Chapter 17

It was later in July when Kris came into the library to announce that we were going to Tiffany’s. It seemed that there were some women named Dawson over there — whoever the hell they might be [See Jean & Jim at Stories Online] — and she wanted to see them. Not having anything better to do — so what else is new? — I called Jack Thompson, chairman and CEO of Tiffany & Company.

It took a bit of doing to get him to the phone. His secretary apologized up and down, but said that whenever the Dawsons were around a Tiffany store, all hell broke loose. They were around, and it had. But finally a breathless Jack Thompson came to the phone.

When I explained what Kris wanted, his reaction was a heartfelt, “Oh, shit!”

Then he continued, “Cam, you’re a major shareholder. Believe me, if you weren’t there would just be no way. But since you are...” He then proceeded to give me instructions: We were to go to the employees entrance at 6:15 and he would meet us there. “God willing,” he concluded, “the crush of people will have abated by then.”

This got me thinking and I asked Tina and Liz to research it for me. What they found was astounding. To say I’m not an avid reader of annual reports is the kindest thing one could say. But the report noted a huge increase in sales at the flagship New York store the preceding Christmas that was attributed to the Dawson advertising and the personal appearance at the store of the Dawson women themselves.

Very interesting, I thought.

For the visit, Kris went all out with her dress. I was surprised. At 6:15, as instructed, we were at the employees entrance, and there was Jack Thompson to greet us. Quite honestly, he looked shot to shit.

“My God! What happened to you?”

“The Dawsons happened to me ... again!” he replied with a tired grin.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Did you notice the crowds out front, by any chance?”

I nodded. There had been a mob scene. In addition there appeared to be a battalion of New York’s Finest trying to maintain some semblance of order and trying to permit some pedestrian traffic to get past the 5^th Avenue store.

“That’s the Dawsons,” Thompson concluded.

“But why in hell do you do it,” I asked, “if it always works this way?”

“Look, Cam, let me explain the facts of life: This is midsummer. This is a very slow time of year for a big-city jewelry store. Do you know what kind of business we’re doing today?”

I just shook my head.

“Let me put it this way: The biggest selling period for fine jewelry and giftware is at Christmastime. The business we did here today would be great business ... for the busiest full week in the Christmas selling season. In fact,” he added, “we haven’t come close to totaling it up, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it was two weeks’ Christmas business! How’s that for ‘why’?”

“But how... ?” I stammered. Meanwhile, Kris had just been watching the exchange, fascinated.

“The Dawsons is how. Those women are the greatest asset we have! Now why don’t you come and meet them?” As he said that, I noticed him giving Kris a very strange look.

We followed him in and then out toward the selling floor. At the doorway, we waited for the last customers to be served. But at the same time, I could see that people were still trying to get in, in spite of the locked doors and the army of police. Unbelievable!

Finally the last of the customers was allowed out, and we could hear an audible sound of relief from the Tiffany staff. But then I noticed that three women standing behind the counters were looking elated.

While I was woolgathering, Kris moved past me toward the eldest of the three. Only then did I realize I was looking at ... Kris!

Going up to her, Kris just put out her arms. The other woman extended hers, too, palms up, while Kris had her palms down. The two clasped forearms and just looked into each other’s eyes. But at the same time, it was almost like I was seeing a two-way flow of electricity through their hands.

“Jean?” Kris whispered.

“Kristin?” the woman answered.

At that moment I had the strangest experience. It was as if I was seeing a movie in my mind. There were two small golden-haired girls, holding hands and laughing merrily as they ran through a field of wildflowers. They were utterly adorable. Just as I was about to see something more, it was as if film had snapped. There was a flash of light, and then ... nothing.

Meanwhile the two women just leaned toward each other, separated by the display case. But that didn’t stop them for an instant. Two heads cocked and two pairs of lips merged. It was the most beautiful kiss I’ve ever seen in my life!

Kris released her right hand, but continued to hold the woman with her left as they moved to a gap between the counters. Reaching it, the other woman came out on the selling floor and just wrapped Kris in her arms. Again, their kiss had so much power it would have killed anyone else alive.

Finally, they eased apart and the other woman breathed, “Hi, Baby Sister!”

Kris’s eyes flashed and she exclaimed, “Baby Sister! What is this shit! We’re identical twins, turkey!”

