To Have and to Hold

by Fern Michaels

  He liked Kate Starr, really liked her. No matter what, he was going to stay in touch with her. Jesus, imagine burying a guy’s belongings because there was nothing else left. What was it she’d said? “For now, this is acceptable. We have a place to go, a place to mourn, a place where we’re able to say good-bye.”

  In his opinion, Kate Starr was a hell of a woman. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would be able to handle the fallout if the story got printed. His stomach started to chum again. He grinned in the darkened plane. Kate Starr, he thought, was probably capable of handling anything.

  Gus scrunched himself into his window seat. Kate’s last words were, “I have a right to know.” That’s what he was going to call his feature story. Only he would change it to read, “They Have a Right to Know, ” meaning all the wives of the missing MIAs. And he would feature Kate Starr and her family in the article.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way for Gus Stewart or Kate Starr. None of the other wives were as brave as Kate; they feared the loss of their husbands’ pay if they went public and broke the “keep quiet” policy they’d adhered to in the past. They did talk freely and willingly, but in confidence, always ending with, “This is off the record, please don’t print what I’m saying.”

  Gus grew frustrated, angry at the military and the government. He finally began to realize how Kate and the other wives felt. Everywhere he turned he was stonewalled. When he finally called Kate on a late June afternoon to tell her the story had been killed for the third time, she showed no surprise.

  “I’m sorry, Gus. I know you worked hard. In a way, you can’t blame the wives. A lot of them don’t have a Della and a Donald like I do. We tried, that’s the important thing. If you ever find yourself in my neighborhood, stop by and I’ll take you to dinner.”

  “You can afford dinner out?” Gus joked.

  “A hot dog from a street vendor, maybe a bottle of soda pop.”

  “How’s business? Any regrets?”

  “Business is great. I’m making my bills and have a little left over every month. I don’t have enough hours in the day. I’ve been thinking of hiring some part-time help. I’ve had to turn down three jobs in L.A. because I can’t be away from the office. Then there are days when I sit here sucking my thumb and hoping a job will come in.”

  He didn’t want to hang up. It didn’t sound like she wanted to, either. “How’s Della and Donald?”

  “Donald is in pain a lot of the time. Della fusses over him something fierce. They still come over every day.”

  “And Ellie?”

  “Ellie’s working full-time for the supermarket, doing the bookkeeping. We have her scheduled for West Chester University in Pennsylvania in the fall. They have a very good accounting department. If my business keeps going the way it has been, tuition won’t be a problem.”

  “You’re working seven days a week, aren’t you?” Gus challenged.

  “Now where did you hear that?”

  Gus chuckled. “I just guessed.”

  “It’s the only way I can get ahead. Della makes it easy for me. I’ve had to get glasses, though. Ellie says I look like an owl.”

  Gus laughed. “Kate, I really am sorry about the article. I’m not quitting on you. If there’s ever an opportunity, or if things change, I’ll be right there with it. I just wish there was more I could do.”

  “You tried. That’s more than anyone else was willing to do.”

  “Call me sometime, okay?” Gus said gruffly.

  “You bet. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, yes, we are. I’m going to hold you to that dinner, now.”

  “I’ll start saving now.” Kate laughed. “ ’Bye, Gus.”

  “ ’Bye, Kate.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  It was seven years before Kate saw Gus Stewart again, and then it was by pure accident.

  The airport was noisy, crowded with hordes of travelers following tour guides with feathers in their hats for easy identification.

  As she entered the rest room on the concourse, Kate wondered—and not for the first time—what she was doing back in her home state of New Jersey. She could just as easily have vacationed at home in bed or in the garden with a book. But, no, that was too easy; she had to come back here and torture herself.

  She made a face at herself in the mirror as she applied lipstick, washed her hands, and brushed her hair. She looked nice, moderately professional in a crisp blue-and-white seersucker suit that wasn’t exactly crisp at this point. She grimaced at herself again, then straightened the strap of her handbag and marched back out to the concourse.

