A Dizzying Balance

by Harriet E Rich

  A folder marked Status of Current Projects and one entitled Proposed Ventures had been clipped together with a note that read --- Please familiarize yourself with these updates ---. One was on the expansions to the hardwood mill in Oregon, and she read through it with interest.

  She had left the group of papers on the Grass Valley project until last, then lifting it from the case, she found a slim document beneath. The name Jennifer Anna Kenting caught her eye and she set the much thicker stack aside.

  Flipping quickly through the few pages, she discovered that she had created a trust for her daughter three years previously at the time she’d begun SailingStar. Papers clipped behind the formal pages indicated that the current assets of the trust consisted of six per cent of the total shares of Kenting Industries as well as a significant amount of cash in the form of bonds and other securities. A confidential memo indicated that the fund had been set up with the intention of shielding the Kenting stock in the event her company encountered serious financial difficulties. She’d contributed the assets from her own holdings and Anna was the beneficiary.

  The last sheet attached was a formal addendum to the trust with spaces at the bottom for the signatures of the two co-trustees. On one line was signed the name Bradford Stevens, but the other, ready for her signature, was still blank. Recalling the conversation that she had overheard between David and Brad, she read carefully through the trust papers again, then put the packet back into the case.

  Picking up the Grass Valley project, she arranged the pillows comfortably and sat on the bed to spend the next three hours wading through the heavy file of documents, plans, photos and budget proposals. The sun was low enough in the sky to send light streaming through the window by the table, shining on the painting across the room. With a sigh of relief, she turned the last page and wearily rubbed the back of her neck. Then, feeling virtuous for having dedicated her free afternoon to David’s business concerns, she decided to invite Anna and Ellen for a walk down by the pond to let the fresh air blow the dusty commercial cobwebs from her mind.

  * * *

  With David away for the night, Adelia and she had dined alone. They had said very little until Jen, feeling the need to break the lengthening silence, asked her if she’d been involved with Kenting Industries when David’s father had been alive. At first, Adelia gave only a brief summary of her husband’s work but when she sensed that Jen seemed sincerely interested, she unbent a little and described how Daniel and she had worked together building the company, choosing projects, developing financial contacts, and attracting new clients.

  As there were no guests to entertain, Adelia asked Thelma to serve the coffee at the table and they sat together for quite a while as she reminisced, prompted by Jen’s occasional questions. When she finished, she spoke without smiling but with a little nod.

  “You have been a surprisingly good listener this evening, Jennette.”

  “Everything I can learn about your life here in the past will help me to understand the present, and it’s all been fascinating.”

  “I don’t often have the chance to talk about ‘the old days’ as they say. It’s brought back a lot of pleasant memories, but I think it is time that I went upstairs.”

  Jen moved to pull out her chair. “Shall I help you to the elevator?”

  “No, I can manage.” She turned at the doorway and looked back with just the hint of a smile. “Good night, Jennette.”

  “Good night, Adelia. Rest well.”

  When the older woman had gone, Jen was also going to go up, then realized that as late as it was, she wasn’t tired. Crossing the entryway, she walked slowly down the long curve of the living room, snapping off the lights as she went. The conservatory beyond the living room at the end of the wing was one of her favorite places in the house. It was always quiet, rarely used by anyone but her, crowded with potted plants of all types and sizes. Comfortably cushioned white wicker furniture had been placed among the greenery in small groupings across the red-tiled floor. A pair of glass doors separated it from the living room and another pair, set in a wall of glass at the end, led out onto the terrace.

  Conservatory was perhaps too elegant a word for the small room. Jen had decided that sunroom fitted it better when she’d discovered it one lovely afternoon not long after her surgery. She had pulled a chair into the opened doorway to sit alone for several hours enjoying the warmth of the western sun and the delicate fragrance of camellias.

  She set the first pair of doors ajar, crossed the darkened room and opened the others to stand beyond the threshold looking out over the balustrade to the moonlit pond below. A light breeze rippled its surface into shimmering silvery points that danced and shone more brightly as the water lapped against the dock. She drank in the soft night air surrounded by the rich smell of moist earthy plants. Deep in thought, she heard no sound behind her but felt warm hands on her shoulders as a shadow fell across the flagstones. David …? She turned and his lips came down to cover hers. Gentle fingers caressed her neck and for one brief moment, she yielded to the passion of his kiss. Then she stiffened. This isn’t right … it can’t be David. She pushed away from him and stepped back. He was a complete stranger. Her hand came up and she slapped him hard across the face. Without waiting for his reaction, she moved quickly around him, and picking up her long skirts, she ran through the sunroom and down the curve of the living room. He was behind her in the dark and she was only halfway to the hall when he caught her arm.

  “Let me go or I’ll scream,” she struggled in his grip. “I’m not alone … people will hear me … how did you get in? Let me go!”

  She tried to push him away but tripped on the hem of her gown. They fell together and he came down heavily on top of her, trapping her arms under him, his fingers digging into her shoulders.

  “Let me go!” she cried, and had opened her mouth to scream, when he shook her.

