She didn’t say anything. She knew in that moment that she had fallen in love with him. It was crazy. She knew so little about him. And he knew even less about her. She had never told him the truth about her background.
“I’ll be here,” she said.
The next morning, she saw him off at the airport then returned to her own apartment to change her clothes. She went to the Trib office.
The editor greeted her with a concerned look. “Kellen, where have you been?”
“At home. I told you I was very ill.”
“We’ve been calling for three days, and there’s been no answer.”
“I’m sorry, I took the phone off the hook.” Kellen sat down at her desk and started to go through some papers.
“There’s an important message for you,” the editor said. “That’s why we’ve been trying to get you.” He held out a slip of paper. “This man has been calling every day. He says he has to talk to you. It’s an emergency.”
Kellen took the note. On it was scribbled Josh’s name and office number. She knew he wouldn’t call her unless it was truly important. She glanced at the clock. It was midnight in San Francisco. She quickly dialed Josh’s home, and he answered immediately.
“Kellen, thank god,” he said. “You got my message.”
“Only that it was an emergency. What’s wrong, Josh?”
“It’s your father.” There was a long pause, and the line jumped with static. “He’s dying. Kellen, are you still there?”
“Yes...Josh...what, how?”
“There’s not much time, Kellen. Please come home. He wants you.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She hung up the phone and sat there for a long time. Her heart was beating so hard she could hear the blood throbbing in her head. Everything around her was a blur. Finally, she rose slowly and went into the editor’s office. She told her stunned editor that she was resigning and returning to the States. She didn’t stop to get anything in her desk or to say good-bye to anyone.
She stopped at her apartment long enough to pack a few things and to drop off the keys with a neighbor. Out on the street, she paused. Rue de Seine bustled with people, and for a moment she felt disoriented. She realized suddenly that she had only about fifty dollars’ worth of francs.
She walked up to Boulevard St-Michel and into a bank. It was the bank where her father had been making deposits in her name for the last five years. The account now had more than ten thousand dollars in it. She withdrew enough money for a plane ticket.
At the airport, she caught the first flight to New York. As the jet lifted off, she pressed her forehead against the window and watched the lights of Paris grow dimmer. The steely reserve that had powered her actions throughout the day suddenly broke down, and she began to cry softly.
She was going home. Her father was dying. She was going home.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
In the weeks following Adam’s funeral, Kellen wandered around the house in a stupor of grief and guilt. She blamed herself for not coming home sooner to make things right with her father. She had been selfish, too caught up in her own life in Paris.
But she also blamed her father. Why hadn’t he told her he was so ill? Why had he waited until it was too late? Now he was gone, so suddenly and without a chance for reconciliation. As much as she had mourned her mother, it had not been like this. Even though she had not seen her father in years, she had always somehow felt his presence. But now she had no one. She felt utterly, painfully alone. And suddenly very fragile and very mortal.
The loneliness of the large quiet house was oppressive. Ian was seldom home, spending most his time at the newspaper office or at the club. Tyler was a ghostly presence, hovering in the shadows. Kellen thought often about what Adam had said about Tyler before he died -— take care of your brother. But whenever she made an overture toward Tyler, he avoided her.
She thought also of what Josh had told her about the newspapers. He said they were in trouble; he implied that it was her responsibility to do something about it.
Both Adam’s and Josh’s words sat heavily on her shoulders. How could she be expected to hold together a family of strangers? And why should she care about the newspapers after being excluded?
She thought often of Paris. The idea of returning there became her emotional salvation. That was where her life was, after all. Not here, with one brother who hated her and another who was a stranger. Not here, in the huge house with nothing but memories to fill it. Not here, with Stephen. Not after what she had felt with Garrett.
Stephen had been so kind, so ready to give solace, just as he always had been.
“What will you do now?” he had asked her one night, not long after the reading of the will.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Try to work out some arrangement with Ian over the newspapers. Then I’m going back to Paris. That’s where my future is.”
She knew he wanted to know about a different future —- their own together. It was strange, his gently vigilant attitude toward her, as if they had magically picked up where they had left off six years ago. She found it comforting but suffocating at the same time.
Finally, she fled to the house in Carmel. There, the memories of her father crowded around her just as relentlessly as they had at the house on Divisadero. The horrible scene at her birthday party kept replaying in her head like a looped tape. Other painful vignettes floated up from the past. The day he sent her off to boarding school, his failure to explain Tyler’s birth, his dismissal when she asked him for a job at the Times. And most hauntingly, the worn face staring up from his deathbed.
But after a while, the memories began to mutate and slowly the good replaced the bad. She remembered vividly the feel of her father’s arms around her, welcoming her home from school. And their dinners at the Olympic Club, and their lunches on the run in downtown bars. She could see, as if it were yesterday, her parents dancing under the chandelier. And she could remember the time when he had been a happy man, overflowing with life.
