Adam's Daughter Part 34

Tyler shook his head. "It's more than that. I've been doing some thinking lately." He paused. "I've got this friend, Katz. Man, you should hear him play the guitar. He could be as big as Hendrix. But he's wasted all the time."

He glanced around, at nothing in particular. "I don't want to be like him," he said. "I want to do something with myself."

"What?" Kellen asked.

Tyler shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't figured it out yet."

"You will," Kellen said.

The light changed but Tyler didn't move. He glanced over at her. "I'm glad you're here with me," he said then quickly looked away and walked on toward the park.

With a small surprised smile Kellen followed him. As she let Tyler lead her around the park she felt herself starting to relax for the first time in weeks. Garrett was still in England, ironing out an unexpected problem with one of the papers for his father. They spoke nearly every night, and she missed him. But today, for the moment at least, she felt a little less lonely. She turned and saw Stephen, lagging behind.

"Come on," she said, holding out her hand.

"You two go on," Stephen said. "I'll catch up."

Kellen and Tyler disappeared into a tent. When they emerged, Tyler's face was transformed into a painted psychedelic mask and Kellen had a b.u.t.terfly on her cheek.

Stephen smiled. "You look silly."

"Why, thank you," she laughed.

"And very beautiful," he added softly.

She looked at him oddly. "Let's go listen to the music."

By the late afternoon, Stephen said he wanted to go home, that he had a headache from the music but Kellen and Tyler would not leave. Finally, the crowd began to thin and a knot of people headed west toward the ocean. Tyler and Kellen joined them, and Stephen followed reluctantly.

The crowd straggled across the highway to the Ocean Beach strand. People built fires and stood around chanting softly and praying.

Tyler wandered down the beach, tossing a stick into the water for a dog to retrieve. Kellen and Stephen stood alone, watching the sun set in a weary display of faded pastel. Kellen folded her arms over her chest and stared at the sun.

"You look tired," she said to Stephen.

"I am. I can't keep up with you. I never could."

"I think this was good for Tyler and me," she said. "And I had fun. It felt good to have fun."

Stephen reached up and touched the b.u.t.terfly on her cheek. She turned to look at him. He hesitated then kissed her gently. She didn't turn away but she didn't respond either. The kiss had just surprised her.

"Marry me, Kellen," Stephen said.

She stared at him in shock.

"I love you," he said. "I've always loved you. Marry me, Kellen. We belong together. I've always felt that."

The breeze blew strands of her hair over her face, and she brushed them away.

"Oh, Stephen," she said finally. The words came out in a sigh. She turned to stare at the water.

"Marry me," he repeated.

"I can't."

"Why not? Don't you love me?"

"I care for you so much," she said. "You've always been part of me. But..."

"But what?"

"I'm just not ready to get married now," she said.

The sun disappeared and the air quickly grew chilly. Kellen laid her head on Stephen's shoulder and he brought his arms up to hold her. They stood like that for a long time.

Over Stephen's shoulder, Kellen could see the fires blazing down the beach. Tyler and the dog were silhouettes in the dark.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO.

Neither Stephen nor Kellen mentioned the marriage proposal again. There was an uneasiness between them now, which they covered up by reverting to small talk and business.

It was a week after the scene on the beach and they were in Stephen's office when a copy editor poked his head inside.

"Kellen, we need you on the desk," he said. "We've got something breaking."

With a glance at Stephen, Kellen went out to the copy desk, which was obscured by a crowd of reporters and editors. Then, the crowd parted and she saw a large cake sitting on the desk. She looked up quickly and saw everyone grinning.

Ray, the managing editor, stepped forward. "The staff wanted to do something special on your last day down here as city editor," he said.

Kellen stared at the cake. It was done in white frosting with black letters, made to look like a newspaper page. Across the top was the gothic-lettered nameplate of the Times, and beneath that the headline CITY EDITOR BOOTED UPSTAIRS.

Kellen was so surprised by such a sentimental gesture from the normally cynical staff that her eyes brimmed with tears. "I don't know what to say," she said, smiling.

Ray handed her a knife. "Now, we'll see if you can really cut it," he said.

Kellen sliced the cake and handed out paper plates. She went to Stephen and handed him a plate. "I suppose you knew about this," she said.

"I paid for it out of petty cash," Stephen said.

Kellen surveyed the city room. "I didn't think anyone really cared I was here."

"They didn't at first. But you won their respect. Mine, too."

