“Let the grandmother come, Mr. Fine. The children need to see her, and so do you. It will do everyone good.”
“What if I'm in jail?” She giggled at the prospect and then shrugged philosophically.
“I'll just carve the turkey myself, I suppose.” He loved her burr and her good humor. There seemed to be nothing she couldn't face. Flood, plague, or famine.
But that night, when he tucked Jane into bed, he realized how deeply frightened she was of his turning her over to Scott again. He had tried to explain that to the woman at Family Court but she refused to believe him, and she had only talked to Jane for five or ten minutes herself, and thought she just felt “shy” about her natural father. In truth, she was terrified of him, and the nightmares she had that night were the worst she'd ever had. He and Mrs. Pippin met in her bedroom at four o'clock in the morning as she screamed in terror and he finally took her into his own bed, and let her sleep there beside him, clutching his hand with her smaller one, as she slept with a troubled look on her face. Only Alexander seemed unaffected by the tragedies that had befallen them ever since his arrival. He was a happy sunny little child, and he was beginning to talk now. He was the only thing that cheered Bernie amidst the anguish of worrying about losing Jane. And he talked to Jack Winters again on Thursday morning.
“The apartment's for real. He moved in a few days ago, and he's sharing it with a friend. But I can't figure out the job at the Atlas Bank. They say they hired him as part of some new program they've got to give ex-cons a chance. I don't think it's much of a job, and he hasn't started yet anyway. I think it's just a PR thing they started to show how liberal they are. We're checking it out some more, and I'll let you know what I find out.” Bernie didn't like the sound of him sharing his apartment. He was sure they were going to disappear with Jane again, if they got the chance. But Blake was going to see to it that that didn't happen. Bob had been sitting in the kitchen since that morning, with his jacket off and a large .38 in a shoulder holster that Alexander kept pointing at and saying “Bang!” as Nanny frowned in disapproval. But Bernie wanted him wearing it, and he wanted Scott to see it when he showed up at noon, and they refused to let him have Jane. Bernie wasn't playing parlor games with him anymore. Now they were in earnest.
And just as he had done before, he was late picking Jane up. She was hiding in her bedroom, and Nanny was trying to distract her.
At one o'clock Scott wasn't there, and at two o'clock he hadn't come either. Unable to stand the tension any longer, Bill Grossman called them, and Bernie told him that there had been no news. At two-thirty Jane came tiptoeing out of her bedroom, but Bernie and Bob Blake were still sitting in the living room, waiting, as the clock ticked, and Nanny baked cookies in the kitchen with Alexander.
“There's no sign of him,” Bernie told Grossman when he called again, unable to figure it out. “He can't have forgotten.”
“Maybe he got drunk at lunch. It's almost Christmas after all …maybe he went to an office party.” At five o'clock Nanny started dinner and Bernie debated about sending Bob home, but Bob insisted on staying until they heard something. He didn't want Scott showing up ten minutes after he left. And Bernie agreed but he went to fix them both a drink, and Jane flicked on the TV to see if there were any cartoons or good shows on, but there was nothing but news. And then suddenly she saw him.
They were showing his picture on the screen. First in slow motion, and then a freeze frame, as he stood holding a gun on a whole lobbyful of people at the Atlas Bank. The film continued then and he looked tall and blond and handsome on the screen, and he was smiling at someone as he pulled the trigger and shattered a lamp next to where someone was standing and then he laughed some more. Jane was so terrified she couldn't even cry or call Bernie. She just pointed as Bernie and Bob came back with their drinks in their hands, and Bernie stared as he saw him. It was Chandler Scott. Holding up the Atlas Bank, in broad daylight.
