* * *
“A baby! A boy!” Edna exclaimed as she held the announcement in her hand. “She didn’t even mention that she was pregnant when she sent us that long letter at Christmas.”
“Read it to me again,” B. J. said.
“Theron Dean Kirchoff, eight pounds five ounces, twenty-one inches long, born April twelfth.”
“April twelfth,” B. J. mused aloud.
The birth announcement was slowly lowered as Edna’s eyes lifted to confront those of her husband.
“It couldn’t be,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Have you ever heard of an eight-pound-plus premature baby? She didn’t marry that guy until October. She hadn’t even met him until the end of August, first of September.”
“What are you doing?” Edna asked as she followed close behind B. J. into the living room to the telephone.
“I’m calling Erik Gudjonsen. Not telling him about Kathleen’s whereabouts for his own good was one thing. Having a son is another.”
B. J. was on the telephone for fifteen minutes, but the results of the long-distance call were less than satisfactory. Yes, this is the television station where Mr. Gudjonsen was employed, the girl at the switchboard told B. J., but he no longer worked there. He had quit without notice just a few days ago. No, no one knew where he was working now, but it was thought that he had gone abroad.
Chapter Twelve
“Theron, please!” Kathleen shouted, and dodged the thrashing legs that threatened to shower her again with the clear water of the swimming pool. Theron shrieked with delight and renewed his efforts to drench his mother.
“You’re a pest. Do you know that?” she teased, and grabbed his chubby body around the waist, lowering her head and nuzzling his neck while he strove to escape this show of affection. At seventeen months old, he was already developing an aversion to maternal protection and asserting his newfound independence. Only when he ran into trouble of some sort did he come to Kathleen seeking solace.
He was active, curious and headstrong, determined to have his way against all odds. On the days Kathleen was home, she spent nearly every minute in his company, basking in a glow of pride and love.
When Theron was born, Seth wanted her to quit working. He saw how time- and energy-consuming being a mother was. But Kathleen had been adamant.
“Before I was your wife, I was your employee. You hired me to do a very difficult job. Until I feel like I’ve accomplished what you outlined for me to do, I’ll continue working at least three days a week. With the new store in Stonetown and the boutique in Ghirardelli’s now open, you need me more than ever.”
He acquiesced, but only if she would accept her current salary. Each week, she endorsed a paycheck and deposited it into a savings account. Seth wouldn’t let her spend any of that money, but gave her a sizable “household account.”
She had hired an assistant to help her, but was never far from the telephone when not actually in the stores or at her office.
Her assistant was a young man named Eliot Pate. He knew the retail clothing business inside out, had a flair for style and an uncanny instinct about what merchandise would sell quickly. They had recognized each other’s talent, and an immediate friendship had sprung up between them.
She accepted his alternate lifestyle. He overlooked her flagrant femininity, and she overlooked his occasional bitchiness. When she was off, spending her days with Theron, she knew that Eliot had things well under control.
Today was one such day. She and Theron were languishing away the late afternoon hours in the Kirchoffs’ pool. Kathleen never thought of this estate in Woodlawn as her house. It was too large, too ostentatious, and Hazel never passed up an opportunity to let Kathleen know who was mistress of it.
When Seth had first brought her here as his bride, Kathleen was intimidated by the apparent show of wealth, but gradually she had become accustomed to it, which was strange considering where and how she had grown up.
The traditional house was fashioned after those found in the English countryside. The lawn surrounded it in a broad expanse of green, perfectly clipped and trimmed. The interior was decorated with the most meticulous attention to detail. But to Kathleen, the rooms looked like settings in a magazine instead of where people actually lived. Hazel’s personality was reflected in everything, and for that reason alone, Kathleen had never felt that she belonged here.
Her favorite rooms were those occupied by herself and Theron. Seth had generously offered to let her redecorate them to her own taste. She rid the rooms of the somber, cold, formal decor that Hazel had installed, and put in its place her choice of furnishings, which were lighter, brighter and much more conducive to everyday living.
Downstairs, what had once been a library had been converted into a den for Seth, which connected to a solarium that had become his specialized bedroom. Seth’s den was cheerful and pleasant, and they often sat in it in the evenings, talking over the stores’ progress and Theron’s precociousness.
Now, as she bounced her child in the water, she marveled again at how well things had turned out. When she had married Seth almost two years ago, she’d had no reason to expect that she could be this… content. The word happy had almost formed in her mind, but tha
t really couldn’t describe her. Yet she felt a deep sense of satisfaction with what she had made of her life, when at one point it had seemed so hopeless.
Her relationship with the Harrisons had been restored. She had heard from them soon after letting them know of her marriage. Their congratulations were reserved.
But when she notified them of Theron’s birth, she was deluged with presents and advice on parenting. Since then, they corresponded often and telephoned periodically, on birthdays and such. If that closeness they had once shared had cooled since that pivotal summer, Kathleen was at least glad that the lines of communication remained open.