A few days later, Derek called. "I have tickets for a private opening tonight of a Peruvian art exhibit. I thought you'd enjoy it, especially the jewehy. It includes dinner—possibly grilled Peruvian goat—but if it's inedible, we can go somewhere else. Can I pick you up at Heath's?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation. Derek could tell her more about the Hay wards and about Craig, she told herself, trying to explain her quick response. She thought of another explanation while filling out shipping forms to return last week's window scenery to the warehouse: she might find ideas for jewehy in the ancient gold woric of Peruvian artisans. And besides, she decided as she helped Lister arrange witches and warlocks in a Halloween window, it will be good to get out, and Annie can stay with Jennifer and Todd. But, at the end of the day, meeting the skeptical grin of a jack o'lantem on her desk, she admitted that she had said yes because she wanted to see Derek again.
"I'm glad you're here," he said as she stepped into his car in front of Heath's and he pulled into the traffic on Geary Street. "I was afraid you'd turn me down."
The car was sleek and low-slung, and Katherine felt pe-
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culiar, sitting just inches above the street, watching other cars and pedestrians loom over her as Derek whipped through narrow spaces that made her flinch. She looked instead at his smooth profile and wondered how many women turned Derek down, or how often he really was afraid they would. "Why would I turn you down?" she asked.
"Another Hay ward. I thought you might have had enough of us after being inundated for the past few weeks."
"Oh." She considered it. Did everyone in that family always know what the others were doing? "No. It's been very interesting."
"Interesting? Good Lord, wait until Tobias hears that." He turned into the Civic Center and found a parking place near the Museum of Art. "After meeting the Hayward clan, Kath-erine Fraser pronounces them interesting."
"I'm sorry," Katherine blushed, feeling slow and dull, and wondering how she was going to get through the evening.
"We'll survive." Derek walked around the car and opened her door. "You may even find that some of us are more interesting than others. Let's see what's going on inside."
He took her arm. Unexpectedly, she was filled with excitement. It had been so long since she went anywhere. It wasn't Derek, she told herself; it was getting away from the house, the children, the job, worrying over money, missing Craig, endlessly speculating about him, worrying about him. Her steps were light as she went into the building on Derek's arm.
But once inside, confronted with the crowd, Katherine's excitement drained away. Sleek men in black tie or dark business suits, and beautiful women in gala dresses, feathered, frilled, beaded, and bejeweled, took her measure when they saw her with Derek—and a hundred eyebrows went up, making her feel as dull as she had months earlier, beside the spotlight of Melanie's gleaming presence: as if she had crashed an exclusive party.
Unaware or indifferent, Derek made casual introductions, and Katherine shook hands and murmured greetings, wondering all the while why she hadn't been prepared. It would happen every time she tried to enter the Haywards' world. Derek might have warned her, but perhaps he had no idea how she felt, wearing a blue wool suit and white blouse, and a single strand of pearls Craig had given her for their tenth anniversary, while
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all around her stood women who outshone even the Peruvian gold in the museum's exhibit.
I won't go through it again, she thought; I'll leave. Derek won't mind; he belongs here and he'll hardly know I've gone. Yet she made no move to turn and walk out. Something held her and as she answered polite questions from Derek's friends, the thought came: Craig ran. I won't.
She pushed the words aside as if they burned her, and changed them. It's research. I'm finding out what jeweh^ wealthy women are wearing. One of these days I'll be designing for them.
'The jewelry is in the cases along the wall," Derek said. "Where would you like to start? The fourteenth century? I'm sorry about the crowd; private parties are never private unless you give them yourself. With luck, dinner will be quieter."
Dinner was quieter. The guests sat ten to a table and at first the conversation revolved around Derek. For the first time Katherine learned the full scope of the Hay ward Corporation's activities in California and the West, from highways, bridges, and aqueducts to office complexes and industrial parks. She was stunned by the extent of the company under Derek's control. She had assumed it was like Craig's, constructing houses and office buildings and having a difficult time in the recession. In fact, the Hay ward Corporation was only lightly touched by the economy. Offices and industrial parks had slowed, but the contracts for roads, bridges, and dams had been signed years before and there was plenty to keep the company busy. Remembering how Craig and Carl had been forced to lay off workers because there was not enough for them to do, and listening to the talk of Derek's huge projects and future plans, Katherine began to think he stood a'oove everyone else, untouched by ordinary problems and fears.
And he seemed untouched by people as well. Men and women came up to him and spoke respectfully, often deferentially, some trying to curry favor, others sharing information. But Derek was the same to all of them. Self-contained, remote, caustic, with power coiled behind his polished social presence, he appeared impressive and inaccessible, unlike anyone Katherine had ever known. "Now," he said, dismissing the rest of the table by turning to her. "It's your turn. I want to know about your jewelry. You're taking classes?"
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She answered briefly, reluctant to talk about her work. But he pressed her until she described some of her sketches.
"I'd like to see them," he said.
She shook her head. "I haven't found a style of my own yet."
"What do you think of that one?" He gestured casually at a woman across the room whose neck was encased in diamonds that flashed when she moved her head.
