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Authors: Amanda Cross
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truth of your paternal heritage so disturbing, and if so, why?”
“I don’t know,” Kate said.
“I do. You have long prided yourself, with justification, on breaking away from every opportunity to be a self-satisfied, conventional, right-wing, wealthy, socially established Fansler. Now it turns out, you don’t get any credit, or not much. It all goes to Jay—whom I insist upon meeting in the very near future.”
“I might have had Jay for a father and still become a traditional Fansler. After all, that was my upbringing, my identity.”
“I know that, you owl. I’m just teasing you. But I do think Jay’s appearance has ever so slightly dented your amour propre.”
Kate sighed. She was not about to admit to Leslie the stunning accuracy of her analysis, but she was beginning to acknowledge it to herself. “And what shall I do if my father turns out to have been something either illegal or shameful or maybe both?”
“If you’re worried about it, I’d stop Reed from investigating. You’d have gone on with your life quite nicely, thank you, if your father had never darkened your door, but since he has, why not let well enough alone?”
“Good question, but I told Reed he could go ahead. I don’t feel entitled, after the life I’ve led, to turn away from learning something just because it might turn out to be disturbing.”
“You’re right, of course. Now,” Leslie said, “could I complain for a while? There is more that can be annoying in life than was ever dreamed of in your philosophy. Art galleries, for example.”
And they went on to speak of Leslie’s life.
But the question of how to think about Kate’s father, or whether to investigate him, or whether his appearance affected Kate’s view of herself—these questions vanished almost without a trace. Jay Ebenezer Smith disappeared as suddenly and as shockingly as he had materialized.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may
be better prepared for an answer . . .
Go you, and tell her of it.
It was several days before Kate noticed that Jay had not called as promised, and that calls to him were not answered; nor was there any longer a machine to take messages. Well, she thought at first, anyone can be called out of town, or be faced with some unforeseen demand. But when a week beyond when he had said he would call her had gone by, she asked Reed if he thought she should look into the matter.
Reed found it odd that Jay had promised to call Kate and failed to do so. People often made empty promises, but surely if one had gone to so much trouble to look up a daughter one had not seen in half a century or more, one would not simply forget to make a promised telephone call. In the end Reed offered to go around to his apartment and see if he could learn anything about Jay’s whereabouts. Kate said she would come, too.
Jay had told them that he had sublet a small apartment in a large building near Astor Place; toward this they set off on a Saturday morning. Banny looked woeful at being left by both of them, but settled down, head on paws, to await their return.
“Meeting this man involves a certain amount of unaccustomed intracity travel,” Kate observed. “First Laurence’s club, then you off to the Plaza, now we move on to Astor Place.”
They took the subway to West Fourth Street and walked eastward across town to the address Jay had given them. It turned out to be a large building indeed; in fact, it occupied a square block, and was guarded at the entrance by two men who demanded to know to whom they wished to be announced. Reed began by giving Jay’s name in the usual way, but was hardly surprised when the house phone to his apartment failed to elicit a reply.
“Have you seen Mr. Smith lately?” Reed asked the doorman.
“Not lately, no,” the man replied, as though he had just realized this. With as many apartments as this house contained, the doorman grumpily explained, he could hardly remember who
“I don’t know,” Kate said.
“I do. You have long prided yourself, with justification, on breaking away from every opportunity to be a self-satisfied, conventional, right-wing, wealthy, socially established Fansler. Now it turns out, you don’t get any credit, or not much. It all goes to Jay—whom I insist upon meeting in the very near future.”
“I might have had Jay for a father and still become a traditional Fansler. After all, that was my upbringing, my identity.”
“I know that, you owl. I’m just teasing you. But I do think Jay’s appearance has ever so slightly dented your amour propre.”
Kate sighed. She was not about to admit to Leslie the stunning accuracy of her analysis, but she was beginning to acknowledge it to herself. “And what shall I do if my father turns out to have been something either illegal or shameful or maybe both?”
“If you’re worried about it, I’d stop Reed from investigating. You’d have gone on with your life quite nicely, thank you, if your father had never darkened your door, but since he has, why not let well enough alone?”
“Good question, but I told Reed he could go ahead. I don’t feel entitled, after the life I’ve led, to turn away from learning something just because it might turn out to be disturbing.”
“You’re right, of course. Now,” Leslie said, “could I complain for a while? There is more that can be annoying in life than was ever dreamed of in your philosophy. Art galleries, for example.”
And they went on to speak of Leslie’s life.
But the question of how to think about Kate’s father, or whether to investigate him, or whether his appearance affected Kate’s view of herself—these questions vanished almost without a trace. Jay Ebenezer Smith disappeared as suddenly and as shockingly as he had materialized.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I will acquaint my daughter withal, that she may
be better prepared for an answer . . .
Go you, and tell her of it.
It was several days before Kate noticed that Jay had not called as promised, and that calls to him were not answered; nor was there any longer a machine to take messages. Well, she thought at first, anyone can be called out of town, or be faced with some unforeseen demand. But when a week beyond when he had said he would call her had gone by, she asked Reed if he thought she should look into the matter.
Reed found it odd that Jay had promised to call Kate and failed to do so. People often made empty promises, but surely if one had gone to so much trouble to look up a daughter one had not seen in half a century or more, one would not simply forget to make a promised telephone call. In the end Reed offered to go around to his apartment and see if he could learn anything about Jay’s whereabouts. Kate said she would come, too.
Jay had told them that he had sublet a small apartment in a large building near Astor Place; toward this they set off on a Saturday morning. Banny looked woeful at being left by both of them, but settled down, head on paws, to await their return.
“Meeting this man involves a certain amount of unaccustomed intracity travel,” Kate observed. “First Laurence’s club, then you off to the Plaza, now we move on to Astor Place.”
They took the subway to West Fourth Street and walked eastward across town to the address Jay had given them. It turned out to be a large building indeed; in fact, it occupied a square block, and was guarded at the entrance by two men who demanded to know to whom they wished to be announced. Reed began by giving Jay’s name in the usual way, but was hardly surprised when the house phone to his apartment failed to elicit a reply.
“Have you seen Mr. Smith lately?” Reed asked the doorman.
“Not lately, no,” the man replied, as though he had just realized this. With as many apartments as this house contained, the doorman grumpily explained, he could hardly remember who
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