  “Jennette, stop this! If Aunt Adelia hears you, she’ll murder us both.”

  With her mouth still open, she lay still, looking up at him in shock. Aunt Adelia?

  Chapter Nine

  His face was very close as he murmured, “You are so beautiful.” He had taken her stillness for acquiescence and his hand moved to stroke her hair. But she began to struggle, very aware of the weight of his body along the length of hers.

  “If you kiss me again, I shall scream. Let me up.”

  He just laughed softly. “But I like lying here with you. It’s not a sun-drenched beach in Cancún, but the rug is soft and the moonlight so bright I can almost see the color of your lovely eyes.”

  “Don’t … please stop. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you?”

  His lips whispered against her ear. “Simply a man who has loved you from the moment he saw you walking down the aisle to marry not him but his cousin.”

  David’s cousin? If Adelia was his aunt, he must be. “But no one told me David has a cousin!”

  She had startled him, and he lifted his head suddenly, shifting his weight just enough for her to wiggle out from under him. He leapt lightly to his feet as she stood and turned her back. She didn’t want him to see how shaken she was. He had been confident of an intimate reception from his cousin’s wife and she had no idea why. He was too close and the room too dark. She hurried to turn on a lamp, putting distance between them before she faced him.

  The family resemblance was striking. In a crowd, she would have known they were related but he was younger with an easy, casual set to his shoulders. Where David was blond, his brown hair had merely golden highlights, and while David’s light blue eyes gave little of himself away, his were a warm tawny brown. Although those eyes were serious now, she saw laughter lurking in their depths. He took a step toward her, but she held up her hand.

  “Stay right there. I don’t know who you are, David’s cousin or not.”

  “Well, I am his cousin but if you’re going to require proof after all these years,” he grinned, “I’ll have to find
my birth certificate –”

  “Please –”

  “– since it has my mother’s maiden name on it, of course.”

  “– don’t joke. I was in a car accident and have amnesia.”

  “I know. The Mexican press does occasionally report on state-side events, and the famous Jennette Colson made the news even in my small town.”

  “Is that all you know? What you’ve read in the papers? Hasn’t David or anyone in the family talked to you?”

  “No, why should they? Besides, I’ve been mountain-climbing in South America with my brother for the last several weeks.” He was puzzled. “But you know that, Jen. We talked about it in Cancún last March. I told you I was going to visit Rob.”

  Cancún in March? She shook her head. “You don’t understand. The reporters were given only a small piece of the truth. I lost more than a few weeks in that accident. I lost thirteen years.”

  The impact of her words drove the laughter from his eyes. “Thirteen years?”

  “My career, David, Anna – practically my whole adult life.”

  “It doesn’t seem possible.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve forgotten everything?”

  “Yes.” Her knees were trembling.

  Rubbing his cheek, he gave her a rueful look. “No wonder you slapped me.” But as she swayed, he stepped quickly to put his arm around her waist. “Hey, easy now, you could do with a drink. Come on.” He walked with her through the living room, picked up the brandy, and continued into the hall.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To raid the kitchen. Something tells me this isn’t a story to hear on an empty stomach.”

  “But I’ve eaten.”

  “Well, I haven’t. Let’s go.”

  She’d only been in the kitchen a few times, but he was clearly at home. Pouring from the cut-crystal decanter into two jelly glasses, he handed her one and took a healthy swig from the other. “Brandy’s not meant for an empty stomach, either. Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

  “No, thanks, I’m fine.”

  “All right. You sit and talk while I put something together for me.”

  She sat at a small table by the window and told him about the accident, about waking up in the hospital, about meeting each one of the people in her life as if for the first time. He was opening fridge and pantry, taking out plates and silver, building a man-sized roast beef sandwich with chips and pickles on the side. But she could tell that he was listening closely to everything she said.

  “So, you don’t remember me,” he said, “and you don’t remember David and Anna and your visiting me in Mexico in March?” She shook her head. “None of the visit?”

  “No, why?” He had turned away to close the pantry door and she couldn’t see his face.

  “Never mind, it’s not important now.” Across the table from her, he flipped a chair around to sit straddling it, taking a big bite out of his sandwich. “How have you been managing in the office if you’ve forgotten SailingStar?”

  While he ate, she sipped her brandy and slowly relaxed, talking about the last few weeks, describing how she had had to learn it all from scratch without letting anyone guess that she didn’t already know it.

  “Tony and Colleen have helped me over the rough spots, and there’ve been plenty of those,” she was nibbling on a handful of his chips, “but the two of them have been wonderful, explaining everything, jumping in for me when I needed it. I’m continually amazed at how much has been accomplished in so few years.”

  “You’ve put a lot of energy into it.”

  “We all have from what I’ve seen.” She took another handful of chips. “We have a new screenplay that we’re thinking seriously about doing.”

  “And how has David reacted to all this?”

  She couldn’t talk about David. “It’s been … difficult for him,” was all she said, picking up a pickle.

  “I thought you said you weren’t hungry?” He laughed, pulling his plate out from under her hand. Then reaching for a knife and more chips and pickles, he cut off a wedge of sandwich, divided the food, and laid the knife down the middle. “That’s yours,” he pointed. “No trespassing on my side or I’ll starve in my own house.”

