***
“Emma, dinner was delicious! I just don’t know where you find the time to do it all yourself.”
Katherine and her mother were helping Aunt Emma to clear the table.
“All it takes is organization, Alice.”
Katherine and her aunt exchanged smiles.
“I’m glad you liked it. Would everyone like dessert?” She looked around the table, receiving nods from Katherine’s family and her husband, John.
As everyone settled into dessert, strawberry shortcake, Aunt Emma glanced at Katherine. “I didn’t see the program myself, but I understand that you have become a TV personality.”
Katherine laughed. “Being asked your name by The Today Show’s host hardly makes you a personality.”
“She was with a guy named Steven, and Mom is ticked off about it,” Mary said.
“So, Steven Richardson was the good-looking guy everyone saw you hugging. Good for you.”
Katherine’s mother looked up. “Emma, you know this man?”
“I certainly do! Dr. Richardson is a very nice young man. I would think that he and Katherine would be perfect together and that you should be very pleased.”
“How do you know him?”
“I’m on the planning committee at the Richmond Museum, for the Greek exhibit that opens next month. Dr. Richardson’s area of expertise is Greek art, and he has been advising us on the exhibit.”
“Just what does Dr. Richardson do?” She turned from Emma to Katherine, and back.
“I told you, Mom. He’s an assistant curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”
“He is?”
“He has a PhD from Oxford,” Katherine added.
“Oh, my! Is he English?”
“Mom, I told you he is from Atlanta. I did meet him in England. Later, he studied there.”
Emma described her lunch with Steven and mentioned how he had asked if she knew Katie Lee Jackson.
Katherine’s mother frowned slightly at that. Katherine saw this and sighed.
“I recalled that Katherine had told me about a young man she’d met in England. It turns out that he was Steven.” Emma turned to Katherine. “He was careful to ask if you were engaged or married. I thought that was very nice of him, not to want to interfere if you were already committed to someone.”
“We’d like to meet him, Katherine,” her mother said, the frown still on her face. “Wouldn’t we, Thomas?” She turned to Katherine’s father. “Wouldn’t we like to meet Dr. Richardson?”
“You’ll have a chance next month,” Emma said.
“We will?”
“They will?” Katherine asked, startled. “What happens next month?”
“We are having a symposium on the opening day of our Greek exhibit. Dr. Richardson will be making a presentation at the symposium, and he will likely stay for the reception that evening. You usually attend our openings anyway, Alice. I will introduce you, if you’d like.”
***
Later in the afternoon, Katherine settled in to her seat for the flight to New York. Aunt Emma had been wonderful, calling Steven “a nice young man,” which in Hamilton was a high compliment to a man who was dating—they would still say courting—your daughter.
Katherine shook her head. She’d had no idea how many people watched TV in the morning. Probably seventy-five people had said, “I saw you on The Today Show,” as if she had been interviewed rather than simply being a face in the crowd. She couldn’t believe how quickly the gossip spread.
Then she remembered the conversation with her mother on Friday night. She and Mary had talked about it later. Mary had asked what she thought about what their mother had said—that love was not the only reason to get married.
Katherine had not been sure what she thought. She had suggested that her mother might have a point. She told Mary that she loved her apartment in New York, for example, but she wouldn’t want to be still living there in ten years, and not because it wasn’t nice. Many families in New York would kill for that apartment. It was simply that she would want something different, something even nicer.
“I don’t think living there would cause me not to love my husband,” she had said, “but Mom is right, I wouldn’t be happy. Not as happy as I could be, at any rate.”
Mary saw their mother’s point, too. But she contended that love was important, insisting that she would choose the tract house in Richmond with someone she loved over the mansion with someone she didn’t.
Katherine had not responded, uncertain what she would do. She thought about women—she knew several—who had faced a choice, not between love and lifestyle, but between a life alone and a life of comfort in a loveless marriage. She had thought that she might choose lifestyle—marriage—in that case.
She stared out at the puffy white clouds. Did her mother really think Bill Wilson would give her the kind of life she would enjoy? She shook her head. He had been telling people that he intended to marry her, but she barely knew the man anymore. And she didn’t like him when she did know him. Her mom would tell her not to hold his past behavior against him, not after so long, but he had given her no reason to think that he had changed. He had acted like a perfect jerk at the picnic, not once, but several times, and the advice he gave on how to handle a woman was simply medieval.
Katherine shifted her position. She wondered what his game was. He wasn’t very bright if he thought she was going to marry him just because people had heard that she would.
As the airplane began its final descent into La Guardia, she smiled. Love may not be everything, but a mansion in Hamilton with Bill or an apartment in Manhattan with Steven?
Katherine laughed aloud.
Bill doesn’t have a prayer!
***
Bill Wilson reclined in a chair on his back porch, pondering, and sipping from a glass of Crown Royal. Even as the clock approached midnight, the temperature hung at ninety degrees. The humidity, likely at least that high. His air conditioner was out, and it was cooler outside than in.
He swirled the ice in his glass.
