And so, while they were on the subject of screwing up, they moved on to Jackson’s presentation to the board tomorrow, about how his personal intervention had saved the magazine group from being compromised in any way by Beau’s stock option debts. And then Beau shared with Jackson what he was going to tell the board: that for the first time in his life he had honestly taken steps to get help for his gambling problem. For ten months now he had been going twice a week to group therapy (a kind of private Gamblers Anonymous meeting for leading L.A. businessmen) and was going to one-on-one therapy twice a week as well. On top of that, he said, Tiger had only moved back with him four months ago, and promised to walk if he so much as bought a lottery ticket. (“You left Beau?” Jackson said in astonishment, having no idea of this. Tiger nodded. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t listen to his excuses and promises and have it happen all over again.”)
Jackson said he thought this sounded good, and that he would then read the company comptroller’s report summarizing the excellent performance and financial return on the magazine group, Field Day in particular. All of this, they agreed, made Beau’s chances of being forgiven by the board for using Field Day as collateral on his personal debts pretty good—to keep him out of court, at any rate.
After breakfast Jackson rode up Fifth Avenue to Belinda and Langley’s to see how everybody up there was doing. He called Cassy at West End on the way. “Hi,” he said on the car phone.
“Hi,” she said, “I’m just listening to Kyle and Denny’s presentations for tonight.”
“I just wanted to tell you that my brother knows I’m in love with you. He said he knew it the second you walked in and he saw my face.”
“Oh,” she said.
“But he won’t tell anybody,” Jackson assured her.
“Oh, I’m sure of that. Actually, I think it’s great you have someone to talk to about it. Don’t you?”
“Uh-huh,” he said. “Listen, I want to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Would you ever consider moving? To a new place, I mean? Here, in New York?”
“This isn’t a good time,” she said.
“But just tell me,” he said. “Would you? You wouldn’t, would you? It’s too soon—”
“And way too complicated,” she said, “even if it wasn’t impossibly too soon for me to know what I’m doing. Wait—hang on. No, don’t go —” he heard her say. ;”I’ll just be a second.” She came back on. “Hello?”
“So you won’t be moving for a while?” he said.
She paused. “How can you expect me—”
“I don’t, I don’t,” he said quickly, smiling to himself. “I just wanted to make sure you’re not moving anywhere for the next year or so. That’s all.”
She laughed, sounding confused. “No, I’m not, silly.”
“Silly loves you, you know,” he said, his smile expanding.
“Thank you,” she said. “I feel exactly the same way this morning. I really do. And I really appreciate your calling to tell me.”
“Hi—ya, hi—ya, hi—ya, hi—ya, guys!” Jackson said, skipping around the Petersons’ dining—room table, where Belinda and Langley and Cordelia and Big El were eating breakfast.
“It was irritating when you were six, Jackie Andy,” Cordelia said, “and it isn’t any less so now.”
“Duck,” Jackson said, touching Belinda on the shoulder as he went past her; “Duck,” he said, patting his father’s shoulder as he went by; “Duck,” patting Langley on the back as he went by; “Goose!” he said, reaching in through the chair to goose Cordelia.
“Ahhh!” Cordelia said, jumping in her chair. “Jackson Andrew Darenbrook!” She turned around, trying to swat her brother as he pulled a chair up to the table to sit between her and Langley.
“It’s good for the circulation, Cordie Lou,” Big El said, laughing in his wheelchair across the table from her. “That’s what Lucille says.”
“Lucille?” Cordelia said, turning to stare at her father. “And what, I’m afraid to ask, does Lucille know about pinching derrieres?”
“From the way she swings her backside,” Belinda said from her end of the table, “I imagine quite a lot. More eggs, Daddy?” She directed the woman who had just come in from the kitchen to take the chafing dish over to her father. “Jackie, have you eaten?”
“I’m fine, Baby B,” he told her, crossing his arms and settling them on the table. “I just ate with Beau and Tiger.”