“But, Kristin dear, you’re a full six minutes younger than I am. So you’re the baby sister.”

“Grr!” Kris responded, but with her arm around her sister, she brought her to me. “Cam, I guess you’ve already gathered as much, but this is my identical twin sister, Jean. Until a few minutes ago, I didn’t think I had a relative or ever had one, for that matter. But when I saw her for the first time...”

“The controls shorted out,” Jean continued. Then she extended her hand and said, “How do you do? I’m Jean Dawson, as you may have gathered, and I’m related to your wife...”

She stopped when I slowly shook my head. “I would love her to be, but she won’t marry me,” I explained. “Now what did you mean about controls shorting out?”

“There are a couple of pieces to it,” she began. “In the first place — and this may be news to Kris — we’re from someplace else. I have no idea where, but it’s not on Earth. In the second place, somehow they — whoever ‘they’ might be — ‘lost’ Kris. Heaven only knows when, but it was some time ago. Did you see the electricity flow between us when we gripped each other’s arms?”

“Yes, I did,” I admitted. “What was it?”

“That was reconnecting Kris to wherever. Oh, yeah ... And it updated her software ... Quite a bit, in fact.” Looking at Kris she said, “You’re going to have fun with your new powers.”

“‘New powers’? Like what?”

“Well, I don’t exactly know what you had before, but now you have a recording and indexing capability: Anything you see or hear is recorded somehow, and indexed for immediate recall. Then there’s conversation tracking: If you can see someone — at any distance — you can hear them and will automatically record whatever they’re saying. You can move around and so can they, but the tracking is locked on. As long as they’re still in sight, it works. You can also hear both sides of any phone conversation, too.”

Kris was stunned.

“Before things go much further, what are your plans?” I asked.

“We’re headed back to Chicago in about an hour,” Jean replied. “Have to get back to hubby.”

“Bullshit! Get hubby the hell out here!” I retorted. “There’s no way in hell you’re leaving today.”

“But ... we have no place to stay,” Jean insisted. “We just came out for the day, and Jim will hang me from my nipples if I’m not back.”

“Garbage!” I announced. Then I asked Thompson for a phone and called Executive Aviation. Speaking to the president, Fred Hodges, I told him I needed a plane right away to bring Jim Dawson from Chicago to New York.

“Jim Dawson? Hell, we just flew the women and the baby in this morning.”

“You did?” I exclaimed.

“Oh, sure. Because of tens of millions in business that Jim Dawson has produced for us — and is still producing, by the way — the Dawsons always fly free. Anytime. Anywhere. If you can get Jim to the airport at Glenview fast enough, we’ll have him in Teterboro within three hours.”

Curiouser and curiouser.

Then I called Mom and told her to get her lovely ass into the city ASAP, and to get Dad up to the penthouse. That was something new, too: Instead of fighting the traffic, we had started using a charter helicopter service. I called the service and they immediately dispatched a chopper to my parents’ place.

Meanwhile, while still shaking her head, Jean Dawson had called Jim and clued him in. All the wheels were turning.

At that point I turned and saw Kris hugging and kissing two utterly beautiful girls. Finally, they eased apart and Kris brought them over. “Cam, I would like you to meet two of the most charming girls alive, my nieces, Sandra and Susan. Darling, aren’t they the most beautiful young women you’ve ever seen?”

And they were. And they are!

Both were ecstatic, particularly the younger, Susan. She gave me one of the most incredibly loving kisses of my life while I held her in my arms. Then while still in my arms — and up in the air — she turned to her sister and said, “Isn’t this incredibly neat, Sandy? Now we have a genuine aunt and uncle! Our very first real living relatives!”

Sandy’s kiss was at least as loving but even more powerful than her sister’s.

Finally, we prepared to leave Tiffany’s and I thanked Jack Thompson for his courtesy and his help.

“Cam,” he said, “this has been an incredible ending to what was already an incredible day.” Then he looked at me and added, “You’re also one of the two luckiest men alive. Jim Dawson is the other. Those two women — Jean and Kristin — have an infinite capacity for creating joy. Buddy, you are truly blessed!”

And you know what? He’s right.

Liz was playing chauffeur that day. For the occasion, she brought out the Rolls limo and picked us all up. I noted that Jean had a Port-A-Crib with her, but there was too much commotion to pay any more attention. Fortunately, by the time we got out of the store — again using the employees entrance — traffic — both pedestrian and vehicular — had abated somewhat. At least one could move again.

