Gina and Roz paid for the new riding boots, and Roz looked at her watch. "We have time to buy you some riding pants. You can't keep borrowing mine."
"Why not.^" Gina asked absently. She was holding up a denim, fleece-lined jacket. "This is perfect for this time of year. I have to try it on." She pulled off her leather jacket. "Your pants fit me perfectly; why shouldn't I keep borrowing them.'"'
"Because you need your own clothes, and you know it. If you want to ride competitively—"
"I want to be in the Olympics."
"In borrowed pants.^"
Gina grinned. "Probably not. But I'd rather not spend the money right now; things are a little tight."
"For God's sake, Gina, I'll pav for them; you'll pav me back later."
"I'm quitting my job, remember.'"'
"And you'll be working fifty or sixty hours a week at the farm. You're good for it, Gina. Come on; as long as we're in New York, we might as well do everything at once."
"You're right. And I want you to know that I'm having a
wonderful time. Probably something like Claire and Emma, when they went on their first shopping spree. There's nothing like seeing something and saying. Til take it.' I'll take it," she said to the salesclerk, holding out the denim jacket. "And could you bring me a few different pairs of riding pants to try on.^" She watched the clerk walk away and leaned back against the counter. "Roz, I have a hypothetical question."
"Do you want a hypothetical answer.'"'
"No, I want to know what you think. Suppose you heard that something was going on that would make something else illegal, and the something else is going to happen in a few months even though the people in charge know it shouldn't happen. Are you following this.'"'
"So far. You don't want to make it simple and just tell me what you're talking about.'"'
Gina sighed. "I guess so. What if you heard there was something wrong with one of the PK-20 products, like causing severe reactions in some of the women testing it.'"'
Roz stared at her. "That's what you heard.'"'
"I heard it from someone who saw a couple of memos about test results on the eye restorative. There was semiserious stuff like conjunctivitis, and, this is the killer, somebody went blind in one eye."
Roz shook her head. "It can't be. I would have heard. I was still with Hale when the tests were done."
Gina put out her hands. "I don't know. Either it's true, which means somebody doctored the test results, or it isn't, which means the person who told me dreamed it up. And I don't think she did."
The salesclerk returned and they followed her to a dressing room with two armchairs and a rod for hanging clothes. Roz sat in one of the chairs. "If it's true, they'd have to put off the release date until they find out what's causing the problem, and fix it."
"It may not be fixable. It sounds to me like a chemical allergic reaction. You know, like some people are allergic to peanut butter; most people do fine, but a percentage actually die from it. If that's what's happening, and if the reaction is to a key ingredient, maybe even the proprietary one, they'd have to scrap the whole line and start from scratch. Do you see Quentin doing that.'"'
Roz looked at Gina. "You think it's true."
"I lean that wav. On the other hand, I saw the cumulative test
reports and they didn't have a single word about allergic reactions."
"So it isn't true."
"Well, that's the problem. It is or it isn't." Gina stepped out of her slacks. "Which one should I try on first.^"
"The black. Very classy. How could you find out.''"
"I haven't the faintest idea. I thought you might think of something."
"Is anybody talking about changing the release date.'' Or not releasing the line at all.^"
"Not a soul. They're going ahead full steam. You never heard anything.'"'
"I'm not part of their inner circle anymore. They've all decided Hale got a rotten deal."
Gina met her eyes in the mirror. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I expected it, and most of them I won't miss. I'll miss Quentin; he's such a cold, calculating son of a bitch he always makes me feel better about my life, just because I've got room for love in it."
"He doesn't.?"
"Not that I've ever seen. Though maybe he's different with Claire; he hovers a lot when they're together. Is she in love with him.?"
"She says she's not, but she seems to be fascinated by him, probably because he's so different from anyone she's ever known. I think I'll take these."
"Good. Now try the brown. He's got a lot of charm, when he wants to use it. Get him talking about his travels and he's wonderful; he's been everywhere and he's got a good eye and he doesn't forget anything he's ever seen. But he makes his own world, and the people who want to be close to him have to follow his rules or they're out."
"Would he release the PK-20 line even if some of it might be dangerous.?"
Roz was silent. "Sure," she said at last. "He makes his own rules." She watched Gina try on the other pants. "I suppose I could talk to Hale, but he'll guess it came from you."
"You can't do that," Gina said swiftly.
"Why not.? They're not going to come after you. like the Mafia or something."
"I don't know what they'll do; you just said Quentin makes his own rules."
"Gina, they wouldn't do anything to you. Why would they.-^"
"It's not me." Gina hesitated. "I hadn't even thought of this, but I don't like what I'm thinking. Look, the person who told me about the memos was Emma—she saw them on Brix's desk one day when she was waiting for him—and if they think I'm involved, they'll get to her; they know how close I am to her mother, and to her, and how else would I know about it.^ I've never been involved with the PK-20 line. So, if Brix thought Emma had seen the memos, and told me, or anybody, about them, would she be in danger.'^"
"No, of course not. They're businesspeople; they don't go around knocking off people. Anyway, whatever Emma saw might not be true. Maybe somebody made a mistake and saw problems where there aren't any. If the reports are fine, doesn't that settle it.?"
