Possessions

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Authors: Judith Michael

BOOK: Possessions
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Praise for
POSSESSIONS

“Wonderful settings . . . power and romance. . . . A sexy novel.”

—
Chicago Tribune

“Touches on themes which affect many of us: trust, betrayal, love, understanding, greed, independence, and family unity. . . . [A] well-deserved bestseller.”

—
The Washington Times

“A book with two-hanky movie potential.”

—
Cosmopolitan

“Exciting. . . . . [An] absorbing story . . . [with] suspenseful twists.”

—
ALA Booklist

Here's what critics have said about the bestselling novels of
JUDITH MICHAEL

“A book by Judith Michael is hard to put down.”

—
Chicago Sun-Times

“Countless layers of betrayal overlap in a tightly knit tale. . . . First-rate entertainment.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“A thought-provoking character study . . . with a surprising amount of suspense. . . . A sure winner.”

—
Library Journal

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Contents

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Part II

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Part III

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Part IV

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

About the Authors

We dedicate this book to

Harry Barnard

Whose boundless love and encouragement

we deeply miss

Part I
Chapter 1

K
ATHERINE!”
The voices echoed in the brightly lit rooms. “Wonderful party . . . terrific food! . . . so
good
to be here . . .” And to one another, still at the top of their voices, they shouted, “Didn't know they threw these parties . . . did you?”

The voices rose above the music from the record player and swept through the house and out to the terrace where couples danced in the warm June night or stood on the low stone wall to view the spectacle of Vancouver's skyline across the bay. And Katherine, with Jennifer and Todd's help, opened new bottles at the small bar and moved back and forth between the kitchen and dining room, keeping the steaming casseroles and platters on the buffet heaped with food.

“The guest of honor salutes a terrific hostess,” said Leslie McAlister, lifting her glass. “And,” she added with a small bow, “Jennifer and Todd. Your mother should hire you out to friends when they entertain.” She put her arm around Katherine. “Very impressive, being the reason for such a party. Why didn't
you tell me you threw such terrific affairs? If I'd known, I wouldn't have let three years go by since my last visit. On the other hand, why haven't you come to San Francisco so I could give a party in
your
honor?”

“You should have come sooner,” Katherine agreed. She was trying to twist the cork out of a champagne bottle. “Craig does this so easily, but I can't seem to—”

“Let me.” Leslie took the bottle from her. “It's one of the first skills single women learn.” With a flourish, she pushed up the cork with her thumbs, at the same time covertly studying Katherine, comparing her to the plain, shy Katherine Fraser she'd seen only sporadically for the past ten years. She was still shy—slightly alarmed at the boisterousness of her party and looking surprised when her guests praised her—but she was a little prettier, especially now, with the excitement of her party brightening her wonderful hazel eyes and giving her pale skin some color. And though she and Leslie were the same height, she was slimmer; she doesn't worry about her hips, Leslie thought ruefully.

Still, her educated eye saw that Katherine wasn't nearly as attractive as she could be. Her heavy dark hair was pulled back and held tightly by an elastic band, stretching the skin at her temples, her lipstick was the wrong shade for her skin, and her dress was too plain for a figure that demanded drama. Leslie, who worked at being stunning and sophisticated, making a virtue of kinky red hair and a sharp jaw, felt her fingers itching to redo Katherine. Silently she laughed at herself. Never content; not only did she spend her days as an executive of an exclusive department store that catered to the whims of wealthy customers, but she also couldn't wait to go to work on a friend who seemed perfectly satisfied with herself.

The cork popped neatly from the bottle, trailing misty tendrils of champagne vapor. “Oh, well done!” cried Sarah Murphy, small, round, with black alert eyes. “Men always spray it everywhere, but you have such finesse! You must entertain a great deal. Katherine, on the other hand”—she tapped Katherine playfully—“never entertains, yet here she is giving
such
a lovely party. And without a husband in sight. Where
is
Craig, my dear? Usually I see him leave like clockwork every morning, but I haven't seen him since Tuesday.”

“He had to go to Toronto—”

“With a party coming up? It must have been terribly important to make him disappear and expect you to—”

“Cope,” Leslie finished smoothly. “And isn't she admirable? One might be envious—if one were the type.” She smiled sweetly. “Katherine and I were catching up on our news; do you mind if I monopolize her before I leave for the airport?”

“Oh, my, no,” said Sarah. “Of course not; Katherine's been so anxious to see you—” She followed them, still talking, until they hid behind a cluster of guests at the piano. Beneath the noise of the party, they burst out laughing.

