His eyes sharpened. “I’m listening. Do you have it laid out, or is it in your head?”
“It’s laid out. In fact I approached a contractor at one time, but it was too expensive and complicated a venture to get into, so I dropped it. That, and the fact that I had no money at all.”
“Maybe you’ll show it to me sometime?”
“Only if you’re really interested and not just trying to humor me. Meanwhile, it’s starting to rain,” Kate said, holding her palm up, “and I want you to show me again what you have planned for your pub.”
They entered the cooperage, and what instantly caught their attention was the plaintive meows of a kitten. They followed the sounds, which took them to the room with the hot tub. High on a beam above the big vat, a gray kitten, not more than a couple of months old, peered down at them from his perch, then let out a series of frantic meows. “Poor little kitty," Kate said. "You’ve got to get him down, Ben. We can’t leave him here.”
“I’ll get him down," Ben said. "But what do you intend to do with him then?”
“I don’t know. Just get him down and we’ll worry about that after.”
Ben balanced on the edge of the vat and reached up and grabbed the kitten, cradling him against his chest as he climbed down. The kitten crawled up Ben’s arm and crouched on his shoulder and nuzzled his ear. Ben turned his head toward the purring kitten,. and said, “Don’t get too comfortable, buddy, we’ll be parting company soon.” He lifted the kitten off his shoulder and put him on the floor. The kitten amused itself by scurrying under a stool and playing with its tail.
Ben stood on one side of the vat, Kate on the other, and for the first time since they’d entered the room they looked at each other across the water. The unspoken words were almost tangible and the desire to act on them was so strong, it was almost palpable. Ben edged around the cask to where Kate stood and looked at her, his eyes intense with suppressed desire. He raised his hand above her head and finally let it touch her hair. After a beat of silence, he said, “You know what I want, and I think you want it too.”
Kate looked up at him, the feather light touch of his hand on her hair sending tiny tingles coursing through her. When his hand settled on her shoulder and she could collect her thoughts, she said, “If you mean a relationship, it can’t be now. Not yet.”
Ben studied her soberly for a few moments, saying nothing, then placed a kiss on her forehead and said, “When?"
Kate caught the flash of expectation in his eyes. “Only you can answer that. But it’s not now.” Trying to dismiss the tight, breathless feeling in her chest and the dangerous thoughts that accompanied that feeling, she reached down and gathered the kitten in her arms. “I think we’d better be getting back.”
"Yeah, I suppose," Ben said, and followed her out the cooperage.
At the boat, Kate put the kitten in a box and closed the lid, then rejoined Ben on the dock. The rain had stopped and the waning sun glowed like polished copper. Kate stood at the head of the wharf, gazing at a town framed by fall colors, and she vowed to return with her paints and capture the scene on canvas. Her back to Ben, she said, “Look how beautiful Cooper’s Landing is. Everything the sun’s rays touch is burnished and red. It’s like an enchanted city.”
Ben came up behind her and curved his arms around her waist, holding her tight against him. “Can friends do this?” he asked against the top of her head.
Kate nodded, and placed her hands over his arms, then tipped her head back. He rested his cheek against her head, and together they watched the changing colors of sunset.
It came to Kate then that, standing in the circle of Ben’s arms, her hands on his, should she look at them in a mirror, she’d see a reflection of the two figures in the framed photograph on Ben’s bed table, the first thing Ben saw in the morning, and the last thing he saw at night, and she wondered which woman he was holding right now. The thought that he might not be holding her hovered in her mind like a ghost in the mist that refused to go away.
***
They arrived back at Kate’s grandmother’s house to find Henry’s old truck parked out front. Ben shut off the motor and stared at the truck for a few moments, then said, amused, “I think Gramps has come courting. I didn’t think the old boy still had it in him, but when I passed on to him your grandmother’s regards, about fifteen years dropped from his face and his eyes lit up like a kid in a candy shop."
“I’d like to have been a mouse in the corner when he arrived,” Kate said, with a snicker. “It’s no telling what kind of a reception he got from Grandma.”