"It ought to." Gina stepped into her skirt and tucked in her blouse. "And maybe it does. You could be right; lots of times the people who run tests come up with different interpretations of the data."
"What happens then.'^"
"They run more tests or they get more people to read the data and see what interpretations they come up with. Testing is tricky, you know, because your subjects don't live in sterile glass bubbles: all the time they're using your new product they're eating and drinking and washing themselves and putting on makeup and traveling God knows where, with what kinds of pollution . . . you just can't control what they do and you never know how much of that affects their reaction to your product."
"So why were you so worried.'"'
"Because." Gina pulled on her suit jacket and picked up her raincoat. "Because everybody who watches television or reads a newspaper has heard about corporate cover-ups—Ford, Dow, GM—and for every one we hear or read about I wonder how many hidden ones there are, that never get found out."
Roz thought about it, "You said they run more tests. Are they running more tests on PK-20.?"
"Emma says Brix told her they are."
"Then it sounds like they're taking care of it. I don't think
you should do anything. Are there some people in the lab you can call after you've left, to find out the results of the new tests?"
Gina nodded. "I can keep up with things pretty well. That's what I'll do. And I might nose around a little bit before I take off. I have to be careful, though. If it weren't for Emma ..." She shook her head. "I can't take that risk."
They left the dressing room. "But listen," Gina said. "If I hear anything else, I'm going to have to find a way to blow the whistle on those guys. I have a responsibility to do that; I can't just turn my back. Except, what do I do about Emma.''"
"She can hide out on the farm," Roz said as they walk
ed to the sales counter. "But it won't come to that; I can't believe it would. I love you, Gina, and I love your imagination, but this time you've gotten carried away by it. This whole business is one of those things you read about and see on television; it never happens to anybody you know."
THIRTEEN
(.(.
s
O much to be thankful for," said Hannah, carving the turkey. She stood at the head of the table, her face flushed from bustling about in the warm kitchen since early morning. With a neat stroke she severed the drumstick and laid it on the silver platter. "Claire won the lottery, and now she has her own company, and Emma's started a brilliant career, and we have this splendid house, and we've added Gina and Roz to our fam-ily."
"And Hannah came to us," Claire said.
"Well, yes, absolutely." Hannah's crinkly face beamed. "I've never had such a Thanksgiving, with so many good things all at once."
"I'll second that," said Gina. "I want to propose a toast to—"
"Oh, wait until I've finished carving," Hannah said. "Only a few more minutes. And I forgot the corn bread; it's in the oven. Would somebody—"
"I will," said Claire, and went to the kitchen.
Gina followed her, letting the door swing shut behind her. "I wanted to get you alone for a couple of minutes; it's been so long since we had some time together."
"Not since the horses won you over," Claire said, smiling.
"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about; I wanted to tell you before we tell anyone else. There's a lot more going on than the horses."
Claire nodded.
"What does that mean.'^ You nodded."
"Gina, why don't you just tell me what you have to say? I think I know, but I might be wrong."
"You're not usually wrong about people. Well, the thing is, Claire, it's not just the horses and it's not just that wonderful farm. It's Roz."
"Yes," Claire said.
"So it's not a big surprise." Gina looked at her hands, then opened them out. "I didn't know. Honest to God, Claire, all these years, I never knew. I would have told you if I had; of all people, I would have wanted to be honest with you. But all I knew was that I didn't want to get married—I couldn't even imagine being married—and I was always happier alone than dating. I hated dating. Everything about it made me feel like I was in the wrong place. You knew that; I've told you often enough. I thought it was just that I was dating the wrong guys, but there never was a right one, somebody I could just relax and be comfortable with. I thought it was something I'd grow out of, or I'd wake up one day and find I was like everybody else I knew, but nothing changed, and finally I thought, well, what the hell, I wasn't meant to be married; lots of people are happily single all their lives. And I had you and Emma for my family, and that was enough for me. At least, I thought it was enough for me, until I met Roz."
"Claire.^" Hannah called. "Is something wrong with the corn bread.?"
"Our drill sergeant," Gina said with a grin. "Listen. You did figure it out, right.? I mean, it's not a shock.?"
"Of course not. I was wondering when you'd get around to talking about it."
"I was going to, that night at Roz's, when she told you she was divorcing Hale, but we just weren't ready. But now—"
The door swung open and Hannah marched in. "If there's a problem with the—oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."
"We were just talking," Gina said. "Everthing's fine. I'll get the bread." She took the covered basket from the warming oven and followed Claire and Hannah into the dining room. "Shall I pass this.?"
"Yes, and now we'll hac a toast," Hannah said when (iina was seated. She held up her glass of vodka and waited for the others to lift their glasses of wine. "I'd like to say. for myself, first
that I'm very glad to be here, and second that it is a new and most enjoyable experience to have a women's Thanksgiving. At first I thought we would be sadly dull without men, but I couldn't think of any we might have. Quentin and Brixare out of town; Hale and Roz have gone separate ways; and Forrest is with his family on Long Island. Alex of course is with his sister's family, and who knows if he would have accepted in any case.^ But I need not have worried. We are a congenial and merry group with much to talk about and much to be thankful for, and that's Thanksgiving in a nutshell. And so I drink to our small and happy family."
