She organized dinner planning. Trim the tenderloin and put it back into the refrigerator until time to go into the oven. Make the salad. Wash and scrape the baby carrots, clean and cut the mushrooms to surround the tenderloin. She jotted down each item on the kitchen chalkboard, then put the wine in the refrigerator to chill.
Should she have asked Martha, who came in five mornings a week to take care of the house, to come back this evening to serve and do the dishes afterward? No, that would have been pretentious. She and Rhoda would serve. This was a dinner for four very close friends. Those months in Hamburg, she thought nostalgically, had bound them together forever.
Rhoda arrived with the peppermint mousse.
“I brought an extra so we could try it out,” she said ebulliently. “I remember what you said about using Godiva chocolate.”
They paused to sample the mousse. Kathy labeled it superb. Together they set the dinner table, went out to cut red roses from the bushes that banked the huge deck on three sides.
“All right, go shower and dress,” Rhoda ordered. “I’ll do the salad.”
“You’re picking David up at the Harmon station,” Kathy reminded. She couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him for the first time after all these years at a public railroad station.
“I won’t forget,” Rhoda joshed. “I hope we recognize each other.”
“You’ll recognize each other,” Kathy said confidently. “You might not recognize Phil after thirteen years, but David has hardly changed at all.”
“Like you,” Rhoda scoffed. “It’s indecent that you still look about twenty-five.”
“When’s Frank coming?” Kathy was fighting against nervousness.
“As soon as the baby-sitter arrives. Later—when we’re taking David to the station—we’ll stop off at the apartment so he can see Sara. She’ll be asleep,” Rhoda conceded, “but I want him to see her. Now go shower and dress,” she prodded. “I’ll throw the tenderloin into the oven at the appointed time.”
At Kathy’s urging Rhoda left for the railroad station fifteen minutes earlier than planned.
“Sweetie, that train is never early,” Rhoda laughed. “But I’ll be there when David steps off it.”
Moments after Rhoda left for the station, Frank arrived. He was in high spirits, eager to see David.
“I brought along a bunch of photos of Sara,” he said proudly, reaching into a pocket of his slacks. Kathy remembered David’s longing for family. He would have been such a warm, loving father.
When she heard the car coming up their long driveway, she walked impulsively onto the deck, her heart hammering, her throat tightening as she saw David emerge and walk to the steps that led to the deck.
“David!” Her face radiant, she moved to meet him with outstretched arms.
“Kathy—” He folded her close. They exchanged a light kiss. “You look marvelous. It’s so great for us all to be together this way.” Now he turned to Frank, who had followed her onto the deck. “Frank, it’s like turning the calendar back thirteen years!” The two men embraced warmly.
The four of them went into the house. Frank opened a bottle of wine, and they toasted their reunion, the atmosphere electric with their lively reminiscences. Questions flew thick and fast as they tried to span the years.
Then Kathy went into the kitchen to bring the seviche to the table while Rhoda prodded the two men into the charming dining room.
“The shrimps and scallops are poached,” Kathy told David as she placed the dish before him.
“You remembered.” His eyes were bright with affection.
They talked about David’s work at the Institute in New York and about Frank’s writing and his projected book.
“Thank God, we survived the McCarthy period,” Frank said, his eyes settling on Rhoda in bitter recall.
“You had problems with red-baiting?” David was astonished.
“My father drove an ambulance for the International Brigade in Spain. We had problems,” Frank said grimly. “Rhoda was pregnant. We both lost our jobs. It was hell for a while.” His eyes moved to Kathy. Hers pleaded for silence. She was all at once tense about discussing Phil’s part in this. Later, perhaps. “Anyhow, that’s all over.”
Now Frank focused on the activities of his animal rights group, which elicited strong support from the others. This was like old times, Kathy thought, all of them emotionally involved in seeing the world become a better place.
Kathy talked about the business and the house at Montauk, all the while trying to assess David’s feelings toward her. At truant moments, she thought, he betrayed himself. The look in his eyes was the look she remembered from Hamburg. He was still in love with her, yet she sensed he was holding back. Why?
