Prizes (10 page)

“But—” Raymond began to protest before he realized the awkwardness of the situation.

“I’m sorry,” the dean cut him off quietly. “But if she’s old enough to be going to college, she should certainly be able to have this chat on her own.”

“Uh, yes.” Raymond mumbled, ill at ease. “You’re quite right.” And then to his daughter, “I’ll be waiting right outside, darling.”

Alone with the girl, Dean Kendall exercised supreme delicacy. The child was extraordinarily gifted but there was clearly a problem here. He did not specifically mention Raymond, but in an offhand manner asked, “If we were to admit you, Isabel, do you think you could live in dormitories with other girls, some of them twice your age?”

“No,” she replied happily. “I’d be living with my father.”

“Yes, yes,” the dean murmured. “That would seem to make sense—at least for the first few years. But don’t
you think that would—how can I put it–inhibit your social life?”

The little girl smiled serenely, “Oh no. Besides, I’m not old enough to have a social life.”

When they were gone, the dean had an inner argument with himself. She’s far too young. She’s immature. She should really go to a prep school till she’s old enough.

But, goddammit, if
we
don’t take her, those bastards at Harvard will.

Oscillating between guilt and avidity, he composed a letter of acceptance to Ms. Isabel da Costa, offering her a place in the freshman class of ’88 in order to pursue her studies for a bachelor’s degree in Physics.

In a pretense of fairness, Ray let Muriel have her say. She was barely able to control her anger.

“Ray, I hate your guts for what you’ve done to Isabel—
and
me. But you’re right, the only reason I won’t take you to court is because, unlike you, I genuinely care about what happens to her as a person. And also unlike you, I want her to grow up and be happy. I won’t allow her to be the mutilated prize in a parental tug-of-war.”

He listened silently, hoping that by fulminating, she would spend some of her rage. His tactics were successful, for in the end, Muriel had no alternative but to capitulate.

“Take her, if you must, but at least don’t shut me out of her life.”

He quickly accepted the terms of her truce—which were more like unconditional surrender. Suppressing his feelings of triumph, he responded softly, “Muriel, I swear, it’s what Isabel wants. You can ask her. Berkeley’s got one of the greatest Physics departments in the world. And we’ll be home for every vacation, I promise you.” He paused and asked, “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” she answered acidly. “What we don’t have is a marriage.”

When they finally drove away from the house Isabel asked, “Oh Daddy, are you sure you packed my violin?”

He turned on her sternly, “As a matter of fact, I didn’t—.”

“Well then, let’s go back right away.”

“Darling, I did it deliberately. You’re a college girl now and won’t have time for recreational activities.”

“But you know how much I love it …”

He did not reply. At last she spoke.

“Daddy, I know you think it somehow ties me to home. But I swear I want my fiddle for its own sake.”

“Sure, sure,” Raymond agreed all too quickly. “I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I’ll arrange to have it sent up.”

“Or Mom could bring it when she visits.”

Raymond’s expression was saturnine, but his voice held little conviction. “Yeah … sure.”

10
 

Adam and Toni’s solitude was highly populated, for the summer people who flock to the Cape are almost evenly divided between the Who’s Who of Boston and the Who’s What of Washington.

It was so atypical for both of them to steal even an afternoon off, that they had accumulated more weeks of vacation than they could possibly spend. But since, as Toni cheerfully put it, “when there isn’t anything like a Watergate, Washington goes to sleep in August,” she could close the door of her office with reasonable calm. Besides, she was amazed to discover that work did not seem to be the most important thing in her life at the moment.

They were both agreeably surprised how well each got along with the other’s home team.

“I look at it this way,” Adam mused lightheartedly. “The types I hang out with search for magic bullets, and the people you work with develop guided missiles.”

Still, they found plenty of time to be alone. Whether it was an early morning jog on the beach or a late evening clambake, they enjoyed being together. And the lovemaking got better and better.

Toni’s thirtieth birthday fell in August and her special request was curiously simple: lunch outdoors at the Sea Spray Spa & Resort in Chatham.

Adam was puzzled by her choice, until he saw the table she had booked. It was at the edge of the huge swimming pool.

She fixed him with her gaze and said affectionately, “Before we eat, I want my birthday present.”

Adam knew what was coming when she raised her eyes to the diving platform at the far end.

“Did you bring your bathing suit?” she demanded.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Matter of fact, I’m wearing it under my jeans.”