  Her plan was to rent a car, drive to Westfield, cruise past the house she’d grown up in, maybe knock on the door to see who now lived in the house since her parents retired to Florida. Then she’d drive by Patrick’s old house, maybe knock on that door. She’d drive through town, go past the church, stop at the library, maybe go in the school and look at her high school class picture on the wall, check out Patrick’s picture, too. Then she’d get on the parkway and head for Toms River to check out Patrick’s father’s house, which had been left to her last year when her father-in-law died. She’d wanted to sell that house, but the attorneys had said that without Patrick’s death certificate she couldn’t. She should think about renting it, though, to help pay the taxes.

  Kate glanced around the concourse to get her bearings and then heard her name being called—not over the loudspeaker, but close at hand. She turned.

  “Kate! Kate Starr!”

  For a moment she couldn’t remember his name, and then it came to her. “Gus! How nice to see you again. What are you doing here? It must be, what, seven years? You look well.”

  “Ten pounds heavier.” Gus laughed. “What are you doing here? Too much air traffic over Kennedy, so our pilot landed here. I’ll take a ground shuttle into the city. God, it’s good to see you. Listen, are you making connections or do you have to be somewhere at a certain time? If not, let’s head for the nearest bar and get a drink. I could use a sandwich. I couldn’t figure out what it was they served for lunch on the plane, so I passed on it.”

  “My time is my own. I could use a drink. Only one, though, I’m driving.”

  “They’ll hold your bags if you checked them. Car rental companies are good about late arrivals. See,” he said, throwing his hands in the air, “it’s all taken care of. Let’s dine in this ... this whatever it is.” He motioned to a publike room that had a bar with a brass railing along the sides.

  Settled, with menus in their hands, Gus leaned across the table. “Kate, it’s so good to see you. How’s everything going? You look great.”

  Kate could feel a warm flush creep up her cheeks. He’s flirting with me, she thought, stunned. Seven years ago he’d looked boyishly young. Now he looked mature and ... sexy.

  “You look pretty good yourself,” she blurted. “I’d kill for your eyelashes and those summer-blue eyes—” God, she was flirting. Actually flirting! With a younger man. A delicious thrill coursed through her.

  “Bet you’re beating off the architects with a stick, huh?”

  “Hardly.” Kate laughed ruefully. “I really have no time for a social life. Occasionally I have a business lunch or dinner, but that’s it. I’m trying real hard to make a success of my business. What free time I do have, I help Della. Donald isn’t well, and he takes a lot of care. He’s crippled with arthritis and he’s in constant pain, but he still manages to smile. He’s eighty-two. I can’t believe it. Where have the years gone?” she said breathlessly.

  The waitress hovered. “Kate, what will you have?” Gus asked.

  “A pastrami on rye with lots of mustard, and a Michelob.”

  “Make that two,” Gus said, handing over the menus.

  “How’s Ellie?”

  Kate preened. “She finally passed the last part of the CPA exam in the fall of last year. She’s a bona fide CPA, and I was her first client. Well, Architectural Renderings was her first client.
I’m so proud of her.”

  Gus laughed. “I can tell. Are you still living in the same place with that beautiful garden?”

  “No, unfortunately. Three years ago a developer wanted to buy most of the area, three or four entire streets. Everyone sold but Donald. He held out to the last minute to drive up the price, and got a fortune—and I mean a fortune—for the house I rented, his house, and that other little rental property he owned. The four of us lived in an apartment for over a year while he had a house built for us. It’s so beautiful, all redwood and glass and very modern. He had a guest house built on the lot, which I thought Ellie and I would live in, but he wouldn’t hear of it. So we live in the big house and he and Della live in the cottage. We have a swimming pool, a cabana, and a three-car garage.” He was so easy to talk to, Kate thought. “Oh, oh, wait, we even have a Sundance hot tub. It’s for Donald. We got this ... contraption that lifts him out of the wheelchair and puts him in the tub, clothes and all. He loves it, and it really helps his arthritis.”

