A Dizzying Balance

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A Dizzying Balance Page 10

by Harriet E Rich


  Anna was looking at her anxiously. “Does that mean yes, Mommy?”

  “Yes, munchkin,” Rick chuckled. “That means yes.”

  “But Ellen will pick you up after school and help you pack. Daddy will be home this afternoon to take us down to Santa Barbara tonight.”

  When Rick had driven the Jeep out of the garage, he waved for Jen to sit in the seat beside him, but seeing Anna’s disappointed face, she shook her head.

  “Anna must ride shotgun for you. I can have the front seat on the way home.”

  It was a good thing that he didn’t need directions because she hadn’t any idea where the school was. She watched from the back as Anna bounced up and down against the seat belt, the wind blowing her long hair into tangles around her delighted face. Rick pulled into the drive, in front of the school, and Jen climbed out to help Anna with the belt.

  “You look like a blonde tornado and I haven’t a comb with me,” she laughed, trying to smooth out the worst of the tangles. Anna waved and they watched as she hurried through the doorway.

  Sitting in the front seat, Jen understood the little girl’s enjoyment of being out in the open with the wind in her hair, and she smiled when he said, “You look like a red tornado with green-gold eyes.”

  They drove in through the gates but rather than continuing up the driveway, he turned to the right onto a grassy lane she hadn’t seen before. It was dark under the trees with a lovely breeze and the sun shone through the branches, dappling the ground with shining golden coins of light.

  “This was the old dirt road years ago,” he said, “but when they cut the paved road out of the hillside, it wasn’t needed and became part of the estate when the wall was built.”

  “The wall was built on public land?”

  “My great-grandfather was a powerful force in those days. The county officials didn’t want to risk his wrath by objecting to his rather high-handed behavior.”

  They drove along the wall until the lane stopped where the wall bent to the left. But inside the wall, a rough dirt track also turned upward. The Jeep skidded as Rick guided it through the ruts and they began to climb. Almost immediately, they emerged from the woods and were out in the open following the curve of the hill. When the wall ended, Jen looked down to see the switchbacks of the main road far below her. It was much warmer in the sun, but the breeze was stronger here and she relaxed, enjoying its coolness.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “You’ll see,” was all he would say.

  “Are you kidnapping me?” she joked, but his face was serious.

  “I would if I could,” he murmured. Sensing her stiff withdrawal, he added quickly, “No, I won’t spoil the day by trying anything,” he glanced over. “I might get my face slapped again.”

  “You might at that, Mr. Jameson,” she agreed curtly but she relaxed again.

  The narrow dirt road steepened, then broadened out to end in a flat space high up the hill. Rick swung the Jeep around and stopped so that she could see the view. Like folds of a brown-green tapestry, the hills and valleys dropped away to a misty blue haze far below.

  “It’s marvelous!” she cried.

  “Yes. You can’t see the ocean from here, but you can tell it’s there.”

  Looking to her right and down through the treetops, she saw the roof of the house with the front field and pond beyond it. “I had no idea the estate was this big.”

  He turned off the motor. “Let’s go.”

  “There’s more?”

  Helping her out, he waved toward the hill behind them. “It’s not as grand as the view,” he shook his head, “not grand at all, but I want to show it to you.” There was a trail at the end of the overlook that climbed the wooded slope and he guided her upward. They came out between the trees onto a path. “This path follows the crest of the hill. Actually, it’s a kind of saddle between two higher hills. That one,” he pointed off to the left, “is quite a distance away. The path goes up along the tree line directly behind the house, but we’re going to the right.”

  They turned down the path. The flat top of the saddle was wide where the trail had ended, then split into two arms of land, the narrower one branching outward and down the far side of the hill, the other forming the remainder of the crest with the path along it. Between the arms was a deep ravine and above the trees, Jen could see the top of a high hill beyond. They rounded a slight bend in the path, and she stopped. “A house!”

