Cloudburst (19 page)

“It started after Alena's death and gradually grew worse when we began to have these problems with Kiera. You've seen some of that. I'm sorry you're seeing it now.”

I was sure that was part of the reason they had been seeing a therapist together.

Now, especially after she had told me about her suspicions concerning Donald, I began to wonder if this marriage would even last much longer. My memories of my parents' marital problems were still quite fresh and vivid in my mind, despite how young I was, or maybe because of how young I was. More than once, I had heard it said that we're most impressionable at younger ages, and those impressions are so indelibly written inside us that we never lose them or their influences. That was certainly true for me. There was much I had not forgotten.

To date, Donald and Jordan's conflicts were confined to sharp discussions, pouting, and temper tantrums that resulted in neither speaking much to the other. My parents
were nearly physical about their fights, my mother tossing things at my father or flailing out and breaking something in the house. Doors were slammed, hands slapped on tables and even against walls. Sometimes it felt as if the walls were rocking like in an earthquake. Here, however, there was just a new and deeper silence that made the smallest movements—the clink of a teacup, the shifting of silverware, the closing of a drawer, or just footsteps—echo through what had become deeper and darker shadows.

From what Donald March had said to me about Ryder when we were in his office, I expected that he would bring it up again at dinner and, as at other times, attach some blame to Jordan. I was waiting for him to tell her that she should not have approved of my bringing Ryder here or should have at least talked more about him with me first. I made up my mind that I would come to her defense, but he didn't do any of that.

In fact, Donald was more cheerful than ever at dinner. He was eager to talk about his business and his experiences with some of what he called the “colorful people” with whom he dealt, whether it was in making commercials, creating print advertisements, or product development. Maybe this was his way of warning me again about Ryder, this time quite subtly.

“Creative people have to be a little off-center to do what they do,” he said. He was eating almost ravenously, which brought a smile to Jordan's face. “I mean, it affects their temperaments. It's no wonder so many of them are unstable when it comes to their family lives. I'm beginning to think there should be a way of licensing people for marriage.”

“But don't you have to get a marriage license in every state?” Jordan asked.

“Yes, but I don't mean that, exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

I waited to hear, too. “A test, maybe. We make people take tests to get a driving license, don't we?”

Jordan laughed.

“It's not funny,” he said. “I think it's a good idea. There would be far fewer divorces and children living with single parents or being in the middle of bad marital spats.”

“What would be the test, Donald?”

“I don't know. We should have psychologists and other experts come up with it. Maybe they should start with this state or this city,” he added, now looking at me. “The problem is more prevalent in the entertainment industry. It's practically impossible, it seems, for these men and women to have decent families and still pursue their film and music careers.”

“I don't think they're any more distracted or busy than you are,” Jordan said, and I thought that would be the beginning of another one of their mean arguments, but Donald just smiled and sipped his wine.

“I agree,” he finally said, still looking more at me. “I've given all of that more thought and have decided to spend more time with you two. For starters, I'm going to do my best to avoid any weekend work.”

“Really? That's wonderful, Donald,” Jordan said. She looked to me. I just smiled softly. I don't know what she
read in my face, but she turned back to him and warned, “Now, don't just say these things to make us happy and do the exact opposite. That would make things far worse.”

“No, I mean it,” he said firmly. He leaned back and shouted, “Mrs. Caro!”

She came hurrying into the dining room, wiping her hands on her napkin and looking fearful.

“You have outdone yourself tonight. I have been through a dozen states and eaten in some of the best restaurants lately, and no one has made a better filet mignon. You marinated this perfectly.”

“Thank you, Mr. March.”

“I hope you saved some for yourself and Mrs. Duval,” he added.

She smiled. “My mum would always say a good cook better check the food he or she makes first,” she replied, and Donald roared.

Jordan looked at me. Like me, she had expected that his confrontational manner with Ryder Garfield would carry through the evening, but it was as though none of that had happened. I couldn't recall when he was last this cheerful, in fact. Was it all because of the conversation we had in his office?

“When is your next concert, Sasha?” he asked.

“A week from Sunday.”

“She has a little solo,” Jordan said.

“Has she? I'm not missing that,” he said. He emptied his wine in a single gulp and poured himself another. “I think it's time she attended a professional classical concert.
The Los Angeles Philharmonic is performing Chopin and Shostakovich next month. I have a contact who'll get us great seats. Would you like that, Sasha?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Then consider it done.”

He drank his wine and kept his eyes on me. There was something different in the gleam, something so unexpected that I felt my heart beat faster. It was similar to looks I had seen in the eyes of some of the boys I had dated, looks that raised alarms. At a party, if I had sipped something alcoholic, I immediately stopped, and invitations to go somewhere private were always avoided or rejected. To see something in Donald March that resembled this was even more alarming, because as far as I knew, this was the first time someone as old as he was looked at me with what I could call nothing but lust.

Perhaps I was overreacting, I thought. I hoped so. Perhaps the wine had clouded his thinking a little. I glanced at Jordan to see if she sensed anything similar in his attention to me, but she was so happy about the change in his mood at dinner and the promises he was making that she wouldn't see anything like that anyway.

“Well, we'll need to shop for a proper new dress for you, Sasha,” she said.

