Possessions (58 page)

“We went grocery shopping and to the post office. Are you out of town? You sound so far away.”

“I am. I have a lot to tell you. I just got back from dinner with—”

“Ross, will you be away long?”

“I'll be back tomorrow. What's wrong, Katherine?”

“Nothing—”

“Something is; I can hear it in your voice.”

“Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. Where did you say you are?”

“I want to know what's bothering you.”

She gazed at her soapy hand on the telephone receiver. “Herman Mettler canceled my order.”

“Canceled—! Why?”

“The recession, he says. I think it must be something else, but I can't imagine . . .” Her voice broke.

“Katherine, he can't arbitrarily cancel it. You have a contract.”

“Only verbal, as he carefully said in his letter. I never insisted on a written contract.”

“And you didn't ask Claude about it? Or any lawyer?”

“I was going to; I just didn't think it was urgent. He was so excited, talking about where he'd advertise my work, and display it, it never occurred to me there was anything to worry about. And then Victoria invited us to France and I just forgot about it. But I wouldn't have worked all month on new designs if I didn't think we had an agreement.”

“That son of a bitch—what the hell got into him? My God, for you to come back to that . . . Katherine, dearest Katherine . . . damn it, I should be there, to help you.”

Dearest Katherine.
“I'd rather just have your arms around me.”

His warm laughter seemed to fill the room. “Tomorrow. As soon as I can get a flight.”

“Ross, I haven't let you talk at all. You had something to tell me. Dinner with someone. Did you tell me where you are?”

He laughed again. “No. I'll tell you about it when I get back. You have enough to think about right now. Katherine, could you have Jennifer and Todd looked after this weekend? I want to be with you. We'll have lots of family weekends; this time I want you to myself.”

“Yes,” she said. “I'd love it. I'll see what I can do.”

“Try Victoria,” he suggested. “They all had a good time together in France; she and Tobias can't spoil them too badly in one weekend.”

Her despair began to lift, and the next morning she went to Victoria and Tobias. She found them at breakfast in the sunroom. “Ah, Katherine,” said Tobias, kissing her on both cheeks. “‘Journeys end in lovers meeting.' I understand yours did. Sit down, have coffee with us, and tell me everything.”

Katherine flushed and glanced at Victoria. “It seems there's nothing left for me to tell.”

Victoria was unruffled. “I gave Tobias no details, since you gave me none. I did mention your wonderfully expressive face, which was radiant most of our time in France.” She looked closely at Katherine. “And now it is not. What is it, my dear?”

Briefly, Katherine told them about Mettler's letter. Tobias began to sputter. “But—but—but—”

“Wretch!” Victoria exclaimed. “Viper!” She cast about. “Reptile!”

A laugh broke from Katherine. “Much more creative than I.” She leaned over to kiss Victoria. “All I thought of was bastard.”

“Of course,” Victoria replied. “But it is not sufficient.”

“‘When angry count four,'” Tobias quoted through clenched teeth. “'When very angry, swear.' Mark Twain.” He sighed. “I cannot swear in the presence of women. My mother would be proud, having drilled that into me, but it is terribly frustrating. Why did he do this? We don't really think it is the economy, do we?”

“No,” said Katherine. “Something made him change his mind about my jewelry. Maybe he decided it wasn't good enough for him after all—”

“Poppycock!” snapped Victoria. “I shall call him this instant! He has lost my business forever . . . and my friends'—!”

“My dear—” cautioned Tobias, his eyes on Katherine's face. “By all means stop buying from him, but beyond that . . . perhaps we should ask Katherine what she would like.”

“Katherine!” Victoria glared at him. “Katherine would not stop me!”

“I think I would,” Katherine said hesitantly. “At least for a while. I think I should talk to him, and then—keep going. I believe in my work more than I did before—I want to believe in it—I want to believe in myself. But I'm still finding out what I can do on my own. If I give in to a setback—”

“Setback!” Victoria exclaimed. “Treachery! I shall speak to him—I shall not allow that scoundrel a moment's peace of mind.”

