Adam's Daughter (59 page)

She stared at him in consternation. She had hoped for more enthusiasm, but so far Stephen had given her mainly reasons why it shouldn’t be done. It was just his cautiously pragmatic side emerging but right now she didn’t want to hear it. Right now she wanted a show of support.

“I know that,” she said. “So we’ll form a project committee, like the one for the suburban plant.”

He shook his head. “Kellen, I’ve got all I can handle with this plant. Maybe when it’s up and running —-”

“We can’t afford to wait another year. Something has to be done now.” She paused. “I’ll head the committee.”

He stared at her. “Switching to morning delivery would mean huge changes for editorial. I can’t give you the input you need right now, Kellen. Be reasonable. Let’s tackle one thing at a time.”

She took a deep breath. “I know editorial well enough to act on your behalf.” She paused. “I want to do this, Stephen. I’m going to call a meeting of the vice presidents for tomorrow. Can you be there?”

“I was planning to go down to the plant site. But I’ll be there if you want me to.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

He pushed himself out of the chair. “I’m tired,” he said. “I think I’ll go to bed early.”

She sat there, her eyes focused on the
legal pad lying on the desk. Stephen paused at the door of the study. “Are you coming up?” he asked.

“Not right now,” she said. She heard him go up the stairs and for the next half hour, she sat there without moving, staring at the
legal pad.

Kellen glanced down the long conference table at the vice presidents. She could read their reactions to her idea in their faces —- everything from amazed skepticism to barely disguised scorn.

“That’s about all I have to say, gentlemen,” she said. “Perhaps you have some questions?”

The men, almost as one, glanced at Stephen. Finally, Dennis Dingman cleared his throat.

“You’ll have to excuse us, Mrs. Hillman. We’re all just a little shocked by your proposal.”

“I can appreciate that,” Kellen said. “Converting the
Times
from an afternoon to a morning newspaper would cause upheaval and some problems. But I’m convinced it is the only way we can stem our circulation loss and regain our dominance over the
Journal
.”

George Avare looked puzzled. “But how?”

Kellen looked to Stephen. “Stephen has talked about how hard it has become to get the paper delivered on time because of traffic problems,” she said. “This will solve them. It also accommodates trends toward morning readership.”

Harry Beebe shook his head. “But we’re sure to lose circulation if we switch. Readers are creatures of habit.”

“Some readers will be angry and leave us,” Kellen said. “But most people view the newspaper as an old friend. You get angry at the friend once in a while but you don’t desert him. I’m confident most of our subscribers will stay with us. We will continue to put out a late edition to satisfy the afternoon need.”

Avare, who had been hired by Ian and had never liked Kellen, stared at her. “What about your brothers, Mrs. Hillman?” he said. “How do they feel about this?”

“I told them both about it this morning. Tyler has backed my recommendation. Ian, on the other hand, feels the move would jeopardize any chance there might be to sell the company, which you all know has been his intent for some time now. That’s why he refused to be at this meeting.”

She closed the
file in front of her and folded her hands on top of it. She stared at her hands for a moment then looked up.

“I have something to say about that,” she said. “Most of you knew my father. He hired four of you and guided your rise here. You know he published newspapers that stood for something
-— integrity, truth, the best values of the reader. And he always did it with a great passion.” She paused. “I can no longer stand back and watch any of that be compromised and I will not allow this company to be sold. I will do whatever is necessary to prevent it.”

The room was quiet. “Our next step,” Kellen said finally, “will be to form a project committee to research this. I will head it and I’d like each of you to appoint someone from your division. We have to move fast on this.”

The men glanced at each other but remained silent.

“If there are no other questions,” Kellen said, “then I think we can call it a day.”

The men rose and filed out of the room, talking among themselves in low tones. Kellen lingered, watching Stephen out of the corner of her eye. The tension that had begun last night was still unresolved.

Stephen rose from his place at the far end of the table and came over to her. “You handled that well,” he said.

“I could have used your help.”

“You didn’t need it.”

She closed her briefcase with a snap and started for the door. He followed. They said nothing as they walked down the hallway.

“I know this can work,” she said finally. “But not if they’re not on my side.”

“They’re used to Ian calling the shots, Kellen. Now all of a sudden you come on strong. They feel like they’re caught in the middle of a family feud and are probably afraid to take sides. Also, you’ve issued a direct command. They might be feeling a little threatened.”

She stopped to face him. “Is that how you feel?”

Her question hung in the air and she wished she could take it back.

“No,” he said finally.

“Then why do I feel like you’re fighting me on this?” she asked.

“I told you last night that I thought it was a good idea, Kellen. But I also think you’re moving too fast. I know how much you want to solve the problem but
I don’t want to see you do something impetuous that you’ll regret later. If you’d just wait until I have more time to help —-”

“Stephen, stop it, please. You’re treating me just like you used to when we were kids. ‘You don’t think things through, Kellen
, you’re too impetuous, you need my help.’ Well, I am not a kid anymore, Stephen. Stop treating me like one.”

