Adam's Daughter

by Kristy Daniels

  “I know what a shock this is,” she said. “I know you’re all worried about what will happen to you, what will happen to the Times.” She paused. “I wish I could tell you. But I don’t know.” She stopped again, afraid her voice would not hold. “I do know, however, that you are the finest group of people anyone could ask for and I’ve been proud to work with you. You put out a hell of a newspaper. A great newspaper. No one can take that away.”

  She paused again as the faces before her began to blur through her tears. “For that,” she said softly, “you’ll always have my sincerest gratitude.”

  With a last look at Clark, she turned and went quickly to the elevator. When the doors closed, shutting off the newsroom, she leaned against the wall, the tears falling silently down her face.

  No, she thought, not here. Do your crying at home. No one needs to see your tears right now.

  She wiped her eyes and pushed a button. The elevator took her to the top floor. She went slowly down the quiet, wood-paneled hallway. Adele rose slowly when she saw Kellen.

  “Kellen, I just heard,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “It’s all right, Adele,” Kellen said. “I’m sure there will still be a place for you here.”

  “But it won’t be the same,” the woman said, beginning to cry. “I worked for your father for twenty years. And now ...”

  “Everything will be all right,” Kellen said softly. She walked away quickly, not trusting her own composure. She went to her office and opened the door.

  She froze. Lilith was standing there, behind Kellen’s desk, and turned. Kellen stared at Lilith and at first didn’t notice the strange man in a suit standing at the window, holding a yellow tape measure across the window.

  “What are you doing here?” Kellen demanded.

  Lilith smiled. “Just taking some measurements for new draperies. We’ll be finished in a moment.”

  “Get out,” Kellen said.

  Lilith turned to the man. “Wait for me outside, Paul. I’ll only be a minute.” He left, and Lilith turned to Kellen. “You don’t have to worry about your things, dear,” she said. “We’ll box them up for you and send them to the house.”

  She picked up a plaque, one of Adam’s that Kellen had salvaged from Ian’s office. “Of course, you probably don’t want all this tacky bric-a-brac.”

  “Put it down,” Kellen said.

  Lilith set the plaque down. She walked slowly toward the windows, her eyes wandering over the walls and furnishings.

  “Get out of my office, Lilith,” Kellen said.

  “This isn’t your office anymore,” Lilith said, looking out the window. “Actually, Ian and I were thinking of turning it back into a conference room. Unless, of course, Mr. Richardson wants to use it.”

  “Until tomorrow this is my office. And my newspaper,” Kellen said. “Now get the hell out before I have you thrown out. You have no right to be here.”

  Age had left Lilith diminished, eroding her once formidable presence. But now, as she stared at Kellen, her dark eyes still had a malevolent power. “I have every right to be here,” she said. “This newspaper belonged to my father. Adam stole it from him.”

  “The Times would have died if it weren’t for my father,” Kellen said. “He saved it.”

  Lilith shook her head. “Oh, Kellen. I thought after all these years you’d finally given up this hero worship of yours. It’s quite unnatural, you know. Maybe you should try analysis. I can give you the name of a good doctor.”

  “Get out,” Kellen said.

  Lilith ignored her, moving back to the desk. She sat down. “Shall I tell you the truth about your father? Shall I tell you what kind of man he really was?” She paused. “He was a cold, ruthless bastard who used people to get what he wanted. He worked his way into my father’s trust so he could steal his newspaper. He married me...” She paused, cocking her head to one side, like a bird. “Because I was part of the deal. And he wanted me to produce his sons.”

  She paused. “He had no use for women, you see. They were nothing but wombs or whores to him. Look at what he did to your own mother. She gave him all her money but she couldn’t give him what he really wanted —- more sons.”

  She shook her head. “He obviously drove the poor woman mad. And that made it rather sticky for him. He couldn’t just divorce her. So he just, well, did away with her.”

  The pent-up emotion of the morning suddenly spilled out of Kellen and she began to cry. “Get out!” she shouted.

