The Legacy (10 page)

“A friend of Barbara's,” Carson replied.

“Yes, of course. I'm an old friend of Dan Lavette's,” Stephan said. They shook hands. “Barbara went out for a breath of air. You can wait for her. Mrs. Lavette is in the library.”

“How is she? I mean, how is she taking it?”

“As well as can be expected. Do you know her?”

Carson shook his head. “No, we've never met. I don't know whether I should intrude. I thought — I can come back.”

Stephan shrugged. “Half of San Francisco has intruded these past few days. Danny was almost as recognizable around town as Coit Tower. Let me take you to Mrs. Lavette. Then I have to leave.”

He brought Carson into the library. There was a fire in the grate, and Jean sat facing it, half dozing. She rose as they entered, and in the muted light of the room, the tall, white-haired woman was quite different from what Carson had expected. Through the years, her slender figure had not changed a great deal. She still carried herself erectly, and the single lamp and the firelight were kind to her haggard face.

“I'm Carson Devron,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “Barbara may have mentioned me to you. We're friends. I felt I had to come.”

She took his hand firmly, peering at him. “Stephan,” she said, “please put on a light.” And to Carson, “Self-pity — you sit in the dark. There,” as Cassala switched on another lamp. “Of course Barbara spoke about you, and I'm glad you came. Dear Stephan here clucks over me like a mother hen — not a very good simile.” She went to Cassala and kissed his cheek. “I couldn't have survived without you, truly. But now, go home. Barbara will be back in a few minutes.”

Cassala left, and Jean turned to Carson and said, “Please, do sit down. Can I give you something? A drink? Have you had your dinner? There's enough food in the refrigerator to feed an army.”

“Nothing, thank you. I had a bite to eat before I came here. I stopped by at Barbara's house first. I suppose I should have called.”

Jean smiled. “But knowing Barbara, you were afraid she'd tell you not to come.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I have a strange daughter, as I'm sure you know. The man who let you in, Stephan Cassala, was as close to a brother as Danny ever had. He and I share a peculiar grief; there's just not much of either of us left with Dan gone. He's been very kind, but he has a wife and a family in San Mateo, and it's time he left me to struggle on. Forgive me for chattering like this.” She sat facing Carson. “But I do feel I know you. Barbara has talked about you a great deal.”

Carson nodded. “I thought she might. I know that a time like this —”

“A time like this,” Jean said, “is very naked. I don't know why people must be so damned apologetic about death. It's the only certainty we face, and perhaps the only time we are decently honest with ourselves. Barbara tells me you want to marry her.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You're eight years younger than she is. Do you think you can live with that?”

“I didn't ask her lightly, Mrs. Lavette. I'm thirty-six, but I grew up a while ago. I had four years of the army. I was married once, ten years ago. It lasted six months.”

“I'm sorry,” Jean said. “I plunged right in, didn't I? But Barbara will be back any moment, and I wanted a few direct words before she arrived.”

“And you don't mince them, do you? All right, Mrs. Lavette. What I started to say is that I'm not a casual repeat offender. I waited a long time before I decided to marry again, and I don't want to lose the best woman I've found because we happen to have been born not according to social schedule. I came here to offer my condolences, and instead …” His words trailed off.

“Thank goodness. Condolences are meaningless. You didn't know my husband and you do know my daughter. I prefer we talk about her and about yourself. My daughter is an interesting and remarkable woman. The Girl Scout image is deceptive. She has lived through many kinds of hell, and she has come out of it with her head up, which doesn't mean that she's ready to accept the world as it is. She has too many rules. I, for one, could not live up to them. Do you think you could?”

Carson laughed. “That's a wonderful description of Barbara. I could try.”

They heard the outside door slam, and then Barbara's voice: “Mother — where are you?”

“In the library.”

Barbara came into the room. She was wearing an old, heavy sweater, her hair blown and her cheeks flushed with the night wind. She saw Carson, paused, and then said, “Hello, old friend. So you did come after all.” She bent to kiss Jean. Carson had stood up, and now he waited. She went over to him and kissed him.

“You've both had a bad time of it, haven't you?” he said.

“As such things go.”

“Whatever I can do —”

“Being here is nice,” Barbara assured him. “Have you and mother had time to talk?”

“Some. Yes, we talked.”

Jean watched the two of them with interest and said nothing.

“I was thinking of you, Kit Carson,” Barbara told him. “I walked all the way down to Market Street and then rode the cable back. It was good, first time out of the house since the funeral. I was thinking that I never want to go back. It's not that I hate Beverly Hills. It's simply a place that fills me with sadness and despair, and if I were only one of those clever and cynical writers, I could write a book about it and turn it to good use. This way —” She shrugged.

“I have to live in Los Angeles,” Carson said.

“I know. That's what I was thinking about.”

“Do you want to give it a try?”

“Perhaps. I was thinking about that, too. I'm going to make some tea, and then we can talk about it or not, just as you wish.” With that, Barbara left the room.

“Well, Carson,” Jean said, “this is what my husband used to call a moment of truth. Do you think you can hack it?”

“I think so.”

Jean nodded and leaned back on the couch, staring into the fire. If Barbara left to live in Los Angeles, she would be alone, more alone than she had ever been.