It was, finally, the good memories that dominated her thoughts as she walked alone on the beach at Carmel. The beach house itself was like a balm to her. It had been there that she and her mother and father had shared their most precious time together, just before her mother fell ill. Just the three of them, together, for three glorious days. Too brief, much too brief...
Kellen stared out at the ocean. The crushing feelings of loneliness and guilt had eased. Now she was left with a sense of deep remorse. In the end, she and Adam had hurt each other so much. Just before he died, Adam had been able, in his own way, to tell her he was sorry. But there had been no time for her to do the same.
Her eyes dropped to the sand, to the water ebbing and flowing over her bare feet. She looked back toward the house. The sun glinted off the glass, causing her to squint.
Ian was suddenly there in her thoughts.
“It’s an ugly house,” he had said at the reading of the will. “You can have it. It’s your responsibility.”
Suddenly she knew, with a piercing clarity, that she would not return to Paris. There was something she had to do.
She had to go back to the newspaper. It, too, was her responsibility. And it was the only way she could prove to her father that she had loved him.
Early the next morning, she returned to the city. She dressed in a suit and went to the Times building. She paused long enough to look up at the large clock outside and to note that it was off by three minutes. On the top floor, she stopped just outside the mahogany doors of the executive office, remembering all the times she had breezed through them on her way to see Adam.
Inside, Adele was still at her post, and she smiled when she saw Kellen. The secretary was still distraught over Adam’s death, and Kellen listened patiently as Adele indulged her memories. Finally, Kellen cleared her throat and asked, “Is my brother in?”
“Yes, he is,” Adele said. When Kellen started for Ian’s door Adele stoppe
d her. “He’s moved into your father’s office.”
Kellen looked at the door to Adam’s office in disbelief then pushed it open. Inside, she stopped abruptly. Ian was sitting behind her father’s desk. The sight was disorienting.
Ian looked up. “You could at least knock,” he said.
“I see it didn’t take you long to move in,” Kellen said.
“Why not? I’m the publisher now.” Ian made no move to invite her to sit down. Kellen took the chair opposite him.
“So what brings you downtown, little sister? Doing some shopping?”
“I’m here on business. For good you might say,” Kellen said. “I’m here to take my place in the family business.”
Ian smiled. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Father left half of it to me, and I intend to exercise my powers.”
“As what?”
“Co-publisher.”
Ian’s smile slid away. “That’s crazy. You don’t know anything about running a newspaper.”
“Neither do you apparently. Josh told me the company’s in trouble because of the way you’ve been running it.”
“Josh should keep his nose out of things that don’t concern him.” Ian lit a cigarette. “I thought you were going back to Paris.”
“I changed my mind.”
He laughed softly. “Kellen, you’re still such a flake. You haven’t the faintest idea what you want to do with yourself.”
Kellen stared at him, annoyed that he obviously found her so unthreatening. “This paper’s just as much mine as it is yours, Ian. You’d better get used to the idea.”
She rose. “If I remember right, there’s a conference room across the hall. I’ll have it made into my office.”
Kellen saw Ian’s jaw tighten, and for the first time she smiled. “Looks like we’ll be working closely together, big brother.”
She started out the door.
“I will not share my title,” Ian said. “I am the publisher.”
She turned toward him. “So am I. That’s the way Daddy wanted it. And if I have to, I’ll get Josh to legally remind you of that fact.”
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, expelling a long breath. Her hands were shaking slightly, but she was filled with a heady sense of victory. She saw Adele staring at her, and she squared her shoulders.
“Adele, from now on I will be working with my brother as co-publisher,” Kellen said.
Adele’s eyes widened.
“That will be my office,” Kellen said, nodding toward the conference room. “We’ll have to get some architects and decorators up here fast. And call Josh Hillman and ask him to come up here to see me.”
Kellen started toward the conference room and paused. “Oh, one last thing. Call maintenance. The building clock is running slow. I want it fixed right away.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Josh sat at the conference table across from Kellen. Spread out in front of them were all editions of the Times and of the rival Journal.
“What made you change your mind?” Josh asked.
Kellen picked up the coffee carafe and refilled their cups. “When you first mentioned that the newspapers were in trouble, I was almost glad,” she said. “I was so angry about being shut out for so long that I didn’t care what happened to them. Then I realized that whatever Father’s reason for keeping me out, it didn’t mean he didn’t love me.”
She blinked back tears. “He loved these newspapers, Josh. I can’t just turn my back. I owe it to him.”
“I’m glad,” he said. "But you have to understand, Kellen, this isn’t going to be easy.”
He began to tell her about the Times Corporation, trying to paint the picture in the broadest strokes. But a few times, he found himself lapsing into the sophisticated financial banter he had always used with Adam.
Kellen’s brow was knit in a frown as she listened. The sight touched Josh. If only Adam had been able to see how much of himself was in his daughter, he thought.
But there was no point in dwelling on the past. It was up to him now to do what he could so he pushed on, explaining financial and circulation reports and outlining the backgrounds and status of all the current Bryant holdings -- fifteen newspapers, the wire service, the Oakland television station, paper mill, and printing facilities.
