Possessions (18 page)

“Oh, no.” She was dismayed. “I didn't even tell him.” And I've only seen him once, she added silently. Six weeks ago. “How does Victoria measure her life?”

“Once it was the family: how firmly she kept it together. That stopped when Craig and Jennifer died. Well, not Craig—you know what I mean. For the last ten years, she's concentrated on making herself necessary. She's on governing boards of the opera, the symphony, the Museum of Art, and a couple of welfare organizations, and she's enormously influential because she really works. It was through her connections that the art museum got the Peruvian gold exhibit that opens this week. I recommend it: a brilliant show. Why
did
you move to San Francisco?”

“What?”

“I said—”

“No, I heard you. I grew up here.”

“That's the only reason you moved from Vancouver?”

“I'm not after any Hayward money.”

“I don't think you are.” He looked amused. “I'll report that to the family. You're a pleasant young woman; you speak intelligently and listen well. In fact you've maneuvered me into talking about the family when I meant to talk about you. Admirable.”

Katherine regarded him. “I don't believe anyone maneuvers Claude Fleming. You wanted me to know about the family.”

He was signing the charge slip and his pen stopped momentarily. He smiled. “You'll do very well,” he said, and finished writing.

“How do you think I measure my life?” Katherine asked.

Thoughtfully, he studied her. “By your independence,” he said, and watched the swift changes in her face, from pleasure to confusion.

“And Craig?” she asked.

“Ah. Money, loving a select few, being admired, and successfully running from problems.”

Katherine looked through the window, at the darkening sky. For the first time, she was not sure what to say in her husband's defense.

*  *  *

Leslie brought a bottle of wine and a birthday cake and they all helped set the table. “How old are you?” Todd asked.

“Ninety-nine,” said Leslie. “But I'm told I don't look it. Some days I don't even feel it.”

Katherine looked up. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing serious,” Leslie said. “It's Friday. Lots of things seem wrong on Friday that are miraculously cured by having two free days. Shit, I forgot; you work tomorrow.”

“Not this week. Gil told me he didn't need me. It's like a holiday.”

“Gil? Being generous? Not in character. He must be up to something.”

“How old are you?” Todd insisted.

“Thirty-six.” Leslie tousled his hair. “Does that seem ancient?”

“Not as ancient as ninety-nine.” He looked at his plate as they sat down. “Mom, what's this gunk?”

“Don't be insulting,” Leslie answered. “Since it's my birthday, I got to choose the menu and it's ragout of beef.”

Todd made a face. “It sounds awful. I'm going to McDonald's.”

“You're staying right here,” Katherine said. “And eating dinner with us. You haven't even tasted it.”

“I don't like it and I won't eat it and I'm going to McDonald's and you can't stop me!”

“Hey,” Leslie said with a quick look at Katherine's face. “You want to ruin my party?”

“Todd,” said Katherine. “I left a box in Annie's apartment. Will you bring it in?”

He shrugged glumly. “Why not.”

When he was gone, Leslie gave Katherine a questioning look. “He wasn't like this in Vancouver.”

“I know. He's changed since we came here. He's disruptive at school and doesn't do his work—his teachers say he's acting out all his problems. I can't talk to him about it—”

“You don't talk to us about anything,” Jennifer said. “You didn't even ask us if we wanted to leave Vancouver.”

“Jennifer, that was a long time ago.”

“Well, we haven't forgotten it. And we don't like anything about San Francisco or this apartment or school or your job or
anything.”

Katherine and Leslie exchanged a look. “I have an inspiration,”
Leslie said. “You two need a day at the Exploratorium. Next Saturday. At noon. Be ready.”

“Exploratorium!” Todd cried, coming in with a large box in his arms. “No kidding? Mom promised to take us twice but she blew it both times.”

“I had to work those days,” Katherine said quietly.

“Todd, you're behaving like a pint-sized bastard,” Leslie said. Taking advantage of his open-mouthed shock, she pointed to his plate. “Eat your dinner—which is terrific, by the way—and see if you can help me figure out my mystery.”

“Mystery?” Jennifer looked suspicious. “Are you making something up so we'll forget we're not happy?”