Ben walked her to the porch, but at the front door, he said, “I’ll leave you here, babe, since I have to get back and tend to my cat.”
Kate gave him a hangdog smile. “I promise it won’t be for long.” She’d told him a small white lie—Grandma was allergic to cats—and he grudgingly agreed to keep the kitten, but only as long as it took for Kate to find it a home. They'd stopped by a pet shop on the way back and bought a small cat bed, a scratching post, kitten chow, a cat box, scooper, litter and litter box, so Ben had all the provisions needed for taking care of one small kitten. “Be sure he has water and kitten chow all the time, and fresh kitty litter in his box," Kate said. "Cats are very good about using the litter box if it's clean,” she added, worried. To her knowledge, Ben had no experience with kittens, or any other animal for that matter, his aversion to getting close. But if anything could tug at his heart strings, it would be a loveable, playful kitten. Thus, the small white lie.
Ben rested his hands on her shoulders, looked at her steadily, and said, “For you, Katie, my love, I will mollycoddle the little bastard so he’ll be the perfect pet and won’t get thrown out of his new home when he gets one, and come crawling back to me.” He gave her arms a squeeze, kissed her on the forehead and turned to leave.
As he walked off, Kate, feeling an overwhelming sense of longing, impulsively called out, “Wait!” When Ben turned, she rushed down the steps and into his arms. He dismissed their friends agreement and kissed her deeply, then said, “Honey, what’s this all about?”
She waved an evasive hand, and replied, “I just didn’t want you to go like that... I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have done this... I’m messing everything up... this is not the way it’s supposed to be. Now, go feed the kitten.” She turned and dashed back onto the porch, vowing she’d never yield to her vagrant impulses again, knowing she’d be unable to keep that vow.
When she reached the front door, she glanced back one more time and saw Ben staring at her, hands on his hips, a bewildered look on his face. She waved, and added, “You know how emotional I am.” He smiled, shook his head, and hopped into his truck.
When she stepped into the house, what caught Kate's attention was the tall glass vase with what appeared to be two dozen red roses, sitting in the middle of the coffee table. Hearing voices in the kitchen, she called out, “Grandma, I’m home.”
“In here, Kate.”
In the kitchen, she found Henry at the table, drinking a cup of coffee, and Grandma standing at the counter, cutting into a freshly baked blackberry pie. Grandma’s cheeks held the hint of blusher, there was a pink gloss to her lips, and her hair was swept back into an untidy knot, as if she’d been caught off guard and hastily put together, maybe during the stretch of time between Henry’s truck backfiring and his knocks on the door.
Kate also noted several new protest signs propped against the wall. One read HONK TWICE TO STOP STASSEN SPORTS, another read SENIORS AGAINST STASSEN SPORTS, and yet another read, HENRY STASSEN AGAINST STASSEN SPORTS.
She stared at the last sign, and smiled. “Hello, Mr. Stassen,” she said. “It looks like Grandma has recruited another dissenter for our cause.”
Henry returned her smile. “Hello, young lady,” he replied. “Yes, your grandmother has her ways of persuading a man.”
Kate saw a knowing glance pass between the two. Her eyes flicked several times between the pair, then settled on Henry. �
��Do you really intend to march with us?" she asked. "Won’t Ben be furious?”
“The devil with Ben.” Henry’s eyes softened as he looked at Rose. “If marching is what it takes to get Rosie to smile at me again then I’ll march.”
Rose blushed deeply. “Henry, you’re a silly old fool.”
Henry walked over to stand facing Rose, raised his hand to touch her face, and said in a quiet voice, “If your granddaughter wasn’t here right now, Rosie, I’d show you just how silly an old fool I am, and I guarantee, you’d be blushing even more.”
“Oh, go on with you.” She reached for a plate with a slice of pie on it and shoved it into his hand, then took her own plate and went to sit at the table.
