Coast Road (32 page)

She wore sheer brown stockings and stylish brown heels. Her hair was a tasteful platinum, drawn back into a knot at the nape of her neck. Her face had a moisturized glow, her lipstick was a flattering coral.

She was extraordinary looking, particularly in comparison to the plain woman standing at the foot of Rachel's bed.

"Mom! " Jack said to the plain woman, feeling the same tug at his heart that he felt each time he saw her. "I didn't expect you here! " "Of course, you didn't, " scolded Victoria Keats. "You didn't call her, because you wanted to spare her the worry, but Rachel is, after all, her daughter-in-law and the mother of her grandchildren. Eunice 1.

was so upset when I told her about the accident that she insisted on meeting me here." Jack was about to ask how his mother, who rarely left Oregon, had managed to get to Monterey on her own, when Victoria said, "Well, Rachel doesn't look as bad as I thought she would. That's a nasty scrape on her face, but it looks to be healing well, and the doctor tells me her leg will be just fine. It looks like she's sleeping." She patted Rachel's arm. "Well, you go right ahead and sleep, darling, that's the best thing for you. The doctor assures me it's only a matter of days before you'll be awake and then you'll have to face this man." The look she turned on Jack might have been a scowl if her face had worked properly. The smooth stretch of her skin watered down dismay into puzzlement. "You look like something the cat dragged in. You know, they did tell me that comas can be psychological." They had told Jack that, too. Everything about Rachel suggested that she was healing well. Since they didn't know why she wasn't waking up, they were looking for excuses. Personally, he couldn't believe she wanted this.

"She may be terrified of facing you, " Victoria said. "Is that how successful architects dress these days? It must be a West Coast thing, because they would never walk around New York looking like that. In New York they're a dapper group, which they have to be, it's part of the statement they make, knowing about fashion and style, and good grooming.

But then, in New York, everyone has higher standards. When was the last time you shaved? " "Yesterday morning."

"Your father shaved every day, " Eunice reminded him.

"It looks like longer than that, " Victoria decided, giving him a slow head-to-toe, "but we won't put you on the spot. After all, you do have a lot on your hands. Rachel, they tell me he's been here every day.

Now isn't that something? He's living with the girls in Big Sur, and after all that hullaballoo about preferring to live in the city, aside from the stubble he doesn't look bad. Well, he could use a pair of tailored slacks, those jeans have seen better days, as have the loafers�are those Cole-Hans? No, they wouldn't be. You need Cole-Haans�the leather is exquisite�but that would be for the city, and if you're living in the country now, I suppose what you have on is all right. Oh my" �she lifted Rachel's hand�"look at your nails. Someone did a beautiful French manicure. It makes your nails look longer and more elegant. How many years did I tell you that you ought to let them grow? " "She paints, " Jack said. He had rounded the bed, greeting his mother with a shoulder touch along the way�a grand show of affection, by his family's standards. Taking root opposite Victoria, he put a protective hand against Rachel's neck. "Long nails get in the way."

"I don't see why they should, " Victoria argued, "not if she uses a brush. Of course, that manicure calls for something classic and white, certainly something more elegant than flannel, " she said in distaste.

"And lime green? Oh my. Lime green is not terribly classy. Subtle is the way to go, subtle and rich. But where is the lingerie I sent? " "In Big Sur . . . " "I sent it here."

"I know, but�" "Ah! Didn't I read once that silk and electronic devices like monitors don't work well together? " She hit her beautifully smooth forehead�but gently.

"I should have remembered! I could as easily have sent cotton.

We could have shopped in the city, " she told Eunice, then told Jack, "I rented a car at the airport, fetched Eunice at the train, and here we are, but I should have thought to stop. Honestly, I assumed that she had everything she needed."

"She does."

"Do you know how rude drivers are around here? I have never been honked at so much. And trucks? All over the place, getting larger and longer by the day. You take your hands in your life trying to pass one of those on the highway. I thought about hiring a driver, but I wanted this to be a break from business. You know"�she was pensive, looking at Eunice�"we should have stopped in the city. There's a marvelous restaurant at the Huntington, although we probably aren't dressed right�" Victoria was, Jack thought. Eunice was not. She wore a plain white blouse, a just-below-the-knee skirt, and serviceable tie shoes.

What with her home-cut gray hair and a tightness in her face that had nothing to do with plastic surgery, she looked every one of her seventy-something years. His heart ached for her. She would have stood out at the Huntington like a donkey at Ascot.

"�and we did want to get down here as soon as possible, " Victoria was saying. "Maybe another time. I hear Diane loves the place."

"Diane?

" Jack asked.

"Your senator, " Victoria said.

Eunice confirmed his ignorance with a dismayed "Jack." Victoria waved it aside. "Naturally, the city was covered with fog, so it was probably just as well we didn't stop. We'll have another chance.

I have to say, Jack, I kept expecting you to move Rachel to the city.

I was not terribly impressed with the way I was treated when I called here on the phone. Fine to say that the important thing is the quality of the medical care, but the term bedside manner is a broad one, and it comes right down from management, at least, that's what I say to my management team. So I was expecting the worst, and then I met Kara in person, but what a lovely young woman! " She confided, "And what gorgeous pearl earrings. There's a woman who knows how to make a statement. As it happens, I know her parents. They're a side branch of the Philadelphia Bateses, who have a summer place in Newport. A fine family."

"Aren't Kara's parents younger than you? " Jack said.

"Jack! " cried Eunice, but Victoria was undaunted.

"Not by much, " she assured him. "She's the youngest of four, she told me. A lovely girl. And where are yours? I'd like to see my granddaughters. I don't come this way often, and I can't stay long.