“Thank you,” Katherine said. “She's a wonderful neighbor and she'd do anything to help us if we needed her, but she's a little hard to get rid of.”

“Hinting,” Leslie scorned. “I can't stand people who haven't the guts to be honestly nosy.”

“Or honestly anything,” Katherine added as they went through the glass doors to the terrace. “You never liked anyone who lied.”

“That's why we latched on to each other: the two of us, so damned stubborn about the truth. So how come we don't see each other more often?”

A shout from the living room broke in, rising furiously above the sounds of the party. “You son of a bitch, you have to accommodate the Quebecois—”

“Accommodate the French!” came an outraged response. “We're already taxed up to our necks to pay for them. Our money should stay in the west—”

“So that's what you want, eh? You'd do anything to get out of paying taxes!”

Katherine's face was frozen with panic. “They can't fight; it would ruin everything.”

The outraged voice rose higher. “Pretty free with accusations, Doerner! You're known for that, aren't you? Especially false ones!”

“What the hell—! Listen you bastard, that was two years ago. And when I found out I was wrong, I paid the costs and it was over. Who do you think you are—”

“Oh, shit!” someone else cried. “Do you two have to come to blows at every party?”

Leslie looked at Katherine's face. “Shall I try to break it up? Sometimes a stranger is a good distraction.”

Katherine shook her head. “I should do it. Damn, why isn't Craig here? He'd know what to do; one of those men is his partner. Well—” She straightened her shoulders. “I'll be right back.”

In the living room she made her way through a crowd surrounding two men, their faces contorted with anger as other guests held them apart. Katherine drew a shaky breath and, forcing a smile, raised her voice. “It's like an American Western, isn't it? But shouldn't we have a saloon and a dusty street where you can pace off?” She heard a ripple of laughter and the two men reluctantly smiled. She put her hands on their arms. “We do have a bar; can I offer you drinks instead of bruises?”

“Far more civilized,” one of them said. “Mrs. Fraser, I apologize. If some people weren't so free with accusations—”

“The bar! The bar! Drinks, not bruises!” came cries from the guests. A short, gray-haired woman mouthed an apology to Katherine and took the other man's arm, turning him toward the bar. In a moment, Katherine slipped out and returned to the terrace.

Leslie was watching from the doorway. “The perfect hostess,” she said admiringly. “I thought you said you don't give many parties.”

“We don't give any parties. We used to, years ago, but we haven't lately; Craig doesn't like them.” Katherine was trembling but a feeling of pride swept over her. “I did stop them, didn't I?”

“You did. Without making anyone angry. Who are those guys, anyway?”

“Carl Doerner, Craig's partner in Vancouver Construction; I have no idea who the other man is. My house is full of people I don't know.”

“Katherine! You're not serious.”

“Yes I am. We don't have many friends, and I wanted to impress you. So we invited Craig's business acquaintances and people I'd met at Jennifer's and Todd's school.”

“But they came to your party.”

“They wanted to meet my friend, the vice-president of Heath's of San Francisco. You're a celebrity.”

“If I am, it's the first time. And I didn't make this terrific party; you did.”

“If I did, it's the first time.” They grinned at each other and Katherine felt the warmth of Leslie's closeness. It had been almost the only warmth in high school and two years of college, and afterward, until she met Craig. Leslie, brash and curious, had breached her shyness and given her a chance to know how good a friend she could be. But then, on a vacation in British Columbia, Katherine met Craig Fraser and, within a month, married him. And Leslie, returning to San Francisco after the wedding, decided to make herself the first woman vice-president in the fifty-year history of Heath's of San Francisco.

“The years disappeared,” Katherine said, thinking back, trying to answer Leslie's question of why they saw each other so seldom. “And you haven't visited us very often.”

“Look who's talking!” Leslie retorted. “You've never come back to San Francisco. Ten years, and never one visit.”

“Craig wouldn't go. I asked him so many times; he just refused and wouldn't talk about it.” Katherine gazed unseeing at the lights of Lions Gate Bridge, strung across the bay, fastening West Vancouver to the glittering Vancouver skyline. “Do you remember the time I called you, when I was so lonely? We'd been married about three years and had only a couple of friends, and Craig was starting with Carl Doerner's company, and I was always alone with the babies—it was when you were breaking up with what's-his-name—and we nearly drowned our telephones in problems and tears. What
was
his name?”

“I have no idea. Seven years ago? How could I possibly remember?”

“You were so miserable, I thought it was an undying love.”

“It probably was, at the moment. I haven't found one that lasts. I don't see many, either. You and Craig; a few others. Though don't you think you
could
find someone else if he suddenly—Sorry, ghoulish question.”

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