  “Not much of a house,” said Rick. “Just a small studio that used to be my father’s. No one has used it for years, not since he died, and there’s nothing in it now, but I like to come up here whenever I’m home.” It was a small cantilevered house that had been built on the edge of the hillside looking down over the deep gorge. They left the path and walked across a wide stretch of grass.

  “Can we go in?” Jen asked.

  “It’s wouldn’t be a good idea, but I can show you.” He selected an old, worn key from his key chain and unlocked the door. Swinging it open, he moved aside so she could see. There was only one large room. The wall looking over the ravine and the top halves of both sides were open the sky, and it was empty except for dirt, leaves and the accumulated evidence that numerous birds had used it for shelter. “There used to be huge plate glass windows ‘to bring the outside in’ my father would say. He never tired of looking at the view of the hills off in the distance.”

  “It must have been a delightful place to work. Bright and quiet and peaceful. What kind of work did he do?”

  “He was the chief architect for Kenting Industries. He built this studio because he said that no one with any claim to artistic ability could work with other people bustling around them. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize he was right, hence my studio in Mexico.”

  “I know what you mean,” she murmured, lost in thought.

  “What?” He laughed and pulled her back from the doorway. “You love having people around you.”

  Jen came back to the present to defend herself with a smile. “I had the cabin … at least that’s what David told me. He said it was my hideaway.”

  “That’s true.” He pulled the door shut and turned the key. “We keep it locked so no one can wander in.”

  Jen saw that the earth to the right of the studio had eroded away. “What a shame.”

  “Yes, it’s been happening slowly for years. Let’s sit for a while.” He led her back to the other side of the path and down a little further to a sturdy wooden bench. “It’s old,” he said, dusting it off with his hand, “but it’ll hold us. I often sit here sketching or planning my next sculpture.”

  “Or maybe just sitting?”

  “Guilty,” he grinned.

  “You grew up here? I know it seems absurd for me to be asking,” she said helplessly, “but I only know what Brad, David and Adelia have told me about the early Kentings.”

  “Are you sure you want to know? It’s ancient history and dry as dust.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure.”

  “Okay,” he smiled, “you asked for it. My grandfather, Dennis, was Donald’s only child. But Dennis had two children – David’s father, Daniel, and my mother, Judith. Mom met Dad when he first started working for the company; they fell in love, got married and had two kids – my older brother, Robert, and yours truly,” he doffed an imaginary hat. “Daniel had already married Adelia and David had been born. Robert and Danielle were born almost on the same day. Then I came along two years later, and we all lived here together.

  “It was great fun when we were small, and even when we went off to school, we still had holidays and summers here. And we’d spend time down in Santa Barbara whenever our dads could get away from the business. Danielle and her family live in the house we had there on the water.

  “Uncle Dan loved to sail, and he taught us all, but in those days, Danielle hated it, so she had ballet classes. Grandmother was still alive then and didn’t care a fig about sailing, but she adored the ballet, t
he symphony, museums – and she was an accomplished painter. The conservatory was her studio and we’d work together. She’d sketch or paint while I’d fool around with a lump of clay or a block of wood.” He was silent for a moment, staring off over the far hills. “She died when I was fifteen.”

  “You miss her, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Much of what I know about art she taught me without my even realizing I was learning. They weren’t lessons. They were just special afternoons with someone I loved very much.”

  “It seems that you have inherited your grandmother’s artistic talent while David has your grandfather’s business acumen.”

  He put aside his sadness. “That’s right, and another generation took over the continuing saga of the Kenting family dynasty. When Grandfather died, he left the company to our parents, dividing up the stock with sixty per cent to David’s father and forty per cent to my mother.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair,” Jen put in.

  “No, but Mom and Dad understood. Mom had never worked in the company and although Dad was a key man in the firm at the time, he was still just an employee. Uncle Dan was the new president, its driving force, and Grandfather wanted control of the company to stay with him.”