"I like that," said Claire. "There's no other place in the world I'd rather be, tonight, and there are no other people I'd rather be with."
Emma took a sip of wine. Something was happening as she sat there: she was feeling better than she had for weeks. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her, and she felt cozy and warm and safe. Snow had fallen during the day and had begun again just before they sat down to dinner; Emma could see large lazy flakes against the window, and she imagined them piling up outside like a stockade, higher and higher, keeping them safe from danger. Looking at the festive table Hannah had set with a fine linen cloth and tall white candles in French ceramic holders, and small bunches of chrysanthemums at each place, Emma felt a sudden, piercing love for her mother and her home. She missed Brix the way she always did when she was not with him, but today, for the first time, she had to admit that it was a relief to be away from him. Like being on vacation, she thought ruefully.
She was so ashamed of the way she had crouched at his feet that she could not bear to think about it; she kept pushing the memory away whenever it flooded in upon her. But the worst part of it was that she knew she would do it again, or whatever it took, if he once again threatened to send her away, and that made her feel helpless and angry at herself. Sometimes she even hated herself. And tonight it made her dread tomorrow at the same time that she couldn't wait for tomorrow.
But right now, this moment, while she sat here amidst the comforting smells of turkey and corn bread and pumpkin pie, with the reds and yellows of the chrysanthemums shining up at her like tiny suns and the candles casting a flickering glow on the loving faces around her, Emma felt as if she were suspended for
just a little while in a quiet place where she was light and relaxed and young. Hannah was right: it was nice, sometimes, to be just with women. "I have a toast," she said impulsively. "To my mother because I love her, and to Hannah because I love her, too. And a special toast. To Gina and Roz."
"My goodness," said Hannah.
"Thank you, love," Claire said to Emma. "You know I love you, always, more than anyone."
"Well, thanks," Gina said to Emma. "Is there any special reason for that special toast.^"
"Oh, you're so silly." Then, abruptly, Emma blushed. "I mean . . . am I wrong.'' I just assumed . . . you both look so happy, you know ..."
"The new generation," Roz murmured. "No, you're not wrong, Emma, you just took us by surprise."
"Well, you've sort of left a trail," Emma said, "haven't you? I mean, isn't Gina living at the farm.^ Or almost.^ And you're divorcing Hale, and you've been married to him forever and then all of a sudden . . ."
"Not quite forever, though sometimes it felt like it," Roz said. "It wasn't a good marriage; it was just going along, waiting for one of us to end it. Hannah, this is a wonderful dinner. Thank you for including me."
"How do you do that.^" Hannah asked. She carefully did not look at Emma. "The world is full of bad relationships that need ending. How do you make the decision.^"
"Well, when it's bad enough it almost makes it for you." Roz gazed through the dining room arch into the living room where clusters of lighted candles on the mantel and on all the tables cast dancing shadows on the walls and ceiling and were reflected in the high windows. "I suppose I might have stayed with him for years, maybe forever. We got along okay: we always had a lot to talk about, we agreed pretty much on how to bring up the kids, and when they left home, there were things we liked to do together. And I gave him lots of ideas for his ad campaigns and he's been grateful for them. Sex isn't a problem because we haven't had it for years; he likes his women very young and ver' blo
nd with no hips, and that is definitely not me. And, you know, when you're busy doing things you like—I was riding in competitions and running the farm, which is the place I love best in the world—the
days kind of slide by and you don't say, 'I have to ciiange this because it's terrible.' It wasn't terrible. But it sure as hell wasn't wonderful, either. It is wonderful with Gina."
"Everything is more fun when we're together," Gina said. "Everything means more when we're together." She looked at Hannah and Emma and Claire. "Both of us used to feel that we didn't have anyone to belong to. That's over with. We're not lonely anymore."
"That's so neat," Emma said wistfully.
"There are dozens of kinds of love," Hannah said, "but the only one that is inexcusable is the one that is a false front for cruelty or manipulation."
There was a silence. Emma looked at her plate.
"I envy you," Claire said quietly. She stood up and kissed Roz and Gina. "I've never heard a better description of the kind of relationship everybody dreams about. And I wish you much happiness."
"Thank you," Gina said. "Thank you, thank you. I was sure you'd say that, but, still, you know, there was a . . ."
"Small question mark," Roz said. "Thank you, Claire. Thank you, Emma. I can think of a lot of people who probably won't be so generous."
"It doesn't matter," said Gina. "You're the ones we really care about. I mean, everybody will know, of course, it's not a secret—"
"But we're not going to march in parades or anything like that," Roz put in. "This is our private life and we're keeping it private."
"But we wanted you to understand how we feel," Gina went on, "and share it with us, before people start making cute comments."
"Like Hale," Roz said. "Hale will be horrified. He'll see it as a blot on his judgment and God knows on his sexuality, and within twenty-four hours he'll be telling everyone he always knew there was something very peculiar about me and he would have left me long ago but he had to stay until the children were grown because he didn't want to leave them under my unnatural influence."
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