Two

B
arbara and Carson Devron were married in June of 1959. Since it was a second marriage for each of them, the ceremony was held in the small chapel at Grace Cathedral, after which there was a very modest reception in Jean's house on Russian Hill. Barbara would have preferred a simple civil marriage in the chambers of her father's old friend Judge Fremont, but Carson explained to her that such procedure was out of the question. Carson's mother, Lila Devron, felt that since ten years had passed since his first unfortunate marriage, this one should be celebrated in a manner compatible with the Devrons' position in Los Angeles. But it was only six months since Dan had died, and Jean was firm on where and how the marriage should take place. In the end, there were present at the reception Carson's mother and father, his Aunt Sophie and her husband, Jamie, and his sister, Willa, accompanied by her husband, Drew Anthony.

On the Lavette side, the ranks were equally thin. Barbara's son and her two brothers were present, Tom and his wife, Lucy, and Joe Lavette and his wife, Sally — which did not add comfort or warmth to the evening, since Joe and Tom barely knew each other, and Barbara and Tom had not spoken to each other for years before her father's death. Nevertheless, Jean felt that some effort had to be made to confront the Devrons with a family situation and make them understand that the Lavettes of San Francisco — Seldons on the distaff side — were the equals if not the superiors of the Devrons of Los Angeles in wealth, appearance, and breeding. All of which Barbara found annoying and rather ridiculous; yet it was an arrangement which she was able to accept by placing herself in her mother's position and thereby viewing it as a part of Jean's valiant effort to survive her husband's death.

All things considered, it did not come off too badly. The Lavettes were polite and even gracious, to each other as well as to the Devrons, and the four Lavette women, Barbara, Jean, Sally, and Lucy, were well groomed and attractive.

Above all, they were on their own turf. The Devrons had come up from the south, and howsoever they saw themselves, no native of Los Angeles can wholly escape a feeling of inferiority in regard to San Francisco. Whatever they may have felt about the woman their son had married, the fact remained that she was a Lavette, and that the Lavettes were one of the few California families the Devrons could meet on equal terms.

In matters social as well as financial, the Devrons took their cue from Lila, and when Lila embraced Jean, the remaining icy edges were melted. Carson, standing with Barbara, remarked that his mother was a most remarkable woman.

“They both are,” Barbara said.

“But different, quite different, I imagine.” He was thinking of an evening a week past when Lila had told him, flatly, that the wedding would not take place. They were in Lila's small sitting room, adjoining her bedroom in the house in Hancock Park. Lila had commanded his appearance, before dinner, just the two of them, herself and her son. Lila had opened the conversation by reminding Carson that he had never overtly disobeyed her.

“We've had our differences, we've argued,” Lila said, “but you've never done anything directly contrary to my wishes.”

Knowing what was coming, Carson nodded and waited.

“You're not making it easy for me.”

“No, mother, I'm not.”

“Very well, I'll come directly to the point. The wedding will not take place.”

“Just like that, mother? Why didn't you issue your ultimatum a week ago or a month ago?”

“I admit to being a fool about it, but not enough of a fool to let you destroy yourself.”

“You realize that I don't see it your way?”

“Of course.”

“You can take me off the paper,” Carson said softly, “but there's not much else in the way in inflicting punishment — except to make it impossible for us to be friends. I think I love you, but that's not enough, is it?”

“I have no intention of inflicting punishment. I simply forbid it. I don't want you to marry that woman.”

Carson shook his head.

“Nothing more?”

“I'm going to marry her, mother. That's it.”

And now, watching Lila embrace Jean Lavette, Carson admitted to himself that he knew his mother hardly at all.

When Barbara informed her son that she intended to marry Carson Devron, his reaction consisted of a blank, stony silence, an inner withdrawal such as only a twelve-year-old son can achieve. He did not take to Carson. Carson tried mightily, with charm, gifts, and even to the extent of inviting himself onto the cutter. He was a good sailor and he bowed cheerfully to Sam as the captain of the craft — all to no good effect. Sam remained locked in himself.

“It's nothing he does,” Carson said to Barbara afterwards. “It's what he doesn't do. I thought the boat might make a difference, but it only made it worse. There's no way I can reach him.”

“Give it time, please,” Barbara begged him. “He's never had a father. His grandfather was someone he worshipped. If you had asked me, I would have said stay away from the boat. That was his and Dan Lavette's domain.”

When the wedding was finally scheduled, Sam announced that he would not come. “It has nothing to do with me,” he said flatly. Then they talked. It was the first time Barbara had ever talked openly and seriously with her son, holding nothing back, revealing her own fears and doubts.

“I'm no good at living alone,” she said. “I'm forty-five years old and I'm frightened. I've always had you. But that comes to an end, and sooner than you might imagine.”

“Why does it come to an end?”

“Let me try to tell you. It's not something that's easy to spell out. For your own good, your own health, and your own life, you and I must each of us stand on our own feet. I've always tried to have it that way. In a few years, you'll be going to college, and after that — well, whatever you decide to do with your life. We can love each other, but heaven help us if we cling to each other.”

“You mean you don't want me around?”

“Sammy, Sammy darling, that's the last thing in the world that I mean. I do want you around. I want to look at you and embrace you and feed you. But I want you to be free, and in the same way, I must be free. Carson is not like your father, but no one can be like him and I can't go back and become a young woman again. I found a good, decent man who loves me, and I'm lucky, very lucky, and that's something I want you to understand.”

“I'm trying to,” Sam said. “I'm trying.”

“And you do understand that after the wedding, we'll be going away for a few weeks, Carson and I. School will be over then. If you wish, you can spend the time at Higate.”

Sam nodded.

“Don't be provoked with me, please, darling,” Barbara begged him.