CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
Kellen stood at the window, watching the storm as it moved inland. The afternoon sky was heavy with gray clouds and green foaming waves crashed on the kelp-littered beach.
“Kellen? Is something wrong?”
She turned toward Garrett, who was building a fire. They had just arrived at the house in Carmel, and their bags still stood by the door. She clasped her arms around herself and shivered then turned back to look out the window.
“This’ll get rid of the chill in a moment,” Garrett said. He came over and wrapped his arms around her. “I think we’re in for a bad one,” he said, looking out at the ocean.
It began to rain, first just a few huge drops pelting the glass, then a steady beat.
“Garrett, Stephen knows,” Kellen said. “He’s moved out of the house.”
“How did he find out?”
She slipped out of Garrett’s arms and went over to the fire. “Apparently, it’s been no secret,” she said softly.
“But we were so careful. We were together only here and at my house.”
“It doesn’t matter now. It’s out in the open. Maybe it’s for the best. I just don’t want Sara and Ben to be hurt by this.”
“Do they know what’s happening with you and Stephen?”
She shook her head. “Stephen has been down in San Mateo so much lately that they haven’t questioned his absence. I have to tell them soon, before they hear lies from someone else.” She paused. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain.”
“They’ll be all right, Kellen,” he said. “Children are tougher than we think. They know you and Stephen love them. That’s all they need to get through this.”
He paused. “But I’m the last person to give you advice right now. I’m rather prejudiced about the outcome.”
She sat down on the sofa and looked up at Garrett. He had been so patient, letting her deal with Stephen in her own time. But now she knew she owed him something. He had a right to know where they stood. And he had a right to know about Sara. It was time to tell him.
A rush of emotion filled her. “I love you, Garrett,” she said softly.
For a moment, he just looked at her. But then he smiled. It was a smile unlike any she had seen from him before, not calculated to charm, not tinged with irony. Just a slowly unfolding expression of joy. Before he could say anything, the doorbell rang. They glanced at each other.
“Did you tell anyone you’d be here?” Kellen asked.
“No one,” Garrett said.
The bell rang again. Kellen rose and went to the door. She looked back at Garrett and he moved out of sight. She opened it, and her mouth fell open. It was Ian.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“You could at least ask me in from the rain,” Ian said.
“You’re not welcome here,” Kellen said.
“We have business to discuss.” He pushed by her and paused to take off his raincoat, tossing it on a chair. He picked up his briefcase and went into the living room.
Garrett looked at him in shock, and Ian gave him a sour smile. “Well, look who’s here. I was hoping you would be,” Ian said. “Makes the drive down here almost worth it.” He hoisted his briefcase onto a desk and snapped it open. “Poetic justice, you might say,” he added under his breath.
He pulled out a folder and tossed it on the sofa. He looked at Kellen. “Some papers for you to sign,” he said.
With a glance at Garrett, Kellen picked up the folder. She opened it slowly and began to read.
“Just sign it,” Ian said, staring at Garrett.
Kellen looked up, first at Ian, then at Garrett. “This is a purchase agreement,” she said. “From Richardson Newspapers Ltd. to buy out the Bryant Newspaper Corporation.”
“What?” Garrett said. “Let me see that.”
Kellen made no move to give it to him.
“Kellen,” he said. “I haven’t the faintest idea what this is about!” He turned angrily to Ian. “What are you trying to pull?”
Ian ignored him. “Sign it,” he said to Kellen.
“Get out of here,” she said quietly.
Ian shrugged. “Is that the thanks I get? I come all the way down here to save you the trouble of having to do this on Monday. And you will have to deal with it —- now or later -—whether you like it or not, little sister. Now sign it. Bottom of the last page, right next to Tyler’s signature.”
Kellen flipped to the last page. The color drained from her face and she slumped down on the sofa. Garrett grabbed the papers from her limp hand. There was the signature: Tyler Landon Bryant, right next to Ian’s.
Garrett froze. There was a third signature: Arthur Richardson. “Oh no,” he said softly.
Ian pulled a pen out of his breast pocket and held it in front of Kellen’s face. “Sign it,” he said.
Garrett slapped Ian’s arm away, sending Ian reeling backward. He threw the contract into the hearth. “Get out,” he said.
Ian straightened and glowered at Garrett, then at Kellen, who was still sitting motionless, staring at the floor. “Fine,” he said. “We have plenty of copies. We’ll do this Monday, with a lawyer, if necessary.”
He picked up his briefcase, went to the foyer and put on his raincoat. “I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning, little sister.” He smiled coldly at Garrett. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with your family, Mr. Richardson.”
With a slam of the door, he was gone. Garrett sat down next to Kellen. For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of rain on the roof and the snap of the fire. Garrett looked at Kellen. Her eyes stared dully ahead.
“Kellen,” he said softly. “I swear to you, I knew nothing about this. Please believe me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said without looking at him. “Ian’s won. I’ve lost the newspapers. I don’t understand why Tyler would —-”
He reached for her but she pulled away. “Kellen, don’t,” he pleaded. “It wasn’t me who did it.”
