“All right,” Julius capitulated. “Monday morning you’ll be reassigned to the store. We’ll think about the fashion show in early September of next year, when everybody’s back from the resorts. We might even send a show on the road to hit major stores in key cities.” Now he was beaming. “You gave me a lot of gray hairs, worrying about your future. But you’re coming through with real class now. No doubt about it, Phil, by the time I decide to retire, you’ll be able to take over. You’re a chip off the old block.”
Kathy talked to her mother briefly on the phone while Phil did last-minute packing and Jesse slept in his crib.
“Phil’s sure his father is bringing us up to give us the house,” Kathy reported without enthusiasm.
“Kathy, your own home,” her mother said reverently. “It’s like a dream.”
“A lot of returning GIs are buying homes now,” Kathy reminded.
“Tiny cracker boxes out in Levittown,” her mother scoffed. “You’ll be living in Connecticut in a beautiful house. Julius Kohn is an awful show-off,” she reminded. “He’ll want to brag to his friends about his son’s fine new house.”
“Kathy, it’s getting late,” Phil called. “Let’s get ready to shove off.”
“Mom, I have to go. I’ll call you when we get back on Monday,” Kathy said. “Bye.”
Phil carried their valises and the baby paraphernalia. Kathy held Jesse—still sleeping—in her arms. It was weird, she thought, while they waited for the elevator. They’d probably be moving into the house in Greenwich any week now. And Phil would be driving into New York every day with his father. What he’d sworn he’d never do. But he was in high spirits. He didn’t seem upset at all at the prospect.
They were following the pattern set by Phil’s parents, Kathy told herself, and felt alarm signals pop up in her mind. She and Phil mustn’t allow their marriage to become a replica of his parents’ marriage. They wouldn’t, she promised herself. She and Phil loved each other too much for that. They’d always work things out.
They arrived at the Greenwich house to find Julius sprawled on a chaise on the elegant veranda. He jumped up to greet them, called to a servant inside the house to take care of their luggage. He played the fatuous grandfather for a few moments, then herded them toward the limousine, parked in the drive with Wally at the wheel.
“We’re just going about a quarter mile down the road,” he told them in high spirits with an air of mystery, which they pretended to respect.
As Phil anticipated, his father was at last making official the gift of a house. To Phil, Kathy understood. Not to Phil and his wife. She was just an onlooker, she thought in silent rage. Julius was behaving as though she wasn’t present.
“There she is.” Julius smiled in approval as Wally turned into a circular driveway before a pretentious, freshly painted, white colonial set on an acre of manicured lawn. “Eleven rooms, three baths and a two-car garage.”
“Looks sensational, Dad,” Phil said. “But what about the taxes? Are we going to be clobbered?”
Wally hurried around to open the car door and Kathy emerged with Jesse. Who was going to clean those eleven rooms? Who was going to mow the lawn and trim the hedges? Phil and his father were involved in lively discussion about the features of the house. It would be like living on a movie set, Kathy thought rebelliously.
“Well, Kathy?” Julius turned to her when he had shown them through the three floors of the house. “How do you like it?” He spoke to her but he looked at Phil.
“It’s a lovely house,” she said politely. She would have preferred one of the new casual, comfortable ranch houses that were mushrooming all over. “Thank you.”
She never knew how to address Phil’s parents. Nobody had set the ground rules. She would have been self-conscious calling them “Dad” and “Mother.” She suspected they would balk at “Julius” and “Bella.”
Three weeks later Kathy, Phil, and tiny Jesse moved into their new home. The furniture from the West End Avenue apartment was inadequate and incongruous. For now much of the house would be closed off.
At precisely 5:50 A.M. each morning, Phil left the house to join his father in the back seat of the limo for the drive into Manhattan. On their first morning in the house he had encouraged Kathy to remain in bed when he arose, since he would have only coffee and juice at this hour. He’d have breakfast in the city. But she insisted on getting up with him. Jesse always awoke at 6 A.M. for a bottle.
