Yes, things were going very well, indeed. There was just one little sticking point, one tiny little thing that hadn't happened. And here it was, the middle of June.
Before Kelly could start to dwell on that one missing thing, their tête-à-tête was interrupted. Down the long table from them, two women rose from their seats. One of them, tall, elegant, and blond, perked up. "Dean," she said, and smiled.
Dean leaned back in his seat the better to see the woman. "Ah, Felicia." He answered her smile. "How are you?"
Felicia. Yes, Kelly remembered now. Felicia Thurgood, oh so proper. They'd met her way back when at the opera. At the time, Kelly had thought the woman had feelings for Dean, but now, watching the calm ease of her smile, Kelly changed her mind. This was simple friendship.
"I'm doing well." Felicia started toward them. She gestured toward her companion. "This is Andrea Shapiro. She runs the Boston Family Aid shelter. You know, the one I've spoken to you about. Andrea, this is Dean Singleton and his wife, Kelly." Felicia smiled in Kelly's direction. Kelly smiled back, suddenly liking the woman much better.
"Oh, yes." Dean stood and shook Andrea's hand. "Hear you're doing good work down there in South Boston. Expanding, aren't you?"
As Kelly watched, a strange expression crossed Felicia's face. "I, uh, well it looks like that might happen, after all. We got a check, a rather large check...from Joe Esterley."
"Joe?" Dean looked surprised. "He's the biggest skinflint there ever was."
"Yes." A line formed between Felicia's brows. "That's what I always thought, too."
Dean laughed. "Well, congratulations. You must have spun quite a tale to convince Joe to help you get your down payment."
"Ah, that's just it. I didn't say a word to Joe Esterley. This check just...came."
"Really?"
"You didn't happen to have a word with Joe, did you?" Felicia seemed keen for an answer.
Dean pursed his lips. "Wish I could take the credit, but I'm afraid I didn't."
Felicia frowned, clearly troubled. "Then, you don't suppose it was — ?" She broke off with a sudden, nervous laugh. "No, no, I'm being silly. It couldn't have been. Anyway, it was nice seeing you, and you, too, Kelly."
All parties bade farewell but Kelly thought Felicia was looking troubled again as the two women walked off.
"Wonder what that was all about," Kelly said.
"Hm?" Dean glanced in the direction the women had taken as he sat back down. "Oh, I don't blame Felicia for being curious. Joe is a notorious miser."
"No, it was something more..." Kelly frowned as she wondered what had bothered Felicia so about that check.
Dean's smile across the table at her was fond. "Well, if that's your take on it, I imagine you're right." He tapped the back of her hand. "You seem to have a sixth sense about people."
Kelly looked over at him in surprise. He thought that? And here she was, wishing she did have a sixth sense — about him. Oh, how she wished she knew his true feelings.
Meanwhile, Dean wrapped his fingers around her hand and his eyes got dark and intense. Kelly could almost hear the words. Almost. You had a sixth sense about me. You knew I needed you, that I love you.
And she did know that, kind of, almost. Dean showed it in moments like these, and a hundred others, moments of caring and consideration. He showed it so often and so much that in a way she felt like a jerk for needing the actual words.
But, still, all the same...why didn't he say those words of love, if they were so true? Even Robby thought he should say them. Every morning after Dean went off to work, Robby would corner Kelly and ask, "Did he say it yet?" Yes, even nine-year-old Robby thought the words were crucial, indicating some level of commitment.
"I should let you finish your lunch." Smiling, Dean let go of her hand and his gaze lost its intensity.
Kelly felt a crash of disappointment. He hadn't said it. Again, he hadn't said those very important words. In all the wonder of how well things were going, it was the one little thing that wouldn't happen.
"Ahem, yes. This lobster is delicious." Kelly managed to smile as she picked up a claw and nibbled. Not for the first time, she considered starting the discussion herself, telling Dean that she loved him.
But somehow that wouldn't be the same as Dean coming out with the words first. It seemed important he make himself vulnerable. She wanted to know he could trust her.