“No I'm not,” Leslie said seriously. “I think we should talk about that. But this is my party and I don't want grouching to ruin it. If Todd blows out my candles with his huffing and puffing, I won't get my wish.”

Todd and Jennifer smiled. “So what's the mystery?” Todd asked.

“We have at Heath's a new line of sweaters by a designer named Ralph Lauren; they're very popular, and selling fast. Also selling fast are Calvin Klein blouses, silk, costing two hundred fifty each.”

Jennifer gasped.
“Each?
Is that the mystery? Why people pay that much?”

Leslie laughed. “Nope. This is it: more of those blouses and sweaters are gone from the departments than the clerks remember selling. How would you explain that?”

“Somebody stole them,” Jennifer said promptly.

“That's what I thought, too. But the sales records in our computer say they've been sold.”

“The clerks forgot,” said Todd. “They had amnesia. Did you ask them if they fell down one day and were knocked out?”

“As a matter of fact, I didn't,” Leslie answered. “I'll give it some thought.”

“Something's wrong with the computer,” Jennifer guessed.

“Computers don't make mistakes,” Todd scoffed.

“Not ever?” Katherine asked. “What if a person makes a mistake in telling the computer what to do?”

“I've got it!” Todd cried. “It
is
the computer! A bunch of mice came into the computer when it was cold out and rubbed
together to get warm and the rubbing made static electricity that erased part of the computer memory, so you're getting the wrong numbers!”

“Good thinking,” laughed Leslie. “We'll look for mice on Monday morning.”

“Leslie,” Katherine said. “What's the real problem? It's more than blouses and sweaters.”

Leslie sighed. “Nothing like a friend to see inside a person's head. You're right; there's more. There's my fellow vice-presidents. Four smug males waiting with tongues hanging out for me to make a mistake so they can kick me off their masculine turf. I don't know what the hell is happening with those blouses and sweaters, but if we're losing merchandise—which means money—they'll look to see who's fouled up store security, and that means me.”

“You?” asked Todd. “Security?”

“It comes under Personnel. And I'm vice-president for Personnel and Payroll. See what I mean?”

Jennifer was watching Leslie with fascination. “Is the president a smug male who wants you off his turf, too?”

“He's better than the others,” Leslie answered. “Though who knows,” she added darkly, “what really lurks inside a big chief's head? All I want is to be left alone to do my job, and so far he's done that, but one good crisis could change everything . . .” She brooded for a moment, then briskly shook her head. “Enough of this. You're a terrific audience; you've cheered me up; and I love you all. But we are in danger of forgetting one of the most important parts of this evening. Didn't I see a cake in the kitchen? How can I swallow thirty-six years without chocolate cake to make it go down? And what about that huge box Todd staggered in with? Could that be for me?”

Katherine lit the candles on the cake while Leslie opened the box and lifted out a set of appliquéd throw pillows for her couch that the three of them had made. “You remembered!” she cried in delight. “And they're wonderful—just the kind I couldn't find anywhere.” Todd and Jennifer beamed and launched into a lengthy explanation of the difficulties in appliqué.

“But it was fun,” Jennifer said. “Even Todd liked it.”

“I had this sword,” Todd explained. “And I kept stabbing these monsters from caves that were about to gobble us up—”

“He means he was sewing,” said Jennifer helpfully.

“Just don't tell the guys at school,” said Todd. “They'd think I was really weird.”

Katherine stepped back, as if she were watching a play. Her children and her friend sat at a folding table, festive with table-cloth and candles, in the center of the crowded living room. On a table in the corner, her models of bracelets, necklaces, and pendants glinted in the soft light. The grandfather clock boomed nine o'clock. Nothing in that room, none of the people, would have been there if not for her. Independence, Claude had said, sending a quick rush of pleasure through her. He'd been right, and her pleasure had been real. It would only be for a while, only until Craig returned, but still she savored it: she had done this alone. I'll always remember how it feels, she thought. Because I've never felt it before.

*  *  *

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 jewelry. 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 Haywards 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 jewelry in the ancient gold work 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'lantern 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 peculiar,
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 Hayward. 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, Katherine 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
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 jewelry 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 Hayward 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 Hayward 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 above everyone else, untouched by ordinary problems and fears.