“The gunman, who was unidentified at the time, walked into the Atlas Bank at Sutter and Mason shortly before eleven o'clock this morning. He had a female accomplice who wore a stocking mask, and they handed a teller a note, demanding five hundred thousand dollars.” That seemed to be his magic number. “When she told them she didn't have it, he told her to give him all the money she had.” The voice droned on as they ran the bank's film and suddenly saw him start shooting. Eventually, as the police surrounded the bank, because the teller had pressed a panic button, he and his accomplice held everyone hostage. None of the hostages had been injured despite what the anchorman called a little “playful shooting on the part of the gunman and his accomplice. He told them to hurry up, because he had a date at noon. But by lunchtime it was obvious that they were not going to get out of the bank without giving themselves up or injuring a hostage. They attempted to shoot their way out finally, and both of them had been killed before they ever reached the curb. The tall blond was a previously convicted felon named Chandler Anthony Scott, aka Charlie Antonio Schiavo, and the woman was Anne Stewart.” Jane stared at the screen in amazement.
“Daddy, that's the lady who went to Mexico with us…. Her name was Annie!” She was staring wide-eyed as they showed Scott and the woman, lying facedown on the sidewalk in a pool of blood after the shoot-out, and then the ambulance taking away the bodies, and the hostages fleeing from the bank, as you heard Christmas carols in the background. “Daddy, they killed him.” Her eyes were wide and she sat staring at Bernie, who looked at her and then Robert Blake. They were all in shock, and for a moment he wondered if it could have been a different Chandler Scott, but it couldn't. It just seemed so remarkable …and now it was all over. He reached over and pulled Jane into his arms and held her there, signaling to Bob to turn off the television.
“I'm sorry you ever had to go through all that, baby …but it's all over now.”
“He was such a terrible man.” She looked so little and she said it so sadly, and then she looked up at him with enormous eyes. “I'm glad Mommy never knew. She would have been very angry.”
Bernie smiled at the choice of words. “Yes, she would have. But it's all over now, baby … all over …” It was amazing, and he still couldn't believe it, as the reality sank in slowly. Scott was out of their lives. Forever.
They called Grandma Ruth a little while later, and told them to take the next plane they could get. He explained everything before Jane got on, but she gave her grandmother all the gory details herself. “And he was lying in this enormous pool of blood, Grandma …honest…right on the sidewalk … it was really, really yucky.” But she looked so relieved. She suddenly looked like a little girl again. He told Grossman as well, and Nanny invited Bob Blake to join them for dinner, but he was anxious to get home to his wife. They were going to a Christmas party. And Bernie and Jane and Nanny and Alexander sat down to dinner. And Jane looked up at him, remembering the candles they had lit with Grampa on Friday nights, before her mother had died. She wanted to do it again, and suddenly there was time for everything. They had a whole life to look forward to. Together.
“Daddy, tomorrow can we light the candles?” “What candles?” He had been helping her to some meat and then suddenly he understood, and felt guilty that he wasn't more observant of some of the traditions he'd grown up with. “Sure, sweetheart.” And then he leaned over and kissed her, as Nanny smiled, and Alexander dug his fingers into the mashed potatoes. It was almost as though life was normal. And maybe one day it might be.
Chapter 33
It almost made Bernie shudder to go back to the same courtroom, but it was something that meant a great deal to both of them. And his parents had flown out again especially to be present. And Grossman had asked the judge if he would do it in chambers. They had come to City Hall for Jane's adoption.
The papers were waiting for them, and the judge Jane had never seen before smiled down at her and then glanced up at the family who had come with her. There was Bernie, of course, and his parents, and Nanny in her best blue uniform with t
he white collar. She never took a day off, and she never wore anything except the immaculate starched uniforms she ordered from England. And she had brought Alexander in a little blue velvet suit, and he was muttering happily as he took all of the judge's books off one of the lower shelves and stacked them up so he could stand on them to reach the next ones. Bernie went to scoop him up and held him as the judge looked at them solemnly and explained why they were there.
“It is my understanding”—he looked at Jane—“that you wish to be adopted, and that Mr. Fine wishes to adopt you as well.”
“He's my father,” she explained quietly, and the judge looked briefly confused and then glanced at his papers again. Bernie would have preferred to have someone else do the adoption, he still remembered him only too well from the fiasco in December when he had given custody to Chandler Scott, but no one mentioned that now as they went on.
“Yes, well …let's see.” He examined the adoption papers, and asked Bernie to sign, then Grossman to witness it. And Bernie asked his parents to witness it as well.
