A Dizzying Balance

by Harriet E Rich

  “Then, Miss Colson, I will see you tomorrow. My nurse will give you all the instructions.”

  Chapter Eight

  Three days in her bedroom were enough. Tony had brought her back after the surgery and she had crawled into bed exhausted, her face swollen and sore, her eyes puffy and bruised. Dr. Smith had assured her that everything had gone well and that what she was experiencing was quite normal, but all she wanted to do was sleep until the pain and swelling were gone. Nevertheless, three days of meals alone, the same four walls, and only her thoughts as uneasy companions were enough. To make matters worse, it had rained for almost the entire length of her self-imposed exile which hadn’t helped her mood. Even David’s cold company should be preferable to her own. Dinner was over and he would probably be in the library. Changing into slacks and a warm baggy sweater, she made sure that the bandaged brace across her nose was secure and went downstairs.

  The library occupied almost the entire back curve of the left wing with tall cases between the windows containing hundreds of books and shorter sets of shelves with family portraits hanging above. The comfortable room had that musty pleasant smell of old leather, but there was no welcome from David as she went in. He glanced up at her, hunched one shoulder, and looked back to the papers he was reading.

  Taking a book at random from one of the shelves, she sat without seeing the pages in front of her trying to decide if she dared interrupt him to start a conversation.

  “That book is difficult enough to read right side up,” he said impatiently.

  “What?” She felt a hot flush on her cheeks as she focused on the title: The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire.

  “Did you come in here simply to annoy me?” he asked, still impatient. “I’ve got to finish reading this proposal tonight.”

  “No, of course not. It’s just that I was bored upstairs. I’ve read everything in my room at least twice. Go on with your work. I’m perfectly happy here.” She laid the book on the couch beside her and reached to pick up a glossy magazine, making sure that it wasn’t upside down before opening it. But it failed to hold her interest. The squirrel cage of fear and fruitless speculation was never far from her thoughts, sending her round and round over the same few facts she had, only to bring her back to worry over how much she didn’t yet know. She frowned and rubbed the back of her thumb down the bridge of her bandaged nose and up again.

  “I always thought that you created that gesture for your first movie,” David said.

  Without looking up, she murmured, “It was my father’s way of concentrating.” Then, with a start, she realized he was watching her.

  “You’ve remembered something?” he asked.

  She shook her head sadly. “Memories from a long time ago.” When he didn’t respond, she asked, “By the way, what was my first movie?”

  He looked at her in amazement, then threw back his head and laughed out loud. It was the first time she had heard his laugh and its genuine enjoyment changed his face completely, softening the hard angles of cheek and jaw, giving him a boyish look. His ice-blue eyes warmed as he looked at her and she caught a glimpse of the younger and happier man he had been before … before what? She didn’t know.

  “It was called Regatta,” he chuckled. “You got the part because you knew how to sail a small boat, and when they realized what a first-class actress you are, your career was well and truly launched.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “David, what a dreadful pun.”

  “Well, I would tell you that I am an excellent punster but if, that is, when your memory returns, you’ll know it was a lie.” He studied her for a moment, still smiling, then put his papers aside. “Come. I want to show you something.” They walked together into the hall to the side stairs but rather than going up, David led the way down to the basement. Unlocking a door that opened into the area directly under the first half of the library, he ushered her in, snapping on the lights as he entered.

  Jen stopped in surprise. “A theater! I had no idea!”

  “Your own private screening room complete with projection booth, cutting room and film library. Over there are all of your scrapbooks.” He pointed to a small bookcase that held a series of albums.

  Down the middle of the room were two rows of deep upholstered swivel chairs set in the thick maroon carpet, each with its own side table. The screen was at the far end, and across from the door, in the corner, was a wet bar with a tiny kitchen. The walls were covered in posters from movies, hers as well as some of the classics from the forties and fifties: Bogart and Bacall, Tracy and Hepburn.

  “You built this for … for me?”

  “I had this section of the basement completely renovated not long after we were married. It was my gift to you for our first anniversary.” A shadow crossed his face and his voice was gruff. “You liked it – then.”

  “I can well imagine, and I like it now, David. Would it seem strange if I thanked you all over again? It was a lovely present.” She was pleased to see the shadow lift as he smiled.

  “There’s a key to the door on your key chain. You can watch Regatta. Perhaps it will jog your memory.”

  “But who runs the projection booth?”

  “You do, of course.” He caught her startled look and hurried to add, “Don’t worry. Tony can show you how it’s done.” He turned to the door. “It’s late now. Tomorrow will be soon enough, but I think it will be good for you to go through these things.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “This is exactly what I need.”

  * * *

  She asked Tony to show her the projection booth. He explained how to run the equipment and stood over her anxiously as he made her repeat his actions until they were both sure that she would be able to do it alone. On a rack against the wall, all of her films had been arranged chronologically, labeled in Colleen’s careful printing. The small kitchen fridge held bottled water and diet soda. Betsy brought her platters of fruit and cheese. Over the next several weeks, Jen divided her days between office and screening room.

