That worrisome bit of self-awareness was still nagging at her when her car phone rang just as she turned onto Pacific Coast Highway heading up to her summer retreat in Malibu.
“Ms. Newton, this is Davey. You know, Davey Winthrop.”
“Hi, Davey. What’s up?” she asked, trying not to let on that she’d recognized the faint trace of fear in his voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said, his voice flat.
“Davey, what’s wrong?”
“I was just thinking, about the case and all. I think my dad is going to be really, really mad when he finds out. Maybe it would be a good idea if I came to live with you now.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. So, that’s all it was. Regret. She’d never met anyone seeking a divorce yet who didn’t struggle with regrets the instant the decision had been made and the first steps taken. The calls came with such frequency that even Zelda had grown adept at all the necessary reassurances.
“Sweetheart, I just saw your father. I don’t think he’s mad at all.” Except at me, she thought to herself. She probably should have crossed her fingers as she boldly lied. “In fact, I think he’ll probably be home any minute and that things will start getting back to the way they used to be.”
“Really?” Davey said, his voice suddenly filled with excitement. “You mean it?”
“I can’t swear to it,” she cautioned, “but I think so. Why don’t you and I talk on Monday and see how the weekend went, okay?”
“Geez, yes,” he said, sounding more like a high-spirited kid again. “I think I hear his car right now. ’Bye, Ms. Newton! Oh, yeah, thanks!”
As the phone thunked in her ear, Kate prayed she hadn’t gotten his hopes set too high. If David Winthrop hurt that sweet, savvy kid again, he’d have to answer to her.
* * *
As David stepped out of the four-wheel-drive wagon that Alicia had insisted they needed to haul Davey and his friends around, his son came barreling through the front door. The huge, old Bel Air house had once belonged to some star of the silent-movie era, according to the real estate agent, who’d probably tacked an extra half a million on to the price for that bit of trivia. As overpriced as it had been, David had seen the glimmer of pleasure that a tie to the glamorous Hollywood past had put in Alicia’s eyes, and he’d signed the papers without a second thought.
They had moved in six months before the cancer had been diagnosed. For those six months his wife had been deliriously happy redecorating, putting her personal stamp on every room.
David watched his son, and for an instant he could almost believe that Kate Newton’s visit had been a bad dream. His son looked healthy, vital and every bit as exuberant as any other ten-year-old. Until he caught the shadows in his eyes. Then he knew that there was some measure of truth in what the attorney had told him, and his heart ached.
“Hi, Dad! Did you eat yet? Mrs. Larsen is fixing pot roast. She says it’s almost ready.” A worried frown creased his brow. “That’s your favorite, isn’t it? I told her it was. She said you might not get home in time for dinner and that everything would go to waste, but she made it anyway.”
“Pot roast is definitely my favorite,” David said, blinking hard against the tears that always threatened when he saw so many reminders of Alicia in his son. The same reddish blond hair, the same devilish brown eyes, the same scattering of freckles across his nose and that same crooked smile, flanked by dimples. Given what he now knew about Davey’s sorrow, that hopeful, impish smile nearly broke his heart. “How was your day?”
The smile faltered slightly. “Okay, I guess,” he said, looking guilty. “I met this lady today. I guess you know about that, huh?”
“Ms. Newton,” David said, trying not to sound angry. How could he blame Davey for taking desperate measures? It was his fault his son had gone to see a lawyer.
“Yeah. She said she talked to you.” Davey regarded him worriedly. “You’re not mad, are you? I had to see her, Dad. I had to.”
David hunkered down until they were eye to eye. “Are you so upset with me that you really want to leave home and find a new family?” David asked, unwilling to concede even to himself how much that hurt.
“I guess,” Davey said, shifting from foot to foot uneasily.
“Why?”
Davey’s expression suddenly turned belligerent. “You’re never here anyway. It probably doesn’t even matter to you what I do.”