She looked at him, eyes brimmed with tears. “It was your father. He signed the papers. You can’t separate yourself from that. I can’t separate you from that.”
“Kellen, this has nothing to do with you and me.”
“It won’t work,” she said softly. “Not now.”
“I know what you’re feeling,” he said. “But don’t let it destroy what we’ve got. I’ll go to my father. I’ll talk to him. We can work this out. What does it matter who owns -—”
The look in her eyes caused him to stop in midsentence.
“What does it matter?” she said. “These newspapers have been in my family for years. They were given to me in trust to care for. They are my family, as much a part of me as Sara and Ben. It does matter who owns them.” She paused. “If you don’t understand that, you don’t understand me.”
“Kellen, I didn’t mean -—”
“You’d better leave,” she said. When he didn’t move, she closed her eyes. “Please, Garrett. Leave. Right now. I just want to be alone right now.”
He rose slowly, standing above her, waiting.
“Just go,” she repeated softly.
He went to the door and picked up his bag. He looked back, waiting for Kellen to stop him but she didn’t even look up. He left, closing the door softly behind him.
The rain came to a sudden halt, leaving the house eerily quiet. The contract lay in a corner of the hearth where Garrett had tossed it. A log fell with a snap, and Kellen watched the flames slowly eat into the curling edges of the paper.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
With a spray of gravel, Garrett pulled his car to an abrupt stop in the driveway of Durdans. He let go of the steering wheel, his fingers aching from the viselike grip he had exerted during the drive. He was exhausted, having flown nonstop from California to New York, then catching the first plane to London. But now, he was also fueled by the surge of adrenaline and a rage that had been building since he had left Kellen twenty hours ago.
>
He went quickly through the front door, surprising a maid sorting mail in the foyer. “Where’s my father?” he demanded.
The stunned woman, new to the household, stared at the disheveled stranger. “I don’t...”
“Mr. Richardson. Where is he?”
“In the sun room, having his breakfast.”
Garrett brushed by her and headed toward the back of the house. His father was sitting alone at the table, amid the potted red geraniums, about to bite into a sausage. His fork stopped in midair when he saw Garrett. He stared at him for a moment then slowly put down the fork.
“Well, Garrett,” he said quietly, “What a surprise. Although not an altogether unexpected one, I might say.”
“I want to talk to you,” Garrett said.
“Yes, well...how about some tea?” Arthur said. When Garrett didn’t reply, he added, “Do sit down at least.”
Garrett took a chair, his eyes locked on Arthur. Arthur poured a cup of tea and put it in front of Garrett.
“You look dreadful,” he said slowly. “Perhaps you’d like a bath and a shave first.”
“Why did you do it?” Garrett asked evenly.
Arthur poured himself more tea to buy time before he answered. He was deliberately slow as he filled his cup from the silver service and added sugar and milk. He picked up a spoon and stirred his tea. The silver clicked musically against the thin porcelain.
“It was an opportunity,” Arthur said. “An excellent one. I took it.”
“You didn’t even bother to consult me.”
Arthur carefully put the spoon down. “I didn’t think you were in a position to make a clear decision, Garrett.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
Arthur stared at him for a moment, his face reddening slightly above his pristine white collar. “When Mr. Bryant and his mother came to see me last week,” he said, “they told me about your involvement with his sister. They said they had been eager to consummate this deal with you for some time but that because of your feelings for this woman you had failed to respond.”
“My feelings for Kellen are none of their business. Or yours for that matter,” Garrett said, struggling to keep his anger in check.
Arthur took a sip of his tea. “I understand this woman is married, with two young children.”
“That is none of your damn business either!”
Arthur looked up suddenly, beyond Garrett. Garrett turned and saw his mother standing at the door. She looked at Garrett, her hand at her throat, her eyes wide.
“Garrett...I thought I heard your voice,” she said.
“Helen, please leave us alone,” Arthur said. She continued to stare at Garrett, making no move to leave.
“Helen, please!” Arthur said.
With a stricken look at Garrett, she left.
Garrett stared at his father, waiting for him to say something. After a moment, Arthur sighed. “I can appreciate your anger with me, Garrett,” he said. “But you’ve got to understand that I did this for you.”
Garrett laughed. “For me? You did this for yourself! For your own bloody ego!”
Arthur looked at him calmly. “I did it for you.” He paused, frowning slightly. “I’m seventy-five, Garrett. I won’t be around forever to run things. I wanted to make sure I had enough to pass on to you. A real empire. This acquisition will make you one of the richest, most powerful men in America. It will certainly offset your bad situation in New York.” He paused again. “It was your own plan. I only carried it out for you, son.”
Garrett stared at him, incredulous, and for a brief moment, the words he was thinking nearly burst from his mouth. Son? he thought. I’m not your son. I have no connection to you. Instead, he looked away quickly.
“I had to do it,” Arthur said, “because you never would have.” He looked at Garrett thoughtfully. “You’ve always let your heart rule your head, Garrett, ever since you were a boy. I couldn’t let you do it in this case.”