  Sitting in the darkened room, she could feel the spray of waves on her face and the motion of the water under her as she watched the sailing segments in Regatta. The well-remembered gesture of concentration was there in two close-ups. She had been only one of several supporting actors to the leads, but her extraordinary talent had shone in each of her scenes.

  It was strange to watch her expressions, listen to her voice, see her move, and Jen felt again that sense of being split in two – she on the screen and she as observer. Every evening after dinner she reviewed a different movie, reading through each related scrapbook in turn. She also watched the films that SailingStar had made, running them numerous times, studying first the interaction of the characters, then the director’s style of scene progression, then the lighting and sound.

  And daily in the office, she grew more comfortable with the mountains of work that only she could handle although there was always a feeling of panic when she had to talk to a stranger she was supposed to have known for months if not years. Tony and Colleen helped her whenever they could and insisted that she leave the office early each day to rest before dinner.

  The day after she had watched Regatta, she was lying on a deck chair by the pool, warm and drowsy in the afternoon sun. She pulled a broad-brimmed hat down to shade her face and dozed off.

  She was driving the Jaguar, struggling to keep it on the road … pulling the wheel to the left … suddenly there was no response … she had no control as the car spun …

  She woke with a cry, the accident terrifyingly vivid in her mind.

  “Miss Colson, is something wrong?”

  Looking up, she saw a young man standing among the boxwood shrubs. His long brown hair was tied back at the nape of his neck and he was holding a set of pruning shears.

  “No, I’m fine,” she said with a shaky laugh. “You’re Luke.”

  “Yes, ma’am, and I’m mighty pleased to be working here. I’ve only seen one of your pictures, but
I sure did enjoy it.”

  Jen was tempted to tell him that she had seen only one of them herself but asked instead how he was settling in. He went back to work on the bushes, and they talked quietly until Tony came out onto the terrace.

  “Hey, Luke,” he called. “Have you seen Miguel? Miss Colson’s car is ready. I need him to go with me.”

  “He’s gone with Mr. Gonzales to pick up supplies. I’m sorry, Mr. Manelli, they just left.”

  “Damn.”

  “Luke can go with you, Tony.”

  “Yes, sir. It’ll only take me a minute to get cleaned up.”

  “Okay, I’ll drive the Jag back and you can follow in my car. Hurry up.”

  Luke went off with Tony, and Jen sat staring out over the pool thinking about the accident. The car had swerved on the wet road and she remembered that the wheel had felt wrong. It had wobbled and shaken under her hands when she pulled left. After she’d hit the truck, the shimmy was gone entirely but again only to the left. There was no way now that she could ask to have the wreck examined without making it obvious that she suspected something. Too much time had passed. And even if the car had not already been scrapped, she doubted that an examination could prove anything conclusively. From what Tony had said, the Jaguar had been badly damaged.

  She closed her eyes, remembering. The left front fender had hit the truck, then had smashed into the guardrail, and finally the driver’s side had struck the pole. She shivered and rubbed her shoulder as she opened her eyes again.

  The impacts would probably have destroyed any evidence of tampering, but she was sure that something had been done to the car, deliberately. Someone wanted her to die but wasn’t willing to use a gun or a club. Apparently, a murder investigation would be too dangerous. Whoever it was wasn’t planning to simply kill her, at least not yet.

  * * *

  Two days later, she met Aaron Klinger.

  Tony, Colleen and she had decided that he would have to know the truth about her memory loss. There were complicated financial issues that only he could explain and numerous meetings that he would have to help her through. Colleen had pulled his resume out of her personnel files and Jen had studied it carefully, impressed with his credentials: CPA, MBA, advanced courses in contract law and theater management, twenty years of progressively responsible positions in the industry. He had done backstage and technical theater in college and although his work experience had been primarily financial for several large studios, he had been involved to a limited extent on the creative side as well. Tony was just hanging up the phone when Jen finished reading and pointed to the pages.

  “With a background like this, why did Aaron choose to work for me?”

  “He not only jumped at the chance, but also took a cut in pay to come over to SailingStar. Said he wanted to work with a new company where he could be in on the decision-making processes from the ground up. He’s a money wizard and he’s done a great job for us, but lately he hasn’t been so happy.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, now that he’s got a staff of assistants, he wants to spend more of his time working with you. When he came on board, he agreed to take care of the accounting stuff if you’d give him the opportunity to stretch his creative wings a little.”

  “But I haven’t?”

  Tony shrugged. “And we’re going to need him on the financial side even more for a while. He’s not going to be any happier any time soon, I’m afraid.”

  Jen sat thinking about Aaron and what Tony had said. Then she asked casually, “Has SailingStar done all right during this time when I haven’t been able to stay on top of things? I mean, if I did three outside movies in a row and had to be away for, say, a year or more, would SailingStar fall apart?”

  Tony grinned at her. “You plannin’ something I don’t know about?”

  “No, no, I was just wondering. I guess I’m more worried about the company than I might appear to be.”

  He considered her question. “If you’d asked me that eight, ten months ago, I’d have said we couldn’t possibly do without you, but our last movie put us over the hump and SailingStar has taken on a life of its own. We’ve got a great bunch of people who really know what they’re doing; directors and actors want to work with us; and Aaron would cover for you while you were gone.”