Katherine contemplated her. "She looks like a lighthouse, warning everyone away."
Derek's idle gaze swung to her as it had on their picnic. "You can be quite astonishing," he said. "And you aren't even aware of it."
She flushed and was silent, afraid to say something that was not astonishing. After a moment, he asked a question about Heath's and they talked easily for the rest of the evening. But Katherine was aware of his eyes on her, as intimate and absorbed as if they were alone. He had turned a dinner for three hundred people into a private evening.
She realized, as he drove her home, that he had not mentioned her clothes; he had not even seemed to notice them. Yet he dressed impeccably and fastidiously. So he must have noticed. I'll have to do something about that, she thought, if I see him again.
"I'll call you," Derek said as she unlocked the door of her building. Holding her hand, he kissed her forehead. "Thank you for coming. I enjoyed the Incas far more than I thought possible."
She smiled, watching him go back to his car, and was still smiling when she let herself into the apartment. Annie was waiting for her, a finger to her lips. Katherine's smile faded. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, maybe," Annie whispered. "But I thought maybe you'd want to see this alone." She held out an envelope. "A letter from Canada."
Katherine's heart lurched. There was no return address and the postmark was blurred. No it wasn't; her eyes had filled with tears. She blinked them away and read the name of a town she'd never heard of, in Saskatchewan. What was Craig doing in—
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Annie had gone to her own apartment; the living room was quiet. Craig, Craig, Craig. It was like a heartbeat as she tore open the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. But there was nothing on it. Not a word of writing. Only, as she unfolded it, something that fluttered to the floor. She bent down to pick it up: five hundred dollars in crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.
Chapter 8
A
TREMOR ran through Victoria's hand as she poure
d their tea. "And what will you do now?" she asked.
The money lay on the table between them, beside the silver tea service. Katherine's glance slid past it as she took the cup Victoria handed her. For three days the sheaf of bills had been the center of attention on her worictable. She had tried to explain to the children what it meant—that Craig was all right and knew where they were; that for some reason he couldn't come back to them yet, but he wanted to help them and so he sent the money. It wasn't very satisfactory but it was the best she could do. Then, Friday morning, while they were at breakfast, Victoria called, surprising her with an invitation to tea that afternoon, and on impulse she put the money in her purse. As soon as they sat down, she pulled it out and told Victoria what it was.
In the silence of the sunroom, Victoria sighed deeply, turning the five bills over and over, as if looking for a message.
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Katherine watched her. She sat erect, as serene and unapproachable as an empress in a knit suit of the finest burgundy wool, her white hair cut like a cap of small curls. Now and then she raised a thin manicured hand to the antique pendant she wore on a gold chain; except for that, her body was still. Even more than the women at the Peruvian exhibit, she made Katherine feel clumsy and poorly put together.
But Victoria's face was drawn and a vein in her neck was taut as she inspected the money. Katherine looked away, admiring the room where they sat. In the sunlit air, the white wicker furniture shone against dark green ficus trees, wisteria vines, and bushy, flowering plants. Everywhere were wondrous mementoes of Victoria's trips around the world—Mexican papier mache birds, a bronze horse from Ceylon, Japanese ladies in jade, ebony masks from Africa. It was a lovely room, as beautiful and finely made as Victoria, but it had the hush of a place waiting for someone to bring it to life.
Victoria sighed again. "It could be from a friend."
"No." Katherine watched her place the money carefully on the table. "It's from Craig. We don't know anyone in that town, or" —she gave a small smile— "anyone anywhere who would send five hundred dollars anonymously. You don't seem surprised," she added. "Or pleased."
Victoria picked up the silver teapot and refilled their cups. "And what will you do now?" she asked, as if Katherine had not spoken.
"Wait," Katherine answered dispiritedly. No answers here, she thought. No help, either. "I've called the Vancouver police and they're working with police in Saskatchewan—"
"I'm talking about you," Victoria said. "Now that you know you're not a widow."
"I never believed I was a widow," Katherine shot back.
"Please," Victoria said coolly. "You need not shout."
Instinctively, Katherine replied, "I'm sorry." She was edgy. She had vowed never to come here again, but here she sat, as intimidated as the first time, and making things worse by snapping at Victoria. "I'm sorry," she repeated and said quietly, "I'll wait. For Craig to come back."
Victoria's hand went to her pendant. "Now that we know he is alive, you might say we are waiting too. After all this
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time. But Craig clearly has no intention of coming back to us. He has wiped us out of his life." •
Katherine winced. As he has wiped us out. She looked at the table for reassurance. No he hasn't. He sent us money.
Victoria moved slightly in her chair. "I asked you here so we could get acquainted. I seem to be the last in my family to do so."
"You were angry, because of my rudeness. I'm sorry for the way I spoke that night."
"As you should be. You tend to jump at people, Katherine. And away from them. Quite erratic. You must leam to control yourself. And if you learned to sit straight, you would look like a woman who values herself, rather than a muskrat cowering in a storm."
Katherine smiled, but there was no answering smile on Victoria's face. Self-consciously, she straightened her spine, and pulled back her shoulders. Her head came up and her eyes met Victoria's.
