Cognac and port were offered as the orchestra in the ballroom struck up a waltz. Gradually, the dining room emptied. Brock Galvez asked Katherine to dance. Marc Landau followed; then a string of men she did not know, all animated, flattering, light on their feet, successful in business—and none of them Ross. An hour passed, then two. Katherine went to sit with Victoria. A few minutes later Ross joined them. "Will you dance with me? For no one's pleasure but my own. And, I hope, yours."
She gave a low laugh, so intimate his hands felt the curve of her body even before he held her on the dance floor. "I want to carry you off," he said, "and hold you and tell you I love you and let no one come near to distract us, until you say we're so much a part of each other you can't imagine a life without me."
"Ross, please don't—"
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"Katherine, your jewelry," intemipted a tall woman Kath-erine did not know. "Xavier*s? In November?"
"I don't think—"
"Well, even December ... as long as it*s in time for Christmas." The woman and her partner spun away.
"—handsome necklace," said the president of the Bank of California, pausing in the dance with his wife.
An electronic flash went off as a photographer captured Katherine in Ross's arms, chatting with the president of the Bank of California. Within the next half hour, photographers from the Chronicle and tht Examiner circled the room to give their readers a pictorial report of Victoria Hayward's All Hallows Eve celebration, while society reporters eavesdropped and scribbled notes.
Victoria watched with a wide smile, and Katherine said, "Ross, what is that all about? It's not true ..."
"Not yet. But what do you think wiU happen when these people call Xavier's next week asking about the Eraser jewelry collection?"
^They'll be told there is no such thing."
"My dear love," he smiled. "More likely, the astute people at Xavier's will be delighted to take the names of the callers, to notify them when the collection is available, and when they have a list of potential customers, they will call you."
Katherine shook her head. "Only in fairy tales."
"Business isn't so different from fairy tales; they both have obstacles, rewards, coincidences, fairy godmothers and godfathers, winners and losers ..."
"But fairy tales have happy endings."
"I'm woiidng on that."
They danced in silence. "You had your own happy ending," Katherine said. "I meant to congratulate you after the board meeting."
"Not an ending," he said. "A beginning. With a long and very bumpy road ahead. If I were smarter, I'd be scared."
She tilted her head and studied him. "But you're not. You're excited; you can't wait to get started."
He kissed the top of her head. "Do you know what it means to me when you understand me, without explanations?"
Tobias materialized beside them. "Katherine, my dear, I
POSSESSIONS
have again been commanded to deliver you to Victoria. She wants to say goodnight."
"Goodnight?" Katherine asked. "But it's only—" She looked at her watch in disbelief. 'Three o'clock?"
"So it seems. And the two of us are ready for bed."
Victoria was fastening a cape at her throat when they found her at the cloakroom. "A highly satisfactory evening," she said. "You did very well, Katherine. Now kiss me goodnight and go back to your dancing."
"I think I should go home, too. There's no such thing as sleeping late on a sofa bed in our living room."
"Stay awhile," Ross said. "I'll take you home whenever you're ready."
"Very sensible," Victoria commented. "My dear," she added to Katherine, "promise me something. E>on't make any sudden decisions about your jewehy. Take your time."
"All right," Katherine said.
"Promise me."
"I promise."
"And you'll tell me what happens."
"I promise that, too."
"Excellent. Goodnight, my dears. Til talk to you tomorrow."
The music was soft and slow and they glided in a gentle, swaying rhythm. Katherine touched the smooth cloth of Ross's sleeve. "Do you know, I've never seen you in a tuxedo? You look exceedingly handsome."
"And you are wonderfully beautiful," he said quietly. "You haven't responded to what I said earlier."
"You mean about becoming a part of you. Ross, I already am—as much as I can be. I miss you and I want you, and I find myself reaching out to share with you— "
"Katherine—!"
"—but you said you wanted to let me finish what I began. That was why you weren't calling me, you said. And then tonight—to tell me you want me to be part of you ..."