David sighed. “Oh, Davey,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “It matters. I promise you, son. What you do will always matter to me. You’re the most precious part of my life.”
“Then how come you never spend any time with me?”
Months of hurt were obviously summed up in that one damning question. David found himself reacting as if he were under siege. “I do spend time with you,” he countered too sharply.
Davy shook his head. “Not like you used to. You’re always too busy. You haven’t been to one single game all summer. Most of the time you’re at the office. Even when you’re here, it’s like you don’t even see me. You’re always telling me to be quiet and stuff.”
“Because I’m working. I have to earn a living,” he said, fully aware of the defensive note that had crept into his voice but unable to contain it. Kate Newton had touched off a spark of guilt in him. Davey was fanning it into a roaring blaze.
“Yeah, I guess,” Davey said, sounding defeated. He started for the stairs.
“Where are you going? I thought you said dinner was almost ready.”
That steady gaze met his. “I don’t think I’m very hungry anymore.”
As David stared after him, his son plodded up the stairs as if he carried the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders.
Chapter Three
“So, boss, how’d it go with your new client?” Zelda inquired on Monday afternoon when Kate finally reached the office after a long, frustrating morning in court. Zelda grinned. “Filed his divorce papers yet?”
Already irritable, Kate wasn’t amused by her secretary’s lighthearted attitude. She put aside the stack of messages on her desk and scowled as she searched for the Winthrop file. “It’s not a joke, Zelda. Not to me and certainly not to Davey.”
Zelda looked hurt by the reprimand. “I know that. But you have to admit it’s pretty unusual. You’re not really going through with it, though, are you? He’s just a kid. That Orlando case might have set a precedent, but I doubt the courts are going to start granting divorce decrees for disgruntled kids the way they do for adults.”
“In some cases, they may be justified,” Kate said, thinking of the way David Winthrop had deliberately distanced himself from his son. She wasn’t at all convinced he could mend his ways, even if he genuinely wanted too. She’d never much believed in behavioral changes brought on by the threat of legal action, either. They seldom lasted past the final court date.
“You didn’t like Davey’s father much, did you?” Zelda guessed.
Kate didn’t waste time reminding her that she wasn’t the one who had to like David Winthrop. He was Davey’s father and it was obvious the boy loved him. Her own reaction wasn’t all that clear-cut. “You sound surprised,” she said.
“It’s just that I’ve read about his father. He sounded like an okay guy. He’s some bigwig in the movies. I think he’s even won an Oscar.”
Kate glanced up from the notes she’d made after her meeting with David Winthrop. “He has? For what?”
Zelda shook her head in dismay. “For a woman born and raised in Hollywood, you don’t know zip about the movie business, do you?”
“Who has time for movies? Just tell me. What does David Winthrop do?”
“Set design, sometimes on those comic-book action pictures, but mostly on the big sci-fi movies. His newest one has everyone in town talking. I think it’s called Future Rock. Every reporter in town is trying to sneak a look at his sketches.”
Kate recalled all the designs pinned to his office walls. “Oh,
yeah, I guess that’s what he was working on when I was there Friday night.”
Zelda’s turquoise eyes grew round. “You actually got into his office? You saw the designs?”
“I suppose,” she said, unable to work up nearly as much excitement over those as she had over the unusually dark and mysterious color of the man’s eyes. Still she made a mental note about David Winthrop’s professional life. Surely the fantasy worlds he created would be fascinating to a ten-year-old boy. Perhaps those could provide a bridge between him and his son.
“So what’d they look like?” Zelda demanded, perching on the corner of her desk, her face alight with curiosity.
Kate shrugged. “I didn’t pay much attention.”
Zelda groaned. “Do you realize what it would do for my social life if I could say that I know someone who saw those designs?”
Kate chuckled. “Well, that much is true.”
“Sure, but who’d believe me if I couldn’t even describe one? Come on, boss, surely you can remember some little detail.”
“Afraid not.”