Cordelia clucked her tongue. “Tiger,” she sighed, shaking her head and buttering her toast. “Whenever I think that I thought that that boy was helping little Beau at school with his football—”
“Little Beau was twenty—two,” Jackson reminded his sister.
“And he did help him with his passin’,” Big El said. “Remember that game, Jackie Andy? Your brother never threw a touchdown pass like that twice in his life till Tiger came around.”
“And Tiger painted the house, remember?” Belinda said to her sister. “You used to like Tiger then.”
“That was before I knew what was going on up there on the third floor,” Cordelia said, sniffing sharply, reaching for the jam.
“Hee-heee!” Belinda said, leaning forward over the table. “Remember the night, Jackie, we told Cordie Lou that it was the ghosts of wounded Confederate soldiers groaning up there? Remember?”
Jackson laughed and Cordelia dropped her knife on her plate. “Enough!” she said.
Belinda and Daddy kept laughing, while Jackson looked over at his brother-in-law. “Well, hi, Langley,” he said.
Langley was watching Belinda at the other end of the table, over the top of his coffee cup. He lowered it, swallowing, eyes still on her.
“Langley,” Cordelia said, “Jackie’s speaking to you.”
Langley looked over. “What?”
“What’s the matter, Lang?”Jackson said.
“Oh, don’t even bother, Jackie,” Belinda said. “We think he’s undergoing a personality change—he’s been acting strange for days.”
“How would you know? You haven’t been here,” Langley said.
“See what I mean?” Belinda said.
“If you didn’t want us to stay with you, Langley,” Cordelia said, swallowing a bit of toast, “then you shouldn’t have told us to come.”
Langley seemed to wake up a little then. “Don’t be foolish, Cordelia,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “We love having you.”
Big El laughed in his coffee.
“Stop it, Daddy,” Belinda scolded her father. “It’s true. We love having you stay with us. You haven’t stayed with us since Barbara died.” Belinda’s eyes quickly went to her brother, looking as though she wished she hadn’t said that. Cordelia stopped chewing and looked at Jackson too.
Jackson looked at both of them. “What?” he asked Belinda. “Daddy and Cordie haven’t stayed with you since Barbara died—so what?”
Cordelia looked past Jackson to Langley.
“Cordie,” Jackson said.
Cordelia looked at him.
“It’s okay,” Jackson said gently. He smiled. “Really. It’s okay. Barbara died—we all know that. You can say that.”
“Jackie, 1—” Belinda started to say.
“No, Baby B, it’s fine,” Jackson said. He looked around the table. “It’s time we talked about her out in the open, don’t you think? Beau and I did this morning. It was fine. Really.”
Cordelia looked to Langley again, whom Jackson caught shrugging. Jackson shrugged back at him, smiling, and then turned to Belinda. “Hey, B? Do you know any good real estate brokers?”
Everybody around the table started exchanging looks.
“Sure,” Belinda finally said.
“What for, Jackie Andy?” Big El said. “You thinkin’ of buying a place?”
“Yeah, Daddy, I am,” he said. To Belinda, “I need somebody who really knows the ins and outs of the West Side. Somebody who knows the buildings.”
“But Jackie,” Belinda said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know anyone who would know anything about the West Side.”
“Why not?” Big El wanted to know.
“Because it’s not the East Side,” Belinda explained.
“That’s okay,” Jackson said. “I just thought I’d ask.” He winked at Cordelia. “So, what are you guys doing today?”
“That big ol’ yellow house over on Rose Hill Road’s going to come up for sale soon, Jackie,” Cordelia told her brother, smiling sweetly. “You used to like that ol’ house when you were a boy.”
“I used to like the girl who was in it, Cordie Lou,” he told her. “Thanks, sweetie pie, but Hilleanderville’s a bit of a commute.” He looked at Belinda. “So what’s up?”
“Cordie wants to do some shopping and then she and the twins are going to the museum,” Belinda said. “Daddy’s going to West End with Langley.”