  Lilith rose and went to the door. She turned back to Kellen. “I’m only taking back what’s mine,” she said.

  She left, leaving Kellen standing alone in the middle of the quiet office. For a few minutes, she didn’t move as she struggled to control herself. She scanned the office and the memories crowded around her. Memories of her father in the full flush of his power. Memories of the newsroom, the people, of the closeness she and Stephen had shared in the early days. Now, with the simple act of signing a piece of paper, it was over.

  She went to her desk and began to gather up papers. She picked up files and documents haphazardly, slipping them into her briefcase. Then she paused, realizing suddenly she no longer had use for any of it. None of the work needed her attention anymore. She glanced around and finally took a few of Adam’s plaques off the wall and put them into her briefcase. To that, she added the photographs of the children and the one of her mother and father. She closed the briefcase.

  At the last moment, she picked up a copy of that day’s Times and glanced at the headlines. Juan Carlos was calling for unity in Spain after the death of Francisco Franco. Squeaky Fromme had been found guilty of the attempted assassination of President Ford. And California Governor Ronald Reagan had announced he would run for president. The Reagan story had been given second billing to Juan Carlos.

  Misplayed, Kellen thought idly, I’ll have to talk to Stephen about that. She paused, realizing that, too, was over.

  She stuck the paper under her arm and picked up her briefcase. With one last look around, she left the office.

  Outside, she paused at Adele’s desk to pick up a pile of messages. There were three from Garrett in New York. She stared at his number for a moment then crumpled them up and tossed them in the trash. She glanced at Ian’s office.

  “Is he in?” she asked.

  “No,” Adele answered. “He left about two hours ago. He said he’d be at his home in Hawaii for three days.”

  Kellen shook her head. A rudderless ship, she thought. She looked back at Adele. “It’s been good working with you all these years, Adele,” she said softly.

  “I’ll miss you, Kellen,” Adele said.

  They embraced and Kellen pulled away for fear she, too, would start crying. “Goodbye,” she managed and turned quickly and went down the long hall to the elevator.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

  That evening, at home, Kellen sat alone in the study. The house was quiet. She had dismissed the servants and sent Sara and Ben over to Josh and Anna’s to stay overnight. As she sat in the dim light of the study her mind was blank, her emotions spent. She felt only a deep fatigue and a great emptiness.

  The mantel clock chimed nine times. She glanced at the telephone, thinking about calling Stephen. He had called earlier in the day, offering to come by the house. But she had told him she wanted to be alone. Now, in her loneliness and despair, she was thinking again of turning to him.

  No, don’t do it, she thought. Don’t use him again. It’s not him you really want right now.

  She heard the sound of the front door being unlocked and sat up in the chair. She heard soft voices in the foyer and wondered if it was Stephen. A tall figure appeared at the door, silhouetted in the foyer light.

  It was Tyler. He just stood there, as if waiting for an invitation.

  “So, you finally decided to show up,” she said, with more weariness than anger.

  Tyler came tentatively into the room. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “To try
to explain.”

  “It’s a little late, don’t you think?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another figure hovering in the doorway. It was J.D., who looked extremely ill at ease.

  “Wait for me in the living room, will you, J.D.?” Tyler asked. J.D. left and Tyler turned to Kellen. He shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

  “Where have you been?” she asked flatly. “I tried to reach you.”

  “I know. I didn’t want to face you.” He wouldn’t even look up at her now. “I’m sorry, Kellen,” he whispered. “I had to do it.”

  “Oh, Tyler, please. Don’t try to tell me that.”

  He came over to the desk. “You’ve got to understand. Ian made me do it. He found out about J.D. and me. He threatened me. He, he showed me these, these...pictures.” Tyler paused. “I didn’t care about myself but he said he’d ruin J. D.’s career.”

