She moved into his arms and held him close.
'My God!' he said. 'I've wanted you for so long.'
'And I you, Brad.'
And they moved into the bedroom.
Kate was a sensual woman, but all of her sexual energy had long since been harnessed into other channels. She was completely fulfilled by her work. She needed Brad for other reasons.
He was on top of her, and she moved her legs apart and felt his hardness in her, and it was neither pleasant nor unpleasant.
'Kate, I've loved you for so long ...'
He was pressing into her, moving in and out in an ancient, timeless rhythm, and she thought, They're asking too bloody much for the company. They're going to hold out because they know I really want it.
Brad was whispering words of endearment in her ear.
I could call off the negotiations and wait for them to come back to me. But what if they don't? Do I dare risk losing the deal?
His rhythm was faster now, and Kate moved her hips, thrusting against his body.
No. They could easily find another buyer. Better to pay them what they want. I'll make up for it by selling off one of their subsidiaries.
Brad was moaning, in a frenzy of delight, and Kate moved faster, bringing him to a climax.
I'll tell them I've decided to meet their terms.
There was a long, shuddering gasp, and Brad said, 'Oh, God, Kate, it was wonderful. Was it good for you, darling?'
'It was heaven.'
She lay in Brad's arms all night, thinking and planning, while he slept. In the morning when he woke up, she said, 'Brad, that woman you've been seeing—'
'My God! You're jealous!' He laughed happily. 'Forget about her. I'll never see her again, I promise.'
Kate never went to bed with Brad again. When he could not understand why she refused him, all she said was, 'You don't know how much I want to, Brad, but I'm afraid we wouldn't be able to work together any longer. We must both make a sacrifice.' And he was forced to live with that.
As the company kept expanding, Kate set up charitable foundations that contributed to colleges, churches and schools. She kept adding to her art collection. She acquired the great Renaissance and post-Renaissance artists Raphael and Titian, Tintoretto and El Greco; and the baroque painters Rubens, Caravaggio and Vandyck.
The Blackwell collection was reputed to be the most valuable private collection in the world. Reputed, because no one outside of invited guests was permitted to see it. Kate would not allow it to be photographed, nor would she discuss it with the press. She had strict, inflexible rules about the press. The personal life of the Blackwell family was off limits. Neither servants nor employees of the company were permitted to discuss the Blackwell family. It was impossible, of course, to stop rumors and speculation, for Kate Blackwell was an intriguing enigma—one of the richest, most powerful women in the world. There were a thousand questions about her, but few answers.
Kate telephoned the headmistress at Le Rosey. 'I'm calling to find out how Tony is.'
'Ah, he is doing very well, Mrs. Blackwell. Your son is a superb student. He—'
'I wasn't referring to that. I meant—' She hesitated, as though reluctant to admit there could be a weakness in the Blackwell family. 'I meant his stammering.'
'Madame, there is no sign of any stammering. He is perfectly fine.'
Kate heaved an inward sigh of relief. She had known all along that it was only temporary, a passing phase of some kind. So much for doctors!
Tony arrived home four weeks later, and Kate was at the aiport to meet him. He looked fit and handsome, and Kate felt a surge of pride. 'Hello, my love. How are you?' 'I'm f-f-fine, M-m-mother. How are y-y-you?'
On his vacations at home, Tony eagerly looked forward to examining the new paintings his mother had acquired while he was away. He was awed by the masters, and enchanted by the French Impressionists: Monet, Renoir, Manet and Morisot. They evoked a magic world for Tony. He bought a set of paints and an easel and went to work. He thought his paintings were terrible, and he still refused to show them to anyone. How could they compare with the exquisite masterpieces?
Kate told him, 'One day all these paintings will belong to you, darling.'
The thought of it filled the thirteen-year-old boy with a sense of unease. His mother did not understand. They could never be truly his, because he had done nothing to earn them. He had a fierce determination somehow to earn his own way. He had ambivalent feelings about being away from his mother, for everything around her was always exciting. She was at the center of a whirlwind, giving orders, making incredible deals, taking him to exotic places, introducing him to interesting people. She was an awesome figure, and Tony was inordinately proud of her. He thought she was the most fascinating woman in the world. He felt guilty because it was only in her presence that he stuttered.
Kate had no idea how deeply her son was in awe of her until one day when he was home on vacation he asked, 'M-m-mother, do you r-r-run the world?'
And she had laughed and said, 'Of course not. What made you ask such a silly question?'
'All my f-friends at school talk about you. Boy, you're really s-something.'
'I am something,' Kate said. 'I'm your mother.'
Tony wanted more than anything in the world to please Kate. He knew how much the company meant to her, how much she planned on his running it one day, and he was filled with regret, because he knew he could not. That was not what he intended to do with his life.
When he tried to explain this to his mother, she would laugh, 'Nonsense, Tony. You're much too young to know what you want to do with your future.'
And he would begin to stammer.
The idea of being a painter excited Tony. To be able to capture beauty and freeze it for all eternity; that was something worthwhile. He wanted to go abroad and study in Paris, but he knew he would have to broach the subject to his mother very carefully.
They had wonderful times together. Kate was the chatelaine of vast estates. She had acquired homes in Palm Beach and South Carolina, and a stud farm in Kentucky, and she and Tony visited all of them during his vacations. They watched the America's Cup races in Newport, and when they were in New York, they had lunch at Delmonico's and tea at the Plaza and Sunday dinner at Luchow's. Kate was interested in horse racing, and her stable became one of the finest in the world. When one of Kate's horses was running and Tony was home from school, Kate would take him to the track with her. They would sit in her box and Tony would watch in wonder as his mother cheered until she was hoarse. He knew her excitement had nothing to do with money.
'It's winning, Tony. Remember that. Winning is what's important.'
They had quiet, lazy times at Dark Harbor. They shopped at Pendleton and Coffin, and had ice-cream sodas at the Dark Harbor Shop. In summer they went sailing and hiking and visaed art galleries. In the winter there was skiing and skating and Heigh riding. They would sit in front of a fire in the large fire-place in the library, and Kate would tell her son all the old fam-ily stories about his grandfather and Banda, and about the baby shower Madam Agnes and her girls gave for Tony's grand-mother. It was a colorful family, a family to be proud of, to cherish.
'Kruger-Brent, Limited, will be yours one day, Tony. You'll run it and—'
'I d-don't want to r-run it, Mother. I'm not interested in big business or p-power.'
And Kate exploded. 'You bloody fool! What do you know about big business or power? Do you think I go around the world spreading evil? Hurting people? Do you think Kruger-Brent is some kind of ruthless money machine crushing anything that gets in its way? Well, let me tell you something, Son. It's the next best thing to Jesus Christ. We're the resurrection, Tony. We save lives by the hundreds of thousands. When we open a factory in a depressed community or country, those people can afford to build schools and libraries and churches, and give their children decent food and clothing and recreation facilities.' She was breathing hard, carried away by her anger. 'We build factories where people are hungry and out of work, and because of us they're able to live decent lives and hold up their heads. We become their saviors. Don't ever again let me hear you sneer at big business and power.'
All Tony could say was, 'I'm s-s-sorry, M-m-mother.'
And he thought stubbornly: I'm going to be an artist.
