Adam's Daughter (66 page)

“Get out of my office, Lilith,” Kellen said.

“This isn’t your office anymore,” Lilith said, looking out the window. “Actually, Ian and I were thinking of turning it back into a conference room. Unless, of course, Mr. Richardson wants to use it.”

“Until tomorrow this is my office. And my newspaper,” Kellen said. “Now get the hell out before I have you thrown out
. You have no right to be here.”

Age had left Lilith diminished, eroding her once formidable presence. But now, as she stared at Kellen, her dark eyes still had a malevolent power. “I have every right to be here,” she said. “This newspaper belonged to my father. Adam stole it from him.”

“The
Times
would have died if it weren’t for my father,” Kellen said. “He saved it.”

Lilith shook her head. “Oh, Kellen. I thought after all these years you’d finally given up this hero worship of yours. It’s quite unnatural, you know. Maybe you should try analysis. I can give you the name of a good doctor.”

“Get out,” Kellen said.

Lilith ignored her, moving back to the desk. She sat down. “Shall I tell you the truth about your father? Shall I tell you what kind of man he really was?” She paused. “He was a cold, ruthless bastard who used people to get what he wanted. He worked his way into my father’s trust so he could steal his newspaper. He married me...” She paused, cocking her head to one side, like a bird. “Because I was part of the deal. And he wanted me
to produce his sons.”

She paused. “He had no use for women, you see. They were nothing but wombs or whores to him. Look at what he did to your
own mother. She gave him all her money but she couldn’t give him what he really wanted —- more sons.”

She shook her head. “He obviously drove the poor woman mad. And that made it rather sticky for him. He couldn’t just divorce her. So he just, well, did away with her.”

The pent-up emotion of the morning suddenly spilled out of Kellen and she began to cry. “Get out!” she shouted.

Lilith rose and went to the d
oor. She turned back to Kellen. “I’m only taking back what’s mine,” she said.

She left, leaving Kellen standing alone in the middle of the quiet office. For a few minutes, she didn’t move as she struggled to control herself. She scanned the office and the memories crowded around her. Memories of her father in the full flush of his power. Memories of the newsroom, the people, of the closeness she and Stephen had shared in the early days. Now, with the simple act of signing a piece of paper, it was over.

She went to her desk and began to gather up papers. She picked up files and documents haphazardly, slipping them into her briefcase. Then she paused, realizing suddenly she no longer had use for any of it. None of the work needed her attention anymore. She glanced around and finally took a few of Adam’s plaques off the wall and put them into her briefcase. To that, she added the photographs of the children and the one of her mother and father. She closed the briefcase.

At the last moment, she picked up a copy of that day’s
Times
and glanced at the headlines. Juan Carlos was calling for unity in Spain after the death of Francisco Franco. Squeaky Fromme had been found guilty of the attempted assassination of President Ford. And California Governor Ronald Reagan had announced he would run for president. The Reagan story had been given second billing to Juan Carlos.

Misplayed, Kellen thought idly, I’ll have to talk to Stephen about that. She paused, realizing that, too, was over.

She stuck the paper under her arm and picked up her briefcase. With one last look around, she left the office.

Outside, she paused at Adele’s desk to pick up a pile of messages. There were three from Garrett in New York. She stared at his number for a moment then crumpled them up and tossed them in the trash. She glanced at Ian’s office.

“Is he in?” she asked.

“No,” Adele answered. “He left about two hours ago. He said he’d be at his home in Hawaii for three days.”

Kellen shook her head. A rudderless ship, she thought. She looked back at Adele. “It’s been good working with you all these years, Adele,” she said softly.

“I’ll miss you, Kellen,” Adele said.

They embraced and Kellen pulled away for fear she, too, would start crying. “Goodbye,” she managed and turned quickly and went down the long hall to the elevator.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-
NINE

That evening, at home, Kellen sat alone in the study. The house was quiet. She had dismissed the servants and sent Sara and Ben over to Josh and Anna’s to stay overnight. As she sat in the dim light of the study her mind was blank, her emotions spent. She felt only a deep fatigue and a great emptiness.

The mantel clock chimed nine times. She glanced at the telephone, thinking about calling Stephen. He had called earlier in the day, offering to come by the house. But she had told him
she wanted to be alone. Now, in her loneliness and despair, she was thinking again of turning to him.

No, don’t do it, she thought. Don’t use him again. It’s not him you really want right now.

