and then she got this awful look on her face. I swear to God I thought she was going to tell me to invite him for dinner. Instead she said, ‘Gustav, you did a terrible thing.’ Then she gave me a whack on the side of the head that made me sore for a week.”

  “You found him once, so you can find him again. Your brothers and sisters have all that money now. They can look for him, too,” Kate said, sounding desperate.

  “Don’t you think my old man is thinking exactly what you just said? No, he’s gone. With his obvious connections, I’d say he’s in Europe or someplace in Argentina. He doesn’t want to be found. I’m not sure why. I blew it.”

  “I still think time will heal the wounds. You said you were a close family. Sooner or later they’ll come around to understanding and forgiving you. You have to go back, Gus. You have to be there when that time comes. You’ll hate yourself if you don’t.”

  “I know.”

  “Just so you know.” Kate smiled and reached for his hand.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It was downright cold, Kate thought when she climbed behind the wheel of her newly leased Mercedes 560 SL. She was wearing a white wool coat with a champagne-colored cashmere scarf. She looked exactly like what she was, a highly successful businesswoman whose bank balance was the picture of health. The last year and a half since Donald’s death had been the busiest of her life. When she’d found herself without Della and Donald, she panicked, throwing herself into her work, often staying at the office overnight. She now had branches in Los Angeles and San Diego and was contemplating a third in San Francisco.

  She was on her way to Los Angeles to spend a few days with Ellie and to monitor business at the second location. And to do some shopping on Rodeo Drive.

  “If I was happy, I’d have it all,” Kate muttered as she slid a tape into the tape deck. Roy Orbison’s clear voice relaxed her almost immediately. She fired up a cigarette and thought about Gus. She always thought about Gus when she was relaxed or about to fall asleep. She even thought about him when she woke in the morning or was in the shower. She dreamed about him, fantasized, but never acted on the dreams or fantasies.

  Gus was upset with her. He’d invited her East for the holidays, but she’d declined, saying she always spent Christmas with Ellie and that maybe Della would come back. She’d been so rattled with his invitation that she hadn’t thought to invite him to spend the holidays with her until later, and then she’d known he would think of it as an afterthought on her part. Sometimes she couldn’t do anything right, especially when it came to Gus. Their friendship—because that’s how she thought of it—had progressed to the point where she knew that if she didn’t make a move, the whole thing would fall apart. It bothered her that she couldn’t make a ... What was it Gus wanted? A promise, a definite time when things would change. Commitment. The word scared the hell out of her. Commitment meant she would have to make love with Gus. In her mind and heart she was capable, but her body ... her body was fearful. Her age was like a lighted beacon that sent shivers of fear down her spine. He was thirty-two now, going on thirty-three. She was forty-six going on forty-seven. The numbers didn’t change. In three more years she’d be fifty. She’d be half a century old. She’d go through menopause. She’d start to drip sweat and get cranky; her skin would get dry and her face would turn beet-red with the hot flashes. It would be a nightmare. Her skin would lose its elasticity. Her hair would probably start to get thin on the top, her earlobes would wrinkle, and the lines around her eyes and mouth would deepen. Her rear end would droop, the skin around her knees would start to wrinkle, veins would show. And she’d just read something recently in one of the women’s magazines that said facial hair was a problem at menopause.

  She had three years until the nightmare became a reality. Maybe longer, since it wasn’t engraved in stone that menopause started precisely at fifty. Three years to do something. She was entitled. She deserved to do something. The life she’d led for the past nineteen years wasn’t natural. Always when she came to this part in her thinking she drew back, refused to think about being involved with someone in a sexual, romantic way. Gus was too young for her. She’d seen him with Ellie, teasing her, laughing with her, kibbitzing. Ellie or someone Ellie’s age was more suitable for him. No matter what she did, no matter how she dressed, no matter how she thought, those fourteen years would always be there. When she was sixty Gus would be forty-six. When she was sixty-five and ready for Social Security, Gus would be fifty-one. There was no way he could catch up. Her hair would be gray and frizzy, she’d probably have a partial plate in her mouth, her fingernails would have ridges and her toenails
would be yellow and ugly. Gus would be in his prime. Men in their fifties were always mature, worldly, and distinguished. She should know, she dealt with them on a daily basis—successful businessmen with wives and families and mistresses on the side.

  She was an old maid, a dried-up old maid. And there was no excuse for it.