Someone called out Kellen's name, and a secretary motioned for her to pick up the phone. After a few clicks, Kellen heard Garrett's voice.

"Where are you? In London?" she asked, her voice rising slightly.

"New York," he said. "I just got in, and my plane to the coast leaves in fifteen minutes. I would have called you sooner to let you know I was coming, but --"

"Don't worry about it," she said. "Just get here."

He gave her his flight information and they hung up. Kellen glanced at Stephen. He was watching her carefully, his face solemn. He set his uneaten cake down on the desk.

"Come into my office," he said. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

She followed him into the office. He closed the door and sat down behind his desk. He folded his hands in front of his face, as if stalling for time to form his thoughts.

"What is it, Stephen?" she asked.

"That was Garrett, wasn't it," he said.

"Yes."

He stared at her for a moment. "There are some things you don't know about him, Kellen. Things you need to know."

She frowned. "What are you saying, Stephen?"

"I've been trying to think of a way to tell you this." He paused. "Did he ever tell you why he's here?"

She shrugged. "Of course. He bought that paper in Toronto. He's looking at other properties...a mill, a printing facility."

"He's looking for other newspapers to take over," Stephen said. "Here in California."

"That's not true," Kellen said quickly. "He told me he's interested only in Canada."

Stephen shook his head. "The Toronto deal is just a jumping-off point, Kellen. Garrett Richardson is out to make a foothold in the States. Did he tell you what he's been doing down in L.A.?"

"No, not in so many words."

"He was trying to buy out the Rothman chain. He could have had it, the price was right. But he decided it was too small. He doesn't want a bunch of weeklies and suburban advertisers. He wants something big. He wants the Bryant newspapers."

"Oh, Stephen, you're crazy. He has no interest at all in this company."

Stephen leaned across the desk. "Kellen, he knows there are problems with the Times. He knows how it's affecting the chain. For months, he's been quietly researching the corporation and the markets. The rumor is that he's positioning himself to make an offer."

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked. "Why are you trying to upset me?"

"Because I don't want to see you lose these newspapers. And I know that you and he --"

"G.o.d, Stephen, if this is just because you're jealous --"

"I have a friend at the Wall Street Journal who's been a.s.signed to watch Richardson's moves here," Stephen said. "He knows Richardson, knows his father's pattern in Britain. They look for troubled papers in good markets and when the time is right they move in. Then they convert the papers to sleazy tabloids. That's what Garrett's doing in Toronto. That's what he wants to do here."

Kellen rose. "You're being paranoid," she said.

"And you're being naive," he said.

She went to the door. Stephen jumped up and barred her way. "Look, if you won't believe me, call my friend."

"If I want the truth, I'll ask Garrett."

"You won't get it. For G.o.d's sake, Kellen, think about this for a minute. Why do you think the guy's hung around here for so long?"

She stared at him for a moment. Then she pushed his arm aside and went quickly across the newsroom to the elevator.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE.

Hours later, Stephen's words were still with her as she drove to the airport. She knew she had to confront Garrett. But then when she saw him and felt his arms around her, all she could think about was how much she had missed him in the last month. She would wait. Surely, if it were true, Garrett would tell her himself.

But he made no reference to it at all for the rest of the day and evening. And as she lay in bed next to him in his house in Tiburon, Stephen's accusations came back, hovering in the dark.

Garrett reached for her hand. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she said softly.

She lay still until she heard his breathing deepen into sleep then got up and went to the window. The house overlooked the bay, and across the water she could see the curving carpet of San Francisco's lights. But the tranquilizing beauty of the view was lost on her.

She glanced at the bed. A shard of moonlight illuminated Garrett's bare shoulder, leaving his face in shadows.

The next morning they sat quietly on the deck having breakfast, reading the newspaper. It was a beautiful sunny day, and a brisk breeze was blowing up from the bay.

"You know, you should start keeping some clothes here," he said. "That way maybe I could get my robe back."

"That sounds like an invitation to move in," she said, pulling the terry-cloth robe tighter.

He smiled. "I have plenty of closet s.p.a.ce."

She sipped her coffee, trying to think of a way to bring up Stephen's accusations.

"Why don't you go home, pick up some clothes and come back?" Garrett said suddenly. "Let's go down to Big Sur for the weekend."

"You don't have to go anywhere? What about L.A.?"

"My business there is finished."

She got up and went to the railing and stared out at the bay. She turned back around to face him. "Garrett, why did you decide to buy this house?"