  She took a bite of sandwich, her elbows on the table. “I thought you lived in Cancún.”

  “I do. I have a small gallery in the town and my house and studio are in a village nearby, but I come home whenever I can, usually for board meetings.”

  “You’re an artist?”

  “Sculptor. Stone, wood, clay. I’ve even done some metalwork, but I prefer the taking away process to the putting together.”

  “Yes, I see. Sensing the internal beauty of a piece and chipping or carving off everything that doesn’t belong.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Very nicely put.”

  “I think someone else said it before me.”

  He looked at her. “Although you’ve always liked my work, I never felt that you really understood what I do, the fascination of it, my …” he hesitated.

  “Your passion?” She dropped her eyes. “Maybe I was always too busy with my own creative work to think much about yours. If so, I apologize. Apparently, I’ve been rather single-minded about making movies.” Self-focused? Arrogant? She didn’t want to admit it, even to herself. “This roast beef is delicious,” she said with a smile. “You make a good sandwich.”

  “My huevos rancheros are much better, and my chili is world-class. I’m an excellent cook.”

  “And modest, too,” she grinned as she ate the last chip. “Thank you for the snack but it’s late and we can’t leave the kitchen like this.”

  He shook his head as he stood up. “You. On your feet and go to bed. It won’t take me a minute to clean up here and I still have to get my gear out of the car.”

  She started for the door, stopped and walked back to him. “I’ve talked with you for almost an hour and I still don’t know your name.”

  “Richard Nathaniel Jameson, at your service, ma’am, but my friends call me Rick.”

  She smiled up into his laughing eyes. “Good night, Rick.”

  * * *

  As Jen left her room the next morning, she heard Anna running down the side stairs.

  “Uncle Rick, you’re here!”

  “Hey, how’s my girl?”

  At the curve of the hallway, Jen paused to watch as Rick swung Anna up and around. He was standing on the bridge and settled her onto his hip as the child gave him a big hug. “Did you miss me, Rugrat?”

  “Uh huh, I’ve got a new drawing to show you. It’s a picture of my friend Timmy’s gerbil but it’s still at school. Miss Mulvey said it was very good and hung it on the wall and gave me a gold star.”

  “Congratulations, but I’m not surprised. Your drawings are always first-rate. How old are you now? Let me see … you’re twelve, right?”

  Anna giggled. “I’m five, Uncle Rick, or I will be soon on my birthday.”

  He slapped his forehead. “I knew there was some reason why I bought you that present.”

  “A present! What is it?”

  “Nope, you’ll have to wait.”

  He had set her down and they were moving out of sight when Jen came quietly up to the corner.

  “Will you do it, Uncle Rick, please? There’s no one around. Please?”

  “Okay, but don’t tell anyone or we’ll both get in trouble. Down the stairs with you.”

  Jen heard Anna’s feet on the wood floor below and peeked around just in time to see Rick sitting astride the banister. Swooping down, he reached the flat curve at the end and leapt nimbly into the air to land like a gymnast balanced on both feet a short distance from where Anna was standing. She was laughing delightedly and clapping her hands when she saw Jen. Her smile was gone in an instant.

  “Mother, I …”

  Rick turned quickly to see her at the head of the stairs.

  “Busted,” he smiled a little guiltily, “but I didn�
�t let Anna do it, so you mustn’t be angry with her.”

  “I’m not angry.” She was surprised. “In our home in Connecticut, I’d do the same thing but that was years ago.”

  “Did you? Then, I dare you.”

  “What?”

  “I dare you to do it.” He was standing, fists on hips, looking up at her with a devilish gleam. “I double-dare you.”

  She wasn’t about to let his challenge go unanswered. Hesitating for only a moment, she threw one leg over the banister, pushed off with the other foot, and let herself slide down the polished surface, gathering speed as she rounded the wide curve. Her landing wasn’t nearly as graceful as his had been, but she managed to stay on her feet as he reached to steady her. He was laughing, and Anna’s eyes were wide.

  “You did it, Mommy! You really did it!”

  Jen grinned at her. “Yes, I did, didn’t I? But you must promise me that you won’t try it. You’re still too little and the stairs are too high.”

  “I promise, and Uncle Rick made me promise, too. Not until I’m eight he said.”

  Jen reached to take her hand. “Eight will be just about right. How about some breakfast after all this athletic excitement?”

  As they ate, Rick and Anna talked about nursery school and drawing and Anna’s visit to his studio in Mexico. When Ellen came in, Anna turned to him. “Uncle Rick, could you take me to school today, please? Can we go in the Jeep?”

  “I think that can be arranged but on one condition,” he looked at Jen. “Will you go with us?”

  “That’s blackmail!”

  “Actually, it’s extortion,” he said with mock seriousness. “Blackmail is when –”

  “I know, I know,” she laughed.

  “Will you?”

  Jen gave in. “Backed into a corner, the lady yielded with a charming smile, gathering her dignity about her as an armored cloak.”