All You Could Ask For: A Novel (38 page)

“Aspen,” she said, without hesitation, “and we’d bring an iPod and speakers and have ‘Annie’s Song’ by John Denver playing.”

And then, just like that, it all came flooding back, and she told Adam right there, that night, nude and newly pregnant in their bed, that she needed to go to Aspen to look for Stephen. She couldn’t Google him, because she didn’t know his last name, and even if she could she didn’t want to talk to him on the phone—or, even worse, over e-mail—she needed to see his face when she told him. She needed to know, for herself, if he felt as Katherine did, that they were perfect for each other. She needed to know if he was willing to fight for her, and to be there when it got hard, which there was little doubt it eventually would. And so she went, on a wing and a prayer, and Adam went too, and they took a room in the Grand Hyatt at the base of Aspen Mountain, and on the first day they hiked up Smuggler’s Mountain and waited in vain on the observation deck for a ruggedly handsome man and a gorgeous golden retriever. That night they went to Jimmy’s and sat at the bar and ate burgers, and Adam drank beer, and they looked carefully at every man that entered. Marie was certain she would know Stephen if she saw him. There was no reason she should but she was sure she would.

Around nine they gave up and walked to Main Street for ice cream, and along the way they heard music and found a jazz concert in the grassy field across from the skateboard park, so they sat and listened and enjoyed the clean air and gentle breeze. And just when it was time for bed she remembered what was on the other side of the park, and she took Adam by the hand.

“Follow me,” she said, “I need to show you something.”

“What is it?”

“I just thought of where I want to get married.”

The sound of the water rushing across the stones became louder as they walked farther from the music, and as they reached the gravel path and passed the sign that said
JOHN DENVER SANCTUARY
, the jazz behind them faded away and all that was left was the rumble of the stream and the crunching of their footsteps. And she held his hand the entire way, and was thinking of how perfect it would be to make all the most important promises of her life in this place, when she saw the dog.

She cried when she told us about her meeting with Stephen, about how she cried that night, too, and how he was exactly as she had imagined, and how he remembered every detail of his time with Katherine, including Marie’s own explicit texts. They spent a long time sitting on stones that night, and Stephen listened closely as she explained it all, including the details of Katherine’s diagnosis, her treatment, what she was facing, how she was feeling. And when she was finished, she said, Stephen never budged, didn’t hesitate, and had only five words to say.

“I want to see her.”

It was over breakfast the following morning that they devised the plan and began to make the arrangements.

“And the rest,” Marie said to Maurice and me in the car that night, “is history.”

And she took another deep breath and there was silence, and then we were all overcome at exactly the same time. I reached out for Marie and kissed her repeatedly, and I held her until I felt her tears mingling with my own on my cheeks. And I heard a car door slam shut and then another open, and then Maurice slid in beside us.

“I don’t know if this is appropriate,” he said, “but I need a hug too.”

The three of us embraced for a long time, thinking of Katherine and Stephen, wondering what they were doing at just that moment. What were they saying to each other? Were they holding hands, were they dancing?

Then Maurice adjusted his chauffeur’s cap. “Ladies,” he said, “what do we do now?”

“We go to my apartment,” Marie said. “Adam is waiting with a justice of the peace to marry me.”

So that’s where we went. Maurice and I were the only witnesses. And now they are having a little girl, any minute, and they are naming her Katherine.

So I would love to hire Marie; she is a miracle worker. And there is no doubt Katherine always intended for her to be involved in what we are doing now. Maybe at some point I will be able to talk her into it.

I miss Katherine.

I am joyous to know that she is in a better place, but that doesn’t change the fact that I miss her terribly. The energy in her stare, the length of her stride, even when the pain in her back was the worst and the chemo left her nauseous and dry-mouthed, it was still an effort to keep up with her when she walked. She had an amazing presence, always, on her best days and her worst. I miss every bit of it.

