Deep Freeze

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sarah Webster de Conde was a small-boned, petite woman. She wore her shoulder length hair in a ponytail because there simply were not enough hours in the day for visits to the salons. For everyday matters she favored a conservative but elegant simplicity of dress. For the monthly meeting of the Parents' Panel of the Tigian City Educational Oversight Board she had selected a classic little business suit in pale mauve Selbelese silk. When she was recognized by the chairman she stood, ran her hands over her small but shapely rump to make her skirt hang properly, donned her black-rimmed reading glasses and confidently stepped to the speaker's stand with the notes for her speech in her hand.

Her voice was strong, and so were her opinions. Her subject was the lack of discipline in the Tigian City school system. "I am Sarah de Conde," she began modestly, although she knew that everyone there was aware of her identity, and not just because her husband, Pete, was a member of the T-Town Board of Governors and a man of substance in the business community.

"I'm afraid that I'm as guilty as the rest of you," she said, looking not at the members of the Board but at the parents and teachers in the audience.

"We went to sleep, you and I, during the last election. Things had been going so well that we were lulled into complacency."

Several members of the Board were glaring at Sarah.

"The price of good government, at any level," Sarah said, "is eternal vigilance, and we neglected our duty. As a result the forces of liberal permissiveness are, once again, in control of our school system."

"Mrs. de Conde," said the chairman.

"I think, Mr. Chairman, that I have the floor," Sarah said.

"Yes, you do," the chairman said, "but I see no reason, Mrs. de Conde, for you to be abusive and to try deliberately to create ill feelings between the members of your Board and the parents."

"Mr. Chairman," Sarah said, her brown eyes snapping, her delicatechin jutting, "ill feeling already exists between the Board and the parents of Tigian City, and it was not I who created it."

The parents in the audience applauded. Thus encouraged, Sarah stated her case. "The purpose of discipline," she explained, "is not punishment.

Discipline is an expression of love. Discipline tells our children that we care. Young people require and desire guidance."

She spoke for half an hour, often interrupted by frenzied applause. She outlined a system of discipline that put the responsibility for disruptive behavior on the student perpetrator and that student's parents. She spoke heatedly but logically. At the end of her explanation of the system of control that she and the concerned parents present at the meeting were recommending, she made the announcement that she intended to register to run for the position on the Board occupied by the chairman. The applause followed her back to her seat.

Sarah didn't trust Central Control. Her big aircar carried, after all, precious cargo. She had the car's controls on manual. She sat at the wheel with her back straight, her head high. Petey and Cyd, her two youngest, were strapped securely into their seats behind her. Petey was teasing his sister about her ballet skirt. Sarah was thinking about the meeting of the Educational Oversight Board and wondering if she'd made the right decision in announcing her candidacy.

"Mom," Cyd said, "you'd better start slowing down."

She'd been about to pass the turn to the dance studio. She checked traffic, lowered the car to street level, hovered six inches off the ground while Cyd gathered her paraphernalia and ran into the studio.

Then it was twenty miles across town to Petey's Space Scout meeting.

Before returning to the dance studio to pick up Cyd, she had just enough time to stop by the sporting good shop to pick up the camping equipment she'd ordered for her oldest daughter's excursion to Terra II at the end of the school term. She had to go all the way down to ground level in the parking garage before finding a space and that made her late at the studio. Cyd was standing outside, her long, young legs exposed to a chill breeze by the ballet skirt.

Frenc, the oldest, was at the dentist's office. Sarah was late there, too.

"Mother," Frenc complained, "I'm going to be late for my Explorers'

meeting."

Everyone was at home but Pete when dinner was delivered by the airvan from Seven Worlds Cuisine. Sarah had a meeting of the Library Improvement Committee, so there'd been no time to cook. Neither she nor Pete wanted servants, although they could have afforded any number of them. Pete came in just as she was getting ready to leave.

"Dad," Frenc said, "Marcia wants me to spend the night, but—"

"Enough," Sarah said. "I have told you, Frenc, not on a school night."

"But—"

Pete de Conde patted his teenaged daughter on the shoulder. "You know the rules, love," he said.

Sarah pecked him on the cheek. "Gotta run."

"I hope this won't be a long meeting," he said.