"Much better. If you always learn so quickly, you will do very well. Now, then. It seems everyone else has had lunch with you, or afternoon cocktails, or—and we find this most odd—a picnic. What do you think of us?"
"I think you all want something from me," Katherine replied. "Different things."
"And what else?"
"You don't act much like a family."
Victoria poured more tea. "Have some cake, my dear, you look quite dliin. In what way do we not act like a family?"
"You don't like one another very much."
Victoria laughed shortly. 'That describes many families, Katherine. But some of us do like each other. Very much." Looking over her cup, she followed the silver gleam of an airplane crossing the city. "And of course you may be exaggerating. Perhaps you think we dislike one another because you dislike us."
"No—!" Why do they make every conversation a contest? she wondered, and switched to a neutral subject. "I saw the Peruvian exhibit at the Museum of Art; it was wonderful."
At last Victoria smiled. "Yes, isn't it? I couldn't be at the opening, but I heard about your appearance with Derek."
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There are no neutral subjects with this family. "Derek told you?"
"Derek tells me nothing about himself. My friends told me about his companion. I could hardly fail to identify you."
"Did they wonder why he was with me?"
Victoria smiled again. "There was some curiosity—yes, Polk?"
"Mr. Derek Hayward, ma'am," said the butler. "On the telephone."
"He heard us talking about him. We should have said something libelous." Picking up the telephone, she grinned like a girl, surprising Katherine into laughter. "Yes," Victoria said into the receiver, gesturing to Katherine to eat some cake.
Katherine ate a small piece, then another, discovering how hungry she was. Soon Jennifer and Todd would be eating dinner with Annie. Then they would do their homework while Annie did hers across the hall, with her door open. Everything was all right; there was no need to rush home. E.xcept that she was famished. Victoria could have asked her to dinner instead of late afternoon tea. Unless she didn't want Katherine Eraser at her table again until she had a chance to look her over and set some ground rules. Sit up straight. Don't jump at people. Or away from them.
"I didn't think so," Victoria was saying. "But you may be right."
Her voice changed when she spoke to Derek: it was cautious, even deferential. It should be the other way around, Katherine thought. But Derek was the head of the family, Claude had said. By default.
"Yes, she has," Victoria said. "But perhaps she would rather tell you herself. She's here now . . . certainly you may." She held the telephone across the table.
Katherine barely greeted him before he said, "You've heard from Craig?"
"He sent me some money."
"And what did he say?"
"Nothing."
"In the letter."
"There was no letter. There was nothing. Just the money."
"No letter. A money order?"
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"No. Rve one-hundred-dollar bills."
"Christ." Derek was silent. "Where was it mailed?"
"A small town in Saskatchewan. I've never heard of it."
"I suppose you've talked to the police there."
"I talked to the Vancouver police. They don't think they can trace cash, but they're sending Craig's picture to the Saskatchewan police to see if anyone saw him."
"How did he know where you are?"
"I don't know. I wish I did."
Again he was silent. "Not much. But it's a beginning." As if rousing himself, he added, "I was going to call you tonight. I'm spending tomorrow afternoon at some vineyards in Napa. Would you enjoy a private tour?"
"Vineyards?"
"I'm a partner in a few small ones. The harvest is over, but you can still see how the wine is made. Or is that something you've already done?"
"No, we haven't. I'd like very much to go. Could we bring Jennif
er and Todd? They've never seen a field of grapevines."
There was a pause. "If you really think they'd enjoy it. I'd thought of dinner afterward, and it would be a late evening for them."
"Oh." Stupid, she thought. He's not the kind for family outings. "I'll have to let you know. Is that all right?"
"I'll call tonight," he said carelessly. "About eleven. Unless that's too late."
"No, that's fine." After she said goodbye, she looked up to meet Victoria's quizzical gaze.
"I gather Derek was not enthusiastic about entertaining your children."
"I should have refused. Weekends are the only time the three of us have together."
"But Derek is very attractive."
"Oh, no." Katherine felt herself tense. "I mean, of course he's attractive, but— I'm married; I'm not looking . . . I'm only looking for friends."
"Craig let you down." Victoria's voice was fierce in the softly fading light. "He let all of us down. I remember" —the words became a reverie—"a long time ago, I used to count my family to make sure all was well. Especially when a storm
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came up at night, I would go through the names, and where each one was. Of course I seldom knew where they all were, but when I did, and when I knew they were all right, or at least safely inside somewhere, I was content."
Surprised, Katherine said, "That's what I always did when Craig was traveling or the children were spending the night with friends."
"Indeed. So Craig found another woman to worry about his safety in storms. Perhaps that made it easier for him to forget us. He knew how I counted my family to know if all was well. But he let us think he was dead, he let us mourn, and he did not care."
As if Craig sat in the wicker chair across the room, Katherine saw him, very still, staring into space, an open newspaper on his lap. She had seen him that way often, especially in the evenings when she finished the dinner dishes and came into the living room to find him staring out the window at something she could not see. Now she knew he had been staring at the family he left behind. "He did care," she said to Victoria. "He wasn't very happy."
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