Later in the morning—because it took her an hour to go back to sleep after Jesse’s 2 A.M. feeding—she would nap while he slept. She must learn to drive, she told herself repeatedly. Otherwise, she’d be a prisoner in this house. Phil seemed unenthusiastic about her driving, but she’d have to make him understand.
She had been worried that Phil’s mother and sisters, living so near, would be popping in often with advice about caring for Jesse. Instinctively she knew their ideas of child-raising would clash with her own. Phil and his sisters had been raised by nursemaids, as Phil’s nieces were being raised now. But Phil and she might have lived a continent away from his family, she quickly realized.
Phil’s father picked him up in the morning in the chauffeured limo, and brought him home at night. Once or twice a week Julius came into the house for a few minutes to fuss over Jesse. Phil’s sisters sent lavish, impractical gifts from Saks but never bothered to call. His mother came by for ten minutes one afternoon between a luncheon party and a garden club meeting to stand beside the crib for a few moments.
“He looks just like Phil at that age.” He didn’t. He looked like the Ross side.
The Kohn women were more concerned about their volunteer activities and social organizations and prospective trips than about Phil’s son. But Jesse could survive without the attention of the Kohn family. He had an adoring grandmother, grandfather, and great-great-aunt on her side.
Kathy talked regularly with her mother and father and Aunt Sophie by phone. Mom was always anxious about their talking too long. “Darling, you’ll run up such a big bill.” They developed a routine. One time Mom would call, the next time she would call. Except for phone calls to and from her family and Marge and Rhoda, she was living in isolation, Kathy thought wryly after a refreshingly long call from Rhoda.
On their third Sunday in the house, Kathy’s parents and Aunt Sophie were coming out for a midday dinner. Eager to see them, she went with Phil to the station to pick them up. She felt a poignant rush of love as the familiar figures emerged from the train.
“I’ll take Jesse,” Phil said, standing beside the car. “Go meet them.”
It was as though they’d been apart for months, Kathy thought affectionately as the three women settled on the rear seat and her father joined Phil on the front. Jesse nestled in her mother’s arms.
“I made a batch of rugelach and a challah,” Aunt Sophie said, patting the parcel on her lap. “Jesse will have to wait a while before I make him cookies. Precious little sweetheart—”
While Phil was showing them through the house, Kathy went into the kitchen to put up dinner. As Mom had insisted, she’d prepared a simple menu. They’d have to be heading back to the station in four hours so Dad could relieve his helper at the store.
“It’s a beautiful house, Kathy.” Her mother appeared in the doorway, her smile sympathetic. Mom understood she didn’t feel comfortable here. Not in this house. Not in Greenwich. “You’ll feel better here when you have more of it furnished.” She hesitated. “Dad and I want you to come into town and choose a table and chairs for your breakfast room. Our house-warming gift,” she said with a bright smile.
“Mom, you and Dad have done enough,” Kathy protested. “I know what the wedding cost you.”
“It’s our pleasure, darling. You’ll come into New York as soon as it’s convenient, and we’ll go shopping. Such a lovely breakfast room. You should be able to enjoy it.”
Chapter 9
AT PHIL’S INSISTENCE KATHY arranged to go into New York the follow
ing Saturday to shop with her mother for the breakfast room furniture.
“I’ll phone when I get into Grand Central,” she told Phil while they waited for the train at the Greenwich station. “If you’re having any problems, I’ll just turn around and come back.” He’d never taken care of Jesse on his own before today. At the moment, Jesse slept contentedly in the car-bed.
“Honey, relax. Jesse and I will have a high old time. If I have any problems, I’ll buzz my mother,” He reflected on this a moment. “Or I’ll ask Clara to drive over and give us a hand.” Clara had come to the Kohn family as a teenager and worked her way up from maid to housekeeper in thirty-one years, the one member of the domestic staff who remained in place. “Clara changed a lot of diapers for me and gave me a lot of bottles,” he said whimsically. “Even then, Mother was all involved with charities and garden clubs.”