  “Do you think he could manage?”

  “Yeah. It might be a little rocky at first, but there isn’t anyone sharper than Aaron.” Then he laughed. “And that guy sure loves making movies!”

  He arrived that afternoon. A shiny black BMW pulled up to the end of the garage and Colleen called down the room. “Here’s Aaron.”

  Jen saw a slim man in his early forties wearing a three-piece black suit and carrying a black leather attaché case and black computer bag. The natural wave of his black hair had been subdued into a crisp, conservative style and as he walked up the path, his somewhat craggy face was serious but broke into a smile as he came through the door.

  “Jennette! It seems like a year since I’ve seen you, how are you feeling? Hi, guys,” he waved at Tony and Colleen, “have you got those figures ready for me?”

  He dumped his bags on his desk and Jen saw that the light flecks of grey in his hair were matched by the finest of grey pinstripes in his suit. From head to toe, he looked like everyone’s idea of a successful stockbroker but as he turned to walk toward her, the sun glinted from a tiny diamond stud in his left ear. It was the only indication of personality and depth beyond the obvious. She rose as he reached to give her a hug. He was taller than Tony, not as tall as David but about the same age. His black eyes smiled down at her and she thought that he had perhaps built his whole image around those eyes.

  “Are we ready, Jennette? I have a lot to report to you regarding the people I met with on my trip.”

  “Uh, Aaron,” said Tony, “I think we’d better sit down. There’s something we’ve got to tell you first.”

  They sat around the table by the window and Jen let Tony and Colleen explain what had happened to her and how they’d been coping while he’d been away. She watched his face as the extent of the problem hit him. The shocked look lasted only a moment and he said very little, but she could see the wheels turning in his head. Tony had been right. He was sharp and smart. He quickly fitted the startling reality of her amnesia into the complex work of the company and immediately saw its, for him unpleasant, ramifications.

  “I had hoped that while you were recuperating, you’d honor the bargain we made three years ago.”

  “Aaron, I –”

  Tony cut in. “We’re gonna need you to do what you do best.”

  But Aaron was still looking at her. “Jennette?”

  “At least for a while.” She saw his lips tighten and a brief flash of anger lit his dark eyes before his face was under control and he smiled at the others.

  “Then let’s get to it,” he said, standing to bring his cases to the table.

  * * *

  Jen was in her mirrored dressing room smiling at her reflection, seeing all the freckles across her cheeks for the first time in days. She had studied most of the films and, except for doctors’ appointments, hadn’t left the estate the entire time. But the previous afternoon, Dr. Smith had finally pronounced her well enough to remove the brace across her nose and had given her a few last instructions for the next several weeks. Then he’d added with a grin, “Just take it easy, nothing really strenuous, and definitely no boxing!” He had been pleased with his work and so was she.

  It was Jennette’s face in the mirror. Her face. She smiled and fluffed up her hair, the feeling of being two different people almost gone. Humming a little tune, she finished dressing and went down to breakfast.

  David was serving Anna as Jen came in.

  “Good morning, Mother,” she said. “You look really pretty.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart, it must be because you can see my whole face without the bandage.”

  “David glanced up at her. “Oh, the brac
e is gone. You do look better than you did.”

  Jen filled a plate at the sideboard thinking with wounded vanity that if that was meant to be a compliment, he could take a few lessons from his daughter. As she settled into a chair, David was getting his own breakfast.

  “Mother is going to San Francisco to visit friends next weekend and while she’s gone, we’re all going down to Danielle’s in Santa Barbara.”

  “But I’ve so much to do in the office.”

  He sat down at the end of the table and took a sip of juice. “We’ll only be there four days, and Danni is used to your bringing work with you. If your people need to be there as well, she’ll let you use the upstairs study as she always does. I’d appreciate it if you’d spend some time reading through the papers that Tony rather officiously returned to me in the hospital. They’re in my office,” he pointed through the door. “We have got to be prepared for the board meeting. I’ll be gone Wednesday night and won’t return until late Thursday afternoon, but Miguel will drive Mother to the airport. Please be ready to leave as soon as I get back.”

  His voice was cool and business-like. He had arranged it all, anticipating no real objection from her and if she hadn’t been curious about his unknown sister, she’d have flatly refused simply to upset his plans. They finished the meal in silence.

  * * *

  David left early on Wednesday. Jen spent the morning in her office, but Tony wasn’t there and when Colleen had to leave for the sound stage, she decided that an entire afternoon off would be a nice treat. She was climbing the stairs to change for a swim when she remembered that she hadn’t thought once about David’s papers since he’d mentioned them days ago. With a little moue of distaste, she went back down to get the case and carried it up to her room.

  Sitting at the table by the window, she spread the papers out to see what was there. The hand-written agenda for the board meeting indicated that representatives from most of the subsidiaries would be attending to report on their operations. References had been made to several contracts that would need approvals and she sorted them out into a pile, glancing at them one by one. Two were in Spanish, and she was contemplating the daunting task of pulling some meaning out of the complicated foreign terms when she was relieved to find translations attached. The legalese in English was bad enough.