And so through all these weeks she'd been waiting, hoping Dean would take the plunge. And now there were only two weeks left to her trial period. That was it. Two weeks!
Dean glanced at his watch. "I hate to say this, but — "
"I know." Kelly held up her free hand. "You have a meeting."
Dean wiped his mouth, leaned across the table as he stood, and kissed her. "I'll pay on my way out. Sure you don't want Jackson to drive you home?"
"I'm sure." Two weeks, Kelly thought.
Dean hesitated, then leaned across the table to kiss her again. "See you at home," he said gruffly.
Kelly met his eyes. "Yes," she said, gruff herself. "See you at home."
She watched him walk through the crowded restaurant, straight, tall; all masculine grace. A great warmth curled around her heart. She loved him so much. It was impossible to imagine he didn't love her back.
Or almost impossible, anyway.
###
Dean was still basking in the pleasant after-effects of his lunch with Kelly at Durgin Park when he waltzed through Mrs. Barnes' unoccupied office. Boy, did he love spending time with Kelly, any kind of time. Meanwhile, he pointedly refrained from glancing toward the wall on the left, where a calendar held prominent reign. Dean did not want to think about the date.
Whistling, he scooped his messages out of his executive assistant's holder. The name on one of the pink slips, however, stopped his whistle between his teeth.
Kirk had called.
It was a typical Kirk call, made at noon Boston time. Dean's father didn't actually want to speak to his son. The message on the slip was inscrutable.
"On the way," it said.
Frowning, Dean continued on to his office. He closed the door behind himself. On the way? Was his father planning to come — here? Dean's jaw tensed. Slowly, he continued around to the other side of his desk.
He reached for a piece of paper, something on which to compose a rude missive telling Kirk exactly where he should go. The hell Kirk was coming — now. For months Dean had been launching messages, trying to get Kirk to come and deal with his prodigal nine-year-old son. And Kirk thought he ought to show up now, when — when —
Dean stood behind his desk. His frown deepened. When — what? What had changed, such that he no longer needed, or even wanted, his father to do his duty by Robby?
Rubbing the message slip between his fingers, Dean sank into his desk chair. Oh, it was true he'd taken Robby under his wing a bit. He'd gotten the kid that tutor he needed. Under Kelly's approving eyes, Dean had taken Robby to the movies and shot some baskets with him out back. He'd even enjoyed himself in the process.
But had anything essentially changed? Dean tapped the edge of his desk with one finger. Resentment bubbled. For the first time in weeks, he was being forced to peer at reality. He'd been putting off reality ever since he'd stepped out of the swan boat with Kelly. Hell, he'd stopped even bothering to make excuses for his extended dip into fantasy. He'd simply...enjoyed.
Indeed. The main reason Dean had been getting along so well with Robby was because he'd been enjoying himself with Kelly so damn much. He milked every moment with her for all he could get out of it, and he could get a lot. The more he discovered, probed...invaded, the deeper he fell in. The woman was nice. She was so responsible she was still paying the medical bills from her mother's long illness. On the other hand, she could have a wicked sense of humor when inspired. Dean chuckled to think of the times he'd been on the end of it. Being with her made him...happy.
Releasing a long breath, Dean flattened his palms on the desk.
He'd been happy and, admittedly, drifted further and further into fantasy. While taking walks with Kelly through the summer-thick woods, he'd imagine how the setting would look with her in the fall, when the leaves started to turn, or in the winter, under the first snowfall. While sitting in the dining room, with Kelly on one side of him and Robby on the other, Dean would imagine the scene a year hence, five years. Robby would get taller, maybe sport a pair of glasses. Kelly would lose her athletic edge, particularly if there'd been a pregnancy or two —
Dean hissed out a breath and rose from his seat. Kelly pregnant? He'd gone off the deep end. He was fantasizing living with Robby and Kelly like a real family. With babies!
And yet — And yet — Sighing, Dean paced toward the window. And yet, he had been thinking about such a life, maybe even planning for it. Dean might avoid looking at calendars, but he was perfectly aware of the date. Two weeks. There were only two weeks left in the trial period marriage. His time with Kelly was about to run out.