It's quite pathetic, with my own daughter in a coma, but the board of directors is holding its quarterly meeting in New York on Monday. I have to fly back tomorrow. I know you said not to come at all, Jack, but I had to, even for this little time. Where are those girls? " "School, " Jack said. Single words had less of a chance of being cut off.

"Well, how do they get here from there? They are coming, aren't they?

I would think that the very best thing for Rachel is to have her daughters here. Of course, they're probably the ones responsible for that music." She winced. "What awful stuff. I turned it right off.

There has to be something more appropriate."

"Appropriate? " "If she's listening to music, it might as well be something worthwhile.

Rachel used to love symphomes. Did you know that she wanted to be a concert pianist? " A concert pianist? Jack thought not. Victoria had wanted it. Not Rachel. Victoria had given them a piano as a wedding gift, and they had toted it from Tucson to San Francisco because one didn't sell a Steinway, especially if it was a gift from a parent�not until you were divorced, which Rachel had promptly done. Before then, in her inimitably irreverent way, she had used it as a table for photographs, the girls' projects, and wine and hors d'oeuvres. The bench was perpetually open and filled with green plants.

Concert pianist? To Jack's recollection, Rachel had never actually sat down and played the damned thing.

No. That was wrong. She had played it one night, near the end of their marriage. He had come home from work and had more work to do.

The girls were asleep. Startled by the bits of sound coming from the living room, he had gone down and found her there. The plants were on the floor, the piano bench an actual seat for once. Her left elbow was on top of the piano, left palm on her forehead, right hand on the keys.

She was picking out a slow, soft, sad tune that might indeed have been an echo of Beethoven.

He had leaned against the archway, struck by the pensive picture she made. For the longest time, she didn't know he was there, and he watched, just watched, wishing he had the time and skill to paint her that way. Then she looked up and brightened. "Done with work? " "No.

But I heard you playing. You're very good."

"I am not. That was the extent of my expertise. Three painful years of lessons, and I can't coordinate the right hand with the left, so one-handed single notes are the best you get."

"It's strange, seeing you there. What made you play? " She studied the keys, pensive again, sad. "I don't know. I don't feel like doing anything else. I feel . . . aimless.

" Her eyes found his.

"I'll give you some of my aim, " he said, slapping the woodwork as he straightened. "I wish I had less. There's at least two more hours of I work up there." As he started off, he called back, thinking about an important meeting he had the next morning, "Is my pin-striped suit back from the cleaners? " He had cut her off. Only now, looking back, did Jack realize that. He had cut her off for the sake of his own agenda, had done just what her mother always did.

And Victoria was rattling on. ". . . never seemed to be time for lessons and practice, and then she was too old. I had the most delighful lunch a la Rive Gauche"�pronounced the French way�"with a flautist. What was her name? . . . Genevieve, I believe. She was talking about what it took to play at that level and the touring that was involved . . . " Jack moved his hand against Rachel's jaw. He hadn't given the piano playing incident a second thought. He wondered how many similar memories were hidden�wondered if they would be as condemning. He had cut Rachel off because he couldn't deal with her problem. Selfish of him. Blind of him. Just like Victoria, who was managing the conversation even here.

And Eunice? Eunice was her usual, caustic self. She didn't say much but had a consistently negative way of saying it. Jack had visited briefly at Christmas, briefly being the operative word. An hour or two in the same house with his mother, his sister and brothers, and their families, and he was desperate to leave. The whole lot of them were negative.

Their major delight in life was in finding fault and placing blame. He knew it was a cover-up for insecurity, but it got old fast.

Still, he kept trying, hoping it would be different, angry when it wasn't. Visiting there had been easier when Rachel was with him. Her physical presence reminded him that his life was different.

"Positively grueling, " Victoria was saying, "and that was even before the recording dates. That's such a large part of it now, you know, it's become as commercial as anything we do, but you can almost understand it, what with the cost of sending an entire symphony orchestra on the road."

"It's greed, " scoffed Eunice. "The food chain."

"Well, it's a shame. This young woman had taken two days off and I looked as though she needed another two weeks. Are you hungry, Eunice?

I haven't had a thing since breakfast, which was in Los Angeles ages ago."

"Los Angeles? " Jack asked.

"Well, I flew Nice to Paris to London. Would you believe that Los Angeles was the closest I could get to here from London on such short notice, unless I wanted to go through Miami, which I did not, thank you, I don't speak Spanish. So I spent the night at the Beverly Hills Hilton.

I always like staying there. It isn't the Pierre, but it's close. I went down for an early breakfast, and who should be sitting two tables over but Paul. Now there is a stunning man. And decent? I remember what he said once when he was asked whether it was difficult being faithful to Joanne. Why go out for hamburger when I can have steak at home? he said, or words to that effect." She pressed her chest.

"Isn't that heartwarming? Not that I need steak for lunch, but is there anywhere nearby where Eunice and I can get a decent lunch�salad, quiche, whatever? Hospital cafeterias are pathetic. I don't mind driving, either. There must be something worthwhile in the center of town." Jack gave her a name and directions, and the two of them left.

The silence was heavenly.

Putting his elbows on the bed rail, he let his eyes roam Rachel's face, touching on all the old familiar spots, divining the same solace he always had in the past with her when visiting family. He could take Victoria. After a while, he just tuned her out. He didn't have to talk, she did it all. She didn't want to hear, wouldn't listen to anyone but herself.

Eunice was harder for him. She was his mother. For a time in his life, she had bathe him, clothe him, fed him. He remembered precious few times when she had smiled, or hugged him, or praised him. He was the only one of his siblings who had broken out and made good. Eunice had never been interested in hearing the details of his career, and he hadn't offered them. He continued to send her money, which she chose not to spend. The only way he had known that she was pleased with his marriage was the satisfaction with which b rv G)y she agreed to the festivities, and the fact that she blamed him for the divorce.