Kate cleared her throat to get their attention, and announced, “Well, I’m kind of tired tonight...” she patted a yawn “...so I think I’ll turn in early.” She kissed Grandma on the forehead, smiled at Henry, and said, “Good night,”
Rose looked up at her. “I hope you don’t have any plans for this week,” she said, “because we intend to gather together at noon tomorrow, and start marching sharply at one .”
“Tomorrow?”
“That’s what I said.”
“But, it’s so soon. I mean... I knew we’d be doing it, but not... tomorrow.” Somehow, the zoning appeal had taken a backseat in importance to her relationship with Ben, and she knew it was imperative that she reaffirm her goal. But she wasn’t ready for the rift that would come between them. And there was no question, a rift would occur. And right now, their friendship was a tenuous bond, one that could easily snap. Friends did not protest friends. On the other hand, friends did not force the grandmother and friends of friends out of their homes either. That thought helped draw her focus back to the problem at hand. She wondered if Gayle would have stood her ground against Ben, fighting for something she truly believed in, and against something she thought was wrong, and if so, what Ben’s reaction would have been...
“We will be marching tomorrow,” Grandma said, “and we all expect you to be there. Doris notified the local TV station, so they’ll be sending a reporter to cover it sometime later this week, and we’re counting on you to be our spokesman.”
“Your spokesman?” Catching herself before Grandma could chide her again for being repetitive, she said, “I mean, yes, I’ll be there. In fact, I’ll already be there when you arrive tomorrow, since I have a meeting with Ben at ten o'clock tomorrow morning.” Saying her good nights, she went to her bedroom.
How ironic, she thought. In the morning she’d be working side-by-side with Ben to develop the best swim fin ad campaign they could come up with, and by afternoon she’d be marching against him, up and down the sidewalk outside his office building, with an assemblage of feisty seniors, all carrying protest signs. She did not even want to think about how he'd take it, only that it had to be.
***
When Kate arrived at Stassen Sports the following morning, Ben ushered her into his office, closed the door behind them and pulled her over to stand between his legs as he sat on his desk. She rested her palms on his thighs, and he placed his hands on her shoulders, looked into her eyes, and said, “Honey, this friendship idea you have… Well, it’s not working. I go home at night and try to keep it in mind, but now with Chloe purring in my ear and nuzzling it—"
“Chloe?” Kate said, her thumbs idly stroking his legs.
Ben gave her a wry smile. “He turned out to be a she. But all that ear nuzzling and affection makes me… I’ll put it another way. I’m having dreams I wouldn’t share with a bunch of sailors.”
“What are you proposing?” Kate asked, wishing he'd kiss her, knowing the time wasn't right.
“I don’t know,” Ben said, drawing her toward him.
“Well, I do know." Kate moved her hands up to press against his chest, stopping what he was about to do. "You’re a normal male with a normal sex drive, and you think I can take care of that for you because we feel something special for each other. But I will never sleep with a man I don’t love. I love being with you. I love your sense of humor, and your gentleness. But I also have to find something pure in your soul. And right now, Ben, I’m having a problem with your insensitivity toward the old folks. You have to understand that.”
Ben took her hands in his and kissed each palm, then looked at her and said, “Can’t we just separate my business from our personal lives?”
Kate sighed. “No, not in this case, because my grandmother’s happiness is part of my personal life. She and her friends are not merely numbers in your demographic study.”
“Honey, if I didn’t truly believe that your grandmother and her friends would be fine, I’d drop the whole thing, but I know they’ll come out with nest eggs bigger than they could ever dream of having.”
Kate caught her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from yelling in frustration. Holding her voice steady, she said, "That’s it again then, everything boiling down to dollars and cents.”
Ben drew in a long breath, looked steadily at her, and replied, “When you’re in business, it has to boil down to dollars and cents or you won't stay in business.”
Kate pulled her hands from his, and said, “Then we’d better get on with the swim fin promotion. I’ll meet you in the conference room.” She turned and left his office.