Stopping at the window, Dean gazed outside. With Kirk's message on the desk behind him, he could feel the real world crowding in, the one that wanted him to face reality, the one that said he had no significant relationship with Robby, the one that told him he had no claim whatsoever on Kelly. He felt the panic that always came as he brushed up against that world. It was a world that insisted this joy could not last. Kelly wouldn't love him forever. He had two weeks before all that came crashing in on him. That was all.
Dean crossed his arms over his chest. He glared out the window. Two weeks and everything was over, unless... Slowly, he smiled. He uncrossed his arms.
Unless...he chose not to face reality even then.
He breathed in and out. His panic eased. He didn't have to face reality. He could go on pretending. That was the plan he'd been considering, very privately, for some time now. He could go on pretending. The concept was actually quite logical. So what if feelings changed and the marriage broke down...eventually? That was eventually, and not inevitable. Some marriages worked. Theirs might. And if it did break down, eventually, they'd be no worse off than if they deliberately cut things short in two weeks.
The marriage didn't have to end in two weeks. He could ask Kelly to stay. He would ask Kelly to stay.
Dean rubbed the window frame. Would Kelly agree to this proposal? His incipient panic flared up again, but he quickly tamped it down. Kelly was experiencing much of the same joy that he was, Dean was certain. But unlike Dean, she didn't question the integrity of this emotion. She believed in it. She believed in the endurance of her feelings for Dean the same way she believed in love and home and family. Her faith would play right into Dean's hand.
He only had to phrase the thing right.
Dean spent another long moment gazing out the window, then turned and went back to his desk. Picking up the phone, he fired off a telegram to Kirk, telling him, "your presence no longer required."
###
From Durgin Park, Felicia and Andrea walked across the plaza to Government Center where they had a meeting with a city planning director about the proposed expansion of the family aid shelter.
A smile played about Andrea's lips. "You seem awfully curious about that check of Joe Esterley's."
Felicia blinked and felt the little dart that stabbed her every time she thought about Joe's check. "It's a mystery, that's all. I've never known Esterley to donate a sum to any charity."
Andrea lifted one of her dark eyebrows but she didn't pursue the matter further, for which Felicia was grateful. The minute she'd opened the envelope and seen that check from Joe Esterley, that large check, her stomach had gone into a free fall. Two thoughts had occurred simultaneously in her mind. One was that Joe Esterley was, indeed, a notorious pinchpenny — and the other was that he was a bosom buddy of Troy Singleton's.
Was it possible...Troy had engineered that big check?
Felicia swallowed as she opened the glass door at the base of Government Center and held it for Andrea. If Troy had done that... Well, why?
Felicia realized she was standing there, holding the heavy glass door, while Andrea was already in the lobby, waiting for her. She'd completely lost track of what was going on while pondering why Troy might have engineered that check.
Shaking her head at herself, Felicia walked through the door, rejoining Andrea. Troy might have had nothing at all do with Joe's check. It was definitely safest for her sanity to assume he was uninvolved.
But as she and Andrea waited for the elevator, Felicia worried her lip and couldn't help wondering...if Troy had arranged that check. And why.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dean had finally decided to declare himself. At least, that's what Kelly thought this special weekend away betokened. She hoped.
They were at a gorgeous, turn-of-the-century resort in the Berkshires. Their room was pseudo-rough-hewn, with furniture made of unfinished logs and a thick plank floor. Plush rugs covered the rustic floor, and velvet drapes were held back from the multi-paned windows with thick, braided cords.
It was terribly charming and very, very romantic.
Dean had sprung her with the invitation right after telling her he'd arranged for Robby to spend the weekend at a nearby outdoor camp. They could drive Robby up Friday afternoon, go on to the resort, and then pick Robby up for the drive home on Sunday afternoon. It was all so very well planned. So very Dean.
"Do you like the room?" Dean had finished with the porter and was walking toward Kelly.
"It's lovely." Kelly turned around with a smile she felt right down to her toes. This was exactly the kind of place Dean would choose to propose to a woman.
