Seeing that Katherine was speechless, Leslie said casually, "When?"
"What?" asked Todd.
"When is your mother going to divorce your father and marry Ross?"
"How do we know?" he said indignantly. "Nobody tells us these things!"
"Then how do you know she's going to do it at all?"
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There was a pause. "Carrie and Jon say that's what all the parents in their schcK)l do."
"Most of them," Jennifer put in.
"Well, most of them. But anyway."
"What I think," Leslie said thoughtfully, "is that your mother isn't about to do that."
"Why?" asked Jennifer.
All of them, even Katherine, looked at Leslie, waiting for her answer. Hell, she thought. Look who's a guru; I can't even answer my own questions about me. "Because," she said wisely, "when you're in the middle of a tornado, you sit quietly and wait for things to settle down so you don't get clobbered."
'Tornado," mused Bruce. "Tornado, tornado—why, sis, what a clever thing to say."
"There isn't a tornado," Todd declared, but doubtfully, since Bruce had approved it.
"A tornado," Leslie stated, "is turbulence sending things flying in all directions. Your dad is in Canada or Alaska or somewhere; you're in San Francisco, in the Sunset; your great-grandnK)ther and Tobias live on Pacific Heights and you never even knew you had a great-grandmother until a year ago—"
"But—" Todd began.
"Don't interrupt; I'm just getting started. You go to a country club in Mill Valley, across the bay; you've just come back from France, across the ocean; your m.other worked at Heath's and then had a contract with a scoundrel named Mettler and now has contracts with three other stores; Carrie and Jon live with their mother in Tiburon and spend most weekends with their father in the Berkeley hills; Ross and your mother seem to have become very good friends while they were in France— maybe they even fell in love—but she's still married to your dad . . . good Lord, are things going in all directions or aren't they? A wise person makes no predictions. Everything could change tomorrow or next week or not until next year. The best thing to do is sit tight, don't worry, and remember to duck when unidentified flying objects come your way."
Katherine had been smiling, then, as Leslie went on, she grew thoughtful. Everything could change, she repeated silently. Remember to duck. Someone is going to get hurt, no matter what happens.
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Jennifer and Todd were giggling. "Sis," said Bruce, "you are a genius. I am proud to be your family."
"Fm proud to have you." She gave him a long, prodding look.
"Oh, right," he said, remembering. He turned to Jennifer and Todd. "You want to talk about mothers and fathers and turbulence? I can tell you a thing or three about all that—and I can do it while beating you at underhand-overfiand Frisbie."
"You cannot," said Todd.
"I can indeed and I say it so confidently that I declare the loser will buy ice cream cones—do we go to the paiic or don't we?"
In a minute they were gone. "Planned in advance?" Katherine asked Leslie.
"Of course. Isn't he impressive? I told him I wanted a private talk with you and he managed it like a pro. He is a pro. The best thing that ever happened to Heath's Data Processing department."
"You're the best thing around here, today. Thank you, Leslie. Every time I think I'm getting better at handling whatever comes up, something new comes up."
"It certainly does. Are you going to tell me about it?"
"I wrote to you and last week I told you on the telephone—"
"Yes, but not how you felt. Not the inside Katherine. If I hadn't been out of town I'd know everything by now. Are you in love with him? Well, I see you are. Was Todd right about divorce and so forth?"
"No."
"You're not going to divorce Craig?"
"No. And you haven't told me anything about you and Claude."
"My loose-lipped brother did it for me."
"It's true, then? You are going to marry him?"
"It sounds like college, doesn't it? Comparing our love hves. All we need is a dormitory and a box of candy. Am I going to marry Claude? Sometimes. My mind changes itself, depending on the day of the week. I assume Todd exaggerated the number of birthday roses that arrived from Canada."
"You're changing the subject."
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"Not anymore than you did. Anyway, we're both talking about husbands, aren't we? One potential; one absential."
Katherine laughed. "You sound like Tobias."
