Possessions (73 page)

“Sure,” Jennifer and Todd looked at each other. “But we promised him dinner that day he went swimming with us.”

“You didn't tell me that.”

“We like him.” Todd said. “That's all. And it's fun going places together. We just like him, and we thought—after what we said before—about Dad—you might not understand. That's all.”

“Understand what?” Katherine asked.

“That you need sex and companionship,” Todd blurted. “Carrie told us. They really hate the guy their mother has—his
name's
Guy, which is weird—and we really like Ross, so we figure if you have to have somebody . . . Well, anyway, that's what we meant.”

“Thank you,” Katherine said.

“And have a wonderful time tonight,” Jennifer said. “And don't rush home. Be as late as you want.”

“Thank you,” Katherine said again.

Now I have permission from everyone, she thought, taking her new dress from the closet. At least for sex and companionship.

“You're not dressed!” Leslie said, swooping in half an hour later. “I came to help; Claude's picking us up in a few minutes. He told me about the board meeting; I'd like to bow down
before Victoria and kiss her feet. My God, is this your new dress? You'll be the star of the party. Turn around; let me zip you up.”

They stood in front of Catherine's mirror. “Look at you,” Leslie said quietly.

Katherine was all in gold: the dress a strapless silk sheath in antique gold, with a lace overblouse, pale gold and long-sleeved. Her dark hair, tumbling to her shoulders, was a deep burnished brown against the fragile gold lace and her pale skin glowed softly, barely touched with color.

She had removed the button that fastened the blouse at her waist and replaced it with a miniature gold seahorse with an opaline eye and a slender coiled tail nestling a fleck of abalone shell. But it was the necklace and matching bracelet that Leslie reached for with shining eyes.

“Incredible. They're art, not just jewelry. Why the hell you're wasting your time at those little shops . . .”

“You know why.”

“Your belts are selling at Heath's. I'll have to talk to our jewelry manager again.” They heard the doorbell. “Claude—come to take his ladies to the ball. Can I try on the necklace first?”

“Go ahead.” Katherine went to the door and when she and Claude came in they found Leslie sighing at her reflection. Her dress was wine taffeta leaving one shoulder bare; around her throat flowed the slender, curved gold segments of Katherine's necklace, held together with small clusters of tiny bezel-set gems—teardrops, triangles, and circles—in amber, pale blue, deep green, and black. Leslie sighed again. “It belongs in a palace—seventeenth-century Italy or France—on a woman wearing a crown or at least a tiara.”

In a low voice, Claude asked Katherine, “Is it for sale?”

“No.” She smiled. “This was my present to myself. But I could make a similar one.”

“I'll buy it.”

“Sight unseen?”

“Of course; I trust you.”

“It's very expensive.”

“I don't doubt it. I want it, whatever it costs. My wedding gift to my bride. I congratulate you, Katherine; it's brilliant.” He stood beside Leslie. “You belong in a palace. But not
tonight. Victoria asked Katherine to be early; we should leave.”

“I'm ready. Katherine, Tobias would say ‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever,' and he'd be right. My God, your jewelry has me quoting poetry. Here; take it back before I break into song.”

By the time they reached the Fairmont, Katherine was thinking only of the party. It would be her first social event since the whirling months with Derek, and she wasn't even sure what Victoria expected her to do as a hostess. Check the tables, she thought, and whatever else it takes to make four hundred guests happy. A cinch, as Leslie would say. Just a little gathering, like the one I gave for her in Vancouver.

She stopped short in the middle of the ornate lobby, marble-pillared, floral-carpeted, velvet-upholstered, remembering the softness of the summer night as she stood on the terrace of her home in Vancouver, telling Leslie it was too bad she couldn't stay over, to see Craig. I was waiting for him then, she thought. I'm waiting for him now. Two different parties. She glanced in a mirror. Two different women.

“Katherine,” Leslie called, “Didn't you want to be early?”

“Yes,” she said. She might still be waiting for him, but nothing else was left from that other party. Go away, she told his shadow. I have so many other things to think about right now.

