Possessions (35 page)

There was a pause. “Neither. He just got evasive.”

“But Bruce is like that a lot of the time, isn't he?”

After another pause, Leslie said, “He is indeed.”

“Well, if you know that, and if you don't think you were wrong when you hired him, I think you shouldn't worry about him.”

“Be the loyal and trusting big sister?”

“What's wrong with loyalty and trust?”

Again they were silent, both of them thinking about what Katherine had said. “Nothing's wrong,” Leslie said at last. “Except my head. You're wonderful and I should have talked to you weeks ago. Now listen, lady, we have to find you a job.”

“Let me try on my own; you've got enough on your mind. I'll take you up on the reference, though. I won't get anything from Gil.”

“Nothing you'd want to use. I'll make some phone calls, Katherine, and get back to you in a few days. Let me know if you find something.”

And so, feeling as if she were back in Vancouver, Katherine began reading want ads.

“Inventory clerk,” she told Tobias on the telephone a few nights later. “The only office skill I've learned. I applied at a company in Oakland; they'll let me know tomorrow.”

“Long hours and low pay,” he said. “When will you work on your jewelry?”

“At night. I did it before.”

“Yes indeed. And if you fail again that would be your excuse.”

“Tobias!”

“‘God loves to help him who strives to help himself.'”

“Oh, Tobias, don't quote things at me. If that's why you called—”

“No, no, my dear. I merely point out that as early as 500
B.C.
Aeschylus was saying that we have a duty to help ourselves. Now tell me: when have you ever put a total effort into your work?”

“You might remember that I have to earn a living.”

“I haven't forgotten it. Victoria and I have been discussing a fund for you and the children while you complete the order for Mettler; it would pay your bills and buy whatever materials you need. We would deposit it directly in—”

“Tobias.”

“My dear?”

“I wish I could—” The temptation was so strong Katherine could almost taste the freedom he offered. But how much freedom did she have if she was always dependent on others, always being grateful? Leslie had found her a job, the Haywards had given her tools, Derek had given her gold. When was she going to stop taking handouts? “—but I can't. I appreciate it, I love you for offering, but I can't do it.”

But Tobias' challenge to put all her efforts into her work stayed with her. He was right, of course; she never had. Other things had always come first. But how else did anyone succeed, except by working full-time, overtime, whatever was necessary?

I could give it a few months, she thought. And that was how she found herself in the unemployment line.

It still stretched behind her as she reached the building after waiting six hours. And then she discovered it was only the beginning.

“Fill out the form on top,” a harried young woman recited, handing Katherine a packet. “Turn it in to any one of us for orientation. Next?”

When Katherine returned the filled-out form, another harried young woman skimmed it. “Looks OK,” she said. “Earned more than nine hundred dollars in the last fifty-two weeks . . . name and address of last employer . . . you didn't quit; you were fired . . . well, here's what you should know.” She rattled off four regulations requiring Katherine to look for work and to report any income during the time she was receiving unemployment. “Any questions, read the booklet in that packet you got. It's all there. Now you'll need an appointment in two weeks . . .” She turned the pages of a calendar.

“Two weeks?”
Katherine repeated.

“This goes to Sacramento,” the young woman said, writing Katherine's name on a folder. “Computer there checks your salary information and to see if you were fired because of misconduct. Takes a couple of weeks, so we'll give you an appointment—”

“Misconduct.”
Unreliable,
Lister had said.
Insubordinate.
“What kind of misconduct?”

“I don't know; they have a list.”

“If that was the reason . . . if someone is fired for misconduct—”

“Not eligible,” said the young woman. “Usually. Might depend on the circumstances. Let's give you an appointment. April 27. Two weeks from today. They'll figure your eligibility then, and how much you get. You ought to start getting checks a couple of weeks after that.”

A month from now, Katherine thought, writing down the date. If someone doesn't decide I've been guilty of misconduct.

And that was when the lure of Craig's money—all of it—became too strong to ignore.

*  *  *

“Well, why not?” agreed Tobias, cutting another piece of chocolate cake and lifting it precariously to his plate. “If he didn't want you to use it, he wouldn't be sending it.”

“But I didn't want to use it for myself, until we were together. It isn't
money
I want to share with him.”

“Yes. Perfectly sensible. But now?”

“Now I'll use it until I know I can earn my living in jewelry . . . or get another job.”

He tilted his head quizzically. He had invited himself to Sunday dinner, bringing steaks and artichokes, and Katherine had made dessert. It was raining and the two of them sat at the kitchen table while Jennifer and Todd watched a television program in the living room. A regular family, Katherine thought. And in a way it was, because she could not think of any other man she would rather be with at that moment than Tobias, smiling at her, his white beard wagging. “And why will you use it now?” he asked.

“Because I owe it to Jennifer and Todd. They were terrified when I told them I'd lost my job; I could just see them thinking: first Dad, then Mom; who's left to take care of us? I had no right to talk to Gil that way as long as I'm responsible for them. Do you know, I don't even have medical insurance now? It went with my job. I have to buy some tomorrow morning and I can't afford it without Craig's money. Don't you see? I had no right to put us in this position.” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I think about Craig all the time. He must have felt this way when he began taking money from his company. There we were, the three of us, depending on him to
bring home a big check every couple of weeks—so somehow he had to bring it home. I never realized how vulnerable people are when others are dependent on them.” She gave a small laugh and got up to refill their coffee cups. “I don't much like it.”

“Being responsible for Jennifer and Todd?”

“Being vulnerable.”