  The words spilled out, tumbling over each other. “I didn’t want to do it, Kellen but I kept thinking about J.D., how it was my fault. That just because he loved me, he was going to pay for it.” His voice wavered. “I didn’t even tell J.D. what was going on. He didn’t find out until the sale was done. He knew something was bothering me and forced it out of me.”

  He looked at Kellen, pleadingly. “God, I’m sorry, Kellen. I should have come to you first. But I was scared.”

  Kellen finally looked up at Tyler. He was distraught, fighting to stay in control.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t want to lose him, Kellen. You’ve got to understand that. I didn’t want to lose everything, everything I -—”

  “Lose everything?” Kellen said. “Tyler, don’t you see what you’ve cost me? I’ve lost the newspapers.”

  “But you’ve still got Stephen and the kids,” Tyler said. “You’ve got a family, someone to love you. Please don’t blame me because I wanted that, too.”

  “Stephen’s left me,” she said. “We’ve separated.”

  Tyler’s face registered his shock. “God, I’m sorry, Kellen,” he said.

  There was a noise at the door and they both turned to see J.D. He had obviously heard most of their conversation and he looked embarrassed and disconsolate.

  “Kellen, can I say something?” he asked softly. She nodded, and he came into the room. “I feel like I’m the one who should apologize,” he said. “When I found out what Tyler had done I told him we had to talk to you.” He paused. “I know what kind of sacrifice has been made. I just wish I had known beforehand so I could have stopped it. I hope you believe that.”

  Kellen looked at J.D. and at Tyler, whose eyes were bright with tears. She realized suddenly how overwrought he looked, as if he were on the verge of emotional collapse. She rose wearily.

  “It’s late,” she said softly. “I’m going to bed.”

  She started past Tyler then paused, placing a hand gently on his arm. She looked at J.D. “It’s a long drive home. You’re both welcome to stay,” she said.

  Her eyes locked on Tyler’s for a moment. “Really, you are.”

  She went to the door and looked up the staircase, at the procession of carved faces in the balustrade leading up to the darkened rooms.

  “It’s a big house,” she said softly, “and there’s plenty of room.”

  PART FIVE

  GARRETT

  CHAPTER EIGHTY

  It was Christmas week and a scrawny tree had been set up near the copy desk, decorated with strung-together paper clips. But the atmosphere in the newsroom was glum as everyone went about the routine of putting the Times together. For two months now, ever since the sale had been announced, there had been a cloud over the city room.

  Although Garrett had made no changes and had kept an extremely low profile, everyone was nervously awaiting his first move as new owner. A few people had already quit, vowing they would not work for a smut tabloid, and the talk in bars after work invariably escalated into bravado declarations to follow suit. Many of the best reporters and editors already had begun sending out resumes, but mostly everyone was simply laying low, waiting.

  Now, two days before Christmas, Garrett was making his first appearance in the city room, stepping off the elevator with Ian at his side. They walked through the newsroom, two dark-haired men in business suits, Garrett drawing stares of intense curiosity and hostility.

  Ian led Garrett to Stephen’s office at the far end of the city room. Stephen’s secretary, staring at Garrett, informed Ian that Stephen was expected back soon from a meeting.

  “Tell him we were here,” Ian said. He and Garrett went to see Ray, who rose in astonishment from his desk when he saw them.

  “Mr. Richardson has asked for a tour before he settles in upstairs,” Ian announced. “Apparently, Stephen’s busy, so I thought you could help him.”

  “Sure,” Ray said, stunned.

  Ian left, leaving Ray and Garrett staring at each other. Ray’s eyes traveled over Garrett’s suit and he nervously adjusted his loosened tie. “Where would you like to start?”

  “How about the city desk?” Garrett said.

  Out at the desk, everyone tried to look busy.

  “We’re just starting work on the first city edition now,” Ray began. “We have six editions -— ”

  “San Mateo, South County, and Marin for the suburbs,” Garrett said. “And two for the city. And, of course, the token afternoon run.” He saw the surprised look on Ray’s face and added, “Printed in that order, right?”