“Here’s the train—” Kathy felt a disconcerting wrench at the prospect of putting so many miles between Jesse and herself even for the afternoon.
“Try to find something that’s available for fast delivery,” Phil encouraged. “Maybe a floor sample if it’s in good shape.”
“I will,” she promised, reaching for the car door. “Don’t forget to burp Jesse after his bottle.”
Kathy was shocked when Phil announced—the night he arrived home to find the charming country maple table and four captain’s chairs sitting in their spacious breakfast room—that he was inviting his mother and father over for brunch the following Saturday.
“It’ll be no extra work for you,” he soothed. “I’ll bring up a slab of nova and a bagful of bagels from the city Friday night. There’s nothing the old man likes more than lox and eggs and onions. He’ll be in a great mood.”
“You’re going to taunt him with my parents’ housewarming present,” she accused in sudden comprehension. “Phil, they’ve given us the house!”
“They can afford it,” he shrugged. “Dad’s got an accountant who knows every tax shelter on the books. I remember the fancy furniture they gave Gail and Brenda the first year they were married. Hey, I’m their only son.”
On Saturday morning Julius and Bella Kohn arrived for brunch. Kathy watched them tense and exchange a meaningful glance when Phil—seemingly ingenuous—showed off the “great breakfast room furniture Kathy’s parents gave us.” Early the following week Phil came home to announce that his parents had ordered formal dining room and living room furniture for them, plus a TV set with the much-coveted 14-inch screen.
“We’ll have to wait three months before it all arrives,” Phil said blithely while Kathy seethed. Her father-in-law had probably ordered the furniture over the phone, no doubt through some “inside connection” that guaranteed a discount price. How could Phil’s parents know what they would like?
Kathy’s life revolved around the baby. Jesse was her sole companion from the time Phil left the house at 5:50 A.M. until he came home around 7 P.M. In their area of expensive estates she found no opportunity to make friends. She yearned for the camaraderie of young wives and mothers that she would have found in a less affluent suburb.
She adored Jesse. She enjoyed fulfilling all his needs, hearing his laughter, soothing his tears as the first tooth began to push its way through tender gum. But she felt with painful frequency that she was living in exile. Phil came home from the city tired from the long commute and hectic hours in the business. By 9:30 he was falling asleep.
On Saturdays Phil slept late. After breakfast he drove her to the supermarket to shop for the week. On Saturday nights—with Jesse comfortably asleep in the car-bed—they went to one of the new drive-in movies that eliminated the need for a baby-sitter. Saturday night became their night for making love. Phil referred to this as the Saturday night national pastime. One Sunday each month they went to Phil’s parents’ house for dinner. Another Sunday they drove into the city to have dinner with her family. On Thanksgiving they would go to her family in Borough Park.
Phil appeared to be enjoying his job. He talked with pride about his father’s new respect for his abilities. Early in December he came home from the city with a box of Kathy’s favorite chocolates.
“Dad’s giving me a raise,” he announced triumphantly. “I won’t have to wait five years for a partnership,” he predicted.
“Phil, that’s wonderful! How much of a raise?”
“Don’t worry your head about that, baby. It’s enough so we can spend more freely.” He went grocery shopping with her and paid the bill. He paid all the bills. She rarely had more than ten dollars in her wallet. “Maybe we’ll have a few people up for New Year’s Eve and to sleep over. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“We don’t have beds for them,” she reminded reluctantly. The dining room and living room furniture that Phil’s parents had ordered for them had at last arrived. Far too elaborate for her taste, but she mustn’t say that even to Phil, she’d warned herself. “It would have been fun.”
“There’s a place where we can rent beds. I’ll take care of it. We won’t have a big crowd. Six guests,” he decided. “Our first party in our own house!”
Coffee cup in hand, Phil stood by the breakfast room window and stared up at the still night-dark winter sky.
“I hope Wally put the snow tires on the car,” he told Kathy while she warmed Jesse’s morning bottle on the electric range. “I don’t care if it is only mid-December. We’re in for a heavy snow this morning.”