Disappointment washed across her secretary’s face. “What’s he like?” she asked finally. “I mean, really. Be objective.”
Kate glanced up again. “Objective about what?”
“David Winthrop,” Zelda said impatiently.
“He’s…” She searched for a description that would satisfy Zelda’s curiosity without stirring her overly active imagination. She didn’t dare say anything about the way the man’s temper had riled her. She couldn’t mention that she’d been intrigued by the sorrow in the depths of his eyes. She settled for pleasant. To be honest, the description was far from accurate, but it was definitely innocuous enough to suit her purposes.
“Pleasant,” Zelda repeated incredulously. “What does that mean? Dinner is pleasant. Mediocre movies are pleasant. Men are either fascinating or dull or out-and-out creeps.”
Kate laughed. “Those are my only choices?”
“In my experience.”
Zelda had vast amounts of experience, which she was willing to share in the form of anecdotes or advice. “Given that, I’d have to say fascinating,” Kate conceded, thinking of the layers to David Winthrop that she’d suspected, but hadn’t begun to plumb and probably never would.
Zelda’s eyes lit up. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. So you did like him, after all?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sure you did. No man has climbed beyond dull on your rating system for ages now.”
Unfortunately Zelda’s perceptiveness was sometimes a pain in the neck. So was her tendency to think that Kate’s social life was fair game for discussion.
“Zelda, the man is our adversary. We represent his son.”
“What does that have to do with whether or not he’s a hunk?”
“I did not say he was a hunk,” Kate protested.
“You said fascinating. That’s close enough.”
“Zelda, don’t you have work to do?”
“Sure. I always have work to do,” she said, not budging.
“Then go do it,” Kate prodded.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes blinking wide. “Sure.” She made it as far as the door before she turned back. “It’s a good thing your new stepfather doesn’t know about this David Winthrop, huh?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Kate demanded, though she knew perfectly well what Zelda was getting at. Brandon Halloran had taken a personal interest in her future not ten seconds after he and her mother had spoken their wedding vows. Given his meddling ways, Zelda was right on target. Brandon would latch on to the news of Kate’s fascination with David Winthrop and start making plans for a wedding.
Kate’s gaze narrowed. “He will not hear about this from you, will he?”
“Me?” she repeated innocently. “Never. Of course, the man does seem to have a real nose for romance. You told me how he plotted to marry off his grandson. I’d be real careful what you tell him about your current caseload.”
“Brandon and I do not discuss my caseload. He and my mother are on their honeymoon. If we discuss anything at all, it’s which European capital they intend to visit next.”
“Oh, I guess he doesn’t bother to ask you because he’s already pumped me for all the information he wants,” Zelda added slyly.
Kate’s heart plummeted. “He what?”
“Don’t worry, boss. I am very discreet.”
Kate scowled at her. “See that you are or you will be very unemployed.” The last thing she needed was Brandon Halloran taking an active interest in her love life. In fact, she didn’t especially want her new stepfather involved in any aspect of her life. She’d had a wonderful father she’d adored. She didn’t need a replacement.
For the next three hours Kate returned urgent phone calls, delegating those less pressing to Zelda. At four-thirty, she packed up her briefcase and walked out of her office. “I’m gone for the day.”
Zelda regarded her with open astonishment. “It’s only four-thirty.”
“I have to visit a client.”
Her secretary glanced at the appointment book in front of her. “Which client? It’s not in here. Boss, how do you ever expect the accountant to keep the billing straight if you forget to write things down on the calendar?”
“This isn’t a billable appointment. I’m going to see Davey Winthrop.”
Zelda propped her chin on her hand and contemplated her boss with a look that was openly speculative. “Oh, really?”
Kate glowered at her. “I’ll check in for messages about six. Don’t beep me unless it’s an emergency.”
“You got it. I don’t suppose you’re planning to have a cozy mediation meeting between father and son over a snack of milk and cookies?”
