Adam's Daughter Part 28

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR.

The opera turned out to be a boring production of Parsifal. Kellen sat next to Clark, trying to concentrate on it, but she was restless, her thoughts drifting between the newspaper and Paris. Several times, Garrett slipped in and she struggled to push him out of her mind.

Sudden applause drew Kellen back to the opera. The lights were going up. It was finally over. Clark draped Kellen's stole over her shoulders. "Did you like it?" he asked.

"It was too long."

"About three hours too long," Clark said. "I hope the party is better. I need some nuggets for Monday's column."

The party at Trader Vic's was being given by Enid Atherton for the usual opera crowd. But as always, there was a smattering of celebrities and strangers thrown in to amuse the regulars and keep conversation from being too inbred. Kellen recognized almost no one and stuck close by Clark's side. Whenever he introduced her, the reaction was the same: Eyes would widen and lips would curl up in toothy smiles. The women would brush their cheeks against hers and bubble up inane versions of the same comment. I knew your mother, I knew your father. How good to see you, dear. How lovely you are. I knew you when. I remember when. Your mother...your father...

"I don't know how much longer I can stand this," Kellen whispered to Clark after an hour.

"Gear up, darling," he said. "Here comes the queen."

Enid Atherton glided over to them. "Kellen, I'm so glad you could come." She kissed the air near Kellen's cheek. "I was so sorry to hear about your father."

Then why weren't you at his funeral, Kellen thought. So many in her father's old social circle had not come. They had all slowly distanced themselves from him after the scandal over Elizabeth's death.

"He was a wonderful man," Enid went on. "He so loved the opera. We'll miss him."

"Thank you," Kellen said.

"Of course, we'd like you to join the guild," Enid added. "Your mother was a member, you know."

Out of the corner of her eye, Kellen noticed another woman insinuating herself into their circle. It was Lilith. Kellen stared at her, taken aback by her appearance. She was thin to the point of gauntness and sported a short geometric haircut and a purple beaded mini-dress. She was the epitome of chic for a woman twenty years younger.

"Enid, lovely party," Lilith said. She turned and gave Kellen a glance. "Why, h.e.l.lo, dear. I didn't know you were an opera aficionado."

"I've just invited Kellen to join the guild," Enid said. "Won't it be nice to have a Bryant on the board again?"

Lilith smiled woodenly and stared at Kellen's dress. "That's a lovely dress, dear," she said. "You must have gotten it in Paris. Balenciaga, right?"

"No, it's Scherrer, secondhand," Kellen said with a smile. "There's this little shop in the sixteenth arrondiss.e.m.e.nt where all the rich women bring their clothes for resale. You can get the best bargains there." She patted Lilith's hand. "I'll give you the address, dear."

Kellen excused herself and went off to find Clark. She had had enough of the party and wanted to go home. She made her way through the crowd, but Clark had disappeared.

"Kellen!"

Someone was calling her name. She turned but saw no one she knew. Then she saw Garrett emerge from the crowd.

She couldn't move. He was standing before her, a brilliant smile and sparkling blue eyes. Now he was bending over. She felt his lips brush her cheek and inhaled the faint smell of his subtle clove cologne. She closed her eyes and was instantly back in Paris. He took her hand.

"It's good to see you," he said.

Good to see me, she thought, my G.o.d, is that all he can say?

"Garrett," she said, "when did you --"

"I just got here last week."

She smiled slightly, trying to recover her composure. She decided to plunge in. "When you called last month, I thought you were intending --"

"Something came up," he said. "I couldn't leave London."

She forced her smile wider. "I understand. Business, with the newspaper."

"Kellen, why don't we get out --"

Before he could finish, Enid came over and slid her arm through Garrett's. "Well, you finally got here," she said. "And leave it to you to immediately find the prettiest girl." She began to introduce Kellen.

"We've met," Garret said, looking at Kellen. "We knew each other in Paris briefly."

"Such a small world," Enid said, her eyes moving between them. "You know, Kellen, Garrett's mother is an old friend of my family's. I've been trying to lure her over for a visit for years. I've had to settle for her son. Not that you are anything one must settle for, my dear man."

Kellen watched in amazement. Enid was actually flirting. Other women were staring at Garrett with open curiosity. A few people edged into the circle, including Clark.

Enid made introductions. Garrett maneuvered through the small talk, occasionally conferring on Kellen a private smile. She was still in shock over seeing him and still angry with him for not calling. She watched him as he deftly played the conversational lobs. The crowd was charmed. Finally, simply to get his attention, she decided to join the game.

"So, Mr. Richardson," she said. "How do you like our city so far?"

"It's very beautiful," he said, smiling at her, understanding her ploy. "The people are very friendly. I feel at home here."

Smiles of appreciation all around.

"Well, this is your home in a small way," Enid said. She glanced around at the others. "Garrett actually has roots here. He's a distant descendant of William Richardson, who, you'll all remember from your history books, was one of this city's most important founders."

Oohs and aahs. Enid glowed and clutched Garrett's arm. She was obsessed with San Francisco history. The only thing she liked more than tracing the lineage of a Victorian house was tracing the lineage of its inhabitants.