Garrett rubbed his hands over his eyes.
“Do you remember Blue Boy?” Arthur asked. “Do you remember what happened when he broke his leg jumping over the hedge? He was suffering but you wouldn’t let me put him down. I know you hated me for that but I had to do it.” Arthur paused. “I know you blame me for what happened to Susan and the twins, too.”
Garrett looked up at him in shock. Never, not once in twenty years, had his father ever mentioned his deceased wife.
“You blamed me because, at the time, you needed someone to blame,” Arthur said.
“You drove her away,” Garrett said.
Arthur stared at him. “She was leaving you, Garrett. You just didn’t want to face up to that fact.”
“She left only because you and Mother did everything you could to break up the marriage,” Garrett said angrily. “Your constant interference, your condescension. Do you think she didn’t feel it? It got so even she believed she wasn’t good enough for me. That’s why she left. That’s why she took the twins and ran off that night. It was your fault!”
“It was an accident,” Arthur said, “a lorry driver who -—”
“You drove her to it,” Garrett said, his teeth clenched.
Arthur blinked rapidly. “We were only looking out for you, Garrett,” he said quietly. “She was seven years older than you, a divorced woman of no background with two children. You were just twenty, too young. We thought you deserved a chance to have your own family.”
“They were my family,” Garrett said, his voice cracking.
For a moment, neither man moved. Garrett was fighting to bring himself under control. He focused on the silver teapot sitting in the middle of the table, gleaming in the sun. He could hear the tapping of a branch on the glass overhead and then the muted whir of a vacuum cleaner starting up somewhere deep within the house. He pushed himself up wearily from the table, leaning on it for support.
“You told me once you needed something of your own,” Arthur said, almost under his breath. “I thought this is what you wanted.”
Garrett looked at him, shaking his head. “You have no idea what you’ve cost me,” he said.
He stood there for a moment, wavering with fatigue. He looked around the room. He saw Helen hovering outside the doorway, her eyes wide with alarm. He took a step to leave.
Arthur rose quickly. “Garrett, stay, please. We’ll talk about this. You’ll -—”
“No, I’m going back. I’m going home,” he said.
He left, walking by Helen without a word, and without looking back at Arthur, standing alone in the sun room.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
On Monday morning, Kellen received the final papers from Ian. She had already spoken to Josh who had explained that Tyler’s consent made it binding and that she had no legal recourse. But she had waited until now to call Stephen in San Mateo. She told him what had happened, and for a long time the phone was silent, so great was Stephen’s shock.
“There’s got to be something we can do,” he said.
“There’s nothing you or anyone can do, Stephen.”
“Have you talked to Tyler?”
“I can’t find him,” Kellen said. “There’s been no answer at his house for days. I haven’t seen him in a month.” She had also tried to reach J.D., with no success.
“Stephen, I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” she said, her voice wavering. “Ian’s lawyer sent a letter saying that after tomorrow I’m not allowed in the office.” She paused. “I’ve got to get to the paper. I’ve got to tell everyone before they hear it from somewhere else.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Stephen said.
Kellen got to the Times building just before ten and went quickly upstairs to the city room. When she stepped off the elevator, she froze. A large crowd was gathered around the bulletin board and she knew that somehow the news had gotten out. She made her way to the managing editor’s office. Ray looked up at her vacantly.
“They know, d
on’t they,” she said.
“The wire services got it. Someone put it on the bulletin board a few minutes ago.” He motioned her in and shut the door. Kellen dropped into a chair.
“Ray, I’m sorry. I wanted to be the one to tell you and everyone.”
Ray shrugged despondently. “You want a drink?” He reached behind his desk to a mini-refrigerator and pulled out a can of diet soda. “Too bad I don’t stock some hard stuff, for real catastrophes,” he said.
Kellen looked out through the windows. People were milling around with stunned looks on their faces or talking in quiet knots. All work had stopped. She turned back to Ray. “You know I didn’t want this to happen.”
He nodded. “I know it was Ian’s doing. All of us old-timers know you were on our side. And we were on yours, too.”
Kellen glanced back at the crowd outside. “I’ve got to talk to them,” she said, rising. “Help me get them together.”
She went out into the newsroom, Ray trailing behind. He made an announcement and soon everyone had gathered around the main copy desk. Kellen stood before them, just as she had four months ago to explain the morning conversion plan. Then, she had confronted them with confidence and optimism. Now, she was numb with defeat. She glanced around at the stunned faces, feeling their fear and confusion. Suddenly, she had no idea of what to say. Only two words came into her head.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
She paused, no other words coming to her. There was no sound except the efficient tapping away of the wire machines and a phone ringing.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I betrayed your trust and I owe you all an apology.”
Her throat constricted, and she blinked rapidly to fight off the tears. She couldn’t break down. She had to leave them with something hopeful, something positive. She spotted Clark standing in the back of the crowd. He looked as shocked as anyone, but he smiled slightly and gave her a half-hearted thumbs-up sign. She took a deep breath, which gave her the second of control she needed.
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