Always and Forever (15 page)

Marge was waiting for her at Saks.

“Remember when we were too intimidated even to go beyond the first floor of Saks?” Marge reminisced. “We’ve come up in the world since the Depression.”

Shuddering at the price tags, Kathy debated between two dresses. With Marge’s approval—and she regarded Marge’s clothes sense as impeccable—she chose the ivory brocade, with tiny nipped-in waist and the billowing skirt of Dior’s New Look.

“Kathy, you look sensational,” Marge approved. “Phil’s sisters will hate you.”

“I can’t believe I’m spending so much money,” she whispered, while they waited for the saleswoman to return with her charge slip. At Marge’s suggestion she had instructed that the dress be sent to Greenwich. The ultimate touch of luxury, she thought with giddy pleasure.

With an eye to the time, they lingered briefly on the first floor, and on impulse Kathy bought the perfect small evening bag to accompany the dress.

“You have a flair for clothes,” Marge decided as they left the store to walk north to the Plaza to meet Rhoda. “The two of us should open a shop someday. An expensive shop.”

“Is that what you plan to do when you go out to San Francisco?” Kathy asked wistfully. She hated to think of a whole continent between the two of them.

“If I could find somebody to back me up,” Marge drawled. “You think Julius Kohn would be interested?”

“Only if he could collect in your bed,” Kathy guessed. “You said he was the worst wolf on Seventh Avenue.” At disconcerting intervals she remembered the long blond hair she’d discovered on Phil’s shoulder, and the scent of sultry perfume. But Phil wasn’t his father. It was ridiculous of her to worry that he was sleeping around. “We’d better walk faster, Marge.” She tried to dismiss the troublesome vision of Phil in bed with a beautiful blond model. “We don’t want to be late.”

“I’m so bloody cold,” Marge complained. “If I ever strike it rich, the first thing I’ll buy is a mink coat.”

“You gave up on your muskrat?” Kathy joshed.

“It gave up on me. I wear it, and I look like an oversized dead rat.” Marge was speculative for a moment. “When’s your father-in-law going to loosen up and give you a mink coat?”

“Marge, he gave us a house and living room and dining room furniture—and the TV set.”

“That was for Phil’s benefit,” Marge said bluntly.

“If I could afford the price, he’d probably sell me a mink wholesale,” Kathy laughed. “But I’m not sure I want a fur coat.”

“Are you kidding?” Marge pulled the collar of her black cloth coat more closely about her throat. “Every woman loves furs.”

“I’m not sure I do. Oh, furs are gorgeous,” Kathy conceded. “But the thought of walking around with furs that used to be on some wild animals’ backs bothers me.”

“Let Julius Kohn present you with a gorgeous mink, and you’ll change your mind,” Marge predicted. “There’s something so sexy about a mink coat.”

Rhoda was waiting for them with an air of frenetic gaiety and prodded them into the Palm Court. All three relished the elegance of their surroundings. Not until the waiter left with their orders did Rhoda abandon her convivial smile.

“Rhoda, is something wrong?” Kathy asked solicitously.

“Oh, something is wrong,” she conceded. “Wrong with my thinking.”

“You had a fight with Derek,” Marge guessed. “Honey, you know actors are temperamental.”

“He’s been offered a Hollywood contract,” Rhoda told them. “He’s given notice to the producer, and he’s heading west in three weeks. We’re all washed up. ‘I don’t think this is the time for me to tie myself down,’” she mimicked caustically.

“Oh, Rhoda.” Kathy was cold with shock.

“Why do so many women fall in love with the wrong men? Maybe it isn’t love,” Rhoda said after a moment. “Maybe it’s just old-fashioned lust.”

“It’s not the first time you’ve broken off with a man,” Kathy reminded. “You’ll hurt for a while, but somebody else will come along.”

“I had a crush for a while on David,” Rhoda reminisced. “But, of course, he couldn’t see anybody but you.”

Kathy tensed, her face growing hot. She didn’t want to remember those beautiful weeks with David, before Phil came to Hamburg.

“I seem to recall your having a great time with Frank. You snap back fast,” Kathy reminded with a cajoling smile.

“Frank was fun,” Rhoda admitted. “But we both knew that was just a fling.” She squinted in thought. “Where was Frank going after Hamburg?”