"William Richardson was an English seaman," Enid went on patiently, as if explaining to schoolchildren. "In eighteen thirty-five, he opened a business in Yerba Buena. Which, as we all know, became our wonderful city." She hugged Garrett, who was enduring all this with a dignified smile. "So we can welcome Garrett as a true San Franciscan."

Someone actually began to applaud. Kellen glanced at Clark. He was scribbling something in his little gold notebook.

"Well, Mr. Richardson," Kellen said to Garrett. "I hope you enjoy your stay here. Good night, everyone."

She turned, grabbing Clark by the sleeve. "Let's go," she whispered.

Clark protested as she dragged him away. "What's the matter with you?" he asked.

"I just want to get out of here."

"But I want to talk to this Richardson guy. I can get a whole item out of him. The prodigal son --"

"I'll tell you all you want to know. Let's leave."

Clark pulled free of her arm. "You know this guy?"

"I met him in Paris."

"And?"

"And, what?"

"Well, from the way you two were looking at each other, you'd think..."

Kellen frowned. "Let's go."

"Kellen!"

Garrett came up behind them. "Where are you going?"

"This is a bore," she said, "I'm leaving."

"Then so am I." Garrett glanced at Clark, who simply handed him Kellen's stole with a smile. "We will talk later," Clark said to Kellen, and disappeared.

Garrett placed the stole over her shoulders. Without a word she turned, and he followed her out the door.

The night was cool and damp but Kellen wanted to walk. They walked slowly along for several blocks, saying nothing.

"You're angry with me," Garrett said finally.

Kellen bit her lips. She didn't want to sound possessive. "I expected you..." she began. Finally, she stopped and faced him. "You've been here a week."

"I got here a week ago, but I had to leave right away for Los Angeles. I have some business down there."

"But you called over a month ago."

"I told you. Something came up. I couldn't leave London. Kellen." It began to drizzle. A couple dashed by them.

"That was weeks ago," Kellen said. Suddenly the dam inside her burst. "You were in L.A., for G.o.d's sake. It's only a couple hours away. A phone call away." Her dress was getting soaked, and she pulled her stole tight around her. "And now, you just show up tonight without warning." She stared at him. "Well, go on back to L.A. Go take care of your business or what --"

He grabbed her shoulders. "I came here to see you," he said. "To see you, dammit."

He pulled her to him and kissed her. It was a hard kiss. His coat was rough and wet against her skin. She raised her arms around his neck to grasp his wet hair. The rain became harder. When she finally pulled away, she was s.h.i.+vering.

"This is crazy," he said. He saw a taxi sitting at the corner and whistled. "Let's go to my hotel," he said.

In his room, they stripped off their wet clothes and made love quickly and hungrily. Then again, with slow and deliberate tenderness. The mad unexplainable intensity that they had shared in Paris was still with them, burning brighter than before.

At dawn, Kellen raised her head from Garrett's chest and stared at his face. His eyes were closed. She brushed her lips across his brow, and his hand moved languidly down her back. A meager gray light filled the room and two pigeons fluttered to life outside the window.

"How long will you stay?" she asked.

His hand paused on the small of her back. "Until I get what I came here for," he said.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE.

The news meeting ended and everyone scattered back to their posts. Stephen issued some last minute instructions to the sports editor and the man left.

Only Kellen remained at the far end of the table. He watched her carefully as she drained her coffee and began to gather up her papers.

"You look tired," he said.

"I get up pretty early these days."

"You've been pus.h.i.+ng yourself hard lately."

"I'm enjoying it, Stephen. You were right. It's good for me to learn this way." She rose to leave.

"Kellen, stay for a minute," Stephen said. "I want to talk to you. We haven't had much chance to lately."

Kellen sat down slowly.

"I've been meaning to tell you," he said. "You've done a good job these last couple weeks. You've got good instincts."

"I come by them honestly."

There was a long silence.

"I've been thinking," Stephen said. "Ed's going in the hospital next week. He'll be out for a month or more. It might be good for you to fill in as city editor."

She smiled. "You think I could handle it?"

He nodded. "It would mean longer hours. And your full attention here. No distractions."

Her smile faded. "You'll have it," she said evenly.

There was another long silence. Kellen rose suddenly. "I've got some work to do," she said. "Anything else?"

"No, nothing."

She left, but Stephen remained at the table. He watched her through the gla.s.s window for a moment then pulled over the copy of the Times someone had left on the table. It was yesterday's edition, marked with red ink from the editors' critique session.

He picked up the feature section, turned to Clark's column and stared again at the photograph he had noticed earlier. It was a picture of Kellen and Garrett Richardson dancing. Stephen reread the paragraph.

Romantics are wondering which of our fair damsels would win the attentions of English press baron Garrett Richardson. Seems the baron only has eyes for a kindred soul, newspaper heiress Kellen Bryant. Do we sense a merger in the making?

Stephen tossed the paper aside.

A copyboy stuck his head in the door. "Paper, Mr. Hillman?"