“And what about you?” Langley said. “What are you going to do?”
“Oh, I’m going to do some errands.” She looked at Cordelia. “If you can believe it, sister, I haven’t been in the city in near a month. But summer in New York is for fools and unfortunates, that’s what I always say—”
“What kind of errands?” Langley asked Belinda.
Belinda looked down the table at him, frowning slightly. “What do you mean, what kind of errands?”
“I mean, what kind of errands?” Langley said. “What is it that you have to get that can’t wait until Monday?”
Belinda looked at him. “Is there something you would like me to do, Langley?” She blinked. “Dear.”
“Are you going to the pharmacy?” Langley said.
“I might,” she said.
“Which one?” he asked her.
“Why, what is it that you want?” she said.
Langley leaned forward. “It’s not what I want—it’s what you want, Belinda. What is it that you have to get that’s so important?”
Belinda looked at Cordelia. “You’ve been here since I got home. Have I done anything to deserve to be spoken to like this?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” Cordelia said quickly, sipping her coffee.
“I just want to know why it’s so important you do errands today,” Langley said. “Why everybody else are doing things together and you want to go off by yourself and do errands at the pharmacy.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested,” Belinda said, sounding very annoyed now.
“I’m interested,” he told her.
Belinda hesitated and then said, “And what is it you wish me to do instead, Langley?”
“You could come to West End with your father and me,” he said.
“Go to the office with you and Daddy,” Belinda said. “Thank you very much,” she said, patting her mouth with her napkin, pushing back her chair and standing up, “but I have no desire to sit by myself in a chair in your office listening to the two of you talk about God knows what that I couldn’t understand and would bore me to death if I did.”
“I don’t want you spending the day alone,” Langley said.
“Pardon me? Come again, mister?” Belinda said, squinting down the table at him, swinging her weight to one side and plunking her hand down on her hip. “And just how many years has it been since you’ve given a god-dam about what I do? How many years has it been since you’ve cared about how much time I spend alone? Huh?”
it, Belinda,” Langley said. “But you made it your business not to be around to feel it.”
Jackson and Cordelia were looking down the table during this exchange; Big El was looking back and forth between Belinda and Langley, following it like a tennis match.
“Well, I apologize,” Belinda said, “but y’all will have to excuse me because I have no intention of staying here and arguing with this man.” She moved away, whirling around in the archway to the hall to add, “My husband left for work one morning and I haven’t seen head or tail of him since—not for years! So tell that stranger down at the end of the table to mind his own business and leave me alone!”
“Belinda,” Langley said, jumping up.
She was gone.
“Excuse me,” Langley said, throwing his napkin down on the table and going after her.
“Oh, lordie,” Cordelia sighed when they heard them arguing down the hall. “Somehow I knew this was not going to be a good idea. If something happens to her this weekend I’ll never forgive myself.”
“I’ve never seen ‘em fight before,” Big El said. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Jackson said.
“You have no right to interfere in my life—none!” they heard Belinda shriek. “You just stay out of it!” A door slammed.
“If I find out it’s been him driving poor Baby B nuts all these years, I’ll kill the son of a bitch,” Big El said, as they heard the Peter sons yelling at each other somewhere in the back of the apartment.
“Daddy,” Jackson said, “that’s Langley we’re talking about.”
“Yeah, well, he better straighten up and fly right or his big chance may just pass him by,” Big El said, looking at Cordelia.
Jackson looked at Cordelia. “Chance for what?”
“Oh, Daddy’s just talking,” Cordelia said, reaching for her coffee.
Jackson was surprised at how low key, uneventful and pleasant the evening at West End was turning out to be—considering that Langley and Belinda were not talking to each other (as nor were many other combinations of his relatives). And Langley refused to discuss the matter with Jackson, saying that it was a private matter between him and Belinda. And so Jackson left it alone, particularly since Belinda seemed fine this evening—in fact, in very good spirits.