"I couldn't; 1 don't read poetry. Katherine, are you in love with Craig?"
"With Craigr
"Your husband. Remember?"
"I don't think so. I mean, of course I remember, but I don't think I'm in love with him anymore. I'm not the same person I was; I don't suppose he is, either. Whoever he is. Craig Fraser. Craig Hayward. I've learned more about him in the past year than in all the years we were married."
"Were married?"
"Living together, we're still married."
"And he's been gone almost fifteen months. Katherine, what the hell are you waiting for? You just celebrated—or deplored—your thirty-sixth birthday. When you get to those numbers you stop dallying and make quick decisions. Haven't you noticed how the years slip through your fingers? You barely grab one and it's gone."
"WTiat about you? When are you getting married?"
"I told you, my mind changes each—"
"And what about a baby? You were thinking of having one."
"I haven't decided yet."
They broke into laughter. "OK," Leslie conceded. "I may not be the one to give advice on quick decisions. But what ar€ you waiting for?"
Katherine's laughter dropped away. "Less turbulence," she said.
"Less—? Oh. My tale of a tornado. That was only to divert your kids; it wasn't serious."
"It was to me; I do feel as if we've been tossed around by a storm. We're still being tossed—when those roses came, that's how I felt. And if you recall, you said we should sit tight and remember to duck. It was good advice. A tornado is no place to make a decision."
"So you're not going to do anything."
"I'm going to work, spend time with Jennifer and Todd, wait for Craig ..."
"Without Rossr
Katherine shook her head. "I can't stop seeing him. I leve 412
POSSESSIONS
him . . . and I haven't felt this way in so long—as if I have the most wonderful secret that's always there, with me, whatever I'm doing ... It makes everything more complicated, to love him, but it makes everything so wonderful ... I can't push him away."
'That sounds like a decision, lady."
"Half of one. He thinks I should divorce Craig."
"Sensible man. Katherine, what are you worried about? Someone getting hurt? Someone always gets hurt. Even when you least expect it. Let me tell you about Marc; he wormed Claude's name out of me . . ."
Curled up in a comer of the couch, Leslie told Katherine the story. "Now you tell me," she said at the end of it. "Did I owe Marc anything after all those years when he spent money on me, squired me all over town and a good part of Europe, and was a most pleasant companion in bed?"
"Hardly a marriage," Katherine said dryly. "He didn't support you; you didn't have two children and a home you'd made; you never made a conmiitment to spend the rest of your life together."
'True. So you owe Craig undying loyalty and I owe Marc nothing?*'
"I don't know what anyone 'owes' anyone," Katherine said, feeling frustrated. "It's what wcfeel that's important."
"And you don't feel that you want to be free?"
Katherine looked at her in silence. Finally, she asked, "Why can't you make up your mind about Claude?"
"Because I'm not sure I trust my feelings, and that means I'm not sure what's best for both of—oh, well." She grinned at Katherine. "I see what you mean. All right, I shouldn't push you. B
ut, Katherine—"
"YesT'
"Think of yourself first. I know you have to pay attention to your kids and all those other people around you, but you owe it to yourself to take care of yourself. You're the only one you can really trust to do that."
After a moment, Katherine said, "In a good marriage, or a good friendship, people take care of each other."
"There aren't many good marriages or friendships. When women think of themselves last, which they usually do, men and kids think of them last, too."
POSSESSIONS
WMi a glint in her eye, Katherine said, "Were you thinking of yourself first when you didn't fire Bruce?"
"Well, but sometimes . . .Oh, hell," Leslie admitted ruefully. "Love messes it up. You start wanting to protect someone, or help, or just do for ..."
"And doesn't Claude want to help you, and do things for your
"He does. I'm not used to it yet. Maybe I don't trust it. After all, you thought Craig wanted to protect and do for you . . . Oamn, I'm sorry, Katherine."