  “I like hot tubs. They have one at the gym where I work out. Do you ever go in it?”

  “Once or twice. By the time we get Donald in and out, we’re too tired to go in ourselves.”

  The waitress poured their beer. Gus held his glass aloft. “What should we drink to?”

  Kate pretended to think. “Chance meetings? Friendship? Airports? Or all of the above?”

  Gus nodded. Glasses clinked. The sandwiches arrived, warm and full of oozing, spicy, brown mustard.

  “Now this is good,” Gus said, munching happily.

  He’s nice, Kate thought. I like him. “Tell me about you,” she said, her eyes watering from the tangy mustard.

  “Well, I haven’t written my Pulitzer yet. I will someday, you know. I’ve covered some good stories, gotten my share of bylines. The pay isn’t going to get me a hot tub on my patio on Forty-ninth Street. My mother said if you can buy one good suit a year, pay your rent, feed yourself, and give in the collection box every Sunday, you have nothing to complain about.”

  “A wise woman,” Kate said, smiling. She wondered what it would be like to have a male friend, one she could call on the phone at any time and just talk.

  “How’s your other daughter, Betsy?”

  Kate laid down her sandwich. “I rarely talk to her. She went on to get her master’s and doctorate. She teaches now at Villanova University. I see her once a year and she calls every so often. She’s never forgiven me for that ... ‘funeral’ we had. I understand she’s very active in several Vietnam organizations. She doesn’t talk to me about what she does. What little information I have I get from Ellie, who gets it from a friend of Betsy’s.” She hesitated. “You know, what really bothered me most about leaving our home was Betsy’s garden. Do you remember that glorious rainbow of flowers she planted around the house? I tried to duplicate that garden a hundred times over the past three years, with no luck. Ellie says Betsy planted them with love and a pure heart, and that’s why God made them grow for her. I took pictures from a neighbor’s roof before we left and had it enlarged. It’s hanging over the mantel now. I think that’s my only regret at this point in my life.” Kate picked up her sandwich and bit into it.

  “Where are you going when you leave here?” Gus asked. “How about us having dinner?”

  “We’re eating now.” Kate laughed. “I was going to Westfield and stir up some old memories, but since I met you, I think I’ll just get on the parkway and head for Toms River. I’d like to get settled in before dark.” She went on to tell him about her father-in-law’s house. “Thanks for the invitation, though. This monstrous sandwich will hold me over until tomorrow morning.”

  “I love the beach, the sun, blue skies,” Gus said wistfully.

  “Melanomas ... tsk, tsk,” Kate said, clucking her tongue.

  “I wear a number-fifteen sun block. I manage to get down to Point Pleasant three or four times during the summer. I’ve always been a beach person.”

  Kate knew he was hinting for an invitation. Should she or shouldn’t she? Definitely not. Absolutely not. “Maybe you could come down this weekend. Saturday morning, Sunday if you prefer. I can make dinner or lunch.” Breakfast. Definitely not. Absolutely not. “Or if you get an early start, breakfast.”

  “Hell yes, I’ll come. Thanks for inviting me. Hey, have you ever been to Atlantic City?”

  “No, never. I’m not a gambler.”

  “Me, neither, I work too hard for my money. But it’s a good way to spend a Saturday night.”

  “With or without a date?” Kate asked, and could have bitten off her tongue.

  “A couple of friends. They think they’re going to strike it rich. I watch.”

  “Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Kate asked. She felt her ears grow warm. What in the world was the matter with her? He was a puppy, a warm, endearing puppy. Thirty-one at the most. There was at least fourteen years’ difference in their ages.

  “I have dates from time to time, but there isn’t anyone serious in my life. Like you, I have very little spare time. I’m usually working on a story or doing my Big Brother bit at the Y. Is that a frown building on your face? Look, I come with references. I’m not a stranger, we met before. Kids and dogs like me. Old people think I’m nice. I have a decent job. I don’t smoke or drink. Well, hardly ever.” He grinned when Kate lit one of her stress relievers and offered him one, which he took with no hesitation. “Terrible habit.”