Liz dropped us off at the front door of the apartment, then continued on over to the East Side heliport to wait for Mother. The rest of us went on up. We were no sooner in the door than Dad appeared, followed only a few minutes later by Mom and Liz.

Even though the Memorial Day experience had shaken Kris, she still refused to marry me. We had just explained it to Jean when she went to the Port-A-Crib, retrieved a small baby, and turned him over to Sandy. A few minutes later the girl was back and returned the infant to his mother.

Kris’s eyes widened. “He’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed. We had learned that the baby was James Russell Dawson, Jr., known as Jamey.

“Want to hold him for a moment, Sis?” Jean asked. “If you bare a nipple, he’ll be happy for a minute or two, anyway.”

In an instant, Kris had opened the top of the shirtwaist dress she was wearing and bared one of her luscious tits. Holding the baby with the greatest care, she held it to her left breast. The infant started to suckle and then ... to swallow!

Jean’s eyes widened. Getting to her feet, she went to Kris and placed a hand lightly on her abdomen and held it there. She grimaced but didn’t say a thing.

Meanwhile, baby Jamey was drinking up a storm. Not only was he satisfied, it seemed that, as far as he was concerned, he was nursing at his mother’s breast. Finally, he finished with that breast and Kris moved him to her other. She was really looking embarrassed as she did, and I was certain it was not a question of baring her breast. Everyone present in the apartment had seen Kris naked, and usually far more than once. Finally, it was apparent that the infant had drunk his fill and had fallen asleep. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen to see Kris ever so gently stroke his face and head, provoking warm sounds from the baby when she did.

This time it was Susan who took the infant away.

Jean was the first to speak. “Sis, you’re not married?”

Kris just shook her head.

“Well, you’re going to be ... and very soon!”

“I am like hell!” Kris exclaimed.

“Oh, yes you are!” Jean insisted. “And I’m sure you haven’t told anyone you’re carrying Cam’s baby, have you?”

Kris just shook her head while I was in a state of shock.

“When is the baby due?” Jean asked.

Again Kris just shook her head.

“Don’t give me that shit, Baby Sister! You know damned well when it’s due, now when?”

Again Kris shook her head, but even though her head was down, I could see tears flowing down her cheeks.

“It’s very soon; now when?” Jean insisted.

“A ... a couple of weeks,” Kris replied in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

“I figured...” Jean said in an exasperated tone.

“But that can’t be!” Mom insisted. “Just look at her! Her belly is as flat as a board!”

“Mrs. Harris—”

Mom just glared at her and started drumming her long fingernails on an adjacent table.

“What can I call you, if I can’t call you ‘Mrs. Harris’?” Jean protested.

“Well ... Your sister — your identical twin sister — calls me Mom. Now, if I’m the mother of your identical twin, what does that make me to you?”

“My ... my mother?” she asked incredulously.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mom asked sarcastically. “And you’re not nearly as dumb as your sister, either.” At that point Mother smiled warmly and held out her arms.

“Mother?” Jean murmured as, moving like a zombie, she went to her and sat across her lap.

Then I saw something that utterly amazed me. Jean Dawson kissed my mother with at least as much power as she used on Kris. But it seemed to have even less effect on Mom than it did on her twin! I was astonished. And then it came to me: Of course, a daughter couldn’t put her own mother out with her kiss. Meanwhile, Mom was caressing Jean all over and hugging her tightly while their lips were still locked together. When they eased apart, Jean was gasping for breath but Mom was fine.

“Welcome home, my darling daughter,” Mom said in a voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been an awfully long time!”

At that, Jean just hugged Mother tightly and began to bawl. It was as if a huge emotional dam had just broken and all the stored-up hurts and heartaches just came flooding out. For her part, Mom just hugged her and stroked her lovely wavy hair.

When they moved apart this time, Jean’s face was wreathed in the warmest, happiest smile I’ve ever seen on a person’s face. “Hi, Mom!” she said brightly, kissing the tip of Mom’s nose.

Mom just kissed the tip of Jean’s nose and gave her one hard spank. Jean just rubbed the spot and gave her new mother a lovely grin. “Now, daughter Jean, you were about to tell me how daughter Kris can be expecting a baby in just a couple of weeks while still being as flat as a board.”