Always and Forever (16 page)

“Terrific dress,” he approved. “Classy.”

“It should be for what it cost me.” Phil dropped an arm about her waist. Where was David, Kathy wondered. Her eyes strayed at intervals to the doorway. “I told her, go to Saks and buy a designer dress.”

“Ah, here’s David,” Julius said expansively. “The family intellectual.”

Kathy lifted her face with a smile of welcome. How handsome he looked in evening dress. And so distinguished, though barely thirty.

“David, how wonderful to see you!” Impulsively she held her arms out to him.

“Beautiful as ever,” he said quietly and kissed her on the cheek.

“You two knew each other in Hamburg,” Julius recalled. “If not for you, David, Phil wouldn’t have met Kathy.”

“That’s right,” Phil murmured.

Kathy intercepted a silent, smug exchange between Phil and his father. And with sudden clarity she understood. Phil had told his father that David had been interested in her. Everybody in the group had thought so, but David never uttered one word to indicate that. Even his asking her to wear the jeweled brooch had been out of nostalgia for home.
Was that why Phil had chased after her?
To show he could take her away from David? No, she rebuked herself. She was being melodramatic.

“David! Oh, how good it is to see you!” Bella strode into the room with outstretched arms, her black velvet dinner dress perfectly setting off the magnificent diamond necklace she wore.

“Aunt Bella, you look marvelous.” David and she exchanged an affectionate embrace. The obvious warmth between them surprised Kathy.

Now Bella turned to her husband.

“Julius, did you tell Wally to exchange the bottles of champagne on the tables?” She continued without waiting for his answer. “We can’t serve that swill at a dinner party.”

“I should waste our fine champagne on a party?” Julius gestured his disdain with one pudgy hand.

“I’ve told Wally to replace them.” Her eyes dared him to fight her on this. “That’s all right for your Christmas party at the business.”

“David, I want to show you my paintings.” Julius brought a hand to David’s elbow. “I bought them from a German refugee who smuggled them into the country. They used to hang in a famous museum.”

“I don’t know why the girls haven’t arrived,” Bella said when she and Kathy were alone. “I want them to check out everything before the others arrive.”

“I’m sure everything is fine.” Kathy smiled in encouragement. “And your necklace is exquisite.”

“I never really enjoy wearing it.” Bella sat on the burgundy velvet sofa. “Julius had it made up from diamonds he’d bought. Again,” she said drily, “from German refugees. Some family who managed to escape before Hitler closed in on them. Julius was happy because he bought them for a fraction of their worth.”

“At least they escaped with their lives.”

“I never wear the necklace without thinking about them.” This was a Bella whom Kathy had never seen. She would not have expected this sensitivity. “It was the summer of 1937, when Jews had been deprived of all their rights. Julius said the family had sold their possessions secretly, then bought diamonds because they were the most easily smuggled out of the country.”

All at once Kathy was hearing David’s voice, talking about how at a barbed-wire fence in Salzburg his father had slipped a bag of diamonds to him while the border guards were in private conversation. Everything the family still owned had been sold to buy those diamonds. The money had put David through medical school.

Julius had told David he sold the diamonds to acquaintances, who had paid top-price, and David had been so grateful for his efforts. But Bella just said
“Julius was happy because he bought them for a fraction of their worth.
” No doubt in Kathy’s mind that the diamonds Bella wore about her throat were those that David’s father had given him
. Julius Kohn had cheated his own cousin.

Within twenty minutes the lower floor of the senior Kohns’ home was alive with conviviality. The women were expensively dressed; most of the men wore tuxes under duress. Few of the guests resided in Greenwich, Kathy noted, and remembered Bella’s remark at a family dinner that the town was integrated until 5
P.M.
, when non-Jews and Jews went their separate ways. It was fine for all Greenwich ladies to share in volunteer work, garden parties, benefit luncheons and teas. After 5
P.M.
the fraternization ceased.

The formal dining room, rarely used more than once a year and capable of seating thirty-six, had been dismantled for the occasion. Five tables, each accommodating eight diners, had been brought in early in the day. An extra setting for David had been laid at the family table.