For the next two hours, they met with the film producer and director for the swim fin commercial. Ben was reserved, detached and all business, and Kate tried to keep her expression neutral, while hoping Ben wouldn’t detect the hint of strain creeping into her voice. When they exchanged ideas, their glances would touch briefly, then quickly slide away. And when Kate walked up to the flip chart, aware of Ben’s eyes on her, and dared to look at him, his expression was inscrutable. It wasn’t until they got into the issue of the level of intimacy between the models that their eyes locked and held. During that stretch of time, the silent communication between them was vivid and almost as personal as actual physical intimacy.
At noon, the meeting adjourned, and Kate left abruptly to join the large gathering of seniors waiting for her on the sidewalk, eight stories below.
***
For the next two days, Kate marched with the crowd of old people, which had more than tripled from the small initial gathering. Some pushed walkers, some rode in wheel chairs, some walked with canes, but most moved along unaided. The sign asking for HONKS had been very effective, with almost constant honking. Kate had no idea what time Ben arrived or left work each day, or if, in fact, he was even there, as she hadn't seen any sign of him since she’d left the conference room, two days before. It wasn’t until their third and last day of marching, when the traffic was being redirected from the intersection, the honking was a steady stream of hoots and beeps, and the TV news crew had arrived on the scene, that Ben finally made his appearance. The moment Kate saw him she could tell he was furious. He also looked extremely fatigued, which touched a sensitive spot inside her, and she had to suppress the urge to rush up to him and place her hands on his face and stroke away the weariness. She tried to convince herself that this whole marching affair was necessary, but now she wasn’t so sure.
He stood outside the main entrance to the building, scanning the crowd. Spotting her, he pressed his way through the mob to where she stood. Taking her by the arm, he said, curtly, “Congratulations, sweetheart, you’ve made your point. You’ve managed to bring traffic to a halt, the honking has sent every pigeon in Portland packing, and the nightly news will bring the whole damn mess into everyone’s living room. You should feel very proud of yourself.”
Kate tugged against his grip. “Actually, I’m not, but none of this would have happened if you were a reasonable man!” she said, her voice growing loud and shrill.
The cords stood out in his neck, as he yelled, “It’s hard to be reasonable when you’re involved with a mule-headed woman!”
Her voice wavered, as she yelled back, “Mule-headed, hah! If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black!
”
Without warning, a hand shoved a microphone in Kate’s face, and a man’s voice said, “Miss O’Connor, is it true that Stassen Sports Gear intends to confiscate the properties in the Sellwood area and evict the old people?”
Kate looked into the long lens of a TV camera and said, “Well, actually that’s not quite right,” she said. “The old people will be able to keep their homes, but with a new zoning change, their property taxes would go up so high they’d be forced to sell.”
“Then, is it true that Stassen Sports plans to level the block with the historic Hayden Building in it to make way for the new corporate offices?”
Kate turned to Ben, who looked on the verge of shoving the microphone down the reporter’s throat, and said,” Why don’t you ask Mr. Stassen?”
The reporter moved to Ben, who shrugged, and replied, “The Hayden building needs extensive work to bring it up to code. Right now if we had a minor tremor the entire building could topple. It’s unsafe, and needs to come down. There’s also a problem with asbestos. Miss O’Connor is aware of this, but she’s failed to point it out. As for the rest of the buildings in the block, one's a has-been service station with a below-ground oil tank that’s leaking toxic waste, another's an abandoned dry cleaners, and the old office complex is a collection of dry rot, sagging rafters, buckled floors and insect infestation. It’s not a block worth saving.”
In spite of her agitation, Kate admired Ben’s quick response, and as she caught and held his gaze, she became oblivious of the sounds around her. All she was aware of was Ben’s eyes peering as if into her soul. The intense look on his face sank into her memory, blocking everything, until her thoughts were focused entirely on Ben and how much she wanted him to take her in his arms and hold her. But gradually the sound of voices slid into her awareness, until she heard the reporter’s voice close to her ear, saying, “Is that true, Miss O’Conner? Did you know about the problems with the buildings?”
Adversaries and Lovers Page 10