Adam's Daughter Part 57

When he returned, Helen was still sitting in the chair, a vacant stare on her face. Garrett picked up the papers La.s.siter had left and thumbed through them slowly. It was all there -- and more. The eight newspapers in Britain, the Toronto paper, the New York Tattler, the fifteen Bryant newspapers, and other holdings. An apartment in London, property in France, the bank accounts and insurance policies, the healthy portfolio of incredibly diverse investments -- and Durdans, of course. Arthur Richardson had left an estate worth more than 250,200,000. About $600 million, almost half of it the Bryant holdings, Garrett estimated.

He shook his head in sad wonderment. No will...

He could claim nothing as his. Even in his death, Arthur cast a shadow.

Garrett set the papers down in front of Helen. After a moment, she picked them up and began to turn the pages.

He wondered what she was thinking. All during her marriage to Arthur she hated the newspapers. It seemed logical that she would now sell them, wash her hands of the grimy endeavor forever.

He stared at her, knowing he couldn't let that happen. He would do whatever he had to -- beg, plead, or steal enough to buy them back from her -- anything to prevent them from slipping through his grasp.

"I don't want any of this," Helen said softly, holding the papers. She looked up at Garrett. "It's yours," she said. "He always meant it to be."

He stared at Helen. "What?"

"It may not be in any will, but he told me he wanted you to have everything when he was gone," she said.

"When?" Garrett asked.

"About three months ago. He had never said one word about it before, but one day, out of nowhere, he just said, 'I did it all for my son, and when I'm gone it will be his.'"

Garrett went to the sofa and sat down beside her. "It was the day I came here, wasn't it," he said. "That morning we had the fight in the sun room."

The memory seemed to distress Helen. "Yes," she said softly. "Your father was very upset by the whole thing. He kept saying that he only did what he did for your sake and that he was sorry he hurt you. He said that often in the last few months."

"I wish he had told me that," Garrett said quietly. His eyes traveled around the room and he could see Arthur standing by the fireplace, one arm propped on the mantel, a tumbler in his hand, playing the role of a country squire. He closed his eyes and could see Arthur in the dirty newsroom of the Sun, s.h.i.+rt smudged with newsprint, baying at some unfortunate wretch, playing the role of publis.h.i.+ng t.i.tan. He could see him walking down the lane to the races, shortening his stride to match that of a little boy's, playing the role of father.

"I wish," Garrett said, "I had talked to him more."

They were both quiet for a long time.

"All I really want is enough to live decently on and Durdans," Helen said. She held the papers out to Garrett. "The rest is yours. I know you'll care for it the way he wanted."

He nodded and took the papers. There was another long silence.

"You'll be going back to the States soon?" Helen asked.

"Yes, but I don't know when. There will be a lot for me to do here, I suspect." He stared at the papers in his hand. "Then I'll go on to New York."

"What about San Francisco? I thought that's where you live now."

He let out a breath. "It wouldn't really be practical anymore. I need to be able to get back here quickly to watch over things. New York will be a better base for me, I think." He smiled ruefully. "The empire is suddenly too big."

"What about that woman in San Francisco?" Helen said. "I thought you were in love with her."

It seemed strange to hear such a direct and personal statement from Helen, and Garrett looked up in surprise.

"It didn't work out," he said.

Helen hesitated. "I know what you and your father were arguing about that morning. I heard everything." She sighed. "I don't expect you to ever forgive us for what happened to Susan. In a way, you are right. It was our fault. We did push you two apart."

Garrett was surprised to see tears form in her eyes.

"I don't want to see you unhappy like that again. It broke my heart," she said. She reached out and took his hand. "If there's any chance you could get this woman back then do it. If you love someone that much, don't give up. With love, one must never give up and just make do."

Garrett was stunned. Was this Helen talking like this? This cool pale woman whom he had always a.s.sumed to be so pa.s.sionless? He suddenly wanted to ask her questions. Why had she married Arthur? Had she loved him? Why had she chosen him to be her son when it could have been anyone? Who was she, this woman who had been his mother?

Her fingers were cool and soft on his, and he looked into her gray eyes, knowing there was no way he could ask her any of these questions. Not now, at least. Perhaps later.

He embraced her. Surprised, she resisted at first, but then returned the embrace. They pulled apart, with an awkwardness.

"I think some tea would be nice," Helen said.

"Yes, it would."

She rang for the maid. While they waited for the tea, the room fell silent again.

"It's gotten chilly," Helen said, pulling her sweater over her shoulders.

"I'll get the fire going again." Garrett rose and went to the hearth to put a new log on the fire. He stood there, feeling the warmth of the flames on his face. He turned back to Helen.

"I have to leave tomorrow for Paris," he said. "I have some important business to take care of."

She nodded, looking away.

"But I'd like to come back for a visit," Garrett said, "Maybe in spring when everything's green. Would that be all right with you, Mother?"

When she looked back up at him a smile spread slowly across her face. "I'd like that very much, Garrett," she said softly.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR.

Garrett went quickly down the rue St-Andres des Arts. It was a cold overcast day, and the gray opalescent light made the streets and buildings look like a smudged charcoal drawing.

The cafe was open and its yellow lights beckoned warmly, and he went quickly toward it. He searched the terrace but it was empty, except for a large tan dog sleeping in the doorway. He peered in the window but there were only a few workmen standing at the bar. He was about to turn away when he saw her.

She was sitting at a table in the corner, drinking from a large coffee cup. Just as she set the cup down, she looked up and saw him. He went over to her table.

"I didn't think you'd come," he said.