“Can I sign too?” Jane asked, wanting to be part of it, and the judge hesitated. No one had ever asked him that before.
“There's no need for you to sign anything …er …uh …Jane…. But I suppose you could sign the papers too, if you'd like to.”
She smiled up at Bernie and then back at the judge again. “I'd like to do that, if it's okay.”
He nodded, and passed one of the documents to her, and she looked at it solemnly and signed her name. And then the judge looked at all of them. “I hereby declare, by the power vested in me by the State of California, that Jane Elizabeth Fine is now the lawful daughter of Bernard Fine, adopted on this twenty-eighth day of January.” He rapped a small gavel he kept on his desk, and stood up and smiled at all of them, and in spite of the terrible thing he'd done to Bernie before, he shook Bernie's hand. And then Bernie scooped Jane up in his arms, just as he had when she was a much smaller girl, and he kissed her and then set her down again.
“I love you, Daddy,” she whispered.
“I love you too.” He smiled down at her, wishing that Liz could have been there. And wishing also that he had done it all a long time ago. If he had, he would have saved all of them a great deal of pain. Chandler Scott wouldn't have had a leg to stand on. But it was too late to worry about that. It was all over now. And a new life had begun for them. She was truly his daughter now, and Grandma Ruth was crying as she kissed her, and Grampa shook Bernie's hand.
“Congratulations, son.” It was like getting married all over again, and they went to Trader Vic's for lunch, except for Nanny and Alexander. And while everyone was ordering lunch, Bernie slipped his hand into Jane's and smiled down at her. And without saying anything to her, he slipped a little gold ring on her finger. It was a delicate braid of gold with a single pearl. She looked down at it with wide eyes, and then looked up at him again.
“Daddy, it's beautiful.” It was like being engaged to him. And now she knew no one could ever take her away from him. No one. Ever again.
“You're beautiful, sweetheart. And you're a very, very brave girl.” They were both thinking of the days in Mexico, but all of that was over now. They looked at each other, both thinking of Liz, and Bernie smiled at her, feeling in his heart of hearts that Jane Elizabeth Fine was truly his child now.
Chapter 34
For the first time in two years, Bernie took over the import lines again, and it was painful to go back to Paris and Rome and Milan without Liz. He remembered the first time he had taken Liz to Europe with him, and how excited she had been about the clothes she'd bought, the museums they'd visited, the lunches at Fouquet's and dinners at Lipp's and Maxim's, and it was all so different now. But this was also his bailiwick, and he fell rapidly back into step again. He felt as though he had been out of the mainstream for a long, long time. He felt more alive again after he had seen all the new ready-to-wear lines and spoken to his favorite couturiers. He knew exactly what was right for Wolffs that year, and when he stopped in New York on the way back, he and Paul Berman had a long quiet lunch at Le Veau d'Or and discussed all of Bernie's plans. He admired the way Bernie had handled everything, and he was looking forward to having him come home. No one suitable had turned up to take over for him at the San Francisco store, but he assumed that by year end Bernie would be back in New York.
“How does that fit in with your plans, Bernard?”
“All right, I suppose.” He didn't seem to care quite so much anymore and he had just sold his old apartment. It would have been too small for him now anyway. And the tenant he'd had for years had wanted to buy it. “I'll have to think about schools for Jane before we come back, but there's time for that.” He was no longer in a hurry. There was nothing to rush home for, and only the children and Nanny to bring with him.
“I'll let you know as soon as we have someone in mind.” It wasn't easy to find the right person for the job. He had spoken to two women and a man so far, but all of them were too limited. They didn't have Bernard's experience, or his sophisticated eye. And he didn't want the San Francisco branch turning into some dull provincial store. In Bernie's hands it was their biggest moneymaker, after the New York store, and Paul Berman liked that. And better than that, so did the Board of Directors.
He saw his parents briefly before he went back, and his mother wanted him to send the children to stay with her for the summer.