Now waiters bustled about the tables, serving the elaborate meal the caterer had devised. The scent of pink, white, and red roses was almost sickeningly sweet. A quartet of musicians played in the background, in no way interfering with the lively conversation. Sitting between Phil and David, Kathy spoke little, ever conscious of David’s nearness.

“American soldiers’ wives are managing,” David said in response to a question from Bella. “But believe me,” he smiled whimsically, “without a sense of humor they’d never make it. No one can say that the Americans are welcome in Berlin.”

“In the two years since we were there, David,” Kathy asked, “has there been much rebuilding?”

“Somebody described the Unter den Linden as a mile-long coffin,” he recalled. For an electric instant his eyes met hers, and she knew he was remembering their day in Berlin. “There are efforts to rebuild, but it’s a long, drawn-out process.”

“What about the people?” Brenda’s husband Eli—the accountant—asked. “Has the war changed their thinking?”

“Most Germans consider themselves martyrs.” Bitterness colored David’s voice. “They don’t feel humiliated, as you’d expect. As they’re the first to admit, they still ‘think brown’—
Braunchaus
or Nazi. Except, of course, for returning Jews and a small anti-Fascist group that always hated Hitler. They’re forever complaining,” David continued with distaste, “about all they’ve lost. Never for a moment thinking of what anguish they inflicted on others. Maybe a later generation will understand. Not this one. This one says ‘that was the war, this is the peace’—and blames the Allies for everything that goes wrong.”

“What about inflation, David?” Julius asked.

“It’s so wild that Berlin doctors have gotten together to ask for a change in the German penal code regarding abortion. Right now it’s illegal, but we want to make it legal during the first three months of pregnancy because so many women are too malnourished to be able to nurse their babies when they’re born.”

“What about the schools?” Brenda asked with a touch of arrogance. “Are German children being taught about the war?”

“Not at all. Whatever is taught would have to be approved by all four Allied
Kommandaturen.
And nobody agrees. And talking about inflation,” David pinpointed, “it’s so bad. School books cost a fortune—one book can cost 150 marks. At the university level most students skip classes at least twice a week to work on the black market—the only way they can survive.”

“Anything great available on the black market?” Julius’s eyes lighted.

“Most Berliners who’ve come through the war with anything good—and unbroken—are selling it piece by piece just to buy food. Biedermeier furniture, fine white Meissen porcelain—”

“Can you pick up some of that and ship it to us?” Julius asked avidly.

“Julius, no,” Bella objected. “I couldn’t live with it.”

Kathy looked upon her mother-in-law with fresh comprehension. She remembered Marge’s remark that Julius Kohn “has a reputation for being the biggest wolf on Seventh Avenue.” Bella Kohn—early in her marriage, Kathy suspected—knew about her husband’s infidelities. She had built a shallow little world that allowed her to survive in that marriage.

“My wife’s so delicate,” Julius said with sarcasm and for an instant hostility threatened to break through the veneer both cultivated.

“What about theater in Berlin?” Kathy rushed to brush away the awkward moment. “I read somewhere that
Three Men on a Horse
is a big hit in the U.S. sector.”

“It’s been running for months,” David said. “A lot of plays are running, though the quality of acting isn’t always good, I go occasionally. It’s interesting how so many nationalities—German, Russian, American, French, British, Brazilian—can sit side by side in the theater and be so friendly. That’s not the usual scene in Berlin.”

“What’s this business with Russia and Czechoslovakia?” Milton—Gail’s husband—asked David.

“You know what has just happened.” David smiled ruefully. “Stalin has taken over Czechoslovakia. The Communists won 114 of 300 seats in the national assembly almost two years ago—now the Commies have revolted. Stalin rules.”

“The Russians are out to take over the world,” Milton said gloomily. “The handwriting is on the wall.”

“Berlin is in for bad times,” David predicted. “Stalin is paranoid about a rebuilding of Germany. He’d do anything to stop its recovery.”

“Enough of politics,” Bella decreed. “This is a birthday party. Don’t you all think Gail did a beautiful job with the flowers?”

While guests lingered over coffee, Phil brought out the latest collection of snapshots of Jesse to pass around the table. When they reached David, Kathy involuntarily turned to him. She basked in the warmth and tenderness she saw on his face as he slowly inspected each snapshot.

