Wednesday's Child

by Leigh Michaels

  Layne watched as Beast dropped the stick in Robbie’s lap, then nudged the boy down on

  his back and started to lick his face. She could almost hear Robbie’s shrieks of delight as the rough tongue tickled his face. It was one of their favorite games.

  “I wish Kyle could understand how important the dog is,” she mused. “Robbie was so

  angry yesterday he wanted to move back to our old house.”

  Stephen said thoughtfully, “Perhaps I should remind Kyle of Killer.”

  “Who on earth is Killer?”

  “He was Kyle’s dog. The neighbor’s dog, actually. He was a German shepherd and they

  bought him to protect their property. Killer would have done his best, too — he’d have licked a burglar to death. But he kept running away. He’d get out of his pen somehow and come straight here. Eventually they just gave him to Kyle.” He looked thoughtful. “Yes, perhaps I should remind him. He probably hasn’t thought about Killer in ten years.”

  “I’m sure Robbie would be grateful. Beast isn’t exactly appropriate for Wheatlands, but he’s Robbie’s best friend. I don’t think Kyle understands that.”

  Stephen shifted in his chair, and Layne saw a flicker of pain cross his face. “I’ll see what I can do. Robbie brought his young friend in to see me this morning. A nice child, but a quiet one.

  He hardly said a word. Or was he just shy?”

  “No, Tony has always been quiet. They’re almost opposites, aren’t they? Robbie misses

  him so much. I wish Tony could have stayed a week, but Clare took him home a few minutes ago.”

  “Robbie will soon find friends here.”

  “Oh, he already has.” She wondered if Kyle would forbid Robbie to see his old friends.

  Once she was gone, he would want no reminders of what Robbie’s life had been. Perhaps that was what really lay behind his dislike of Beast, too.

  Stephen was looking out across the wide lawn where Robbie and Beast were playing.

  “How are the plans for the garden party coming along?”

  “All right. But I was obviously never cut out to be a society hostess. I’m uncomfortable with things like this.”

  “Only because you aren’t used to them. The more parties you give, the more you will enjoy them, and the easier they’ll be.”

  Layne’s voice was doubting. “If you say so.” But she was thinking, Thank God this is the only party I’ll be responsible for. When I’m on my own again, I can go back to hamburgers on the grill and friends dropping in.

  “Layne, you have everything you need except confidence. Once that comes, you’ll be

  unbeatable. Garden parties aren’t so bad.”

  “Prove it. Come down and help entertain all these people. Otherwise, I refuse to believe that you think they’re anything but a waste of time.”

  Stephen laughed. “All right. I’ll come down for your party, if I feel up to it. No promises yet, though. I’m waiting to see if this new medication does the trick.”

  “Is there much pain?”

  “It isn’t bad today. Part of it is worry, I think. I start fretting about my condition, and that makes it hurt worse. I’d enjoy your party. It’s been years since Kyle has entertained here.”

  She looked at him in surprise. What did he mean? “On this scale,” he added smoothly.

  “Everyone in Kansas City who has an ounce of influence or political power or pedigree will be coming to that garden party. If anyone misses, you can bet he didn’t get the invitation.”

  “If you’re trying to reassure me, Stephen, you’re failing. I’m getting more nervous by the minute.”

  “They’re coming to your house, Layne. At your command.”

  “At Kyle’s command.”

  “And then the dinner afterwards...”

  Layne sighed. “Which I would give anything to avoid, but Kyle insisted. Who am I to

  entertain the governor? He’ll probably be yawning into his soup.”

  “There’s the lack of confidence again. Governor Howard has always had an eye for a pretty lady. He’d probably be delighted to sit and look at you if all you did was smile at him.”

  Layne folded her arms. “Has anyone told you that you’re a bit prejudiced, Stephen?”

  “I am not in the least prejudiced. I am, however, observant. You might watch out for

  Jessica Tate that night, Layne. She is also observant, and she has grown to think of Cam Howard as her personal property.”

  “I watch out for Jessica every minute of every day.”

  “Do you still think that she’s after Kyle?”

  No, Layne thought. I know she is. And Kyle isn’t much opposed to the idea, once he can get rid of me.

  But she didn’t argue. Perhaps if she agreed with Stephen, he’d stop trying to convince her.

  “By the way, Layne, would you do something for me?”

  “Of course.”

  He called to the nurse in the next room. “Dave, bring me my wallet, please.” He turned to Layne. “Robbie tells me that there is a marvelous baseball glove down at the sports shop. I want him to have it.”

  “Stephen, I don’t like for him to ask you for things. It’s bad manners, and he knows better.”

  “He didn’t ask. We were talking about his baseball career, and he merely told me about the glove. I’m the one who thinks he should have it.” David brought the wallet, and Stephen extracted a bill and pressed it into Layne’s hand.

  “You spoil him,” she said, twisting the bill.

  “I’m an old man, Layne, and a sick one. Sometimes in the last couple of years it has

  seemed to me that just living another day was too difficult. But now that I’ve got a chance to know Robbie, I won’t give up. It’s too much fun to see him grow and learn and change.” He stared out the window and added softly, “I have eight years to make up, Layne. Please let me spoil him a little.”