Dean's answering smile was crooked, delightfully nervous. "It is rather remote, but there's sailing, hiking, tennis — "
Kelly laughed.
Dean laughed, too. "Who am I kidding?" He took Kelly in his arms and gave her a slow, warm kiss. "I brought you here to get you alone, really alone."
Kelly's heart did a mad dance as she looked up at him. "As if I'm not deeply enough in your clutches as it is."
A strange look crossed Dean's face. "Not quite." He let her go and turned. "Did that — ? Oh, yes, good. He's bringing the flowers."
"Excuse me?"
The porter had returned. He pushed a cart overflowing with vases of white roses. "Where did you want these, sir?"
"Ah, that's up to the lady." Dean gestured toward Kelly, whose mouth had fallen open. Flowers, dozens of them. Her gaze shot to Dean. He was smiling, but she could see him swallow. He wanted to please her.
Kelly raised her lowered jaw and smiled back. "Thank you, Dean. They're beautiful."
A tiny lowering of his shoulders indicated his relief. Kelly took his arm and gave him a kiss. Oh, the man was going all out. And that was okay with her. It was just fine.
That evening, Dean arranged a candlelit dinner on the patio overlooking the lake. Together, they watched the moon glinting off the water. There were soft smiles. They held hands. Kelly tried not to breathe too fast but adrenaline was pouring through her. She kept expecting the big moment.
It didn't happen. No, it seemed Dean wasn't through with the build-up. They finished dinner, enjoyed rich coffee, then Dean led her up to their room. Candles glowed everywhere. They gleamed off the soft skin of the roses and shed a flickering light over the bed.
"Oh, Dean," Kelly breathed.
He came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm glad you like it."
They undressed slowly that night, taking their time, prolonging the pleasure. When Dean finally entered her it felt fluid, as if they were two bodies of water wrapping around and then blending into each other.
The next day they took a long walk, holding hands and sharing warm smiles. They rented a sailboat, enjoying two blissful hours of sun and lazy togetherness. For exercise, they played a match of tennis. Afterward, panting and laughing, they went up to their room.
"Wear something nice," Dean warned Kelly as she was about to walk into th
e full-size shower.
Kelly mutely nodded. Tonight, she thought. He's going to do it tonight. Her heart started racing.
The weather was chillier than the night before so they ate indoors. It was another candlelit table on a balcony overlooking their outdoor patio of the night before. This time they had a private table with a private waiter who appeared mysteriously only when needed.
Soup was brought, a delicate, nearly transparent bisque, followed by the crispest of green salads in chilled glass bowls. Kelly couldn't eat a thing. Dean, she noticed, didn't seem to have much of an appetite, either.
The waiter crystallized, somehow understanding they were not going to finish their meals. He whisked the plates away.
Once he was gone, Dean cleared his throat.
Okay, Kelly thought. This is it. Finally. She made herself breathe.
"Kelly — " Dean began.
"Yes, Dean?" Breathless. She sounded idiotically breathless.
Dean smiled. Kelly hoped to God he wasn't finding her comical. Lord knew, she felt comical.
"Kelly," Dean said again. He reached across the table. Kelly was clutching her wine glass. Somehow she managed to loosen her fingers enough for Dean to take her hand.
His smile faded as he stared at their joined hands. "Kelly, I...don't think I've told you, not in so many words, how very, very much I've been enjoying the time we've spent together."
"I've enjoyed it, too." Kelly's voice came out high, squeezed around a peculiar obstruction in her throat.
Dean nodded. "And now, well...I guess..." He lifted his eyes and gazed straight at her.
Through her nerves, Kelly did her best to look encouraging.
Dean drew in a deep breath. "Well, I guess..." Suddenly his gaze flicked to the side. He cleared his throat. "I guess I'd like to plan ahead a little bit."
Kelly blinked and stared at him. He wanted to plan ahead...a little bit? She blinked some more, trying to reconcile this with the words she'd been expecting. He only wanted to plan ahead a little bit?
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