"It's not consistent."
"Or fair."
"It would be easier to be consistent and fair if I could stop worrying about what you might do when Craig comes back."
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"Has it occurred to you that you worry about that more than I dor
He thought about it. "No. I don't think you know how you'll react to him any more than I do when he starts playing on your memories and sympathies, and his needs and your kids . . . Katherine, we don't have to be so far apart; if we love each other we can find a way—"
"Ross, please. I'm trying to do what's right."
It struck him like a blow. Trying to do what's right. If she thought she knew what that was, how could he tell her she was wrong?
He repeated it as he drove her home. Trying to do what's right. In fairy tales, Ross thought, that was always rewarded; happy endings, Katherine had said. They walked to her front door and he held her for a moment, as he had when they were dancing. "I hope, whatever happens, it is what you want," he told her, and waited until she had closed the door behind her before he went back to his car, and drove home.
Monday morning's newspapers were strewn about Victoria's chaise as she sat on her sun porch, clipping the society pages. "Most satisfactory," she said, almost purring, as Katherine came in. "Especially the photograph of you and Ross talking to that bank president ..." She kissed Katherine soundly, then looked closely at her. "Something has happened. Come, come, what is it?"
Katherine's eyes spaiided. "I had a telephone call this rooming. From Herman Mettler."
"Ah." Victoria grinned. "He's read the papers. I'll bet it spoiled his breakfast, to read about Katherine Fraser and see her picture as she moved in the highest society among people who will buy her jewelry. But he gets no sympathy from me; he does not deserve it. What did he say?"
"He called me Katherine—"
"Cozy," Victoria observed scornfully.
"And wanted to buy back the jeweby he'd returned, and any more I had. He also said my husband had nothing to do with our business dealings."
Victoria laughed delightedly. "And what did you tell him?"
**That I couldn't decide right away."
P0S8ESSI0N8
"Quite right." Victoria nodded vigorously. "How pleasant it is when people get what they deserve! You did well."
"I followed your advice."
"It was good advice; therefore, you did well."
Katherine smiled. Restlessly, she walked to the windows, looking down at Lafayette Park, the sun glistening off its dark green leaves and the white uniforms of nurses pushing buggies and strollers. She considered telling Victoria about the rest of the conversation with Mettler; that he had let slip that it was Derek who had given him the idea Katherine Fraser might be a thief. But what good would it do? Victoria knew what Derek was like, and she had akeady punished him, in the board meeting, by stripping him of most of his power and putting him beneath Ross's authority. There was nothing more anyone could do to Derek. It doesn't matter anymore, Katherine thought. It's over. I can't even be angry. I've gotten past him.
Turning from the window, she asked Victoria, "Why did you tell me not to make any quick decisions about my jewelry?"
"Ross told you why. To give Xavier's a chance to get requests from customers."
"V
ictoria, do you and Ross tell each other everything?"
"Certainly not. There are many things a grandmother and a grandson do not share. But others we do. He would make you very happy, Katherine. I am not trying to force you; I am simply saying he would make you happy. And he needs you; the next years are not going to be easy for him, putting together that company I forced him into. You could help him; you would be good for each other."
"And Craig?" Katherine asked.
"Craig is a fool!" Victoria exploded. "And Ross is a romantic. How can you even hesitate in choosing between them?"
Katherine laughed ruefully. "It's so easy for you to forget I'm married to one of them."
"Not anymore, you foolish girl. Craig ended it, long ago. You are the only one who clings to it."
Katherine had not told her about Craig's telephone call; neither, she realized, had Ross. I don't want to repeat it now, she thought, and said only, 'Then it's my foolishness. May I ask you about something else?"
Victoria looked up, her eyebrows raised.
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"Why did you give that party last night?*'
"Hugh and I gave one every year. It was our tradition. Besides, I wanted to watch you take my place."