I suppose I didn’t exactly enhance myself in Katherine Jackson’s eyes this weekend. Even making an appearance at church this morning didn’t seem to impress her.
Bill rubbed his eyes. He wanted to run for public office, for Congress, in fact. He did not want to be tied down with a wife, but at some point, voters in this part of Virginia would expect him to have a family.
If he had to have a wife, he could think of no one he would rather have than Katherine. She seemed perfect. She was beautiful. That was important. They had known each other since high school, had dated a number of times then, and Bill had kept up with her, sort of, visiting her occasionally as she went from school to school. He supposed that she liked him. At least, she was usually nice to him when they met or spoke to one another. She would be an asset politically. Her looks, her breeding—her father’s money—all would be assets to a politician.
So, why had he made no move to court her, as his mother would say? He didn’t know. It always seemed to be one of those things that he could get to later. Now, he was almost thirty and it was later. He had not had a girlfriend since he was nineteen. The other girls with whom he had grown up were all taken. There were no attractive, single women his age in Hamilton. Katherine was his only live option.
But everyone was talking about that man in New York, the one with her on TV.
Bill laughed.
He was no one—just a guy with whom she had coffee. They walked over to see what was going on. The Hamilton gossip mill could blow things so out of proportion.
Of course, that same gossip mill could help push her in the direction of his marriage bed. Once everyone “knew” they would wed, it might be difficult for her to refuse. He knew other men who had planted similar stories, and the women always went along. He hoped that Katherine’s lack of a husband indicated that she had put off marriage in the same way as he had, that she had limited choices, as he did, and that the tal
k around town would make her more amenable to his offer, when he decided to make it.
Bill heard noise inside the house.
“Bill, are you coming back to bed?” a woman called.
“In a minute, Marci.”
His mind drifted back to his exchange with Katherine on Saturday night.
You don’t bathe, and I’m not sure you can read.
Bill downed his drink.
“Can I scrub your back, or something,” he’d said. He was teasing, of course—halfway teasing, anyway.
In your dreams, Bill. In your dreams.
Bill started to pour another drink, but finding the bottle almost empty, he put it to his lips and took a swig. “Like my white-trash ancestors,” he muttered, “not like the Jacksons.”
She’d meant it to be funny, of course, and all of the guys had laughed, but it was a put down.
She thinks she is better than I am.
He shook his head. How like a Jackson. How like a member of a “First Family of Virginia.”
“She’s really no different from Marci,” he mumbled as he drained the bottle. “They’re even related. Third cousins or something. Just a woman.” He held up the empty bottle. “Marci’s just a lot more accommodating.”
He tossed the bottle on the ground.
“I’ll show her. I’ll show that condescending little bitch. I’ll have more money. I’ll own more land. I’ll have more power than she or her father ever dreamed of having.”
He laughed and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“And I’ll have her, too. She will jump when I say so, and she will do what I tell her. Damn right. One way or another, I’ll have her.”
“Are you talking to me, Bill?”
“No, Marci,” he shouted. “I’m talking to myself. Make yourself useful and grab me a beer from the fridge. I’ll be right there.”
Bill stood up and stretched. “Stupid bitches. They’re all the same.”
New York
Katherine was expecting Becky to meet her flight, so she scanned the room looking for her as the passengers began to trickle into the terminal. As Katherine stepped into the reception area, there was still no sign of Becky.
“Katie! Katie!”
She spun around to see Steven waiting at the gate. A smile spread across her face and she ran to him, giving him a hug.
“What are you doing here? Becky was supposed to meet me.”
“I volunteered to meet you instead. Becky put up a terrific fight, but I won.”
She kissed him. “You’re sweet.”
“Let me take your carry-on.” Steven slipped the backpack from her shoulder. “Have you had anything to eat?”
“A huge dinner at Aunt Emma’s.” Katherine took his arm as they strolled through the terminal. “She tells me that she had known you for months before you asked about me.”
“That’s true. We had talked on the telephone, but I met her for the first time that Monday at lunch. She just happened to mention that she lived in Hamilton.”
“Fate?”
“No doubt.”
They left the terminal, heading toward the parking lot. A taxi swerved and the driver leaned on his horn as Katherine stepped off the sidewalk. Steven pulled her back quickly and held her close to him, while an entire convoy of cars pulled away from the terminal.
“Everyone in town saw us on television,” Katherine told him as they watched the cars.
“You’re joking.”
“Apparently, The Today Show is viewed by two thirds of the city of Hamilton. I don’t know how many people came up to me saying they either saw or heard I was on TV.” She shook her head. “I understand you’re going to be in Richmond next month.”
“Right. For the symposium.”
Katherine stopped, turned to face him, and looked him in the eye. “You’ll meet my parents, you know.”
“Your parents are interested in Greek art?”
“No, silly, they are interested in you.”
Steven sighed. “I was afraid that was what you meant.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry, they will be friendly. Aunt Emma told Mom she would introduce her. She said you are ‘a nice young man.’”
“Is that good?”
“In Hamilton, it could hardly be better. She seems to like you. She has good taste.”