They were all in amazingly good spirits, actually, thanks in large part to the whiz—bang tour of DBS Cassy had planned. The big hit—which had turned the evening into an instant success—was her idea to have the members of the board “sit in” for the regular DBS News on-air talent in a mini mock newscast. Cordelia “sat in” for Alexandra as the anchor; Noreen covered arts and entertainment; Norbert, politics; Little El, business; Belinda, health and education; Beau, sports; Jackson, the weather; and Big El did a special family reunion commentary. They shot it on tape as each read his or her part off the TelePrompTer (with some coaching by the regular on-air staff, and Jessica pinch-hitting for Alexandra as a coach for Cordelia); and then shot everyone else at the reunion on tape too in the context of a made—up story, all of which was then edited into a “newscast,” a copy of which each guest would take home as a souvenir.
And Jackson didn’t know what had gotten into Jessica, but she was absolutely wonderful with his family. Even Cordelia, who thought Jessica’s show was “half disgrace and half an outrage—but interesting, I must admit,” said she thought Jessica was enchanting. And she was.
And if Jackson had ever doubted that Jessica had had a drinking problem, then he never would again after tonight, because the change in her, physically and emotionally, had never been so evident. She had very little makeup on and was in a very conservative outfit, but she had never been so pretty and eye—catching. She was radiant—there was no other way to describe it. Her skin was aglow, her eyes bright, her whole face looked thinner, different, younger. And while she had been very nervous in the beginning, when his family first arrived—drinking fruit juice like it was going out of style—she soon settled in as hostess (fairy princess hostess?), her laughter ringing free and easy through the complex. That hard, cynical edge was nowhere to be found, though she was as sarcastic and funny as ever.
(“Oh, I lost my accent years ago,” Belinda had said, stepping into the elevator with Jessica to ride down with Jackson, Cordelia, Big El and Little El to the studio.
“Say eck-oh-nom-mics,” Jessica had said.
“Eeekanomics,” Belinda said.
“And the capital of Vietnam, H-Ha-noy?” Jessica sa
id.
“Hanoy,” Belinda said, starting to smile.
“And the city in Connecticut, N-e-w H-a-v-e-n?”
“New Haven,” Belinda said, as everyone in the elevator started to laugh.
“And I don’t suppose Reno is in the state of Ne-vah-dah, is it?” Jessica said.
“Nevaaads,” Belinda said, laughing with everyone else.
“Oh, you’re right,” Jessica said, slinging her arm through Belinda’s and escorting her off the elevator, “you’ve lost your accent completely. No one would know you’re from the South. Not in a million years.”)
“I can’t get over Jessica,” Jackson said, watching her down in the square. He was standing with Cassy and Langley on the roof of Darenbrook III, just under one of the satellite dishes, where they had come up for a breather.
“It is wonderful to watch, isn’t it?” Cassy said. “It’s like seeing a whole new person come alive.”
The three of them stood there a minute, watching. The walkways below were lined with torches, the river breezes making them cast an exotic, flickering light over the square. Tables for dining were set up along Darenbrook I and III, and the grills and tables of food and drink were set up along the line of fir trees at the end. Jackson’s family, the on—air staff of DBS News and most of the DBS production staff were fanned out everywhere over the square, and some were milling around inside Darenbrook III, in empty offices on the first floor given over to the occasion. But all three sets of eyes on the roof were on the table where Jessica was eating dinner with Cordelia, Big El and Belinda.
“Alexandra asked me to keep an eye on her,” Langley said. “She thought Jessica might feel more at ease if she knew I was around and willing to run interference for her in case any of our relatives picked on her.” He laughed. “I’ll have to tell her that Jessica ran interference for us.”
“When did you talk to Alexandra?” Cassy asked him.
“Today,” Langley said. “She called this afternoon.”
Cassy frowned. “How come everybody seems to be talking to Alexandra these days but me?”
“Doesn’t like you anymore, I guess,” Jackson said, smiling.
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