  Jen was confused. “But if David now owns his father’s stock, why does he need my signature on all those documents? Wait, he can’t own it all. I have some.”

  “You’re right, but that came later. When Uncle Dan died, his will split up his stock giving five per cent to Adelia and ten per cent to Danielle –”

  “David originally got forty-five per cent?”

  “Yes, but when Anna was born, he gave you a third of his share as a gift.”

  She nodded. “I see. I had fifteen per cent and David only thirty.”

  “You’re very good at arithmetic,” he said admiringly.

  “Hush,” she laughed, “let me think.” She was mentally reviewing the documents David had given her. “I’ve read through some papers recently. Apparently, I created a trust for Anna when I started my production company. The trust papers say that I put some of my stock into it for her. I’ve only got nine per cent left in my own name.”

  “That’s true. David’s got thirty, you’ve got nine, the trust has six ….” She could see that he was doing some rapid calculating.

  “Your arithmetic’s pretty good, too,” she said sweetly.

  “Touché,” he grinned. Then he asked suddenly, “Exactly how is Anna’s stock voted? The trust has got to be the key, but I’ve never read the document.”

  She stopped to remember. “Under its terms, Brad and I are co-trustees. If we can’t agree, then the stock can’t be voted.”

  “That’s it! I knew there had to be something. This is the first issue that’s arisen in the three years of the trust where there’s been a dispute. Until now, voting the shares in the trust hasn’t caused a problem. Don’t you see? Even with only nine per cent, you’ve still got the swing vote.”

  “You lost me.” She looked at him, confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “You knew all about it before the accident, but you’ve forgotten.” He stood up. “Let’s go. I’ll explain it on the way back.” They walked together up the path to the trail as he talked. “Before Mom re-married, she gave Rob half of her stock and I got the other half, so between us we control forty per cent of Kenting Industries. But, neither of us has ever been interested in the business, and we’ve never much interfered with David’s decisions – until now.

  “My brother is an even stronger environmentalist than Dad was, and he is adamantly opposed to David’s plan to clear-cut the land up in Grass Valley. When Rob explained it to me and asked for my support, I agreed, definitely. The two of us have had some pretty heated long-distance discussions with David and Brad about it. If you vote your nine per cent with David, he has a solid majority, and he wins. If you vote with us, we’ve only got forty-nine per cent, but if Anna’s stock isn’t voted, then forty-nine is enough.”

  “My head is spinning,” Jen said in despair. “It’s too complicated, and I guess my arithmetic isn’t as good as you thought.”

  He laughed. “Poor Jen! Just think of it this way: David only controls forty-five per cent of the shares. His, Adelia’s and Danielle’s combined. If Anna’s stock can’t count and you vote with us, forty-nine trumps forty-five and the land is safe.”

  Jen began to nod. “A glimmer, a faint glimmer, is making its way through my feeble brain. Now I understand why David was so upset.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “At dinner on my first night back from the hospital, he was telling me about the project, and I said something like ‘Don’t you think it’s wrong to cut down all the trees just to build another shopping mall?’”

  His shout of laughter rang down the hillside, startling a flock of birds into flight. “Not home a day and with amnesia to boot. What I wouldn’t give to have seen his face!”

  Chapter Ten

  She was sitting on the deck watching Anna and her cousins playing in the shallow water at the edge of the little beach below Danni’s house. Anna and Beth were running along the sand with the family’s two dachshunds, laughing as the dogs bounced on short legs through the foaming surf. The boys, older and more daring, were jumping from one end of the long T-shaped dock, climbing back up the ladder and jumping again. Trey tried a dive and Jen smiled. Dan had leapt high into the air, curled up, and landed in a cannonball not three feet from him as he broke the surface. She heard Trey’s indignant yell as he surged out of the water to duck his brother’s head under. They both came up laughing.