The road was finally clear. They crossed to the parking lot, located Steven’s car, and headed into town, but when they reached Katherine’s apartment, there was no place to park.
“This is why I leave my car in the garage most of the time,” Steven grumbled. “There is never a place to park in this city.”
He pulled over in a no-parking zone. Leaving Katherine in the car, he took her carry-on and ran it to the front door. He returned to the car as a police cruiser rounded the corner. Katherine gave him a quick kiss and stood on the curb waving, as he drove away.
“How was your weekend?” Becky opened the door before Katherine placed her key in the lock. “Surprised at your limousine service?”
“Pleasantly surprised.”
“Well, I like that. You’d prefer to be met by a handsome, lovesick man than by me.” She pretended to pout.
“Who is lovesick?” Katherine walked toward her room, Becky close behind.
“If you can’t tell that Dr. Steven Richardson has a major crush on you, then you are totally beyond help. How were things at home? Anyone see you on TV?”
“You saw me?” She turned as she place her bag on the bed.
“Big as life.” Becky grinned.
“Well, yes, almost everyone saw me. Those who didn’t had heard about it.” She shook her head. “Honestly. Mary thinks it’s romantic. Mom’s upset, because she is afraid I’ll fall in love and never move back home. Bill Wilson had been drinking, of course, and acted like a jerk. Daddy laughed at all of them. Told me to ignore Mom and do exactly what I want to do.”
“Which is?”
Katherine smiled. “Steven and I have a date on Friday night.”
***
It was late September, and Steven’s exhibition was opening. Katherine had left the hospital an hour early, at three o’clock, and had rushed home. She had everything ready—her dress laid out, her curling iron, bubble bath. She sank into the tub, allowing the warmth of the water and the scent of lilac and lavender to help her relax.
After a good soak, she climbed out of the tub and began to dress. It seemed to take forever to curl her long, straight hair. Most days, she simply pulled it back and tied it behind her, but tonight she would be meeting people who were like her parents’ friends—people who were prominent in New York society. Her mother had given her the names of two old friends who she might see. Katherine wanted to make a good impression.
She slipped on her black evening gown, the first chance she’d had to wear it since moving to New York. If she still lived in Hamilton, she realized, there would have been a number of parties throughout the summer, and she would have needed to purchase something new to wear tonight.
She put on the necklace that Steven had given her. “Perfect,” she whispered as she looked in the mirror on the back of her bedroom door.
Steven arrived promptly at five, bringing a corsage—a yellow rose, of course. He seemed nervous as he talked about the exhibit, last-minute problems that had arisen, the welcome speech he was to give at dinner.
Katherine was concerned about meeting the people with whom Steven worked. He had told her stories about some of them. She was particularly concerned about Martine. She suspected that Martine’s opinion would matter a great deal to Steven.
“This is my first really major exhibition, you know,” Steven told her as they drove into the Museum’s parking garage. “I’ve been working on it for over a year.”
“You told me about other exhibitions,” Katherine said. “There was one in Oxford, I know.”
“There was.” Steven nodded. “But it was not the same. No, on that occasion, I simply drew items from our own
collection. It was a lot of work, of course, but for this exhibition we had to borrow pieces from other museums—even a couple from private collections, and they have never been exhibited in public before. The layout was complicated.” He sighed. “I hope that we’re ready. I hope everything goes well.”
Katherine knew that, in addition to assembling the exhibit, Steven had edited the catalog and had written two of the essays that appeared there, along with photographs of the items in the exhibition.
“It will be wonderful,” she said, squeezing his arm. “I’m sure of it.”
Katherine and Steven were together at the reception, but he had stepped away to speak to someone, when a tall, blond woman wearing a low-cut, silver gown approached her. She was accompanied by a distinguished, older man and Katherine assumed that the woman was a member of the Museum’s Auxiliary.
“Dr. Jackson, it is so nice to meet you. You look lovely tonight.”
Katherine noticed the woman’s accent and she wondered how she knew her name.
“Thank you, so much. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You are more beautiful than Dr. Richardson told me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“But tell me, are you going to break Dr. Richardson’s heart?”
“Steven?” Katherine looked around, trying to find him.
“Martine, stop!” The man placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not being nice at all.”
“I was only asking—”
“Things you should not be asking.” He turned to Katherine. “Dr. Jackson, I am Philippe Lebrun. Please excuse my wife. Martine is rather direct, and she sometimes forgets her manners.”
“Philippe, I was only asking…”
“She is also rather protective of Dr. Richardson. I apologize for her.”
“Oh, Martine—it’s so nice to meet you. Mr. Lebrun, it’s nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize who you were. I spoke to you on the telephone, Martine, you probably don’t recall it.”
“Of course, you had trouble with your name.”
Katherine laughed. “That’s right. Steven knew me as Katie when we were in Scotland, and I wasn’t sure he would recognize Katherine. You know, I didn’t realize that I was calling Steven’s office, and I was surprised when you answered the telephone. I was so embarrassed that I sounded so…so dumb.”
The Handfasting Page 8