“The same thing. Wonderful cake; should I have a third piece? No.” Sadly he pushed away his plate. “I can still hear—after seventy years!—my first-grade classmates laughing at my waddle in the gymnasium. Even after I thinned out, their laughter stayed with me and all my life it has forced me to refuse third helpings of chocolate cake. How the past does haunt us! Yes, of course Craig hated vulnerability. He hated being responsible for making Victoria and his parents happy by living up to their expectations: triumphant long-distance runner, all-A student, dutiful son and grandson . . . Well! Who wouldn't hate it? The only one he seemed happy to be responsible for was Jennifer, because she wanted only affection and companionship and gave as much as she got. Except for Ross, I think she was Craig's only friend. You should have seen those two race a sailboat! Ross sometimes went along, watching and taking lessons, and he said they were the greatest team on the water. But all of that was certainly a mixed blessing.”

Katherine watched Tobias' face change as he thought back. His beard had stopped fluttering and the lines around his mouth had deepened. “Why?” she asked.

“Because when Jennifer took up with Derek it wasn't only Ann and Jason who were upset; Craig was nearly out of his mind. What a stew they all made!”

“Jennifer and Derek?”

Tobias gave her a quick look. “That's right, you didn't know. But you should; it's part of our history. The one you were going to help me research, remember?”

“What does that mean—Jennifer took up with Derek?”

“Do you know, I'm really not sure. I was living in Boston and everything came to me secondhand. Victoria said that Ann said a seventeen-year-old girl should go out with boys her own age, but Derek was only twenty-one, so it was probably Derek, not his age, she was unhappy about. Even then, you see, Derek was a . . . forceful person. He certainly could terrify me when
he fixed me with one of those looks I could feel in my toes. But then I grew my beard, and it seemed to give me a magic power to resist both his scorn and his charm. Or perhaps it was staying away for four years. The next time I came back was for Jennifer's funeral. She, poor child, had no magic powers. Victoria says she adored Derek. Actually, I think I'll have one more small piece of cake . . . Will you join me?”

“What? Oh. No thank you. Did Derek adore her?”

“I doubt it, but I wasn't privy to his thoughts or emotions, nor was anyone else. And if Jennifer was, she told no one. But, according to Victoria, her schoolwork had slipped badly and two or three months before graduation Jason and Ann forbade her to see Derek again. Always a mistake, I think. In years of teaching, I've learned that direct orders often cause mysterious chemical changes in youngsters that make them totally deaf in the presence of adults. Which is exactly what happened to Jennifer. She went right on seeing Derek, pretending to be with her girl friends at night and on weekends. Of course Jason and Ann found out and went to Curt, who told Derek he thought they should break it off. So Derek became deaf. It never fails.”

“Derek refused—”

“Ignored them all. Girls right and left calling him up—handsome fellow, whatever you think of him—but he wanted Jennifer. And she was a lovely little thing, so alive and laughing. I've often wondered whether that quarrel on the boat between Derek and Craig was about Jennifer. Ross says he didn't hear it and Derek becomes deaf when I ask him.”

“It was about a building they were working on.”

“Is that so? Did Derek tell you that?” She nodded. “Well, I shall ask you to tell me all about it. Still, a researcher looks for the story beneath the story. I think there was more to it. Don't you?”

“I don't know. The more I hear about your family, the less I know.”

“Or like?”

Her chin in her hand, she studied his face. A small chocolate crumb was caught in his white beard. She reached over to remove it. “I like you,” she said.

*  *  *

“Close the door,” Leslie told Bruce as he came in. She pushed a button on her intercom. “No calls, please.” Taking a file folder from her desk drawer, she held it out to him. “Can you explain this?”

“Golly gosh gee, sis,” he said, taking it from her. “What's so serious you can't even give your loving bro a kiss?” But, flipping through the papers in the folder, he scowled. “How the hell did you get this?”

“Is it yours?”

“Sure but it was in my desk—how the hell—?”

“What's inside it?”

“Is this an inquisition, sis—do I get a lawyer or what?”

“Don't be funny, Bruce. What are those papers?”

“Notes I made, I told you I had an idea—remember?—about how somebody could use the computer to rip off the store and I was going to write a program to see how it might be done, and these are my notes for it, to see if maybe for instance you could steal hot-selling stuff and change figures in the computer for just that stuff without leaving a record—are you following me?—I am of course a genius for thinking of it—”

“You are a goddamn fool. Are you saying you don't know we've suspected that something like that has been going on for months?”

Stunned into rare silence, Bruce stared at his sister. “Those spot inventories!” he cried at last. “Somebody is doing it? Ripping off the store?”

“Keep your voice down, damn it. Don't you understand what it means that a blueprint for stealing was found in your desk?”

“Now wait—sis, I swear in thirty extinct languages I did not know about any stealing going on and I didn't write a program to do it; I only made notes for a program—and I told you I was going to do it
—last summer!”

She looked at him steadily. “I don't believe you.”

“For Christ's sake, my own sis—!”

“Look: you asked me to get you a job in Data Processing and then you told me you were investigating the new system—and God help me, I encouraged you—to see if it could be used to rip off the store; to close any loopholes,
you said.
In less
than a year, profits are down; an audit of sales records gives figures that don't match the computer sales figures; you just said you had the idea of changing figures without leaving a record; and handwritten notes for doing it are found in your desk. Why should I believe you?”

“Search me, it sounds pretty devilish—how about the fact that your brother tells you on his honor it ain't so? Damn it, sis, listen, I have to my great shock discovered that after my wild youth I really like working
—I like working here,
I wouldn't steal a fucking pair of socks because I don't want to get fired, and even if I did why
why
why would I leave the damn notes in my desk for someone to find?”

“I don't know.” Leslie sighed, watching his agitated pacing. “Why were you trying to write your own program?”

“Sis, what is the matter with you,
I wanted to see if it could be done,
then I could write a program to
prevent it!”

“You didn't write one that could be used?”