Read Online Private affairs : a novel by Judith Michael - Free Book Online
Authors: Judith Michael
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well, Elizabeth thought, and because they were doing everything together: working at the printing company,
making plans, plotting as they drove around Santa Fe, seeing its people as subscribers, its businesses as advertisers, each other as partners.
"What's with you two?" Peter asked. "You look like you won a prize or something. I mean, you told us not to bug Dad because he's depressed and then all of a sudden everybody's got these grins on their faces . . . Did we inherit a million dollars or what?"
"We're working on an idea that we're excited about," Elizabeth replied. "We'll tell you about it pretty soon."
"Why not now?"
"Because it isn't all worked out yet."
Talking, planning, sharing, they fed each other's excitement. They looked forward to the evenings, as they had long ago when they were dating and pushing the hours away until they could be together. Now they waited for the quiet time when they could sit at the kitchen table with notebooks and folders and sharpened pencils, talking about their secret, making it more possible, more real. They waited for the time when they would go to bed, kissing and holding each other with the same sense of beginning that was part of everything they did these days. They were changing their life. They were starting again.
It was all risk, it was aU discovery, it was bolstering each other up when their fears returned. "We can't sell the house," Matt said. "We have to live somewhere. ..."
"Which is cheaper?" Elizabeth asked, turning to a clean piece of paper. "Renting or taking a mortgage on this place?"
They wrote down numbers, percentage points, tax deductions. "Keep the house," Matt said finally. "It makes more sense. I hate to mortgage it to the hilt after Dad had it paid off, but—"
"It's better than camping in the mountains," Elizabeth finished, and kissed him. "I hated the idea of giving it up." Then she looked again at the number he had written. "It's a large payment, isn't it? Month after month . . . And there's the personal loan, too. ..."
He put his arms around her. "If we buy the paper, we'll make so much money you'll never notice it."
She nodded. "Of course."
Neither of them quite believed it, but neither of them said so. And at last, one night as they lay together in bed, talking in the last drowsy minutes before sleep, both of them said, at the same time, "When we buy the paper . . ." and they knew they'd leaped the final hurdle. No longer were they saying "If." The next day they would begin to sign the papers that would make it irrevocable. In the darkness they held each other
tightly. "I believe in you," said Elizabeth almost fiercely. And, still clasped in each other's arms, they fell asleep,
Elizabeth's parents had retired from their jobs in Los Angeles eight years earlier and moved to Santa Fe, converting one of the narrow, deep adobe buildings on Canyon Road to the Evans Bookshop and Art Gallery, and buying a house in the nearby mountain town of Tesuque. They had their own friends, but the most important people in their lives were Matt and Elizabeth and the children, so, on a warm, starry night in August, Elizabeth asked them to dinner, because there was something they wanted to talk about. And when they were all at the table on the brick patio—Holly and Peter uneasy because they figured something re= ally big was coming; Lydia and Spencer curious—Matt made the announcement of their plans.
Peter broke the stunned silence. "You promised Grandpa Zachary you wouldn't sell the company."
"He's gone," said Matt gently. "We kept it for him as long as he was alive."
"Do we have to sell everything?" Holly asked. "Like the house and the cars?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "We can manage—"
"Hold on a minute!" Spencer commanded. His white hair flew out as he swung his head from Elizabeth to Matt. "This is pretty sudden! You can't spring things like this on your family!"
"Can't?" Malt asked.
"Can't, damn it! You have responsibilities; you can't decide to
making plans, plotting as they drove around Santa Fe, seeing its people as subscribers, its businesses as advertisers, each other as partners.
"What's with you two?" Peter asked. "You look like you won a prize or something. I mean, you told us not to bug Dad because he's depressed and then all of a sudden everybody's got these grins on their faces . . . Did we inherit a million dollars or what?"
"We're working on an idea that we're excited about," Elizabeth replied. "We'll tell you about it pretty soon."
"Why not now?"
"Because it isn't all worked out yet."
Talking, planning, sharing, they fed each other's excitement. They looked forward to the evenings, as they had long ago when they were dating and pushing the hours away until they could be together. Now they waited for the quiet time when they could sit at the kitchen table with notebooks and folders and sharpened pencils, talking about their secret, making it more possible, more real. They waited for the time when they would go to bed, kissing and holding each other with the same sense of beginning that was part of everything they did these days. They were changing their life. They were starting again.
It was all risk, it was aU discovery, it was bolstering each other up when their fears returned. "We can't sell the house," Matt said. "We have to live somewhere. ..."
"Which is cheaper?" Elizabeth asked, turning to a clean piece of paper. "Renting or taking a mortgage on this place?"
They wrote down numbers, percentage points, tax deductions. "Keep the house," Matt said finally. "It makes more sense. I hate to mortgage it to the hilt after Dad had it paid off, but—"
"It's better than camping in the mountains," Elizabeth finished, and kissed him. "I hated the idea of giving it up." Then she looked again at the number he had written. "It's a large payment, isn't it? Month after month . . . And there's the personal loan, too. ..."
He put his arms around her. "If we buy the paper, we'll make so much money you'll never notice it."
She nodded. "Of course."
Neither of them quite believed it, but neither of them said so. And at last, one night as they lay together in bed, talking in the last drowsy minutes before sleep, both of them said, at the same time, "When we buy the paper . . ." and they knew they'd leaped the final hurdle. No longer were they saying "If." The next day they would begin to sign the papers that would make it irrevocable. In the darkness they held each other
tightly. "I believe in you," said Elizabeth almost fiercely. And, still clasped in each other's arms, they fell asleep,
Elizabeth's parents had retired from their jobs in Los Angeles eight years earlier and moved to Santa Fe, converting one of the narrow, deep adobe buildings on Canyon Road to the Evans Bookshop and Art Gallery, and buying a house in the nearby mountain town of Tesuque. They had their own friends, but the most important people in their lives were Matt and Elizabeth and the children, so, on a warm, starry night in August, Elizabeth asked them to dinner, because there was something they wanted to talk about. And when they were all at the table on the brick patio—Holly and Peter uneasy because they figured something re= ally big was coming; Lydia and Spencer curious—Matt made the announcement of their plans.
Peter broke the stunned silence. "You promised Grandpa Zachary you wouldn't sell the company."
"He's gone," said Matt gently. "We kept it for him as long as he was alive."
"Do we have to sell everything?" Holly asked. "Like the house and the cars?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "We can manage—"
"Hold on a minute!" Spencer commanded. His white hair flew out as he swung his head from Elizabeth to Matt. "This is pretty sudden! You can't spring things like this on your family!"
"Can't?" Malt asked.
"Can't, damn it! You have responsibilities; you can't decide to
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