“No. I’m sure your hotshot set designer will still be in his office. I’m out of here. Call Davey and let him know I’m on my way.”
She found him waiting on the front steps, wearing a neatly pressed cotton shirt and jeans with creases so sharp they could have sliced through butter at the very least. His expression was thoroughly dejected. The weekend had obviously not gone nearly as well as she’d hoped. She took a seat beside him.
“How you doing?” she asked.
“Okay,” he said without looking up.
“How’d things go with your dad?”
He glanced at her then. “Not so good. I think he was mad at me for talking to you.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked, infuriated by the thought that David Winthrop might have taken her visit out on his son.
“We started to talk when he got home Friday night, but then he got mad and then I got mad.” He shrugged. “Nothing’s changed. Not really. He acted like everything was all my fault. I think he’s really mad about what I did. I knew he would be.”
“He was probably more embarrassed than mad. Sometimes grown-ups don’t want other people to know about their troubles.”
“I guess.”
“Did you do anything together?”
“Not really. He stayed at home, though. I guess he’s trying.”
Staying at home didn’t sound like much to her. He obviously wasn’t trying hard enough by Kate’s standards. “Why don’t you and I have dinner together?” she suggested impulsively. “Do you have plans?”
His expression brightened. “Really? You can stay?”
“Absolutely. We’ll work out a settlement plan to propose to your dad. Will your housekeeper mind if you invite a guest?”
“Heck no. She always makes a ton of stuff anyway, just in case Dad comes home. He almost never does,” he added forlornly.
Mrs. Larsen gave Kate a thorough once-over when Davey introduced them. The lines in her face suggested her mouth was always turned down in a perpetual frown. Still, she was polite enough when she was told that Kate had been invited to stay for dinner.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Kate said.
“There’s plenty,” Mrs. Larsen responded succinctly.
She scowled at Davey. “Young man, have you washed your hands?” she demanded, hands on ample hips.
Davey grinned, not put off in the least by the older woman’s brusque tone. “You ask me that every night.”
“Because you never wash until I do,” she retorted. “Now get along with you.”
When Davey had gone, Kate asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind my staying?”
“It’ll be good for Davey to have company,” the housekeeper said grudgingly. “The boy’s alone too much. He eats in the kitchen with me most nights, but I’m afraid I’m not much company by that hour. I like to watch the news and, tell the truth, I’m pretty worn out after taking him this place and that all day long. I’m sixty-five. I don’t have the stamina I once did.”
Kate sensed this was the start of a familiar lament. “I’m sure a boy Davey’s age is always on the go.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Larsen said. “Summertime’s the worst. It’s hot as the dickens here in town, and the boy’s into everything. In my day, a child’s friends all lived in their neighborhood. Davey’s are scattered all over the county.” She shook her head, clearly disapproving of the changes in society.
“How do you think Davey and his father get along?” Kate ventured cautiously.
“I’m not one to gossip, miss,” Mrs. Larsen replied sternly.
“I’m sure,” Kate agreed. “But I am trying to help Davey. To do that I really need to know what you’ve observed. You’re closer to the two of them than anyone.”
The housekeeper appeared placated by the explanation. “That’s true enough,” she said. “I suppose since it’s for Davey’s sake, I could tell you what it seems like to me. I’ve been with the family since Davey was a toddler. The two of them adore each other. Always have. That’s why it’s been so sad, seeing how Mr. David spends all his time at the office these days. He claims it’s because he’s got more work than he can handle, but the truth of it is that he just can’t bear to be in this house.”
“You mean since his wife died?”
Mrs. Larsen nodded. “This place was Miss Alicia’s choice. Her touch is on every room. I doubt he’s admitted, even to himself, how much that bothers him. Asked him once why he didn’t move after she was gone. He liked to bit my head off.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “I haven’t said another word about it. He’ll snap out of it one of these days. It’ll just take time.”
Kate's Vow (Vows) Page 3