She walked with Leslie and Claude along what seemed to be endless corridors to the glass doors that led to the ballroom. Only the bartenders were there, but in the adjacent dining room waiters and waitresses were setting wine glasses on forty round tables set with ivory damask cloths, white and gold china, floating candlewicks, and centerpieces of russet and white chrysanthemums in woven baskets. Clusters of Norfolk pines stood like miniature forests along the walls, in the corners, and below the stand where an orchestra was tuning up. Chandeliers glowed with amber lights. The Fairmont dining room had been transformed to a New England autumn forest.

“Tobias,” Claude said, surveying the scene. “He misses Boston in the fall so he's recreated it in San Francisco.”

A large man in a tuxedo approached, looking inquiringly from Katherine to Leslie. “Mrs. Fraser? I'm Arvin Wallace, assistant caterer. Mrs. Hayward said I was to discuss any problems with you.”

“We'll be in the garden,” Leslie said.

Traitor, Katherine thought. “Is there a problem?” she asked Wallace.

“The caviar mousse, madame. The chef used Beluga instead of the American Golden that Mrs. Hayward ordered.”

Katherine looked at him blankly. Beluga instead of American Golden. When a woman puts on a new gown and the most elegant of jewelry, she does not anticipate a lesson in subspecies of caviar. “Have you tasted it?” she asked.

He looked offended. “But of course, madame. How else would I know which caviar had been used?”

“You could have asked,” Katherine said mildly. “How did it taste?”

“Excellent, of course,” he said. “It is, of course, the finest caviar one can buy.”

“Then what is the problem?” Katherine asked.

“But, madame, surely it is clear . . . Mrs. Hayward originally asked for Beluga, but we thought it was unavailable and therefore the price we quoted for the dinner did not include it. I thought of course madame would see that immediately.”

Snob, Katherine thought. He's worried because he's going to be stuck with the extra cost. Well, he's not going to make himself feel better by making me feel inexperienced, even if I am inexperienced. She raised her chin and calmly scrutinized him until his eyes flickered. “Mr. Wallace, at this moment, is the most important consideration cost or excellence?”

“Madame, there is no question—”

“Good. It seems inappropriate, then, to raise the issue of cost two hours before dinner. I am confident the mousse will be as excellent as you claim, and tomorrow we will study the matter. I will, of course, discuss this with Mrs. Hayward.”

He lowered his eyes. “Of course, madame.” He turned to go.

“Mr. Wallace, about the centerpieces—”

He looked up and Katherine saw the flash in his eyes. “The centerpieces, madame? Did Mrs. Hayward—?”

“Mrs. Hayward didn't mention them. But they're skimpy. And the two colors aren't bright enough against the ivory cloths. I would guess that some flowers are missing.”

He looked at her with grudging respect. “Yes, madame. By mistake the florist sent red dahlias instead of yellow asters. Quite gauche; I left them out.”

“Let me see them.”

He sighed, left her, and was back in a moment with a handful of ruby-red dahlias with yellow centers like tiny suns.

Katherine arranged four of them among the chrysanthemums in one of the woven baskets. The centerpiece sprang to life, brightening the entire table. Silently she looked at Wallace.

“It does seem pleasant,” he said.

“Please take care of the other tables. Four to a basket; five if you have enough. Is there anything else?”

“No, madame.” He hesitated. “Thank you.”

Flushed with success, Katherine wandered about the dining room, admiring the tables. She pointed out to a waitress a place setting that lacked a wine glass; she straightened a centerpiece that was perfectly straight; she spoke to the orchestra leader about his selections and asked him to include the Autumn section of Vivaldi's
Four Seasons.
By then the beautiful room seemed hers and she walked toward the ballroom feeling sure of herself, in charge, a hostess—until she saw the first guests arriving, and quailed. I can't do this alone, she thought, and went to find Leslie and Claude. “You have to stand there with me,” she pleaded. “I can't possibly greet four hundred strangers without support. Why isn't Victoria here?”

“She makes a grand entrance at ten,” said Claude. “Come along; I'll fill you in on personalities.”