Kellen listened, not asking many questions. Until Josh began to explain that the profitability of the corporation was in jeopardy because of the financial problems of the flagship newspaper The San Francisco Times.
“Six years ago, your father made two moves that set up the current problems,” Josh said. He told her about Adam’s buy-out of Lilith’s ownership via yearly $2.5 million payments.
“But why did he do that?” Kellen asked.
“I think he suspected something was wrong with his health,” Josh said. “He wanted to make sure his estate, especially the Times, would be left only to his children. He wanted Lilith out of the picture.”
Josh then told her about Adam’s costly suburban expansion project, adding that the suburban editions were popular among readers but were expensive to run.
“Your father intended to keep a very tight rein on all spending until the suburban editions were self-supporting.” Josh paused. “Then he got sick.”
“And he didn’t tell anyone,” Kellen said quietly.
“Remember the night of your twenty-first birthday? He knew then he had cancer,” Josh said. “He had found out from his doctor the day before. I think that had a lot to do with his manner that night. He was devastated.”
“Oh, Josh, why didn’t he tell me?” she said.
“He didn’t want anyone to know. He didn’t even tell me until months later. I’m sorry, Kellen. He swore me to secrecy. I didn’t even tell Stephen.”
Tears fell down Kellen’s face, and she turned away to stare out the window at the gray cloudy sky. Josh waited for a moment before he went on.
“At first your father thought he could beat the cancer. He kept up a strong front for as long as he could, but his energy began to fail him and he started turning things over to Ian. There came a point when your father seemed to accept he was dying. It was almost easier for him after that. He was confident he had set things up to survive after him for his family.”
Josh paused. “The only thing he worried about was you.”
Kellen looked back at Josh. “Me?”
“His wish was to see you happily married and cared for,” Josh said.
“But not to Stephen.”
Josh took a sip of coffee. “It’s cold,” he said, setting down the cup.
“My father’s attitude didn’t bother you, Josh?”
Josh took a moment before he answered. “Your father wasn’t anti-Semitic, Kellen. He just knew what problems you and Stephen would have if you married and had children.” Josh paused. “I can’t say I disagreed with him. I’ve seen what heartbreak intermarriages can bring, even when two people love each other.”
“But it wasn’t his place to decide for me, Josh.”
“Your father was a Catholic, Kellen. On the surface he didn’t seem very religious, but he was in his heart. About five years ago, he started going to church again. He wanted a Catholic funeral. Of course, his excommunication when he married your mother had made that impossible.”
Kellen stared at Josh in disbelief.
“He changed a lot while you were away,” Josh said.
He saw the look of guilt creep into Kellen’s eyes and decided to change the subject. “Let’s get back to business, okay?”
Kellen nodded woodenly.
“As I said, your father was confident that what he had built would continue after he died,” Josh said. “He told me that Ian would take care of the business. But Ian just doesn’t have Adam’s talent or inclination. He’s more interested in increasing his own personal fortune than maintaining the business. And I can't seem to convince him that, in the long run, they are one and the same.”
�
�What exactly has Ian been doing, Josh?”
“During your father’s illness, Ian started financially draining the Times. He has been redirecting profits away from the corporation and into his own pocket. He has a pretty extravagant lifestyle to maintain. He’s frozen budgets on some newspapers and ordered cutbacks on the Times, which he says is overstaffed. What’s bad is that Ian is pulling back just when the Journal is coming alive.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“In the last quarter, the Journal showed a circulation gain for the first time in ten years,” Josh said. “Ian doesn’t care but I think he’s being short-sighted. And now that Adam’s gone, I think he’s going to cut back the suburban operation. He and Stephen are at each other’s throats about it.”
Kellen ran her hand through her hair. The gesture made Josh realize he was probably overloading her with information.
“These suburban editions,” she said. “You said they are expensive to run.”
Josh nodded.
“But they’re important?” she asked.
“Your father thought so. He was a visionary, Kellen. He could see things others couldn’t.”
“I wanted to help,” Kellen said. “Why couldn’t he have seen that?”
“When it came to the newspapers, your father looked to the future. But with his own family, he looked to the past. And in that world daughters had a certain role to fulfill.”
Kellen was quiet.
“But I think if he could see you now, he’d be very proud at what you’re trying to do,” Josh said.
Kellen stared at the newspapers spread out on the conference table and at the mass of financial reports. The confidence she had felt only hours ago when she walked out of Ian’s office was dissipating. The task now before her was overwhelming. How could she possibly learn enough to run the newspapers? And how could she learn enough to counter Ian? She thought suddenly of Ian and how he had looked sitting behind her father’s desk.
“I have to do it,” she said. “I owe it to my father.”
The next night, Kellen accepted Stephen’s invitation to dinner. It was the first time they had had a chance to be alone together since Kellen’s return from Carmel. The conversation was polite and filled with strange pauses. Finally, Stephen reached over and took her hand.
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