"It's all right. It's true. But he did take care of me for a long time, and I still don't know what forced him to stop doing it. And even if I was wrong about him, does that mean I shouldn't trust anyone else?"
"No, of course not."
"Then why not try trusting Gaude?"
'*When you put it like that—damned if I know. But that's enough of Claude; I want to talk about you."
"No, it's enough about me, too. Tell me about Heath's."
"AH right; if you tell me about France. Your letters were wonderful, but I want more. All the details. What is it?" she asked when Katherine began to laugh.
"You sound like Victoria."
"Well, whatever that meais, tell me what you think I should hear. Bruce promised to make the game and the ice cream last at least a couple of hours. God, lady, I missed you—I haven't had a good talk siiKe you went away."
Ross had talked about BayBridge so often that Katherine thought she had a clear picmre of it in her mirKi. But, on Samrday morning when she stood with him and saw its length and breadth, with twenty-five buildings gutted but still standing, and construction equipment scattered about like huge yellow insects beside excavations and newly poured foundations, she was stuimed. "I had no idea. I remember saying it sounded as if you wanted to build small towns . . . but I never thought I'd see one coming to life, all at once."
"It's not ideal," Ross said. "I wanted a larger park, and wider walkways between the townhouses, but that would have meant fewer units to sell, and the developers balked. Next time, if I can get more control, we'll have more air and light,
POSSESSIONS
lower buildings, more parks and fountains—" He caught himself. "Why don't you gag me, or better still, kiss me, when I start lecturing?**
"Because I like listening."
"Dad!" Jon shouted. "What's this?"
Ross looked and saw nothing. "Where are you?"
"Here!" Four grinning faces peered from behind what looked like a miniature oil rig on a yellow flatbed truck. Drills like huge corkscrews, and long flexible pipes, were strapped to its sides.
"Come down from there," Ross ordered. 'That's not a playground."
They clambered down. "But what is it?"
"A drilling rig. The foundation engineers use it to drill holes for pumping concrete around building supports."
*This building?" Todd asked. Contemplating the Macklin Building, Ross nodded. "What for? Doesn't it have concrete under it already?"
"I think it needs more," Ross said. "I can't vouch for its safety in case of a tremor."
"Tremor," Carrie said. "Earthquake?"
"When it's big enough it's called an earthquake."
Todd ran his hand over one of the drills. "It digs down like a coricscrew?"
"Exactly. Then one of these pipes is fed through the hole—"
"Like a snake," said Jon.
"Right. And the concrete is pumped through the pipe, under tremendous pressure. It's like an injection, forcing concrete around the footings under the columns that hold up the building, making them bigger and stronger."
Jennifer and Carrie stood nearby. "Even in an earthquake?" Carrie asked.
"In most earthquakes."
*Then why wasn't it done that way the first time?"
Ross paused. "We don't know. But it has to be done now, before it's an office building again, or we'll always have it hanging over our heads, like a sword about to fall."
In a dramatic voice, Todd intoned, "The surgeons are ready to vaccinate the Macklin Building. Will it work? Or will it still come tumbling down, cutting off our heads like a sword?"
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"Does it cost a lot to do?" Carrie asked.
"Yes," Ross replied.
"How much?"
"About a quarter of a million dollars."
Todd whisded.
Katherine was watching Ross. "Who pays for it?" she asked.
"I do," he answered. "It's my building."
"But you weren't the one—" She stopped as he shook his head in warning. "Wouldn't it cost less to tear it down?" she asked instead.
"No. It's almost always cheaper to repair a building. Let me show you what we're doing."
He led them through a rough opening in the building. "New front door," he said, then described the arcade that would cut through the building from Mission Street to the shopping mall on the other side: "An atrium going through all ten floors to the roof, with a glass dome on top. The workmen had opened it up through the second floor when we stopped the work. We'll start again after the concrete is pumped in."
Todd and Jon walked over to a forest of beams shoring up the ceiling and, tilting back their heads, looked through the jagged hole above them. "If you cut out the middle of the floor, what keeps the rest of it from collapsing?"
