“Hello, Kenist—I mean, Mr. Eastman,” she said, sliding in across from him and shrugging out of her coat. She felt hot and breathless and slightly ill. If this was really a proposition, she didn’t think she could go through with it.
“I was surprised to see you this afternoon, but then I recalled you mentioned that you work for the provost’s office,” he said.
“Yes, sir. How nice that you get to visit for your trustees’ meeting. Kate must be thrilled that you’re in town,” she said, awkwardly.
This wasn’t feeling like the beginning of an illicit relationship, but even so, she was thrown off balance, being alone with him like this.
Keniston grimaced. “Kate doesn’t know I’m here. That’s why I asked to speak with you. I’m a bit out of touch with her, and so I wanted to ask you something.”
Of course—this was about Kate! What an idiot Jenny was, and how full of herself. Her cheeks burned. She was grateful for the dim lighting, so Keniston wouldn’t see her blush, or read in her eyes the ludicrous assumption she’d made. The idea that Keniston Eastman, with his millions and his expensive suits and his pretty young wife, might try to seduce her—little old Jenny Vega from the wrong side of the tracks in Belle River. Who did she think she was? Completely ridiculous. Not in a million years. And thank God for that! Right? She was profoundly relieved—although a tiny bit disappointed to lose her shot at Eastman’s patronage.
Caught up in her own embarrassment, Jenny missed what he’d just said.
“—since Thanksgiving, so—”
“I’m sorry,” she said, faltering. “Can you repeat that? It’s been a long day.”
“Of course. Forgive my rudeness, just plunging into things. Can I get you a drink?”
A glass of amber liquid sat before him. Scotch, probably. She could smell its sharp, smoky scent from across the table.
“I’m not of legal age,” she said.
“I wasn’t suggesting you order alcohol.” He signaled to a waiter, who came over instantly. “The young lady will have a—?”
“Diet Coke, please. With lemon,” she said, blushing anew. What a ditz she was.
Within minutes, her drink appeared, and Jenny sipped the ice-cold soda gratefully as Keniston launched into his tale of woe. She was too distracted at first to realize that he was confiding in her, telling her the private details of his troubled relationship with his daughter. Some stuff Jenny already knew or could have guessed. Kate and Keniston had quarreled bitterly over Thanksgiving and weren’t on speaking terms. Kate had a difficult relationship with Victoria that led her to view Keniston’s efforts at guidance as vindictive attacks. Keniston was terribly worried about her drinking and drugging and spending and cutting class. He wasn’t a monster. He remembered what it was like to be in college, and a certain amount of misbehavior was expected in a normal child. But Kate wasn’t a normal child. Kate was different. She was troubled.
“I asked you here because I have to tell you something, and ask a favor of you, but this is highly confidential. You have to promise me it will stay between us,” he said.
“Of course,” she whispered, leaning forward. “You can count on me. I won’t breathe a word.”
His face was grim. Jenny wasn’t thinking about what he would say, or how he felt. She was too caught up in the drama of being taken into his confidence. Keniston took a swig of his drink, girding himself for the revelation.
“Did Kate ever tell you about what happened to Maggie Price, her best friend at Odell?” he began.
“Not that I recall.”
“Oh, you’d remember if she had. Maggie committed suicide her sophomore year. A beautiful girl, very smart, everything ahead of her. From a prominent family. Her parents were friends of mine. It’s beyond comprehension what they went through. She did it with pills, an intentional overdose. And she left a note. The note mentioned Kate by name.”
Jenny looked at him in surprise. “What did it say?”
“It said, ‘See, I showed you, it doesn’t hurt. I’ll be waiting.’”
Jenny stared at Keniston, too shocked to reply. So Kate had been part of a suicide pact? That seemed impossible. The Kate Eastman Jenny knew was so alive. And so full of herself. She would never choose to die.
“Was the note for real?” Jenny asked. “Maybe Maggie was making it up.”
“Oh, no. I confronted Kate. She admitted they were planning to do it together, but Kate got cold feet and backed out at the last minute. It’s the only time I was happy she didn’t keep her word. I sent her to a psychiatrist after that, naturally, but my suspicion is, she’s no longer following the prescribed treatment.” He paused and looked Jenny in the eye. “Is she?”
“I wouldn’t know. I mean, we’re close, or I thought we were. She’s never mentioned any of this to me. I’m pretty shocked to hear it, actually.”
“I see.”
“What treatment is she supposed to follow?”
“Medication, talk therapy. A structured schedule including regular sleep and exercise. And refraining from the consumption of drugs or alcohol. That’s very important, because Kate is prone to addictive behavior and binge drinking. When she relapses, she gets depressed, and she’s extremely susceptible to … all right, I’ll say it, self-harm.”
“For what it’s worth, Mr. Eastman, Kate doesn’t seem suicidal to me. Not at all.”
“I’m glad to hear it, but you’re not a professional.”
“No, I’m not,” Jenny admitted.
“I know she’s back to her old habits. Victoria told me Kate came home drunk from the nightclub when you were in New York over Thanksgiving.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
He waved dismissively. “Don’t apologize. I know my daughter. I’m sure she was the ringleader. The point is, we argued about it. I was trying to help her, but I’m afraid I merely succeeded in driving her away.”
“She made it sound like you argued over money.”
“Any time I intervene, Kate pretends I’m motivated by something venal, something other than concern for her welfare. That makes it easier to ignore me. You know, she once told Victoria that I’ve hated her ever since my first wife died because I hold Kate responsible for Kitty’s cancer. I can’t figure out if she actually believes these wild accusations or if she’s just trying to manipulate me.”
Jenny didn’t think it was her place to tell him how sincerely Kate believed that.
“It sounds like you really need to talk to her,” Jenny said. “Have a heart-to-heart and clear the air.”
“I wish that were possible, but she won’t speak to me. That’s why I need you.”
“No problem, Mr. Eastman. I’m happy to help. I can go back to Whipple right now and ask her to come over here and talk to you.”
“No, no, not that,” he exclaimed. “If she knew I was here in town, if she knew I was meeting with you—don’t you see? She’d never speak to either of us again. She can’t know we talked, ever.”
“Oh. Then—? I’m confused.”
“What I need is for you to keep me posted on her situation,” he said.
“What do you mean, keep you posted? Are you asking me to spy on her?”