She heard the sound of the front door being unlocked and sat up in the chair. She heard soft voices in the foyer and wondered if it was Stephen. A tall figure appeared at the door, silhouetted in the foyer light.

It was Tyler. He just stood there, as if waiting for an invitation.

“So, you finally decided to show up,” she said, with more weariness than anger.

Tyler came tentatively into the room. “I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “To try to explain.”

“It’s a little late, don’t you think?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another figure hovering in the doorway. It was J.D., who looked extremely ill at ease.

“Wait for me in the living room, will you, J.D.?” Tyler asked. J.D. left and Tyler turned to Kellen. He shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

“Where have you been?” she asked flatly. “I tried to reach you.”

“I know. I didn’t want to face you.” He wouldn’t even look up at her now. “I’m sorry, Kellen,” he whispered. “I had to do it.”

“Oh, Tyler, please. Don’t try to tell me that.”

He came over to the desk. “You’ve got to understand. Ian made me do it. He found out about J.D. and me. He threatened me. He, he showed me these, these...pictures.” Tyler paused. “I didn’t care about myself but he said he’d ruin J. D.’s career.”

The words spilled out, tumbling over each other. “I didn’t want to do it, Kellen but I kept thinking about J.D., how it was my fault. That just because he loved me, he was going to pay for it.” His voice wavered. “I didn’t even tell J.D. what was going on. He didn’t find out until the sale was done. He knew something was bothering me and forced it out of me.”

He looked at Kellen, pleadingly. “God, I’m sorry, Kellen. I should have come to you first. But I was scared.”

Kellen finally looked up at Tyler. He was distraught, fighting to stay in control.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t want to lose him, Kellen. You’ve got to understand that. I didn’t want to lose everything
, everything I -—”

“Lose everything?” Kellen said. “Tyler, don’t you see what you’ve cost me? I’ve lost the newspapers
.”

“But you’ve still got Stephen and the kids,” Tyler said. “You’ve got a family, someone to love you. Please don’t blame me because I wanted that, too.”

“Stephen’s left me,” she said. “We’ve separated.”

Tyler’s face registered his shock. “God, I’m sorry, Kellen,” he said.

There was a noise at the door and they both turned to see J.D. He had obviously heard most of their conversation and he looked embarrassed and disconsolate.

“Kellen, can I say something?” he asked softly. She nodded, and he came into the room. “
I feel like I’m the one who should apologize,” he said. “When I found out what Tyler had done I told him we had to talk to you.” He paused. “I know what kind of sacrifice has been made. I just wish I had known beforehand so I could have stopped it. I hope you believe that.”

Kellen looked at J.D. and at Tyler, whose eyes were bright with tears. She realized suddenly how overwrought he looked, as if he were on the verge of emotional collapse. She rose wearily.

“It’s late,” she said softly. “I’m going to bed.”

She started past Tyler then paused, placing a hand gently on his arm. She looked at J.D. “It’s a long drive home. You’re both welcome to stay,” she said.

Her eyes locked on Tyler’s for a moment. “Really, you are.”

She went to the door and looked up the staircase, at the procession of carved faces in the balustrade leading up to the darkened rooms.

“It’s a big house,” she said softly, “and there’s plenty of room.”

PART FIVE

GARRETT

CHAPTER EIGHTY

It was Christmas week and a scrawny tree had been set up near the copy desk, decorated with strung-together paper clips. But the atmosphere in the newsroom was glum as everyone went about the routine of putting the
Times
together. For two months now, ever since the sale had been announced, there had been a cloud over the city room.

Although Garrett had made no changes and had kept an extremely low profile, everyone was nervously awaiting his first move as new owner. A few people had already quit, vowing they would not work for a smut tabloid, and the talk in bars after work invariably escalated into bravado declarations to follow suit. Many of the best reporters and editors already had begun sending out resumes, but mostly everyone was simply l
aying low, waiting.

Now, two days before Christmas, Garrett was making his first appearance in the city room, stepping off the elevator with Ian at his side. They walked through the newsroom, two dark
-haired men in business suits, Garrett drawing stares of intense curiosity and hostility.

Ian led Garrett to Stephen’s office at the far end of the city room. Stephen’s secretary, staring at Garrett, informed Ian that Stephen was expected back soon from a meeting.

“Tell him we were here,” Ian said. He and Garrett went to see Ray, who rose in astonishment from his desk when he saw them.

“Mr. Richardson has asked for a tour before he settles in upstairs,” Ian announced. “Apparently, Stephen’s busy, so I thought you could help him.”