It was the morning after her reunion with Stephen that she first told me of her idea. I had hardly slept at all, rolling about in bed with my phone beside me on the pillow to be sure it would wake me up when Katherine called, which she finally did just after nine.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she said. “How much do you know about my evening?”

“I know everything and nothing,” I said. “You know I had nothing to do with it.”

“I know,” she said. “You did exactly what you should have. And so did Marie. I’m blessed to have both of you in my life.”

“Don’t forget Maurice,” I said. “He cried like a baby when he found out what was going on.”

That made her laugh.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“I’m home. I need to talk to you about something. I’ve been meaning to for a while, and this finally seems like the perfect time.”

“Katherine, whatever it is can wait,” I said. “If you don’t tell me every single thing about last night in the next thirty seconds I am going to jump out of my own skin.”

She laughed again. “I will, I promise. But I need you to come over here. I’ll tell you all about it over breakfast.”

“Will I meet any special someone who might have spent the night?”

“You just might.”

I was in a taxi within five minutes.

I didn’t meet Stephen right away; he was in the bedroom, asleep. Katherine told me about their evening, about the way they danced and drank champagne until midnight and then went back to her apartment where they made love and then realized neither of them had eaten any dinner so they raided her refrigerator and sat at the kitchen table and watched the sun come up. And now he was sleeping and she was not, because she had something even more important she wanted to tell me and it couldn’t wait any longer.

“Do you remember the time you asked me how much money I was worth and I said you would find out when the time was right?” she began.

“I do.”

“Well, the time is right.”

And so, seated there at her kitchen table, while I drank coffee and ate a bagel with cream cheese, she told me everything. I say it that way because it is remarkable how detailed her vision was. I learned that morning that Katherine really was a genius, which I suppose should have been obvious from all her professional accomplishments, but sometimes you have to witness a genius in action to truly appreciate her.

She told me that during all the hours she had spent alone, watching chemicals drip into her veins, she had kept her mind occupied by arranging these plans in her head. In that way, she said, she spent more time and mental energy on this deal than she had on any of those she had put together on Wall Street.

“Some of those were worth a hundred billion dollars,” she said, “but in the end, that’s only money. And if Wall Street and my father taught me anything, it’s that money is meaningless. And someone else taught me that it’s what you do with money that matters.” She looked straight into my eyes. “
You
did.”

Katherine pulled a beautiful leather binder out of a briefcase she had by her feet and opened it to the first page. “I wrote this out because I wanted to say it exactly right,” she said. “I’ve never been very good at telling people how I feel, so it seemed much safer to me to do it this way. I hope it doesn’t seem impersonal. I promise you, whatever this piece of paper lacks in emotion, it makes up for in sincerity.” Then Katherine cleared her throat and began to read. “In the very first written connection we ever made with each other, Samantha, I told you that you had given me faith in the intrinsic decency of mankind. And, every day since then, you have exceeded that. I don’t believe it is possible for me to ever express in words what your friendship and commitment have meant to me the last three months. But I do believe I can say, without question, that I could not have made it to here without you. That sounds like a cliché, but it is actually the truth. So, I think if I were to say that you saved my life, it would be mostly accurate. And it’s very hard to find a way to say thank you for that.”

Katherine took a sip of coffee. Both our hands were shaking a little.

When she read on, it was in a different tone, it was her professional voice, like she was making a presentation in a boardroom.

“I have spent a great deal of time thinking, over the past few weeks, about what to do with my money. I hope to be around for a long time, but you never know what may happen, and I want all of this to be very clear. The only people I need to take care of are my mother and Maurice, so I will see they are both always secure. I plan to leave Marie all my clothes and jewelry, lord knows she needs them. And I am going to leave my apartment to you. I think you’d like it uptown, closer to the park.”

I started to speak but she held up her hand.