'That was my initiation?"
"An odd way of putting it, my dear."
"And if I had failedT*
"If I thought you would fail, there would have been no party. I knew you would not."
"But you don't know what will happen with Craig."
"For sixteen years I thought Craig was dead; for the past year and a half I haven't had any idea what would happen with him. But I trust you. Whatever you decide—whether you are with Ross or Craig or someone else—or alone—I trust you. When I die, Katherine, I am leaving you this apartment, complete with Tobias, if he outlives me; he must be able to live upstairs as long as he wishes. But the rest will be yours, and more than enough money to end your worries. No, don't say anything now; I won't change my mind. Just listen."
She held out her hand and Katherine took it. "Sometime in the future, when I am no longer here—will you keep all of them together? Even when they wrangle and compete and run off to Maine or God knows where . . . keep them in touch, keep them feeling like a family. For the children, you know, to give them a haven. The world spins so wildly, we're thrown apart, we lose one another—unless we have a solid core to hold on to. No one knows that better than you, my tenacious Katherine; you don't let go easily or hghtly."
She touched Katherine's cheek. "When Craig and Jennifer died—were gone—I thought I'd stopped caring. But you've made me believe we can be a family again. It is maddening!" she burst out, "that I won't live another fifty years and see the four children marry and have children of tfieir own ... see what becomes of the Haywards. It's like being forced to leave a movie in the middle. I can't even convince myself I'll be sitting somewhere, watching all of you after I die— "
"You couldn't bear that," Katherine said. "Watching us without being able to comment or organize our affairs ..."
"Good Lord, you're right; I would go mad. So I must arrange as much as possible while I'm here. Promise me you'll do this, Katherine. There is no one else I can ask. Keep a family for
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the children, and their children. Don't let everyone get trampled by private needs, and then scattered like dust ..."
Katherine put her arms around her, aware of her own youth, the finnness of her skin, the vigorous pulsing of her blood. She kissed the cool parchment of Victoria's cheek. "I'll do my best," she said, then gave a small laugh. "And even if you aren't sitting somewhere, watching us, you'll always be inside me, telling me what I should do."
"Of course," Victoria said serenely. "Fm counting on that."
It was nearly five o'clock when Ross's prediction came true and the manager of Xavier's telephoned Katherine. "I have been inundated with requests for jewelry by Katherine Fraser," he said. "I do have the right Katherine Fraser? Victoria Hay-ward gave me this number."
"You called her?" Katherine asked.
"Just a few minutes ago. She wondered why it had taken me so long."
"She couldn't have said that."
"We've known each other many years and she said exactly that. Mrs. Fraser, my customers have excellent taste, and all the cities of the worid in which to shop. If they are impressed with your jewelry, I want to see it, everything you have, including designs or sketches. Unfortunately, I'm busy tomorrow, but can you come in on Wednesday? Christmas isn't far off, and we should begin as soon as possible."
Excitement was rushing through Katherine, warm and heady, like red wine; she could barely sit still. "Wednesday is fine. In the morning?"
"Ten o'clock, if that's convenient."
"That's fme." Any time was fine, Katherine thought, hanging up; whatever time he wanted. She phoned Victoria and told her; Victoria called Tobias to the telephone and Katherine repeated her news; at dinner she told Jennifer and Todd and because she was so excited she did not try to dampen their fantastic plans for castles in the sky.
All evening her excitement raced at its high pitch. She tried to calm down by sorting her jewelry and sketches, but when the thought came to her that she was finally escaping Craig*s shadow, she became so restless she could not sit still. She
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called Leslie, but even talking to her was not enough, and at last Katherine admitted to herself that it was Ross she most wanted to share her excitement. Without thinking further about it, she dialed his number, and then listened to the empty ringing of his telephone. She called again and again, and at midnight was trying once more when the doorbell rang. It can't be Ross, she thought; he said he wouldn't even call. But still, her heart was pounding as she ran to open it—and saw Craig, standing on the doorstep.
