Taking her eyes off the painting, Kim wandered around the cottage that she and Elizabeth had shared. Her recent loneliness notwithstanding, it was a cozy, romantic house, and she couldn’t help but wonder how different it would have been with Kinnard around instead of Edward.
Standing in the dining room, which in Elizabeth’s time had been the kitchen, Kim lamented how few times the table had even been used. There was no doubt that September had been a bust, and Kim berated herself for allowing Edward to drag her along on his drug-development crusade.
With a sudden flash of anger Kim allowed herself to go a step further, and for the first time she admitted that she was repulsed by Edward’s incipient greed as well as by his new persona as defined by Ultra. In her mind there was no place for drug-induced self-understanding, or drug-induced assertiveness, or a drug-induced happy mood. It was all fake. The concept of cosmetic psychopharmacology disgusted her.
Having finally faced her true feelings about Edward, Kim turned again to thoughts of Kinnard. With her new understanding, she saw that she shared a significant portion of blame for their most recent difficulties. With harshness equal to that she’d expressed toward Edward’s new greed, she chided herself for allowing her fear of rejection to misinterpret Kinnard’s boyish interests.
Kim sighed. She was exhausted physically and mentally. At the same time, she was inwardly calm. For the first time in months she didn’t have that vague, nagging anxiety that had been plaguing her. Although she knew her life was in disarray, she was committed to change, and she felt she knew what it was she had to change.
Disappearing into the bathroom, Kim took a long, luxurious bath, something she hadn’t done for as long as she could remember. After bathing, she slipped into a loose-fitting jogging suit and made herself dinner.
After dinner Kim went to the parlor window and glanced over toward the lab. She wondered what Edward was thinking and when she would see him.
Kim moved her eyes away from the lab and looked at the black silhouettes of the trees. They were totally motionless, as if imbedded in glass; there still was no wind. The storm which had seemed imminent when she’d first arrived home had stalled to the west. But then Kim saw a bolt of lightning. This time it arced to the ground, followed by a distant rumble of thunder.
Turning back into the room, Kim glanced again at Elizabeth’s portrait over the mantel and thought of Elizabeth’s gruesome, malformed fetus swimming in its jar of preservative. Kim shuddered anew. No wonder people in Elizabeth’s time believed in sorcery, magic, and witchcraft. Back then there was no other explanation for such disturbing events.
Advancing closer to the painting, Kim studied Elizabeth’s features. The woman’s assertiveness was apparent in the line of her jaw, the set of her lips, and the forthright stare of her eyes. Kim wondered if the trait had been temperament or character, inborn or learned, nature or nurture.
Kim pondered her own newly cultivated assertiveness for which she credited Elizabeth and wondered if she could maintain it. She felt she’d made a start by going to the lab that afternoon. She was certain she wouldn’t have been able to do that in the past.
As the evening progressed, Kim began to think about the possibility of changing careers and to question whether she had the courage to take the risk. With her inheritance she knew she could not use economics as an excuse. Such a life-style change was a daunting possibility, especially the idea of doing something artistic. Yet it was also alluring.
One of the unexpected consequences of Kim’s efforts at sorting the three hundred years of business documents in the castle was the realization of how little her family had contributed to the community. The hoard of papers and the tasteless castle housing them were the two major legacies. There’d not been one artist, musician, or author among them. For all their money, they’d developed no art collections, philharmonic endowments, or libraries. In fact, they’d made no contribution to culture unless entrepreneurialism was a culture in and of itself.