  Kate’s thoughts stayed with her all the way into Los Angeles. She drove straight to Olive Garden, where Ellie was taking her to lunch. “It’s three blocks from the Big Eight firm I work for,” Ellie had said last night. “I only have an hour for lunch, so if you get there first, order for me. Ziti will be fine. Oil and vinegar on my salad.”

  “Mom, you look like ... a million bucks,” Ellie now chortled happily. “I’ve never seen you look this good. Is there a new man in your life?”

  Kate flushed. “No,” she said, more sharply than she intended.

  “New hairdo—and may I say it is fashionable. If I’m not mistaken, that’s Sun Glitz in your hair, and I know a Chanel suit when I see one. And a Chanel bag. Come on, Mom, what’s the scoop?” Ellie teased.

  Her face warm, Kate said, “There is no scoop.”

  “Then what’s with the trip to Rodeo Drive to shop?”

  “Christmas is only a few weeks away. If I don’t shop, there won’t be any presents under the tree.”

  Ellie waited until the waitress had placed their wine spritzers in front of them before she spoke. “Mom,” she said, leaning across the table, “I need to talk to you about something. How upset would you be if I . . . went to Denver with Pete for Christmas? He wants me to meet his parents. It’s serious, Mom. I think he’s going to give me an engagement ring. I want to go, but I don’t want to leave you alone. If Della were here, I wouldn’t feel so bad.... Jeez, Mom, you aren’t going to cry, are you? If you cry, you’re going to slop up your makeup and ruin the effect of that suit and the Glitz in your hair.”

  “God forbid,” Kate said, dabbing at her eyes. “Oh, Ellie, of course it’s okay for you to go. I’m crying because you’re getting engaged. I like Pete, he’s a great guy. I’m so happy for you, darling, really happy.” She reached across the table to squeeze her daughter’s hand.

  “Pete reminds me of Gus, Mom. He’s got the same laid-back attitude, the same warm, crinkly grin. He cares passionately about everything, animals, the environment. For an accountant, he’s not boring at all. He wants us to open our own office at some point in the future. Nylander and Nylander. Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

  “Definitely,” Kate said.

  “That means you’re going to be loose for the holidays. That’s going to bother me, Mom.”

  “Maybe I’ll take a vacation and go see Della. Won’t that be a surprise? I wish she’d write more often. God, Ellie, I can’t tell you how much I miss her. I write once a week. She calls me from a store once a month. She sounds awful. All her spirit seems to be gone. I begged her to come back. I threatened to get a cat and told her it would be her replacement. She didn’t even chuckle.”

  “Listen, Mom,” Ellie said between mouthfuls of her salad, “on the off chance you wouldn’t be upset about me going to Denver, I took the liberty of looking into a vacation for you. Before you say no, listen and then make up your mind. The travel agent said she could start you out from San Diego. You could have three days—two, or more if you want, with Della, and from there a trip to Hawaii. A tour trip so you wouldn’t be alone. People your age. Men and women. You’ll visit all the islands and have private accommodations. On Kona you’ll be staying in a grass hut on a lagoon. It looks wonderful. You’ll make friends, meet people, eat, put on some weight, get a tan, and come back full of vinegar. You need a vacation. I can make all the arrangements, all you’ll have to do is get on the plane. I wish I could give you the trip as a present, but I can’t afford it. What do you say?”

  “Do you need my answer right this minute?” Kate said, flustered.

  “Yes, Mom, I do. This is the holiday season. I’ll need a check, too.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it. Ellie, honey, do you need money?” The checkbook was in her hand.

  “No. I’m fine. I didn’t even charge Christmas presents this year. I paid cash and only bought things made in the U.S.A. Pete is real big on buying only American.”

  “Are you sure? Would you rather have gifts or money for Christmas?”

  Ellie laughed. “I like to open presents, and I like money, too. I’ll leave it up to you, Mom. Hmmmm, I can’t wait to dig into this ziti, but first I have to call the travel agent. I’ll drop off the check after work. Mom, you’re going to have a great time. Now you can really shop Rodeo Drive. Go for the flash—on you it’ll look great! I’ll be right back.”

  Ellie sprinted like a young colt out to the foyer of the restaurant. She used her calling card, her blunt nails tapping on the hard metal tray beneath the phone.

  “Gus Stewart, what can I do for you?”

  Ellie giggled. “It’s not what you can do for me, it’s what I can do for you. It’s a done deed, Gus. She agreed and is writing out the check as we speak. I don’t think I’d let her see you until the plane is in the air.”

