Thicker Than Water - DK5 (17 page)

They walked through the foyer and under an archway she vaguely remembered, then turned and entered a small dining room with a vaulted skylight that let in the wan winter sun.

Seated at the table were Cynthia and Michael, and both looked up as the trio entered.

Dar watched them carefully for a reaction, pleased when she saw welcome and relief. She’d figured that might be the case, but with Kerry’s family you never knew, and she had no intention of standing quietly by if it were otherwise. She was rested, her arm was much better, they’d had a great night together, and she was feeling pretty feisty.

“Ah. Kerrison.” Cynthia stood and came over to them. “I’m so sorry about yesterday.” Michael got up also and went to hug his
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sister.

“It’s okay.” Kerry decided to be gracious about it for the moment. “I needed a break last night anyway.” She returned Michael’s hug and gave her mother a smile. “How are you?”

“As well as you might imagine,” Cynthia replied. “Come sit and have something for breakfast.” Her eyes drifted up and met Dar’s. “And you as well, Dar.”

It was a peculiar experience, Dar mused. She followed them back to the table and sat down on a chair she recognized as antique, at a table covered in fine linen, china, and silver service.

For breakfast.
Dar shook her head a little, turning when she sensed a presence at her elbow.

A young woman stood there with a tray. “May I put this down, ma’am?”

Dar nodded, and was presented with a plate of fresh fruit and gently steaming eggs, then the woman put an identical plate in front of Kerry. Dar noticed that Kerry, though giving the woman a quiet thanks, otherwise treated this as a completely natural thing, and it struck her how different this was from their normal lives.

Breakfast at home, such as it was, generally consisted of a glass of something—milk for her, juice for Kerry—and something that would give them energy for running. Usually eaten standing in their kitchen, while the sky outside the window turned from inky black to the pearly pink of dawn.

Hm.
Dar had known Kerry’s family was well off. She’d known, at an intellectual level, that her lover had been brought up with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, and little things like her impeccable manners sometimes reminded her of that. But it was strange to actually see her fitting in here. She listened to the talk, slightly strained and very general, everyone staying away from any controversy, and wondered if that was normal, or just put in place because of the uncomfortable things between them all.

“Excuse me, Dar?”

Shaken out of her musings, Dar looked up and met Cynthia Stuarts’ eyes. “Yes?”

“Kerrison told Angela you weren’t well last night?”

Huh? I was g…
“Oh.” Dar cleared her throat slightly. “It’s not really anything. I managed to do a little damage to my shoulder recently, and it was giving me some trouble. Maybe the weather.”

She inhaled in surprise as Kerry poked her under the table, and she shot her partner a look. One of Kerry’s eyebrows was raised and a half smile tugged at her lips. “What?”

Cynthia gazed at both of them with a mildly puzzled look.

“Well, I certainly hope you feel better today, after resting.”

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“Resting?” Dar asked with a slight drawl, seeing Kerry’s eyes widen out of the corner of her own. “Oh, right. I feel much better today, thanks.” There was an awkward little silence, which Dar used to ingest a forkful of eggs in peace.

“So, what project are you working on now, Ker?” Michael asked, neatly changing the subject.

“Well,” Kerry took a sip of juice, “I just finished reorganizing one of our operational divisions, and we added two brand new support groups in the western US. My life’s been a lot nicer since Dar put our new network online.”

“Everyone’s has,” Dar said wryly. “Even mine.”

“How does it help?” Angie asked. “I remember reading in the paper about your company doing something that revolutionized something or other, and it was very fast.”

Kerry took a biscuit, sliced it open, and neatly added a pat of butter to it. It gave her a moment to try and come up with a way to explain to her family what she did.
How do you describe high speed,
high bandwidth WAN networking to someone who never even turned on
a computer?
“Well…”

“A network is like a highway,” Dar said. “If you have a few cars on it, everyone goes fast. Add more cars, everyone starts to go slower. Find a spot in the road where it narrows, and everyone bottlenecks and comes to a standstill.”

“All right.” Cynthia nodded. “That seems clear.”

“We had mostly two and three lane highways. I made them forty lanes across,” Dar said. “And took out the speed limit.”