At the end of the evening they agreed they must see one another soon.
“Why don’t you all come out to the Montauk house next weekend?” Kathy invited. “We can drive up together Thursday night. There’ll just be Jesse and me there. We have plenty of room.”
“Super,” Rhoda approved, and Frank nodded in agreement. “What about you, David?”
“I should be working Friday,” he said slowly, but his eyes were wistful. “So I’ll take an extra day off—I’ve been putting in long hours. I’d love to see Montauk, Kathy.”
On the following Thursday Kathy arranged to have Frank drive her to the station in the morning. In the later afternoon he’d drive with Rhoda into New York, pick up David and her, and they’d head for Montauk. Sara was spending the weekend with Rhoda’s doting parents. Marge was going to a house party in Southampton.
“I’d rather go with you guys,” Marge said. “But I’m a woman on the prowl. Southampton is this week’s hunting ground.”
Kathy was glad that they were driving up on a Thursday evening rather than Friday—the traffic was less intense. David sat up front with Frank, both men engrossed in discussing world hunger, a subject close to the four of them. Kathy and Rhoda were content to sit in the back and listen to their conversation.
As always, Kathy was aware of a rush of exhilaration as they approached the village of Montauk, leaving the oppressive humid heat of Manhattan behind them. It was as though all her problems were thrust into the background for the time she would be here. She felt wrapped in serenity.
At the house the men carried their luggage inside, and then the four of them immediately took off for a late dinner at Gurney’s Inn.
“It’s a marvelous place,” Kathy told David as they piled back into the car. “We’ll have a perfect dinner with a perfect view of the ocean.”
Dinner was a relaxing time, the ocean a symphonic background. Kathy was quietly euphoric at being in David’s presence. By the time they returned to the house—the stars disappearing from the night sky—all four were yawning.
“I can’t believe we’re so sleepy,” Rhoda said. “But that means we’ll be up early tomorrow morning to enjoy the beach.”
“You’ll sleep till ten,” Frank joshed. “We both do those times Sara is visiting grandparents,” he told Kathy and David in humorous recall. “Sara’s our non-failing alarm clock.”
Kathy fell asleep moments after her head hit the pillow. Though she often battled insomnia, tonight the excitement of being with David plus the tang of sea air had induced slumber. But by 6 A.M.—daylight slithering through the division of her bedroom drapes—she was wide awake. The morning air was soft and cool.
She showered quickly, grateful for the damp warmth of the bathroom, then dressed in smokey-blue corduroy slacks and a blue Shetland pullover. She left her room, and mindful that the others were still asleep, walked with quiet steps down the hall to the huge kitchen, which had been redecorated to provide the cozy air of an old-fashioned country kitchen. A fireplace—bricked from floor to ceiling—had been installed at her direction on one wall so that it was possible now to have meals before a blazing fire.
She put up coffee, and walked out onto the wraparound deck to wait for it to perk. A dense fog enveloped the
area, lending it an eerie air of being cut off from the rest of the world, the only sounds the cawing of the seagulls on the beach below and the waves caressing the beach. When the aroma of coffee drifted out to her, she went inside, poured herself a mug of the steaming brew, and walked out onto the deck again.
“There’s something wonderful about the aroma of coffee early in the morning—” David walked out onto the deck, a bright red sweater over his gray turtleneck shirt, a mug of coffee in one hand.
“Would you like breakfast?” she asked eagerly.
“Not yet. This is fine for now.” He gazed down at the fog-drenched beach with obvious appreciation. “Isn’t this beautiful?”
“Foggy mornings are one of my favorite times.” All at once she remembered mornings in Hamburg, when fog rolled in from the sea, and David would say, “Isn’t this beautiful?”
“Would you like to go for a walk on the beach?” he asked. “Once we’ve swigged down our coffee?”
“Oh, yes.”