“To Alaska, I think,” Kathy said. “He wanted to write a series of articles about wildlife reserves.”

“You see?” Rhoda’s laughter was mixed with irony. “Every man I go for runs off into the wild blue yonder.”

On the long train ride back to Greenwich Kathy’s thoughts focused on what Rhoda had said.
“Why do so many women fall in love with the wrong men? Maybe it isn’t love. Maybe it’s just lust.”

She’d convinced herself she was in love with Phil. Later, she’d laughed and said she was obsessed by him. Had it been just loneliness and frustration? And lust?

She’d wanted David to make love to her. His eyes had said so much, but he’d never touched her. And then, when Phil arrived in Hamburg, he seemed to back away as though in relief.

She’d been flattered by Phil’s attentions, she analyzed. And, yes, he excited her physically. All she thought about after that weekend in Paris was how wonderful it was in bed with him. But that was
all
they had together. And now—these last months—something had gone out of their lovemaking. It was just part of their Saturday ritual.

David and she had met at the wrong time in their lives.

D
AVID STOOD ON THE
deck of the New York-bound, newly refurbished
Queen Mary
and tried to gear himself for this brief return to the United States. He would linger in New York for two days, then head for Boston, where he had been invited to read a paper on his nutrition research before a prestigious gathering. He’d endured several sleepless nights before he agreed to accept the invitation.

He’d never felt comfortable in Berlin during these two years since Hamburg, he admitted to himself. How could he when he was constantly assaulted by memories? Always that sense of guilt that he was alive when the rest of the family had perished. He was surviving by burying himself in research. Thank God, so much of his father’s research had been preserved. And he had been welcomed by the research community. A crucial problem in postwar Europe was malnutrition.

Sometimes he asked himself if it was wrong to spend so many long hours in the laboratory and only a few hours each night in his gratuitous medical practice, geared to Jews returning from exile. And always he remembered the agonizing hours when he had toured Bergen-Belsen. The good memories were the weeks he had spent with the Hamburg group, because Kathy had been part of that.

So often he thought about Kathy. Worried about her because he knew Phil so well. It had been a terrible mistake to back off when Phil arrived. Kathy was the only woman he’d ever love. But he had been too caught up in grief to say what he should have said.

It had been a painful shock when Aunt Bella sent him the invitation to Phil and Kathy’s wedding. He hadn’t expected that. And now there was a baby. He’d have to see the family while in the States. Would he see Kathy? The possibility was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Our last night aboard,” said a friendly male voice, intruding on his thoughts. David turned to face a fellow passenger with whom he’d spent many hours in discussion about the Cold War. “There’s always something sad about that to me.”

“The days and nights aboard ship are like an escape from reality,” David mused. His whole life these last two years was an escape from reality. “We hit land, and we have to face the real world.”

When the ship docked, David went directly to a small hotel on the Upper West Side where he knew an inexpensive room was being held for him. He felt at home here, more than he ever did in Berlin. Were Kathy and Phil living in Manhattan or up in Greenwich? All at once the months in Hamburg seemed just behind him.
Was it truly two years since he had seen Kathy?

In the morning he awoke early and went to a Broadway cafeteria for breakfast. David marveled at the abundance of food after the scarcity and long lines in Berlin. Because his working schedule—between the lab and his after-hours practice—was so hectic, he’d never got around to writing home of his arrival. He’d call Uncle Julius in half an hour, he decided, enjoying the luxury of a second cup of coffee in the cafeteria. In Berlin, he remembered, a pound of coffee could cost 600 marks on the black market—two months’ salary for a white-collar worker.

“David! Where are you?” Julius asked in surprised welcome when the switchboard put him through. David had forgotten his private number.

“In New York, Uncle Julius. Just for a couple of days. I’m on my way to Boston to read a paper on nutrition.”

“You’ll come home with me. You arrived just in time for my sixtieth birthday. Bella’s throwing a big party tonight. Hey, you’ll need a tux,” he remembered. “The party’s at the house, but it’s formal. You can rent one at—”

“It’s all right, I have a tux with me,” David told him. “There’s a formal dinner in Boston—”

“You’ll stay at the house for a few days,” Julius said. “We’ll—”

“I’ll have to leave for Boston tomorrow,” David apologized. “I’m on a tight schedule.”

