Ian was silent as he pulled on his coat.
“And Kellen’s obviously a bit unstable, like her mother was,” Lilith said. “She’s capable of anything. I’m just warning you that you should watch out.”
Ian glanced back at the dining room. When he turned back to face Lilith, she was smiling.
“Maybe you should start being nicer to Tyler,” she said. “He needs the guidance of a big brother right now. And someday you might need him.”
Ian stared at her. “You amaze me sometimes.”
She went to the door. “I’m only looking out for your future. I’m your mother, after all.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
It was about four in the morning when Kellen, Stephen, Clark and Tyler made their way toward Twin Peaks, the hills behind the Haight. The light was seeping over the horizon, and a cool moist fog caressed their faces as they climbed the hill. It was quiet, except for the soft thud of footsteps.
Slowly, figures began to emerge from the swirling mist, and soon the grassy hillside was dotted with people, sitting quietly in small groups, wrapped in blankets. Hundreds more were still coming -- men carrying flags and babies, girls in shawls with flowers in their long hair.
Kellen paused to survey the eerie scene then Tyler tugged at her hand, pulling her upward. Near the top of the hill, they sat down. The crowd began to stir, softly chanting and singing. No one seemed to know where the sun was supposed to come up exactly. Then, a young man in a flowing robe stood up and pointed to a soft glow, low in the opalescent sky.
“Get bright, get bright,” he chanted softly.
The crowd took up the chant. Bells tinkled and smoke bombs made puffs of dull color in the grayness. The air smelled of incense and wet grass. Every sound, sight, and smell was diffused by the swirling fog as if it were some strange, atmospheric dream. Then, suddenly, it was over. The sun was a smudge of pale yellow and people started back down the hill.
“That was beautiful,” Kellen said as they walked.
“Fascinating,” Clark said.
“Strange,” Stephen said.
They paused at a corner. The crowd was wandering toward Golden Gate Park. “C’mon, let’s go,” Tyler said to Kellen.
“Where?”
“The park. The celebration’s just starting.”
“Not me,” Clark said. “I need some sleep.”
They said goodbye to Clark and went off to the park. Tyler and Kellen were walking along side by side, so Stephen hung back slightly, giving them time alone.
They paused to wait for a light to change. Kellen was silent, taking in the strange little shops and the bizarrely dressed people.
“This makes you nervous, doesn’t it,” Tyler said.
Kellen glanced at him then nodded.
“So why’d you let me come?”
“I didn’t have a choice, really. If you want to, you’ll come here behind my back. But I’m hoping you won’t. I have to trust you, Tyler. And you have to trust me when I tell you I care about what happens to you.”
“Don’t worry,” Tyler said. “No more drugs. Only losers do that shit. I’m too smart.”
Kellen found his bravado poignant. “Anyone would have been scared by what happened.”
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 butterfly 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 butterfly 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 gest
ure 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 —-”
“God, Stephen, if this is just because you’re jealous —-”
“I have a friend at the Wall Street Journal who’s been assigned 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 God’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 space.”
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?”
“I liked it the moment I saw it. I like being able to sit over here and look at the city.” He smiled. “Makes me feel as if it’s mine, like owning a great painting.”
“But why are you here?” she asked.
“I like San Francisco. I told you that before.” He looked puzzled. “Kellen, what’s wrong?”
She took a breath. “Are you here because you want to buy my newspapers?”
If the question surprised him, Garrett didn’t show it. “Who told you that?” he asked after a moment.
“That’s not important.”
Garrett leaned back in his chair. He looked away and when he didn’t say anything else she turned from him. She watched a gull hover in the air and dip down toward the water below. She turned back to face him.
“Don’t lie to me, Garrett,” she said.
“I’m here because of you,” he said.
“And the newspapers have nothing to do with it?”
He got up and came to her, but when she took a step back from him, he stopped.
“All right,” he said quietly. “They did. In the beginning.”
“Oh, God,” she said.
“But you’ve got to believe me, Kellen. That changed.”
She waited, her eyes narrowed with anger and hurt.
“When we were in Paris,” he went on, “you told me nothing about your family. It was only after I tried to find you that I found out about your father’s newspapers. After he died, after you left Paris, I heard that your family was having problems running things. I researched the situation and determined it would be a likely purchase candidate. I assumed your family might be willing to sell. And when I talked to your brother, he said he was interested.”
“You talked to Ian? Behind my back?�
�
“Yes, we had one telephone conversation, before I set foot in San Francisco. Before you and I saw each other again. I was told he was the head of the corporation and made all decisions.”
“So then you came here, figuring you could coax dumb little Kellen into selling. All you had to do was get her into bed, right?”
“Kellen, stop it,” Garrett said. “I won’t deny that I came here prepared to buy the newspapers. But I also wanted to see you again. I didn’t know then that Ian was in no position to speak for you. I didn’t know then what the newspapers meant to you, how strongly you felt about not selling.” He paused. “And I had no idea either that you and I would ever —-”
“So what about now?” she interrupted. “Why are you still here? Do you still want the newspapers?”
A sudden gust of wind sent the newspaper fluttering across the deck. Garrett looked at them and then at Kellen, standing before him, her red hair and his white robe billowing around her, her face pale with anger. The image clicked in his mind like a snapshot, as if his memory were already storing it away.
“Kellen, I want you to listen to me for a moment,” he said softly. “I know what your brother has done already to this corporation. If he keeps it up, he’ll ruin it. Believe me, Kellen, the only way you can preserve it is to sell it.”
“Sell it? To you?” Kellen said. “You expect me to hand over what my father spent his life building and watch you trash it?”
“It doesn’t have to be like that. Think about this. You wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore. I could turn things around. And we could —-”
“No!” she said. “There’s no we anymore!”
Garrett started toward her.
“Don’t touch me!” she said, taking a step back.
“Kellen, please —-”
She backed away, toward the door. “It’s over,” she said.
She ran inside.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
During the week that followed, Kellen refused Garrett’s calls, and finally they stopped. After two weeks, she learned that Garrett had closed the house in Tiburon and gone to Toronto. The news left her saddened yet relieved. She was emotionally spent, as if an electric current, which had vibrated throughout her body for months, had suddenly been switched off.
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