Tobias sighed deeply and loudly. Victoria frowned. “Well,” she said. “You think it should be Katherine's decision.” He nodded solemnly. “Katherine?” Victoria asked. “You are sure of yourself?”

“Mostly,” Katherine said. “You see . . . even if he gave in, to keep you as a customer, he wouldn't be very happy with
me. He might put my pieces in a display case at the back of the shop, and forget them, and I wouldn't be much better off. You can't force him to be enthusiastic, however angry you are.”

“Wise Katherine,” said Tobias softly.

His praise was as warm to Katherine as Victoria's indignation. “I'll see if I can find out the truth,” she said. “And then I'll go to some smaller shops. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to start at the top.”

“No, no, no!” Victoria punctuated each word with her fist on the table. “Always the top, never anything but the top! I will remain silent, since you and Tobias are so sure that is best for you, but you must not temper your ambitions; you must not let that donkey defeat you! Where is Ross?” she added abruptly. “I called and his secretary said he was out of town.”

“He'll be back sometime today,” Katherine said.

“Where did he go?”

“I don't know; he said he'd tell me when he got back.” Katherine hesitated, then asked them about the weekend. “I can't leave Jennifer and Todd alone, even with Annie across the hall.”

“Alone!” Tobias exclaimed. “Of course they must come here; we'll have a delightful time . . . they can alphabetize my file cards on the Hayward family tree.”

“No,” said Victoria firmly. “They might never come again. But of course we'll take them, Katherine; they'll brighten our weekend. And a pleasant diversion is just what you need.” She put her hand on Katherine's cheek. “I wish I could go with you to Mettler.” She grinned like a small girl. “Give him hell, my dear.”

Walking down the steep hill, past lush purple and pink gardens cooled by silver-blue ice plants, Katherine repeated it to herself—
Give him hell, my dear
—smiling, to keep from knotting up inside. And so she was smiling as she walked into Mettler's and climbed the spiral staircase to the balcony.

It seemed the secretary did not know what had happened. “How nice to see you, Mrs. Fraser,” she said. “He's not busy; I'll let him know you're here.”

“Don't bother,” Katherine said, and swiftly reached the closed door, swung it open and walked into Herman Mettler's office.

He was reading a brochure on the French Riviera and looked up, frowning. “Mrs. Fraser!” His face went through a series of rapid transformations. “An unexpected pleasure! What can I do for you? I am at your service, though only briefly; some customers are due to arrive at any moment . . . and due customers are better than don't, are they not?” A brief chuckle came and went. “So.”

Katherine stood near his desk. “I found your letter yesterday, when I returned from France.”

“France!” He waved the brochure. “I leave this weekend for Monte Carlo; I cannot resist the gambling. As a recent traveler, you must tell me what else I can do there.”

I'd love to, Katherine thought with grim humor, but aloud she said, “I'd rather you tell me what your letter means.”

“It means what it says! Dear lady, times are bad! Unemployment is up, interest rates are up, bankruptcies are up. Sales are down. The future is uncertain. What more can I say?”

“Monte Carlo is very expensive.”

“Well, but, one must get away for one's health!” He coughed. “Mrs. Fraser, I thought my letter was clear. If you have nothing else to ask me—”

“Of course I have; I'm asking for the truth.” Katherine moved closer to his desk. In a slim blue linen dress belted in white that she had found at the discount designer shop in Paris, and wearing a broad-brimmed white straw hat, she stood over him. “The last time I was here, you called me Katherine and talked about advertising my work in
Vogue.
Two months later you cancel my order and call me Mrs. Fraser. Something happened in between and it wasn't the economy. I want to know what it was.”

“Mrs. Fraser, I am a busy man,” he said, and pushed back his chair. “I can't waste my time—”

“You've wasted my time,” Katherine retorted, gazing coldly at him from beneath the brim of her hat. “I spent the month of July working on designs you'd contracted for—”

“We never had a contract!”