“Exactly,” Donald agreed. “Get her something that is more adult, something that brings out her maturity, and none of this faddy teenage stuff.”

Finally, he was treading on Jordan's hallowed ground and doing something to rile her.

“I think I know where to take her and what to buy her for such an occasion, Donald.”

“Oh, right, right,” he said. “If anyone does, you do, Jordan. You can trust her judgment when it comes to things like this,” he told me to emphasize the point. He reached out and patted Jordan's hand. She smiled again, but I thought he was merely placating her and, in fact, treating her the way he might treat Kiera.

She didn't see it that way. She brightened. “This is wonderful,” she said. “We'll feel more like a family. Maybe Kiera will come home for this concert,” she suggested.

“She has never shown interest in anything like this before,” Donald said sharply. Then he smiled. “In any case, you had better call her immediately. These are impossible tickets to get. I'm not even sure I can get us three yet.”

“I thought you just said . . .”

“I meant I would try to call in a favor.”

She looked confused. “But . . . you just agreed that I should get Sasha a new dress and—”

“She would need it anyway,” he said. “There'll be many other occasions like the concert, I'm sure.” He rose. “I have a couple of things to do before I can relax for the evening. Ladies,” he added with a smile, “please excuse me.”

He walked out of the dining room. Jordan looked after him and then shrugged.

“Men,” she said.

Later, after I went up to my room to start my homework, the phone rang. I was hoping it was Ryder, but it was Kiera.

“What's this about a concert? I couldn't understand my mother. My father was never big on classical music. He wants me to come home for it?”

I didn't want to say it wasn't his idea, it was her mother's.

“That's what was said at dinner.”

“Maybe he's going through some midlife crisis. Men can have them at any age. I can tell you this. I'm not going to run home to go to hear a classical symphony concert. They're buying you a new dress for it?” she asked after a short pause.

“Yes.”

“Whose idea was that?” she questioned sharply.

“Well, your father thought I didn't have anything appropriate.”

“He never cared if I had anything appropriate.”

I was silent.

“He probably is going through some sort of man's change of life. Has he seemed very different lately?”

“I haven't seen him all that much lately. He's been so busy.”

“Um. Well, I certainly wouldn't leave Richard on a weekend and go sit in a stuffy concert hall. Besides, I'd have to go buy a new dress, and I don't have the time for it like you do.”

“Well, I am in the school orchestra and . . .”

“Oh, let's stop talking about it. Tell me about Ryder. What did he think of where you live?”

“He was impressed, but he's been to many impressive places.”

“I bet. So . . . did you get him up in your room?”

“Yes.”

“And? C'mon. Out with the details. This is like pulling teeth.”

“We're just getting to know each other, Kiera,” I said. I didn't want to describe our passionate kissing in my closet. She'd only want more and more detail, and unlike her, I wasn't comfortable talking about it.

“That's how you get to know each other best,” she said, followed by her little evil laugh. “I described my first date with Richard, remember? I thought he might think less of me at first, but the truth was, I excited him in ways he never expected. And still do!”

“Why don't you send me a picture of him?”

“Yes. I'll do that. Maybe a picture with his clothes off.”

“Don't you dare.”

She laughed. “I'll see. I'll expect a picture of Ryder in return.”

I heard a beep on my phone. “I think that's him calling. You want to hold on while I check?”

“No. Send me an e-mail, a delicious one,” she said, and hung up.

I flashed the line and said, “Hello.”

“Did you get a lecture about me?”

I knew all I had to do was say yes and I'd never get him back or have him have any more to do with me.

“Talk about being arrogant,” I said. “Why do you assume you were the topic of discussion?”

“Well, why did he want to see you in his office?”

“It's a long story,” I said.

“Right. It was about me.”

“No.”

“Then start your long story,” he said.

Beginning any relationship with deceit was certainly not a way to give it any lasting meaning, I thought, but in this case, stretching the truth a little would be better.

“The Marches are having a hard time with Kiera.”

“Still?”

“She's seeing someone seriously at college, and she won't tell them how serious it is. Donald and Jordan know I exchange e-mails with her. They wanted me to tell them what I know.”

“Donald? It's Donald now?”

“Yes, he asked me to call him Donald instead of Mr. March.”

“More progress. Maybe he will agree to adopt you. Okay, I want some quid pro quo, too.”

“What?”

“I came to your house, or your palace, today and saw your calligraphy. You have to come to my house and see my model planes and cars.”

“You were serious? You do that?”

“Yes, and don't make fun of it.”

“I'm not.”

“Good. Get permission,” he said. “If you can and if you want to, that is,” he added.

“Yes, I would like that. Don't worry. I can.”

“Okay. And I've made another decision,” he added.

“What?”

“I like you,” he said.

And then, like last time, he hung up before I could say anything else.

I waited for him to call back and tell me good night or something, but he didn't. He left his words hanging in the air, echoing in my ears instead.

“I like you.”

Somehow I understood that something so easy for any other boy to say to me took a great deal of effort and trust for Ryder to say.

I knew I should be feeling happy about it, maybe even a little proud of myself.

But Donald March's warnings about my being arrogant were ringing in my ears as well.

What would I hear last before I fell asleep?

9
A Star Family