She smiled. “Good. Now show me a glimpse of the old Adam Coopersmith. The boy who could fly through the air.”

“Come on, Toni, it’s been so many years—”

“I’ll make allowances,” she said happily. “So please get out there and fall for me.”

Adam went to the locker rooms, changed quickly, and then, stopping once or twice to touch his toes and stretch, made his way nervously to the diving platform.

Climbing the steps, he took some comfort from the fact that it was only half the regulation height. As he stood poised at the summit, a sudden hush fell among the diners below, his grace and bearing hinting at what they could expect. He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and executed a respectable swan dive.

Emerging from the water, he looked over at Toni and called, “Satisfied?”

“No way.” She was smiling. “I’ve got to see at least one somersault.”

“Do you want me to break my neck?” he complained.

“No,” she said, “I just want you to prove that the stories you told me aren’t apocryphal.”

He laughed, swam to the far corner of the pool,
placed his hands on the edge and, with a single action, propelled himself onto his feet.

When at last he was atop the platform again, even the waiters had stopped to watch. Adrenaline raced through his body and made his heart pound. He advanced quickly, sprang as high as he could, tucked in his legs, spun around and entered the water.

This time the observers applauded.

Proud of himself, Adam looked at Toni for a sign of approval. She was clapping enthusiastically.

“More,” she called out like a teenager at a rock concert.

“No,” he retorted. “Now it’s
your
turn.”

“Okay,” she conceded, “let’s have lunch.”

As they drove back to their rented house that evening, Toni remarked, “You know, you’re a different person on a diving board. I mean, for those seconds when you’re literally flying in the air, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

When they had “settled in,” Lisl agreed to come and spend a few days with them in the guest cottage at the bottom of the garden.

The circumstances of the two women’s second meeting were vastly different. At Max’s funeral Toni had been a shy and sympathetic mourner. But now she clearly felt the enormous attachment between Adam and Lisl, and it awakened her instinctive feelings of rivalry.

Though she evinced a polite interest in Kleinian psychology, Toni was far from reticent about the importance of her own work in the Department of Justice.

She was unable to mask her feelings of power when describing a crisis in which she had to “send in the marshals” to safeguard the director of a Florida clinic who counseled pregnant women on their options.

This occasioned the only discordant exchange during the entire time she and Adam were together.

“I’m sorry you don’t like Lisl more,” he remarked as casually as possible when they were once again alone.

“What gave you that impression?”

“It was just a sense I got,” he replied. “I mean, of all your exploits, did you have to boast about protecting the rights to abortion in front of a woman who couldn’t have children?”

“Come on, Adam,” she retorted. “If I was ‘boasting,’ I’m sorry. But Lisl lives in the real world, where most women can—and do—have children. You can’t go through life as her psychic bodyguard.”

“Hey, don’t get me on
my
hobbyhorse about women having children. Let’s just be a little more sensitive, okay?”

Toni knew when to change the melody. “That’s what makes you such a man—you’re an extraordinary combination of testosterone and sensitivity.”

Her phraseology captivated him. And aroused his thoughts to other matters.

“Dr. Coopersmith, Dr. Coopersmith!”

A tanned, flaxen-haired woman in white shorts and a striped T-shirt, a cute four-year-old boy at her side, was waving frantically at Adam.

He turned and smiled. “Janice—it’s nice to see you again.”

The woman and her child hurried toward them. Before he could even introduce her to Toni, she pointed to the little boy and blurted, “Look, Dr. Coopersmith, this is your baby. Did you get the pictures?”

“Of course,” Adam replied, and then stooped to shake the child’s hand. “Hi there, young man. I’m the doctor who brought you into the world. You made a lot of people very happy.”

His mother was bubbling over and immediately addressed Toni, “Oh, Mrs. Coopersmith, you don’t know what a wonderful man your husband is …”

Toni was about to protest then saw that it would be
too great a disappointment to reveal that she was not Adam’s wife.

“…  he took on Jeff and me when everybody had given up on us,” Janice went on, “and as you can see from Larry, he gave us the greatest Christmas present of all time.”

“It was all your doing, Janice,” Adam said warmly. “I mean, I just rattled some test tubes. You were the one who had the courage to try yet another pregnancy.”

“You’re too modest, Doctor,” she continued ardently. “I only wish Jeff were here, but his firm only gave him two weeks’ vacation. He insisted that we stay on. We would’ve loved to have gotten together with you one evening.”