  “Thanks, Ellie, and Merry Christmas. I owe you.”

  “Damn right. Make sure my wedding present is a handsome one.”

  “You got it! Listen, you aren’t upset over this, are you?” Gus asked anxiously.

  “Hardly. I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to Mom. If you can get her past that age thing, you’ll both be real happy. Merry Christmas, Gus.”

  Ellie was breathless when she sat down at the table. “Everything will be mailed to you, Mom. All you gotta do is get yourself to the airport and do some shopping. Look for exquisite, Mom, and get one really knock- ’em-dead outfit.”

  “You sound like you’re plotting a seduction,” Kate said sourly. She was already regretting her decision to make the trip.

  “Mom, if I give you the money, will you pick up something for Della for me? By the time I get it, wrap it, and mail it out, it won’t get there till after Christmas. You’re going to see her, and it would save me a lot of worry.”

  “Certainly. Della is the hardest person in the world to shop for. However, I have my present all paid for and wrapped up,” Kate said smugly.

  Ellie fanned her mouth, string cheese dripping down her chin. “Jeez, this is hot. What’d you get her?”

  “Drink some cold water,” Kate said in the motherly voice she rarely got to use these days. “I had an aerial photograph made of the rainbow this summer. I got it enlarged, and it came out just beautiful. I hope she likes it. I also got her a shawl; it’s got every color of the rainbow on it, fringe, too. That’s what I wrapped the picture in.”

  “You are creative.” Ellie handed over twenty-five dollars to her mother. “I know this kind of limits your choice, but do the best you can, and don’t you dare add anything to it. If you do, it won’t be the same. Della doesn’t care about price tags.”

  “Have you seen or talked to your sister?” Kate asked carefully.

  “You mean since Donald’s funeral? Once. I ran into her in the drugstore. Can you beat that? Dr. Starr, as she likes to be called these days, now has a political science degree. She fancies herself an authority on Southeast Asian affairs. She was with a very ... radical-looking individual. She looked great. She asked about you. She didn’t mention Donald or Della. I told her about Della. This is all by the antacid section. I asked her if she had a job, and she said, ‘I expected you to say something like that.’ End of quote. She was dressed well. She’s collecting donations from private individuals for a group of mercenary types to go on into Laos. Seems there’s been some kind of sighting, and she thinks Dad might be one of the POWs in the picture that’s been flashed around. She’s nuts, Mom.”

  “Obsessed,” Kate said quietly.

  “No, Mom, nuts. You have to be nuts to give up your family. She doesn’t care about us. She made me so damn mad, I told her about the rainbow, and I don’t think she heard a w
ord I said. I told her to drop dead and left.”

  “Ellie, you didn’t!” Kate cried.

  “Yeah, I did. I’m not sorry, either. Lord, look at the time. I gotta go. You’re paying, right?” She flashed a grin, hugged her mother, and was gone a second later.

  Kate finished her coffee, smoked a cigarette, and paid the bill. “Rodeo Drive, here I come,” she muttered as she steered the car into traffic.

  Kate whizzed from store to store, buying anything and everything that struck her fancy. Each time she returned her platinum American Express card to her wallet, she wondered if it would go through a meltdown process. She had Ellie’s gifts wrapped and shipped direct to her apartment, bearing DO NOT OPEN TILL XMAS stamped on each one. She did the same to Betsy’s presents and wondered if her daughter would accept them or if she would send a Christmas card in return. When she sent out her Christmas cards, she would enclose a check for both Ellie and Betsy.

  On the drive home, munching a bagel she’d bought earlier, she thought about all the things she’d purchased for herself for her sudden vacation. She giggled when she remembered how she’d told the clerk, “I’ll take this in every color” or “I’ll take two of those, three of those, and I’ll take this with me.” She’d spent a bloody fortune. A case of fine wine shipped to Gus, gifts from Gucci for her office staff, gifts for everyone she knew. The United Parcel man was going to need a truck just for her purchases. But she felt really good about her day, and made a mental note to go shopping more often. She’d come a long way from the days when she used to sew her own clothes, decorating them with frills and geegaws. She winced when she remembered what she called her “artsy days.”

  It was late by the time Kate got home. This was the part she hated the most, coming home to a dark, cold house with no fragrant smell to greet her. She usually turned on the television, the radio, and every light in the house the minute she walked in. Then she made coffee, listened to her messages, snacked on whatever was in the refrigerator, curled up on the sofa and called Gus.