"Shouldn't be."

But a couple of the old hardheads had their dander up because the more progressive members of the Improvement Committee wanted to increase the number of holofilm viewers in the library. The argument continued for over an hour. It was after ten when Sarah dropped the aircar swiftly from the local airlane to the entrance of her garage, entered on the fly, pushed the close and lock switch that buttoned car and garage up for the night while the flux engine was still revving down. The two younger children were asleep, Cyd with a stuffed Tigian tiger in her arms, Petey sprawled half-under, half-out of his coverings. She kissed them both on the forehead, adjusted Petey's cover, stuck her head in Frenc's door after knocking. Frenc was watching a music holo.

"Don't stay up too late," Sarah said.

"I won't."

"Goodnight."

"Night, Mom."

Pete was propped up on pillows, his briefcase at his side spreading its contents over the bed. "Hi," he said.

"You look so comfortable."

"How was the meeting?"

She shrugged tiredly. "Same old stuff."

"Coming to bed?"

She recognized the look in his eyes. Her first response was negative, but then she smiled. "I thought I'd have a quick bath."

"I like dirty girls," he said, grinning.

"I'll be quick."

He had cleared away his papers and his briefcase when she came out of the bath smelling of scents and powders. When he threw back the sheet to allow her to enter he was nude. She felt the good, solid surge of her libido.

They had been married for twenty years, and every move was familiar and comfortable. He was considerate of her needs. She accepted his attentions as her due, as something felicitous and pleasurable but not necessarily vital to her continued existence. She knew that he liked for her to make sounds of approval. Her little cry at the end was not faked, but had it not been for his need to know that she enjoyed it she would, by preference, have been silent. Then it was his turn and she did her duty with a glow of fondness and satisfaction. He was her husband, her man, the only man she'd ever known sexually. When, as he reached his completion and she felt his throbbings inside her she suddenly saw her brother David's face and felt, for one split second, a forbidden, sordid excitement, she made a face of total disgust, wiped the image from her mind, and held her husband close as he kissed her lightly on the neck and face.

As she freshened herself in the bathroom she wondered a bit about her mother and father. She didn't stay in touch with her siblings as closely as she should. When she'd last heard from Josh, there'd been no news of theelder Websters and Josh had said that David would be going out to look for them. Well, she thought, everything would turn out right in the end.

Bad things didn't happen to Sarah Webster de Conde. Sarah Webster de Conde had a wonderful husband, a splendid home, and fine children. Her life was so full of a number of things that she had no time for negative events. Mom and Pop would turn up with some amusing tale of being lost in the stars.

Pete was still awake when she got into bed beside him. He pulled her to his side and caressed her. "You're pretty sexy for an old married woman," he said.

"You're not bad for a staid old businessman," she told him.

"Speaking of business—"

He often talked about his financial affairs with her. She put her head on his shoulder and waited.

"I bought planetwide distribution rights for your sister's new holofilm today."

She was surprised. He'd never been involved in the entertainment field.

"Really? That's not exactly your field, is it?"

"It should be a sure thing, and very profitable," he said. "I don't know if you know just how big your little sister is in the holofilm industry."

"Well, I guess she's a good actress."

"And almost as sexy as you."

For a moment Sarah could see her sister, golden, glowing, the end result of a million years of human development. "Hah," she said.

"Not hah," he said. "I mean it. The Queen's a pretty little piece, but to me you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

She laughed. "Well, whatever it is you want, it's yours."

She was thinking about her schedule for the rest of the week when, once again, David Webster's face was in her mind's eye. Something was nagging at her. She shrugged mentally and got back to priorities. Sheneeded to begin a round-robin series of visits to parents' organizations at all city schools to get her campaign for the Board underway. Petey had his groundball practice on Thursday and Cyd had an appointment at the dentist's office on Friday. In a few months, Frenc would be getting her provisional license and, although she would be unable to carry passengers, she could provide her own transportation. Pete had already selected a sporty little aircar for her. In the meantime, because of her increasingly heavy commitments, she might have to think about giving up being a leader for Cyd's Young Explorer Troop. As for those silly worries about family, she didn't have time. Nothing bad ever happened to Sarah Webster de Conde.