This was a special parcel of time, she thought: David and she isolated from everything by the fog. In companionable silence they drank their coffee, then left the house to walk down the seemingly fragile wooden stairs to the beach.
“The visibility can’t be more than thirty feet,” David guessed as they stood at the edge of the water and gazed out at the waves coming in to the shore.
“Someone was here before us,” she laughed and paused to inspect the paw-prints of a large dog along the water’s edge. The beach was untouched thus far except for these.
“He walked a while, then went in for a swim—” David pointed to where the prints disappeared into the water, then resumed twenty feet down.
“Harry does that,” Kathy said. “Jesse’s dog.”
“You must have sensational sunrises out here when there’s no fog.”
“Breathtaking,” Kathy said softly. “I stand on the deck and watch that glorious red-gold ball slowly rise above the horizon, and I’m bursting with awe.”
They talked about Montauk and about Jesse, always skirting around any discussion of her divorce. Kathy knew David felt guilty at being here with her, as though it was a breach in loyalty to the Kohns. It always irritated her that he could feel such loyalty when it was undeserved.
They were approaching the house when Rhoda emerged on the deck and called down to them.
“Breakfast coming up! Blueberry pancakes and crisp bacon. And Frank’s starting a fire in the grate. I woke him up—it’s a sacrilege to sleep late out here!”
Later in the morning—the earlier fog lifting now and the temperature rising—Frank drove down to pick up a cluster of New York newspapers. With sun spilling over the deck they settled themselves on chaises to read, with mugs of fresh coffee conveniently at hand.
“I don’t believe it!” Rhoda’s voice punctured the companionable silence.
“Don’t believe what?” Kathy looked up from the segment of the New York Times she’d been reading.
“Phil’s married again! Some nineteen-year-old fledgling actress! It’s here in Dorothy Kilgallen’s column!”
“Let me see—” Frank reached over to take the newspaper from Rhoda.
“Bella must be upset,” Kathy said after a moment of initial shock. She ought to feel something, but Rhoda might have been talking about two strangers. Whatever she’d felt for Phil was long dead.
“You won’t have to worry about remembering when Phil has visitation rights with Jesse,” Frank said sarcastically. “Not that he availed himself of his rights that frequently.”
“Phil was never the doting father,” Kathy conceded, and was all at once conscious of David’s troubled expression. He was remembering that Phil had not been at the Southampton house when Jesse was there last weekend. “How would you all like to drive over to the Point later to see the Montauk Lighthouse at sunset?” Deliberately she changed the subject. “It was commissioned by President George Washington in 1790.”
Over the weekend Kathy watched with ebbing hope for signs that David was relaxing with her. Endless times she glanced up to find his eyes resting on her, and she knew he was still in love with her. Why did he keep this invisible barrier between them, she asked herself in soaring frustration.
On Sunday morning Kathy awoke to the sound of rain on the windowpanes. While she dressed, she became aware of the aroma of fresh bread baking in the oven. Rhoda must have been up early. With a sense of anticipation she dressed and hurried out to the kitchen. Birch logs crackled in the fireplace grate.
“I’ve put up biscuits,” Rhoda told her. “Frank adores waking up to the smell of bread baking in the oven. David started the fire,” she said. “He went for a walk in the rain.”
Within twenty minutes the kitchen radiated high spirits. David had returned from his walk and changed into dry clothes. Frank had awakened, dressed, and was stoking the fire. Rhoda had brought out a platter of country-style biscuits and was preparing to serve what she called her “empty the refrigerator” omelets.
Table conversation veered from nostalgic memories of less-appealing breakfasts in Hamburg to Frank’s sobering recall of McCarthyism.
“It was a harrowing time for Rhoda and me. Thank God, it’s over.”
“We didn’t shed a tear when Joe McCarthy died,” Rhoda said, her eyes flashing with revived anger.
This was the moment to let David know what Phil had done to Rhoda and Frank, yet Kathy hedged. It would sound as though she were trying to absolve herself of blame for their failed marriage. She understood that Frank was saying nothing of this out of respect for her. But she was afraid to tell David that Phil had turned them in to the red-baiters. She knew his closeness to the Kohns—what he considered all that remained of his family. She couldn’t risk antagonizing him.