“We had a verbal agreement between professionals, but you behaved badly, without good faith—”

“I always act in good faith! And if you knew what was good for you, you would not insult Herman Mettler!”

“What is good for me is selling my jewelry. I spent valuable
time working on designs you requested and now I'm forced to spend more time visiting your competitors—”

“You won't get far! They know about you, too!”

Bewildered, Katherine stared at him. His gaze dropped. “What do they know?” she asked.

After a moment, he shrugged. “What the hell, Mrs. Fraser, there's a cloud over you.”

Katherine's chest tightened. “A cloud,” she repeated.

“You don't have to pretend with me. I know about your husband; I know he's on the run; I know you ran away, too—sold your house at a loss and got out of Canada.” He sighed. “It's just too much, Mrs. Fraser. You know how demanding our customers are—how jealous of the uniqueness of their possessions. I can't take a chance on designers with questionable backgrounds; I can't risk buying jewelry that might be . . . copied.”

“You mean stolen,” Katherine said, keeping her voice steady. “But you have no reason to think that of me. If you're worried because someone told you these stories, why didn't you ask me—?”

“I did! I asked you about the authenticity of your designs!”

“And I answered you.”

“Not to my satisfaction.”

“You were satisfied at the time.”

“Mrs. Fraser, listen to me. The truly wealthy live in a very small world. They meet at the same parties, dinners, weddings—no matter what country they're in. And their memories! My God, they remember the dress each woman wore at a dinner party nine years earlier . . . they even remember who her husband was then. So of course they remember jewelry. And would they come back to Mettler's if they paid three thousand or three hundred thousand for a necklace and then saw it on someone else?” He sighed again. “There is no malice in my heart; you are an attractive young woman, but I must protect my business and myself. I will not take a chance when the shadow over you is so dark. And now, Mrs. Fraser, I have customers due . . .” He held open the door. “Good of you to come in; I do wish you well. I hope you and your husband work out your problems so you can go back to Canada.”

Katherine gazed at him. “You're a coward, Herman.”

“True,” he agreed. “But even if I took risks, Mrs. Fraser,
it would be for someone more important than you. Now will you please go?”

Numbly, Katherine walked through the outer office and down the stairs to the main floor. The store sparkled with gems and gold and silver, but she saw it dimly, as if a shadow obscured her view.

There is no escape from Craig.

*  *  *

The boat gleamed a pale white in the dense fog, the roar of its engine bouncing back at them as Ross steered through the harbor. Seven o'clock in the morning and they were the only ones out, avoiding the traffic jam of weekend sailors. They moved past the ghostly shapes of other boats, out of the harbor, and then there was only fog and a small clear space around them. Ross slowed the engine. “It's all yours,” he said to Katherine. “Keep a straight course while I get the sails up.”

“I can't see a straight course,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I can barely see the land behind us.”

He put his arm around her. “You have the compass. But the fog isn't so bad. Look.” He pointed and, straining her eyes, she saw a faint shape in the distance. “Treasure Island,” he said. “I've been out on days when you couldn't see it until you were practically part of it. Watch the compass and keep us west northwest, heading for the island. It's a big target. Hard to miss.”

“I'd rather miss it,” Katherine said.

He chuckled. “I think we will; I'll take over before we're even close. You'll do fine; I trust you.” He kissed her lightly and moved away from the wheel. Katherine took his place, watching him jump easily from the cockpit to the deck before she turned to check the compass heading and the faint shape of the island. Relax, she told herself. Everything will be fine. She shivered and zipped up her jacket against the damp fog. But it wasn't only the fog. She was nervous—about sailing, about telling Ross what Mettler had said, and about Ross's odd reluctance to talk about his trip.

“You have enough on your mind,” he'd said when he called the night before, soon after he got home. Then he suggested ways to spend the weekend: driving to Big Sur, staying at his house, or on his boat. “We can sail up the coast on Saturday, and come back on Sunday. The weather's fine and even though
you might think living on a boat is a bit primitive, I think you'll enjoy it.”