“And made everyone buy Ferraris,” Kerry murmured.

“Ah!” Cynthia looked pleased. “Yes, that’s very clear. I understand.”

“Yeah, so do I,” Michael added. “Outrageous. Can you explain what a chip is next?”

Dar looked him right in the eye. “You sure you can handle it?

It involves a lot of silicon.”

Michael gazed uncertainly at her, not sure if she were joking or not. “Does that hurt?”

“Only if you get some up your wazoo,” Kerry replied dryly.

“So, what have you been up to, Mike?” She neatly cut off a square of biscuit and collected some eggs with it on her fork. It was stressful and uncomfortable, and Kerry realized they were all putting a conspicuous gloss over a lot of things.
But haven’t we
always? Why should this be any different from any other time?

“We’ve made some plans,” Cynthia murmured into the small silence that had fallen. “The service is scheduled for three tomorrow.” She paused and took a breath. “I realize it’s quite short notice, but the staff seems to feel—”

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“Mother,” Kerry put her fork down, “who cares what the staff thinks? Is that what you want to do?”

Cynthia shifted uncomfortably. “Well, dear, it’s really not…”

She stopped. “There are quite good reasons for it, you see—”

“Bullshit.” Kerry found herself getting really angry. She stood up. “First they have the balls to tell me to stay away, then they tell you when you should bury daddy? Where are these assholes? I want to talk to them, right now.”

Dar blinked in mild alarm, put out a hand, and laid it carefully on Kerry’s back. She could feel the tension vibrating through her lover. “Hey,” she murmured. “Easy.”

“Kerrison!” Cynthia protested. “Come now, your language.

They’re doing what they think is best for all of us; surely you understand?”

“No.” All of a sudden it became too much for Kerry. “I don’t understand. It’s never what’s best for us, only what’s best for them. Always.” She ducked out from behind her chair and just started walking, needing space and air, an overwhelming fury buzzing around her head like a swarm of bees. She got through the dining room door and kept moving, one hand grabbing the door edge and slamming it shut behind her. The solid crash of wood against wood gave her primal satisfaction.

THERE WAS A definite silence after she left. Dar felt all eyes turn to her and she took a breath before she looked back from the now closed door to her lover’s family. “Um…” She set her silver-ware aside.

“Well,” Cynthia Stuart put her napkin down, “I must go speak with her.”

“No.” Dar stood. “I’ll take care of this,” she said with quiet firmness, then put her own napkin down and followed Kerry without waiting for them to respond.

The door closed again behind her. “This is outrageous,” Cynthia said.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Angela asked. “I told you she’s still really ticked off, mother. Did you really think she’d just waltz back in here and everything would be peaches and cream again?”

“She could make an effort. We are her family,” Cynthia replied.

“Maybe it would help if she hadn’t been tossed in the looney bin last time she was here,” Mike replied bluntly. “Or if you hadn’t told her she wasn’t welcome here last night because she’s gay. That would put me in a bad mood, too.”

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“She wasn’t coming anyway,” Angie muttered.

“We’ve discussed that.” Cynthia looked annoyed. “You know your father was just doing what he considered best for Kerry.”

“Bull.” Angie slapped her cup down. “I’m so tired of hearing that. He had no interest in what was best for Kerry, and you know it. All he cared about was not letting the press find out he had a gay daughter.”

“Angie.” Cynthia gave her an exasperated look. “Please.”

“It’s true.” Now Angela was upset. “I’ve had to listen to two days of everyone saying what a freaking saint he was, and I’m sick of it.” She took a breath. “No one here’s grieving, mother; we all know that. He never cared about any of us, just himself.”

Cynthia sighed. “He was a very forceful man.”

“And Kerry was the only one of us who had the guts to stand up to him,” Mike said. “Now she’s paying for that big time, when all these freaking people should be patting her on the back and saying ‘good job.’ If they treat her like that again this afternoon, I’m going to kick their asses out of the house.”

“Michael!” Cynthia stared at him.