Her outburst had startled him into silence.

She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll get caught in the rush hour traffic,” she said.

She went toward the elevator. Stephen paused then followed her. She pushed the button and they waited, neither saying anything.

“Don’t go,” he said.

“I just want to be alone, Stephen. I want to think.”

“You don’t have to go down to Carmel to do that.”

“Yes, I do. I
already told you that I want to get away for a few days.”

He was staring at her but she wouldn’t look at him. Her eyes were trained above the elevator, watching the floor indicator move slowly, too slowly.

“I’m sorry, Kellen,” he said. “I didn’t mean to sound like I’m patronizing you. I’m sorry about last night, too.”

Her eyes stayed on the elevator lights.

“Don’t go,” he said. “We’ll talk about it. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, we’ll talk about it.”

Her eyes dropped to the
floor.

“If it’s something I’ve done
—-” he began.

She shook her head. “It’s not you, Stephen, it’s me.”

The elevator door opened and she got in. She pushed a button but Stephen held the door open. He seemed to want to say something but finally he just let the door go.

CHAPTER SEVENTY

The
Rolls hugged the road, heading south away from the congestion of the city. Soon, the urban sprawl gave way to open hilly land and coastal towns. Kellen knew the road well and tried to lose herself in the simple pleasure of driving but she could not stop thinking about Stephen.

She glanced up at the clear blue sky then over to her right. She knew from experience that just beyond the road there was a cliff and that far below was the ocean, pounding on the rocks. Bu
t today, a heavy fog bank had moved in and lay nestled against the cliffs. Nothing was visible but the top of the fog, resting atop the ocean like miles of meringue. The sight was disorienting, a strange distortion of the reality she knew was there, just beyond the guard rail.

Disoriented...that was how she felt right now about Stephen. It was as if their marriage was shifting slightly. It was like
the time when she was twelve and had felt her first real earthquake tremor. She had felt the floor of the house move slightly under her feet, and when it was over seconds later she had looked up and seen cracks in the walls of her bedroom. The sturdy old house on Divisadero, she had realized, was only as solid as the ground it was built on.

Was that what was happening to her marriage? Was the ground on which it had been built undermined by some fault?

Last night, when Stephen asked why she was going to Carmel he had been exasperated and even a bit angry at her reluctance to explain why. She couldn’t explain it to him.

The car screeched around a curve and she gripped the wheel tighter. The road dipped down a hill and through a tunnel of trees, and the fog engulfed the car. Kellen switched on the headlights.

If it’s something I’ve done —

It’s not you, Stephen, it’s me.

“It’s not you,” she said softly. “It’s not me. Maybe it’s just us.”

The sun had almost set by the time she pulled up to the dark house. She hurried up to the door, unlocked it, and went in. The house was stale from being closed and she went immediately to the glass doors leading to the deck and threw them open.

She stepped out into the rush of fresh salty air and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. For several minutes, she just stood there, watching the sun disappear. She heard a sound behind her and turned.

“I wanted to be here when you arrived,” Garrett said. “You beat me.”

“I drive too fast.” She paused. “After you called and we agreed to meet here, I changed my mind. I wasn’t going to come.”

“But you did,” he said.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Garrett came toward her. He held out his arms and Kellen stepped into them.

He held her, not tightly, and then she felt his hands go up under her hair to cradle the back of her head. She closed her eyes, waiting, expecting his kiss. Instead, she felt the brush of his lips over her eyelid.

“A long time,” he whispered. “Such a long time.”

His arms tightened around her and his lips touched her temple. She leaned into him, wanting to feel every part of him touching her. Then he kissed her, almost shyly.

She pulled away, her eyes on him. She took his hand and led him to the bedroom. In the murky light, she could barely make out his face, but she steadfastly held his eyes as she slowly undressed. Then, she crossed the room and without a word unbuttoned his shirt. She bent her head to kiss the hollow of his throat. He slipped free of the shirt and her hands moved up over his waist and across the hard expanse of his back, her fingers greedily rediscovering his body.

This time, when his lips found hers
, his kiss was fierce and biting. And when he grabbed her hips and pulled her toward him, she gave out a cry, half laughter, half sob.

They
fell on the end of the bed. She was aware of nothing but his lips and hands moving over her body, touching her everywhere at once. Every time he tried to ease her back toward gentleness, she kissed him bruisingly, urging him on. Finally, he laid back in surrender.

She straddled his hips and guided him inside her. She moved against him, slowly at first, then faster until her breath was coming in gasps and sweat beaded on her breasts. He watched her, swaying above him, her hair caressing his chest. He watched her face, entranced.

When she cried out and collapsed against him, he clasped her to him as his own body tensed then went limp with a thunderous release.

It was a moment before he realized she was crying. He held her more tightly, and her fingers dug into his arm. After a moment, she stopped and lay quietly on his chest. Finally, she got up and without a word, put on a robe.

She switched on a small light. She stared at him for a moment then ran a hand through her tangled hair.