"I wasn't going to," Kellen said. "When you called and asked me to meet you here, I thought you were crazy. I changed my mind at least ten times. I even got off the plane in New York just before it took off."

"I thought it was the only way you'd agree to see me, if I met you on neutral ground."

She looked around the cafe, her eyes guarded. "This is hardly neutral ground," she said softly.

They were both silent. "How's your family?" Garrett asked, trying to get beyond the awkwardness.

"The children are with Stephen." She paused, debating whether to tell him that she and Stephen were divorcing. She decided not to. What difference would it make now?

"I heard about your father," she said. "I'm sorry."

He nodded, and they fell into another silence.

"What did you want to talk to me about, Garrett?" she said. "You said it concerned business."

The crispness in her voice made him hesitate. "Yes, it's business," he said. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a folded paper, and held it out to her.

With a puzzled frown, she opened it and read it. She looked up at him, incredulous. "You want to sell back the corporation to me?" she said.

"Yes," he said. "I'll sell it back to you for $220 million, the equivalent of what my father paid for it, minus Ian's share."

She gripped the paper. "But why? Why would you do it?

"It's not mine," he said. "I didn't build it. I didn't earn it. It's yours. You're the person who rightfully should have it."

She stared at the paper. "Garrett, I don't know what --"

"Things happened between us to make you mistrust me," he said. "Some of it was my fault but some of it was not. I didn't want your newspapers, Kellen, I wanted you. This is the only way I can convince you."

She stared at him then looked down at the paper again. "You don't know what this means to me," she said softly.

"Yes, I do."

She shook her head slightly. "But it's not right. I'll agree to it only if you take the full price your father paid." She paused. "I don't have all of it right now but I can arrange annual payments for Ian's share."

He saw the pride in her eyes and he nodded. "I'll have a new contract drawn up when I get back to London."

Her eyes didn't leave his face. "Are you going to be living in London now?" she asked.

He hesitated, trying to find something in her face that would give him encouragement. He shook his head. "I don't know yet, either there or in New York. I have a lot to keep me busy now with the corporation."

They fell silent. Kellen picked up her coffee and took a sip but it was cold. She stared into the cup, not wanting to look at Garrett, not knowing what to say.

"Kellen, there's something else," he said. "I have to know if there's any chance left for us at all."

She looked up at him. Suddenly, in that one moment, everything closed in around her -- losing the papers, going through the divorce, getting the papers back again. And now the possibility of Garrett back in her life. It was all too quick, too confusing, too much to absorb. Her emotions, so battered by the events of the last four months, were short-circuiting and she knew she could not handle the intensity Garrett would bring.

It was strange. All her life the thing she had feared most was being alone. But suddenly, that was what she craved.

"I have to be alone for a while," she said.

He started to say something, but she held up her hand. "Please, Garrett," she said. "Give me some time."

He let out a breath. "You keep asking for that," he said. "You keep expecting me to wait until you're ready. But I can't do that forever. I can't keep putting my life on hold waiting for yours to fall in step." He paused. "I love you, Kellen, but we seem always to be out of sync."

He rose and waited for her to respond but she didn't even look up at him. "I'll send you the new contract from London," he said.

She stared at the paper on the table before her. By the time she looked up, there was no one to be seen on the street.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE.

Kellen paused outside the Gothic building and looked up at the gilt letters above the entrance. The San Francisco Times.

Inside the lobby the security guard recognized her immediately. "Mrs. Hillman!" he said with a smile. "I haven't seen you in months! What brings you down here?"

"Business," she said with a smile.

She started toward the elevator but the guard stopped her. "Gee, I'm sorry, Mrs. Hillman but you got to have an ID badge to go upstairs," he said sheepishly. "All visitors do now, order of Mr. Bryant. He says we got a security problem. Sorry."

He held out a plastic badge and she took it.

"That's okay, Charlie." She pinned it to her lapel and went to the elevator. Once inside, she put the badge in her pocket. She pushed the b.u.t.ton for the executive suite then on impulse pushed the one for the newsroom floor.

The doors opened and she stepped out. It was nearly noon and the city room was quiet. It seemed strange but then she had to remind herself that the Times was now a morning newspaper and that activity would not pick up until late afternoon.

She stood there, savoring the sights and sounds nonetheless. The muted sounds of the wire machines, the ring of a telephone, a reporter eating a doughnut at his desk in a corner near the police monitor.

The doors opened and Clark, reading a newspaper and not watching where he was going, stumbled into her.

"Kellen!" he said. "What are you doing here?"

She pulled him back into the empty elevator. "Let's go for a ride and I'll tell you."

By the time the door opened on the top floor, Clark's mouth was hanging open.

"You're the only one who knows, except Tyler," she told him. "So keep it quiet until I tell you otherwise."

Clark smiled then burst into a laugh. "Kellen, this is incredible. I'm so happy for you! For me! For the newspaper! Do you realize what this means? I won't have to go work for the Journal now!" He hugged her. "Let's celebrate! Let's go over to the Washbag and have lunch. We'll get drunk!"

She smiled. "Maybe later. Right now, I have something very important to take care of." She nudged Clark back into the elevator and pushed the down b.u.t.ton. "I'll call you later. And keep your mouth shut, you old gossip."

The door closed and she was alone in the quiet hallway of the executive offices. She looked around, taking in every detail -- the feel of the carpet beneath her feet, the smell of the polish on the wood, the quiet tapping of someone typing. She took a deep breath and went slowly down the hall.

Adele looked up as Kellen approached. "Kellen!" she said. "How good to see you! It's been so long."

Kellen smiled. "It's good to see you, too, Adele." She tightened her grip on her briefcase. "Is my brother in?"