  “Yeah,” Ray said. “That’s right.”

  They continued through the newsroom, stopping at the business department, where Garrett surprised the financial editor by suggesting that the business coverage should be expanded. In sports, Ray introduced Garrett to the football writer.

  “Another bad year for the Niners,” Garrett said to the man. “Any chance they can turn it around next year?”

  The man looked at Garrett. “I doubt it. Three losing seasons in a row,” he grunted. “You like football?”

  “Yes, but the Niners are making it tough for me.”

  “Welcome to the club,” the writer muttered but his animosity showed through the attempt at banter.

  Ray and Garrett went down a hallway toward the features department, Garrett drawing stares from passersby. Those who recognized him deferred to him as they might a foreign conqueror, almost flattening themselves against the wall to allow him to pass. In features, Garrett introduced himself to editors and reporters, making knowledgeable comments about their sections.

  The tour over, they paused outside the newsroom entrance. “That’s about it,” Ray said.

  “You’ve been a great help,” Garrett said. “I’ll need to call on you again until I can find my way around.”

  “You seem to know a lot about this place already.”

  Garrett looked at the city room. “I’m an outsider, Mr. Coffey. I have a great deal to learn.” He glanced toward Stephen’s office. “If you’ll excuse me, I see Mr. Hillman is back in his office now. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

  Garrett went across the newsroom. Stephen saw him coming and came out from behind his desk, setting his face in a stony mask.

  “If you have a moment,” Garrett said, “I’d like to talk.” Stephen motioned Garrett in and shut the door. Out in the newsroom, necks craned to see what was happening behind the glass partition.

  “I’ll get right to the point,” Garrett said. “Ian told me this morning that you’re resigning.”

  “That’s right,” Stephen said.

  “I’d like you to reconsider. The change of ownership has been traumatic, and your presence here —-”

  “I can give you two weeks,” Stephen interrupted. “That will give you plenty of time to bring in your own man.”

  Garrett paused. “I have no right to ask anything of you –-”

  “No, you don’t,” Stephen said.

  The two men stared at each other.

  “I’d like you to stay for a while to ease the transition,” Garrett
said. “I don’t plan to make any big changes with the Times, at least not initially. Your presence here would reassure the staff.”

  “They’re not stupid, Richardson,” Stephen said. “They know what kind of newspapers you run in England and in New York, and they know what you are going to do here. You may look like some squire fresh from the fox hunt but they know you’re a smut slinger. Nearly all of them are looking for jobs. In a couple of months, you won’t have anyone worthwhile left out in that newsroom.”

  He paused. “Of course, that’s probably what you want. Clear the place out and bring in your own mercenaries.”

  Garrett looked at Stephen evenly. “This company has had some grave problems,” he said. “Because of some recent good moves, it now could possibly turn around. The conversion to morning has already brought about a circulation gain and the suburban plant was a good investment.”

  Stephen looked at him, waiting.

  “But this is a crucial turning point,” Garrett went on. “Any sudden changes or instability could hurt the Times’ recovery. I have no plans to do anything that could jeopardize it. But you, the example you set with your staff, could. Your support —- or desertion —- of the Times right now will send out a powerful message to those people out there.”

  Stephen was silent, his eyes shifting from Garrett out to the newsroom.

  “You have reasons to hate me,” Garrett said. “I’m asking you to put that aside for the time being.”

  The office was silent. Only a few muted sounds from the newsroom could be heard. The soft rasp of the wire machines, the ring of a telephone, and a random bolt of laughter.

  “I would think you’d like me out of your hair,” Stephen said. “It would make everything a lot easier.”

  “So your answer is no, I take it?”

  Stephen let a beat go by. “I’ll stay. For two months,” he said. “But not because of anything you’ve said. I’m staying here because I care about the people here.” He paused. “I care about Kellen, too. I don’t have to tell you what this has done to her. She’s worked very hard in the past year. And she’s worried about what is going to happen to everyone who works here. And to the Times itself.”