“Let me get to the part of this that matters,” she said. “The really big idea I have been working on has nothing to do with any of those. And it has everything to do with you. In another conversation we had online before we met, you told me that you considered yourself a support group without the group. Today, I am proposing that we give you the group. Inside this envelope are the founding documents of the charitable endeavor that will be my legacy, and a job offer. I would like you to be the chief executive of the foundation, with total authority to shape its vision and its mission. We are going to provide thousands of women the sort of support you have given me, and we are going to do it however you see fit.”

She closed the binder and slid it across the table. When I saw the letters emblazoned upon the front, my lips began to quiver.

BFF:
THE BREAST FRIENDS FOUNDATION

“Almost all of the legal work to get us started has been done. We have a meeting this afternoon with the lawyers. You’ll need to get to know them quickly. We’ll meet with Dr. Z tomorrow. I have asked him to be our first medical consultant. And then, after that, it’s pretty much going to be up to you to figure it out. I have the utmost confidence in you, Samantha, to take this and make a real difference. To make thousands of women feel the way you did when the cute nurse with the dimples told you that you no longer had cancer. That’s your mission.”

I ran my fingers over the smooth leather cover silently. I had no idea what to say.

“It’s a little overwhelming, I know,” Katherine said, more softly now. “If you want to take a little time to think it over, I’ll understand.”

I didn’t need any time to think about anything. I stood and walked around the table and put my arms around her shoulders, and just like that my life was changed.

So that was how it began.

And what it begat has been the most fulfilling experience of my life. I am exhausted and frazzled and fully consumed by this job, and I love every second of it. I have never known what it is like to feel this committed to anything. It is rewarding beyond words, and in its own way it is freeing as well. I wouldn’t change a moment of my life the last few months, and I don’t have any other plans for the immediate future. My goal is to run this foundation until it is no longer necessary, until the day when a woman like Katherine or Brooke or me will be diagnosed with cancer and say: “Shoot, I’m going to be out of work for a week.” Or: “I hope the medication doesn’t upset my stomach.” I honestly believe I will live to see that day.

Katherine gave me the authority to decide exactly how best to utilize the enormous endowment she designated to the Breast Friends Foundation. My first idea was to provide counseling and support for patients immediately after diagnosis, so we began with that, and that is an ever-expanding goal. We also provide grants for women who have to leave their jobs, or substantially reduce their hours, during their treatment cycles. That is a complicated process but it is wonderfully rewarding. We have made a real difference; there are at least two women I am convinced would have lost their homes were it not for our assistance. So that is a big part of what we do. But I quickly realized there wasn’t any way we could justify all the dollars Katherine gave us in those endeavors alone. So, about a month into the process, I decided our primary function would be to fund cutting-edge medical research. We have already donated more than $15 million toward breast cancer research in Katherine’s name, and in the next year we should double that. Phillip Rogers, the Wall Street powerhouse who once broke Katherine’s heart, is in charge of our investments and has done brilliantly well, even in a challenging economy. His passion for this cause, and his devotion to honoring Katherine’s wishes, have been invaluable and, in their own way, heartwarming.

As for Katherine, she and Stephen were in Aspen by the end of the first week. When she said she was entrusting it all to me she wasn’t exaggerating. She said she had spent enough time working in her life, and not enough climbing mountains. She also said she thought I had climbed my share of mountains and needed to try the work.

“And,” she said, “don’t count on hearing a lot from me. My philosophy has always been to put the right people in the right jobs and then get out of their way. You are the right person for this job. I’m getting out of your way.”

She stayed true to that as well. For the first month or so, I think I heard from her twice a day. Soon enough that shrunk to once. Then, less than that. These days I hear from her about once a week, usually via e-mails, and while I miss the sound of her voice, nothing makes me happier than knowing she is in a place that brings her such joy and peace. It is a miracle to me how happy she sounds and how well she feels. She begins her next round of chemotherapy next week, and, as she has in the past, she will fly Dr. Z out to Colorado to meet with her doctors. To date, I know all of them are very satisfied with her treatment. I speak with Dr. Z quite often about foundation matters and he updates me about Katherine as much as is appropriate; I speak with him far more often than I do with her.