Later in the afternoon the men carried the luggage out to the car for the return trip to the city. Kathy and Rhoda made the routine check of windows and faucets and electric range. All the while Kathy was conscious of the questions in Rhoda’s eyes.
“Rhoda, stop looking like that,” she exhorted. “Nothing’s going to happen between David and me.”
“Kathy, I see the way he looks at you—”
“He doesn’t want a woman in his life,” she said painfully. “It’s too late for us. The right time was in Hamburg, and I muffed that. It’ll never happen again.”
Chapter 33
IN SEPTEMBER KATHY WAS caught up in the madness of moving from the Croton house into the huge, sprawling West End Avenue apartment. She was grateful for Lee’s efficiency in handling much of this. She was relieved that Jesse liked his new school, the new apartment, and especially their closeness to the Hudson River and the yacht basin. She tried—futilely—to push all thoughts of David out of her mind.
Rhoda was in the process of tracking down a teaching job in Manhattan, to begin with the February term. When at the end of the month word came through that the job was hers, she and Frank began to worry about the availability of an apartment on the Upper West Side. Both Kathy and Marge offered to put them up until they could locate something.
Marge scheduled a small dinner party to celebrate Rhoda’s new job and insisted that Rhoda invite David and Brian, now in New York again and working with Frank and Rhoda on fund-raising for their animal rights group.
“Call it a Hamburg reunion,” Marge flipped. “I may not have been there with you, but I feel as though I was.”
“Marge, I know what you’re doing,” Kathy said bluntly over luncheon with her and Rhoda on the day Rhoda came into New York to sign her job contract. “David’s all wrapped up in his work. That’s the way he wants it. There’s no room in his life for me.”
“For a woman who can be so aggressive in business,” Rhoda sighed, “you give up awful fast when it comes to a man.”
“Invite him for dinner,” Kathy agreed, “but remember, we’re only long-time friends. He’s over forty and set in his ways; he feels his job can satisfy all his needs. I’m not throwing myself at his
feet.”
Dressing for Marge’s dinner party, Kathy changed three times before she reluctantly conceded this wasn’t a fashion show. A dinner with old friends. She was eager to see Brian, who drifted in and out of their lives at three or four-year intervals. Hamburg had drawn them together forever.
The last to arrive at Marge’s new penthouse co-op—also on what she good-humoredly called the unfashionable Upper West Side—Kathy was swept up in the convivial mood that permeated the group. Marge’s cook-maid had prepared a superb dinner. The conversation jumped from topic to topic in the manner Kathy enjoyed. And as before she often glanced up to find David’s eyes dwelling on her.
When at last they decided to call it an evening, David offered to see her home, a few blocks distant. Rather than bother with a taxi, they walked. The night was crisp and cool, with a hint of autumn already in the air. Yet despite a beautiful closeness between them, Kathy was conscious of that same invisible wall.
“Would you like to come up for coffee or a drink?” she asked when he walked her past the doorman to the elevators.
“I know tomorrow is Saturday, but I have to go in to the office,” he said regretfully.
“I’ll be at my office, too. We’re two workhorses, David,” she laughed.
“It’s been a great evening.”
Why did he look at her like that, and yet keep her at a distance?
“We must do it again soon,” she said casually.
He kissed her lightly on the cheek and waited for her to enter the just-descended elevator.
On a mid-October weekend—with Jesse en route in the Kohn limousine for Greenwich—Kathy decided on impulse to drive to the house in Montauk. She was tired and tense and frustrated at the futile encounters with David. She’d leave right away, come back tomorrow night, she plotted.
Within thirty minutes she was at the garage and waiting for her Mercedes to be brought down from an upper level. She drove a Mercedes because of Marge. “Darling, you have to drive a Mercedes to keep up your image of the ‘successful career woman.’”
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