“You don't have time to be with them all day long, and there's nothing for them to do in town.” She had known without his saying it that they wouldn't be going back to Stinson Beach again. It would have been much too painful for him, but he didn't know where else to go. He had gone there with Liz since he had first moved out to California, and now he couldn't think of anything else without her.
“I'll give it some thought when I get back.”
“Maybe Jane would like to go to camp this year.” She was more than nine but he wasn't ready to let her go. They had both been through too much. It was only nine months since Liz had died. And the thing that shocked him most of all was his mother telling him that Mrs. Rosenthal's daughter had just gotten divorced and was living in Los Angeles, as though she expected him to do something about it.
“Why don't you look her up sometime?” He had stared at her as though she had suggested he walk down the street in his underwear, but he was also angry at her. She had no right to interfere in his life, or to start pushing women at him.
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because she's a very nice girl.”
“So what?” He was furious. The world was full of nice girls, not one of them as nice as Liz, and he didn't want to know them.
“Bernie”—she took a deep breath and plunged in. She had wanted to say it to him since the last time they'd gone out to visit in San Francisco—“you have to get out sometime.”
“I get out all I need to.”
“That's not what I mean. I mean out with girls.” He wanted to tell her to mind her own goddamn business. She was digging into open wounds, and he couldn't take it.
“I'm thirty-nine years old. I'm not interested in 'girls.'”
“You know what I mean, sweetheart.” She was nagging him, and he didn't want to hear any of it. Liz' clothes were still hanging in the closet as they always had, only the perfume was fading now. He went in there now and then, just to remind himself, and the smell of her perfume would overwhelm him … it brought back floodtides of memories, and sometimes late at night, he would still lie on his bed and cry. “You're a young man. It's time to think of yourself.” No, he wanted to scream. No! It was still time to think of her. If he didn't, he would lose her forever. And he wasn't ready to let go of her yet. He was never going to. He was going to keep her clothes in the closet forever. He had their children and his memories. He didn't want more than that. And Ruth knew it.
“I don't want to discuss this with you.”
“You have to start thinking about it.” Her voice was g
entle, but he hated her for feeling sorry for him and for pushing him.
“I don't have to think about a goddamn thing if I don't want to,” he snapped at her.
“What'll I tell Mrs. Rosenthal? I promised you'd call Evelyne when you got back to the west coast.”
“Tell her I couldn't find the number.”
“Don't be smart about it …the poor girl doesn't know anyone out there.”
“Then why did she move to Los Angeles?”
“She didn't know where else to go.”
“What was wrong with New York?”
“She wanted a career in Hollywood …she's a very pretty girl, you know. She was a model for Ohrbach's before she got married. You know …”
“Mother! No!” His voice was louder than it had to be, and he was sorry to have been so rough with her, but he wasn't ready for that. He didn't think he ever would be. He didn't want to date anyone. Ever. Again.
They celebrated Alexander's second birthday when they got home to San Francisco. Nanny had arranged a little party with all his friends from the park, and she had baked him a cake herself, which he dug into with glee, getting most of it all over his face and hands, and a fair amount of it in his mouth, too, as he gave Bernie a big chocolate grin for the camera. But when he put the camera away again, Bernie felt profoundly sad, thinking that Liz should have been there to see him …and suddenly Bernie was overwhelmed with the memories of the day she'd given birth to him only two years before. He had been there to watch life bestowed on them, and then again to watch life taken from them. It was difficult to absorb it all, as he kissed Alexander good night that night, and went back to his own room, even lonelier than he had been before, and without thinking, he walked into her closet. It was almost like a physical blow as he closed his eyes and inhaled her perfume again.
That weekend, not knowing what else to do, he took the children for a drive, with Jane in the front seat next to him, and Nanny contentedly chatting with Alexander strapped into his car seat. They took a different direction than usual, when they went on rides. Generally, they roamed around Marin when they did things like that, and went to Paradise Cove in Tiburon, or wandered around Belvedere, or went to Sausalito and bought ice cream cones. But this time, Bernie drove north into the wine country, and everything was rich and lush and green and beautiful. And Nanny began telling them about life on a farm in Scotland when she was a child.
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