“I don’t care!” Mike stood up. “I don’t give a shit about any of them. Kerry’s the person I care about. She’s my sister, and I’ll be God damned if those two-faced, lying bastard uncles are going to give her grief. And if I can’t do it by myself, I’ll get Dar to help me. I bet she could kick their asses sound asleep.” He pushed his plate back and stepped away from the table. “I’m outta here.”

“Me, too,” Angie said. “And if any of those weasel aides say a word, I’m going to slap them.” She followed Michael out the door, leaving her mother in pristine silence.

Cynthia released a breath and sat back. The door opened and a tall, slim man, carrying an appointment book and a pen, entered.

He took a seat next to her.

“We’ve got everything scheduled, Mrs. Stuart. Here are the details.” He offered her a sheet. “Now, the press will be by later, as the more important guests arrive. We need to discuss how you want to present the family.” He gave her a little, sympathetic smile. “I know we’ve got some work to do on that.”

Cynthia looked at the paper, then looked at him. She placed a fingertip on the page and moved it back to him. “I’m afraid you’ve got it a bit wrong. My family’s perfectly capable of presenting itself, and you would do well to remain uninvolved.”

He looked a little surprised, but regrouped quickly. “There are certain things—”

“No, there are not,” Cynthia said with calm finality. “If the press wishes to come and make a spectacle of itself, it may do so.

My children are free to speak to them or not, as they please. I will
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not tolerate any interference with any of them.”

“But—”

“Henderson, have I not made myself clear?”

“Mrs. Stuart, you know we’re only working to present a united front and a positive image of your late husband in these trying times—”

“Nonsense,” Cynthia said. “Please let’s stop using euphemisms. You are anxious about the press asking after Kerrison, is that right?”

He hesitated briefly. “The more sensational papers, yes. It really doesn’t conform to the image we’re trying to build, you see, and—”

“Mr. Henderson,” Cynthia sharply tapped him on the arm,

“my husband is dead. He no longer cares about his image. It’s difficult for Kerrison to be here, and I simply will not allow you to make it more trying for her. Is that clear?”

“Mrs. Stuart—”

“If you were even slightly intelligent,” Cynthia finally lost her patience, “you would realize that antagonizing my eldest daughter is an extremely stupid idea.” She paused. “Her father learned that lesson far too late.” She stood up. “If we’re finished, I must go and change. Goodbye.”

Henderson was left alone in the large dining room, its walls still ringing with Cynthia’s last words.

DAR PROWLED THROUGH the uneasily still house, following a logical guess as to where Kerry had run off to. Kerry’s unusual explosion of temper had surprised Dar, but she could tell the tension was ratcheting Kerry up to a point where almost anything could happen.

Ahead of her, she spotted daylight, and she turned into a small corridor and found herself inside a solarium. Its thick, insulated glass panes hazed the scene outside, but it provided natural light and she had a feeling if she poked around inside, she’d find what she was looking for.

A soft creak signaled her, and Dar walked quietly between two rows of precisely trimmed flowers. Near the back of the solarium was a two person, padded swing, only half occupied.
Ah.

Kerry’s back was to her, but as Dar approached, the blond head turned in her direction.

They regarded each other for a moment, then Dar slipped into the seat next to Kerry and simply took her hand, and laced their fingers together in silent sympathy. They sat quietly, rocking a little on the bench as they watched the snow come down outside.

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Finally, Kerry took a deep breath, pulled Dar’s hand up, and tucked it against her heart before she spoke. “If I ask you something, will you promise not to think I’m a coward?”

“Sure,” Dar answered. “When do you want to leave?”

Kerry leaned against Dar’s shoulder. “I don’t want to, but I think I have to, Dar. If I stay through this, it’s only going to get worse.” Dar’s fingers tightened around hers. “I can’t deal with it, and I don’t want you to have to.”

Dar understood, possibly far more than Kerry imagined. “I remember being at Daddy’s funeral service. A service, not a burial, because they told us there wasn’t anything left to bury.”

Kerry remained very quiet.

“And I hated everyone.” Dar had to stop for a minute, as a vivid memory of that cold day sharpened in her mind’s eye. “All these people getting up and talking about him…they had no clue who he was, or how he’d lived his life.” She slowly shook her head. “They wouldn’t let me talk.”