Chapter 22
J^HEY did not touch. Craig's hand made a small movement toward her, then dropped back, and he stayed in the doorway, waiting, until Katherine stepped aside and he walked in.
"You're so beautiful," he said wonderingly. "And the way you stand ... I remember, Jennifer and Todd told me you were different, that night I was here."
His eyes were hungry and restless, fastening on Katherine's face, darting about the small room, then back to her face and slender figure in the white velvet robe Ross had brought her when he came back to Menton from Paris, then down, down, lingering on her bare feet. Katherine watched him, her mind in a turmoil. / waited so long, and now I don't feel ready . . . "But I didn't think you'd be this different," Craig said, and smiled—the gentle smile that brought everything back to Katherine, almost as if he had never been gone.
"Would it be too much trouble to make some coffee?" he asked. "I feel like I've been traveling for weeks."
"Of course," Katherine said. Her voice seemed to come
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from a stranger. "I mean, of course it's not too much trouble. We can sit in the kitchen."
The oak table was the one they had used for ten years. Craig sat down and pulled his chair forward exactly as he always had and watched Katherine make coffee as he always had. And when she brought the mugs and a plate of coffee cake to the table, and sat with him, he looked just the same, his beard full and brown, his eyes eager, his smile tentative, waiting for approval and love.
"Thank you," he said and sipped the hot coffee as he always had.
Dizzily, Katherine looked away. This is my husband. She was sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee with her husband, and nothing had changed.
Everything has changed. Remember that.
"Katherine," Craig said. "I love you. You've got to believe me: I love you." He leaned forward. "I've never stopped thinking of you, needing you . . . Even when I couldn't find a way to come back, you were always the center of my life; I never stopped loving you and wanting you."
Katherine looked at him across the table. This is my husband. All the feelings of being married were rushing back— love, companionship, the comfort of fami
liarity—but tangled with them was the feeling that this was a stranger. Which is he? Katherine thought with a surge of panic. I don't know who he is, or how to talk to him.
"I've said that to you every night for the last sixteen months," Craig was saying. 'Told you I love you, talked to you, told you what I was thinking . . . Katherine, I'm sorry for what I did to you; I'm sorry for the mess I made of things, for letting you down . . . Christ, all I ever wanted was to take care of you. But I'll make it up to you, I promise. Just give me a chance. I know how much I destroyed, but I want to—"
"Why did you leave?" Katherine asked.
"Why did I—? You don't know?"
She shook her head.
"But you must. Hank sent me the newspaper stories; he told me reporters were badgering you and the police were in and out of our house . . . and I can't believe Carl didn't come looking for me, that hypocritical bastard, full of thunder and
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lightning and sanctimonious talk of trusting me . . . Didn't he? Didn't he tell you what happened?"
"He told me you'd embezzled seventy-five thousand dollars from the company over two years, and admitted it when he confronted you, and you told him you were going to Toronto to borrow money to pay him back."
He was watching her steadily. "Clear and concise. And you still don't know why I left?"
Puzzled, Katherine realized she had been wrong about him: he had changed. Tanned and lean, his hands calloused, wearing slacks, a white shirt open at the neck, and a corduroy sport jacket, he was handsomer than she remembered, and more assured. When had Craig ever talked so directly, especially when it was about something unpleasant? "Craig," she burst out. "Did you really steal it?"
"My God," he said staring at her. "You didn't believe him?"
"Did you steal it?"
"Yes. And Carl had proof." Almost sadly, he said, "I didn't think you'd have so much faith ..."
"I know," Katherine said shortly. "And I did believe it at first, when you didn't come back. But then something happened this summer . . . it's a long story. But it made me think you might have been framed."
He looked stunned. "Framed. I never thought of that. Did you ask Carl?"
"I didn't want to ask Carl. I wanted to ask you. I wanted to believe in you."
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