He stood at her shoulder, with Leslie beside him, and whispered capsule descriptions of approaching guests. “Just came back from Majorca . . .” “And how was Majorca?” Katherine asked, smiling, as she shook hands. “Owns a pool with flamingoes . . .” “Are the flamingoes flourishing?” Katherine asked, smiling. She was beginning to have a good time. “Mounts stuffed elks in his hunting lodge,” Claude whispered.
“Whole
elks?” Katherine asked in astonishment. The guests looked bewildered as she and Claude and Leslie burst out laughing. “I'm sorry,” Katherine said to the dignified man standing in front of her. “How nice to see you; I've heard so much about your elks.”

When Ross came, Claude whispered, “In love with a brilliant jewelry designer,” and so she was smiling when she put out her hand to him. He held it tightly. “Is Victoria ill?” Katherine shook her head. “Claude says she'll make a grand entrance at ten.”

“And she asked you to do her chores?”

“Yes.”

“But we'll have time—” He hesitated, then, as others came in behind him, said, “Later,” spoke briefly to Claude and Leslie, and went on.

Finally, Claude said, “That's most of them. Come; I'm parched. The three of us have earned champagne.”

By ten o'clock, four hundred guests in tuxedoes and lustrous gowns strolled in the ballroom and garden. Waiters and waitresses circulated with mirrored trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres; the orchestra played show tunes; and in a pause between numbers, Victoria appeared in the doorway, in ivory velvet edged in silk. On Tobias' arm, she walked to a high-backed chair on a small platform between the garden and the ballroom, where she could observe everyone.

A few feet from her, on the other side of the glass, was the garden, a luxuriant oasis of towering palms like thickly feathered umbrellas, raised circular beds of flowers separated by grass and walkways, an illuminated fountain, lampposts topped with softly lit spheres, and six-foot Bird-of-Paradise bushes covered with brilliant blue and orange flowers like birds in flight. As guests came to greet her, Victoria saw Katherine at the far end of the garden, standing with Leslie and Claude, Marc Landau and his newest companion, and a group of board members of the San Francisco Symphony. They stood beside one of the Bird-of-Paradise bushes, but, in Victoria's eyes, Katherine outshone the flowers and more than held her own with the women around her.

It was a different crowd from the ones Katherine had met with Derek. This was Victoria's elite: the wealthy benefactors of the city's museums, concerts, ballet, theater, colleges, and universities. Many of them had several homes in or near the world's great cities; most of them represented wealth that had been transmitted through the generations; all of them gave away more than most people earn in a lifetime. Katherine stood among them, smiling, chatting, listening, learning.

“Look at her,” Victoria said to Tobias. “Would you guess she grew up over a grocery store?”

“I would guess,” he mused, “that she is terrified and exhilarated in equal measure.”

“Nonsense. Well, perhaps so. But how well she carries it
off!” She saw Katherine break into laughter, her face glowing. “How full of life she is! Tobias, I do love her so.”

“Yes, quite right,” he agreed, thinking how extraordinary was the train of events that began with the cowardice of Craig and led to the love between two women who needed each other.

“Where is Ross?” Victoria demanded. “I don't see him anywhere.”

Tobias chuckled. “Whatever made you think of him?”

“Katherine made me think of him, as you well know. Well, would you bring her to me, Tobias? I haven't greeted her and I want to look at her jewelry; several people have mentioned it. Please, my dear.”

Tobias wended his way through the crowd, nodding and smiling at the sleek, successful guests who treated him with respect because he was Victoria's brother and had written a number of scholarly books, but who also thought him amusingly eccentric because he had been content as a professor, unconcerned with what they called serious money.

I am serious about books, Tobias mused, and as greedy about acquiring them as others are about acquiring money. He chuckled. Perhaps they would admire me more if they knew I was as covetous in my way as they are in theirs.

At that moment he found Ross beside him. “Can you share your joke?” Ross asked.

“No, dear boy; it was on me, so I keep it to myself. Have you seen Katherine?”

Ross looked at the group beside the Bird-of-Paradise bush. “Yes. Would you introduce me to her? If we pretend we're just beginning, with no past to deal with, I could ask her to dance.”

“Ask her anyway. Tell her you're doing it not for yourself, but to please Victoria.” Ross laughed. “It
would
please Victoria,” Tobias said. Almost to himself, he quoted, “‘However long we were loved, it was not long enough.'”