  “The worst. But if you look at it as a stress reliever, and taking a drink as an attitude adjuster, it doesn’t seem so bad. This is the first vacation I’ve had in five years.”

  “That’s not good,” he said. “Everyone needs a break, even if it’s to go to a hotel for the weekend. I make sure I take mine every year. I come back full of spit and vinegar. Shame on you,” he teased.

  “It’s not that easy when you’re in business for yourself. You have to stay on top of things. I have two assistants now and I moved into a larger office space. I’m still spread pretty thin, though. I wouldn’t exactly say I’m in demand, but I’ve built up a good business reputation and my prices are fair. Believe it or not, I turn down work if I feel I can’t give it one hundred percent. I have money in the bank, I repaid Della and Donald, I managed to put Betsy and Ellie both through college and still paid for Betsy’s master’s and doctorate,” Kate said proudly.

  “And I knew you when you were sweating Ellie’s tuition. You should be proud.”

  “I am, but I could never have done it on my own. Every day of my life I thank God for those two.”

  The waitress ambled over with the check in her hand. Gus handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “I think she’s trying to tell us she needs this table.”

  Kate looked up to see a line of people at the entrance. “I think you’re right, and I hope you’re right about our baggage being safe. I’d hate to think I’m going to be walking on the beach in this suit and high heels.”

  “Not to worry. I’d lend you a pair of skivvies and a T-shirt,” Gus said, picking up her carryall. Kate stumbled, certain her face was as red as the carpet she was walking on.

  Kate found her bag sitting with six others at the end of the carousel. “I guess I’ll see you on Saturday, Gus. Thanks for lunch, I really enjoyed it.”

  “My pleasure.” Gus grinned. “See you,” he said, kissing her lightly on the cheek before loping off to catch his shuttle bus.

  Kate smiled the whole time she was checking out the Lincoln Town Car she’d rented. She was still smiling when she signed her name and picked up her keys. Then a whirlwind of motion behind her made her turn. In all her life she’d never seen anyone so frazzled: curly hair standing at attention, shirt dragged halfway down his arm with the weight of his suit bags, eyes full of ... was it terror?

  “What’s wrong?” Kate asked anxiously.

  “You forgot to give me the damn address!” Gus sputtered, sweat rolling down his face.

  “Oh. You didn’t ask,” Kate said lamely. “I’
ll write it down.”

  “Jesus, no, don’t write it down. If you write it down, that means I have to put all this stuff down, and I’ll never be able to harness myself again. Just tell me what it is.”

  Kate laughed. “It’s Eighty-eight Rosemont Road.”

  Gus trundled off, his bags flapping against his knees as he muttered over and over, “Eighty-eight Rosemont Road.”

  Kate alternated between smiling and giggling as she drove the rental car down the service road and out through the toll booth onto the New Jersey Turnpike.

  What kind of clothes had she brought? For the life of her she couldn’t remember. Well, she could always go to the mall and buy some new things. What did a forty-four-year-old woman wear on the beach with a man who was at least fourteen years younger? She wasn’t exactly ugly, but she wasn’t going to be any match for the young beach bunnies with their golden tans and string bikinis. She groaned, feeling every one of her forty-four years.

  Maybe they’d run on the beach. Running was good. Would her thighs jiggle? Running was not good. Sweatpants, thin cotton ones. A baggy overblouse, again thin cotton. She wouldn’t look so white and ... slightly overweight. Maybe she’d pick up one of those Indian cotton mumu things women wore on the beach. Those things covered everything.

  God, what if Gus made ... advances? How would she handle that? Was she jumping the gun here? She did have an active imagination. He was just coming for the day. Just to get out of the city and ... and just enough for the day. There was nothing wrong with two people walking on the beach, eating together, talking together, having a drink together. So what if he was about thirty and she was forty-four? He knew how old she was. He knew everything there was to know about her. Ellie would say, “Oooh, he isssssss delicious.” Kate broke into a peal of laughter when she drove the car into the driveway.