“Maybe you ought to take the train in.”
“Ugh.” He shuddered eloquently. “I can’t face that at this hour. So it’ll take us longer if the snow begins to fall along the way.”
“If the roads are bad, Phil, take the train tonight,” Kathy urged.
“There’s the car—” He swigged down the rest of the coffee, kissed her, and headed down the hall toward the door.
As usual, he and his father both dozed much of the way into the city. By the time they’d turned off the Merritt Parkway, silver dollar-sized flakes had begun to fall. When Wally pulled up before the restaurant where they went each morning for breakfast, the roads and sidewalks were white.
“Go sleep at your mother’s place,” Julius told Wally. “I won’t be needing the car this morning.” Wally’s mother and sister lived in a walk-up in Hell’s Kitchen. “I may even cancel my lunch meeting. I’ll phone around eleven to let you know.”
Phil and his father hurried into the restaurant, already filling up with the regular morning customers. They relished the rush of warmth that greeted them. Savory aromas of fresh coffee, bacon sizzling on the grill, toast popping up provided a cozy welcome. They settled themselves at the rear booth, always held available for them at this hour.
“Early in the year for snow.” Julius appeared unperturbed, however. “If it keeps up like this, we’ll stay in town for the night. I don’t like driving on icy roads.” All at once his voice seemed guarded. “I can sack out in my office. The sofa’s not great, but it’ll do for one night. You got a place to stay in town? If you haven’t, call a hotel by noon. It gets to be a rat race in this weather if you wait until late in the afternoon.”
“Yeah, I can stay with one of the guys for a night,” Phil said. The old man wouldn’t be sacked out on the sofa, he surmised in amusement. He’d be screwing that zaftig little bookkeeper that just came to work for the company. “If the snow keeps up.”
After breakfast Phil went up to the office for the customary conference with his father and whatever staff members Julius Kohn chose to call in that morning. Phil was pleased that they were already planning on a charity fashion show for next September. Negotiations were going well with a top designer to work with them on the new line.
“Phil, you’ve spent enough time in the store,” Julius said, while a secretary rounded up those called in for the conference. “Maybe you should go on the road for a while. Fuck the wholesalers—let’s set up some concessions in key stores in big cities.” This had been his most recent suggestion, Phil remembered com
placently. “Only the best, most expensive stores,” Julius stipulated. He squinted speculatively at Phil. “Is Kathy going to be mad if you’re out of town a lot for a while?”
“Look, it’s business,” Phil said calmly. “She’ll understand.”
At the store he phoned for a weather report. The snow was expected to continue through the day and into the evening. He whistled in approval. He’d have to stay in the city tonight.
He waited for Leila to arrive. She had replaced the iceberg who made it clear she didn’t “mess around with married men, not even the boss’s son.” Leila had not rejected his quick grabs at opportune moments in the dressing room. She was tall, slim, sultry. He suspected she entertained some of their visiting buyers from time to time. This might be just the time to expand their own relationship.
Christ, he hadn’t slept with another woman since he met Kathy. The old man was screwing somebody else on his honeymoon. Like Dad said, what the wives didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.
By noon—when the major topic of conversation around town was the snowstorm—Phil confided to Leila at a private moment that there was no way he was going up to Greenwich tonight.
“That’s a long haul,” Leila sympathized. “I’m one express stop on the subway.”
“I suppose I ought to start calling around for a hotel room.” His eyes were boldly speculative.
“I suppose—” Her smile was provocative.
Phil glanced around to make sure no one was approaching. He slid a hand down the sharp cleavage of her white crepe blouse.
“Would you join me if I can book a room?”
“No,” she said. “But you can stay at my place if you like.”
“I’d like that very much.” His hand found its way beneath her bra and fondled a hard nipple.
“I’ll meet you at the restaurant.” She reached to pull his hand away. “Let’s don’t advertise to the others. I like to keep my personal life private.”
Always and Forever Page 10