“You must be very happy.” David’s eyes moved from Kathy to Phil.

“Yes,” Kathy lied. Phil dropped an arm about her shoulders in a gesture of possession. For a while they were happy. What happened—what was happening—to their marriage?

“Come over to the house tomorrow before you head for Boston and see the little character,” Phil invited. “He’s something.”

“I’d like that very much,” David said softly.

Sunlight poured into the first-floor room designated “Jesse’s playroom.” While Jesse embraced his latest stuffed animal ordered from F. A.O. Schwarz by Julius, Kathy folded diapers and tried to stifle yawns. Though they had not arrived home until past 1
A.M.
, she had known Jesse would be wide awake and eager for breakfast in five hours. Phil would sleep till noon.

Kathy paused as she saw a limousine turn into the driveway. That was Wally driving David over to see Jesse, she thought. Her heart began to pound.

“I’ll be right back, Jesse,” she soothed and darted from the room and down the hall to the front door. She’d been waiting subconsciously all morning for David to appear. She’d discarded three blouses before she chose the tailored gray cotton that went so well with her gray slacks. Fighting for poise when she was a shambles inside, she reached to open the door. “I wasn’t sure you’d wake up in time to come over,” she said as David approached.

“I couldn’t leave Greenwich without seeing your son,” he chided. Behind that casual facade he was tense, Kathy knew. “Great party last night.”

“Yes, it was.” Small talk because there was so much they could not allow themselves to say. But as always David’s eyes spoke with such eloquence. “You chose the right time to arrive.”

“I almost didn’t come,” he said, and his face softened at the baby sounds that filtered down the hall. “Almost didn’t come to the States,” he emphasized as they walked toward the playroom. “There’s so much to do in Berlin. But the Boston convention seemed important.”

“I’m glad you came, David,” she said. “And here’s Jesse.” With a surge of maternal love she reached to scoop him up in her arms.

“You looked like this at his age,” David said after a moment. “The same bone structure, the same eyes, the same mouth.”

“He’s the image of my father. Of course, everybody says I look just like Dad.” Her parents and Aunt Sophie would like David, she thought. She always felt a kind of wariness in them toward Phil, despite his potent charm.

“Would he come to me?” David asked, almost shyly.

“Of course.” This was unreal, to be standing here with David this way. “Jesse, this is your Uncle David—”

David reached to take Jesse in his arms. Gently so as not to frighten him. The atmosphere in the room suddenly was unbearably tense. Without David’s saying a word she knew his thoughts. This could have been his child. Their child. But, she told herself yet again, the timing for them had been all wrong.

“I imagine Phil’s still asleep.” David chuckled. “He was always a great one for sleeping late.”

“He’s never up before noon on Saturdays.” Kathy fought an urge to reach out and touch David. “I could wake him—”

“No, let him sleep. I have to leave in a few moments. Wally’s waiting to drive me to Stamford to catch my train.” David hugged Jesse for a moment, then handed him back to Kathy. “Enjoy and cherish him. Nothing is so important as family.”

With Jesse in her arms, Kathy stood at the window and watched David walk back to the car and climb inside. Tears blurred her vision as the limousine moved down the driveway and out onto the road. She felt that a part of her had just died.

A
S PHIL’S TRIP THROUGH
the Midwest grew close, Kathy realized that the business monopolized his thinking. Their conversation in the brief time they shared during the week was always one-sided: Phil reported on his latest confrontation with his father about some new approach for the business. With astonishing frequency Phil was winning. There was no need for her to contribute to the talk, she thought. All Phil wanted was an audience.

Now on weekends Phil would disappear for hours to huddle with his father. He always came home exhilarated. He was the little boy who was showing his father how great he could be.

Occasionally Kathy asked herself if Phil
was
with his father. She was too proud—too guilty at such thoughts—to check this out.

“As soon as I finish the swing through the Midwest,” he told her on a mid-March night when the threat of snow hung over the area, “we’ll start thinking in terms of a trunk show. Probably in early September, right after the New York fashion show. It works for the garment industry. Why not for furs?” It was a rhetorical question. No reply was expected of her.