  Danni was dozing on the long reclining chair beside her. She lifted her hat, yelled, “Cut it out, you two,” and closed her eyes again.

  She had welcomed them all the evening before, reaching high to give David a kiss then down to hug Anna. She had smiled at Jen as well. Her eyes were the same blue as her brother’s but bright and happy.

  “Come in, come in. Sam will bring your bags and Thelma can put Anna’s things in Beth’s room. You’re just in time for steaks on the barbecue. Roger has a bar set up out back. We’ve only been waiting for you. How are you feeling, Jennette?”

  Before Jen could answer, she heard pounding on the stairs and the children erupted into the hallway.

  “Anna, we’ve been waiting ages for you!”

  “Hi, Uncle David.”

  “Hello, Aunt Jennette.”

  “Come and see the dogs, Anna.”

  “We’ve got a new puppy –”

  “– but she’s not house-broken, yet.”

  “Do we have to have hamburgers, Mom?”

  “Yeah, we want steak.”

  “Silence, you young hellions!” And the noise stopped with a thud. A smiling man in his forties had come up behind them carrying a drink. “You will eat hamburger and like it. The puppy needs a walk. Go!” He pointed and the children went off together, laughing and telling Anna about a new game they had.

  “Roger, you’ve started without us,” Danielle said, taking a sip from his drink.

  He shook hands with David and gave Jen a light kiss on the cheek. “I learned a long time ago not to wait for these two because they’re always late. Let’s go, I’m starved.”

  While the two men stood talking over the grill, she and Danielle settled into cushioned chairs on the deck.

  “David told us about your amnesia, but the children don’t know so you’ll have to watch what you say. Let me give you the line-up: the oldest is eleven. Roger Ackerman the Third, but we call him Trey. Dan is nine, and Beth just turned five. You were pregnant with Anna when she was born. Will you be having a party next week?”

  “A party?”

  “For Anna’s birthday.”

  “Danielle, I –”

  “No, that’s not right. Everybody but Mother calls me Danni.”

  “Danni. I know it sounds strange, but I don’t know Anna’s birthday.”

  “You really have forgotten a lot, haven’t
you. It’s a week from tomorrow.”

  “Then we’ll definitely have a party.”

  “Good. You let us know what time and we’ll all be there.” Then a shadow crossed her face and she lowered her voice. “I’ve put you in the blue room, but I can have your things moved to David’s room if ….”

  Jen shook her head. “Things are still not good. Worse since the accident.”

  “Well, don’t worry. You two will work it out. Hey, you guys,” she called, “we could die of thirst while you’re busy talking high finance.”

  “Comin’ right up,” Roger called back and Danni lowered her voice again. “He’s the best damned investment banker that ever walked the earth, but don’t you dare tell him I said so.” And Jen laughed, the uncomfortable question of separate bedrooms behind her. She asked Danni about the children, listening with amusement to her motherly complaints of pranks they had pulled and schoolwork and the dentist’s recent threat of braces for Trey.

  Jen was gazing out over the ocean at the last of the sunset streaks when Danni said, “Rick’s in town for the board meeting. Have you seen him yet?”

  She nodded as the colors faded to gray. “He was at the estate yesterday, but he’d left by the time David got back.”

  “He called and said he had some things to do tonight to get ready for the Museum benefit. He’ll be here tomorrow evening for dinner and the weekend.”

  “Museum benefit?” Jen asked.

  David came over with fresh drinks for them and Roger set a platter of steaks and burgers on the long table. “Danni’s pet charity,” he said with a grin. “Every year at this time, she organizes a huge fund-raiser and invites the wealthiest philanthropists in town.”

  “In the entire state is more like it,” Danni admitted. “It’s a small private museum that has some amazingly fine paintings as well as several excellent sculptures. If my grandmother hadn’t started these benefits, it would have had to close its doors long ago. I’m just continuing her work. And you’d better have your checkbook ready, because that’s what it’s all about.”

 

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