“If you came all the way to this country to deliver a paper, you must be doing all right, David,” Julius joshed.

“I’m pleased with the research. No money in sight,” he laughed. Knowing that money was what commanded respect from Julius Kohn.

“I’ll call Bella and tell her the news. Don’t worry about this being a last-minute deal,” he said anticipating David’s thought. “Bella will handle table arrangements. And you know we always have guest rooms ready. And wait till you see my grandson,” he boasted. “He’s going to be a real lady-killer.”

They talked a few moments more, until the switchboard operator broke in to say that Julius had a long-distance call.

“Be here at five, David. You’ll drive up to Greenwich with Phil and me.”

Nude beneath her robe—because the elegant designer evening dress that lay across the bed had a built-in corset to cinch in the waist and push up the bosom—Kathy carefully applied the final touches to her make-up. Clara had arrived early to bathe Jesse and put him to bed. As usual on special occasions, she would baby-sit.

Kathy sighed in relief when she heard the car pull up before the house. Bella was worried that Phil and Julius might be delayed in Friday night traffic. Dinner was to be served at 8
P.M.
sharp.

“Kathy!” Phil yelled exuberantly as he strode toward their bedroom. “You’ll never guess who’s in town!”

“Who’s in town?” She turned around from the mirror to face him.

“Wow! You look sensational.”

“Who’s in town?” she asked again, holding up her face for the routine homecoming kiss.

“I’m not going to spoil all that,” he demurred, then continued. “David’s here. He drove out with Dad and me. He’ll be at the party.”

“What’s he doing in this country?”
She’d see David tonight.
Her mind shot back to that night when he’d said good-bye in Hamburg. She’d felt such a sense of loss, knowing he wouldn’t be a part of her life anymore. “Is he moving back to New York?”

“He’s just here for a few days. He’s reading a paper at some medical convention in Boston.” Phil began to undress. His tux was already laid out across the bed. “He’ll stay out here till late tomorrow morning, then head for Boston. After that, it’s back to Berlin.”

“His research must be going well if he was invited to read a paper at a medical convention. How exciting for him, Phil!” Now she was ambivalent about seeing David. Part of her was eager to see him, to talk with him. Part of her was fearful of seeing him. She was wary of recalling those early weeks in Hamburg, before Phil had invaded their lives.

“You know David,” Phil drawled, a hint of condescension in his voice. “Always so bloody serious about his work.” He paused in his dressing to gaze quizzically at Kathy. “I always suspected he had a thing for you.”

“Phil, he and I were a team.” Kathy forced herself to appear amused. “Both of us were terribly involved in what we were doing in Hamburg.”

“Get into your dress and let’s move,” he said in high spirits. “I want to give Dad his present before the bash begins.”

“What are you giving him?” Kathy asked curiously.

“Something he’ll appreciate.” Phil grinned. “Remember when you bought a painting in Montmartre?”

“That scene of a sidewalk in Montmartre,” she remembered. It hung in her parents’ bedroom.

“I bought a canvas—I could pack it easier without a frame. It’s been lying in my knapsack ever since we got back. The old man will love it. He’ll be sure it’s an unknown masterpiece.” He chuckled. “You know Dad.”

“Phil, don’t hint that it is,” she scolded.

“He’ll have fun with it.” He brushed aside her misgivings. “Oh, wear that perfume my folks gave you for our anniversary,” he said.

“I’m wearing it,” she told him. Miss Dior.

Chilly in her long black velvet cape over her ivory brocade gown, Kathy ran from house to car.

“I’ll turn the heat on in a couple of minutes,” Phil said with a frown as he reached for the ignition. She knew he was annoyed that his father had not presented her with a Kohn fur. Didn’t Phil understand his father disliked her?

As Phil planned, they arrived at the house before any of the guests. Only his father was downstairs. In what Bella referred to as the family sitting room but Julius called the library—with a pair of bookcases displaying exquisitely bound books that were never read, to judge by their spines—the two men exchanged ribald jokes about Julius’s sixtieth birthday, and then Phil presented his birthday gift.

“From your Paris trip?” Julius asked cagily, squinting at the illegible signature.

Phil nodded.

“I was saving it for a special occasion,” he bragged. “I can’t say it’s an old masterpiece, but one of these days it could be very valuable.”

Now Julius turned his attention to Kathy.