*These." Ross pointed to the temporary beams.
"On every floor?"
He nodded.
"Forever?"
Smiling, he said, "Only until the atrium is built. Look, here's how it works." He squatted down and in loose sand on the floor drew a quick sketch of the building. The four children squatted beside him as he described the problems he and his staff faced, making them sound like puzzles and challenging the children to find solutions. He was enjoying his audience, Katherine saw, and his seriousness as he considered their guesses, and offered his own ideas, held them like a magnet. She looked from one rapt face to another. / wish Jennifer and Todd had a father.
"So the atrium helps support all ten floors," Ross finished. "And then we take away the temporary beams." He stood, stretching the kinks ftt)m his muscles. Leaning casually toward Katherine, he whispered, "I love you." Then he said aloud,
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"Fm cooking dinner tonight. And I have a couple of scale models of this building at honie, if you want to take them apart and put them together your own way."
TTiey walked outside and as the children ran ahead to the car, Katherine asked hesitantly, "Ross, shouldn't Derek pay for the work? At least part of it?"
"None of it. I haven't even told him I'm having it done."
"But—why not? If you think he was the one who didn't build it properly— "
Their steps slowed as they approached the car, and they lowered their voices. At the same moment, their eyes met and Ross felt a rush of love and gratitude. "I'm glad you're here," he said. Automatically, their hands met, their fingers interlocked—and then they saw the children look their way and quickly pulled apart.
"I'll tell you why I haven't told Derek," Ross went on. "If I asked him to share the cost, he'd smile and say he didn't know what I was talking about. I can't prove anything and he'd figure out in a few seconds that I've kept quiet because I don't want it to become public knowledge that the Hayward Corporation was involved in bribing an inspector and putting up a substandard building." He laughed shortly. "Derek's legacy. It's going to be all I can do to handle the cost, but I don't see that I have a choice. Victoria
is eighty-two years old; I'd do a lot more than spend some money to keep a scandal from ruining however many years she has left."
Katherine was silent.
They reached the car and Ross opened the door for her. "I>oes that sound irrational?" he asked.
"No," she said. "It sounds loving."
By the middle of September, they had settled into a pattern, spending three or four evenings a week together, alone or with the children. One night, after dinner at Ross's house, the four children were leafing through Katherine's sketchbook, reliving the month in France through her drawings. "Could I have this one?" Carrie asked, lingering over a vivid watercolor of the cactus gardens at Eze Village.
"Of course," Katherine said.
"Me too?" asked Jon, holding up a charcoal sketch of a Roman olive mill.
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Katherine's face was bright with pleasure as she took both pictures and wrote on them, "With my love, Katherine."
"I'll hang it up," Carrie said, holding it at arm's length, admiring it. "Of course not at home," she added with a shrug. "You know. But—"
"Here," said Jon. "At Dad's house."
"Whose house?" Katherine asked.
"Our house," Jon grinned. "I meant our house."
Ross met Katherine's eyes with such love she caught her breath in wonder. "Thank you," he said quietly, "for making us a family." And looking at the six of them at the table, Katherine thought she had never been so happy.
Some nights they took the children to outdoor concerts in Stem Grove, or for an evening sail, but mostly the two of them were alone, on the boat, going to the theater, driving to the wine country, making love. Katherine remembered when I>erek's whirlwind had seemed magical; but she knew now that this was the real magic: the love that grew slowly, steadily, beating within her, inseparable from the beating of her heart. And Ross found it impossible to get through a day without talking to her on the telephone or sending her a flower, a note, a newspaper clipping that had amused him, a magazine article he wanted to share.
Occasionally he called to ask her to lunch, but Katherine was reluctant to take time off during the day. With Jennifer and Todd back in school, she was concentrating on making and selling as many pieces of jewehy as she could, because she was afraid Mettler's story would reach other shops, and no one would do business with her.
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