  She looked down at the bill crumpled in her palm. Her throat was too choked to speak. She knew that Stephen wondered why she had left Kyle years ago. But never had he asked, never had he so much as hinted to her that he resented missing out on his grandson’s early years. “Of course, Stephen,” she whispered. “Whatever you want.” Then she looked closely at the bill in her hand. “You gave me a hundred dollars.”

  “I know,” Stephen agreed. “It’s supposed to be quite a glove.”

  Layne tucked it into the pocket of her shorts. “I’ll get the change back to you as soon as I can. I don’t know if I can take him today, but...”

  “The rest of the money is for you, Layne. I’d like to spoil you a little, too, but you don’t talk to me about baseball gloves, or whatever it is that you dream of.” His smile was affectionate.

  “So you’ll have to decide what kind of spoiling you need.”

  She kissed his forehead. “Thank you.” She was almost too choked up to say it.

  “But it isn’t allowed to be anything you would buy for yourself. That money is strictly for extras. Understood?”

  Layne nodded. What Stephen didn’t know right now, she thought, was that everything

  looked like a luxury to her right now. Suddenly her heart was singing. It meant that she didn’t have to go back to Kyle, hat in hand, and apologize. Stephen’s gift, if she used it carefully, would take her through the next few weeks.

  “I took the liberty of setting up a trust for Robbie, by the way, to be certain his education is provided for. I wanted to be sure that Robbie has the resources to be whatever he wants to be.”

  Was Stephen concerned that Kyle would try to force Robbie into the construction business?

  Whatever his reasons, Layne had to admit relief. It would give Robbie some independence from his father, if that was what he wanted.

  Stephen added, “The trust is written to include other children, too, if you and Kyle have others. It would hardly be fair of me to assume that Robbie will be the only one.”

  Before she could answer, Robbie tapped on
the half-open door of the sun porch and came in. “I’m bored, Mom,” he announced. Beast was beside him, his tongue hanging out after their game.

  Layne ran her fingers through the child’s hair. “Only boring people get bored, Robbie.

  There are a hundred things to do. Shall we make a list?”

  “I know what I want to do. I want to bake cookies with you. But when I was in the kitchen, Mrs. Andrews told me to leave.”

  “Well, I don’t see why we shouldn’t be able to bake cookies. Do you?” she asked Stephen.

  “Can’t think of a single reason. Mrs. Andrews makes good cookies, too, however.”

  Robbie shook his head. “No, Grandpa. Mrs. Andrews skimps on the nuts and stuff, but

  Mom never does. And besides, Mom and I always talk when we bake cookies, and that makes them extra good. It always tastes better when you do it yourself, doesn’t it, Mom?”

  “It seems to work that way. What kind will it be today?”

  “Chocolate chip,” Robbie decided. “And then...”

  “Hold it right there,” Layne warned. “Chocolate chip it is, and only that.”

  Robbie grinned. “It was worth a try. Can Beast help?”

  “Beast may lie in a corner and watch and clean up the one or two cookies that might get dropped. Fair enough?”

  “Sure. We’ll bring you a cookie, Grandpa.”

  “You’d better. I’ll be interested in testing your recipe.”

  Mrs. Andrews looked up forbiddingly as the two of them came into the kitchen, Beast

  trailing along behind. “Yes, ma’am?” she said frostily.

  Layne was determined to be tactful, but firm. “We’re going to bake cookies, Mrs.

  Andrews. Where can we work so that we won’t be in your way?”

  The cook shook her head. “Mrs. Emerson, but I haven’t time for such nonsense today. And I’d appreciate it, young man, if you took that dog out of my kitchen.”

  Robbie didn’t seem to hear her.

  Layne counted to ten. “I’m not asking you to bake the cookies or clean up the mess, Mrs.

  Andrews. We will do all the work. All we need is a corner of the kitchen so we can do it.”

  “And I said there isn’t one. You’d be in my way.” The cook calmly went back to her task.

  She was cutting up vegetables for a salad. The knife she was using looked like a lethal weapon.

  Layne looked around at the big kitchen. There was no other evidence that dinner

  preparation was under way. The stainless steel was polished to a gleam, and the butcher block counters were spotless. Copper-bottomed pans hung from racks above the working areas. There were two of everything, even a spare dishwasher for big parties. If pushed, Mrs. Andrews could cook for the Third Army there. There was certainly room for them to bake cookies, and Layne was not about to back down.

  “Robbie, wash your hands,” she ordered, and started to look through drawers for an apron to tie around him.

  “Mrs. Emerson,” the cook said, and put down the knife. She was no longer so calm.

  “Please stop rummaging through my kitchen.”

  “Your kitchen?” Layne asked. Her voice was deceptively calm, and she didn’t stop opening drawers.

  “Well, it certainly isn’t yours!”

  “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  “Just who do you think you are, anyway, coming in here and telling everybody what to

  do?” Mrs. Andrews was turning red with anger. “You’re certainly not the mistress of this house

  — you’re nothing at all! Who do you think you’re fooling? You don’t even sleep in Mr. Kyle’s bed except when he’s gone.”

  Layne found the apron and tied it carefully around Robbie, feeling the tension in his

  muscles. He might not understand what Mrs. Andrews meant — she certainly hoped he didn’t —

  but he knew it was venomous.

  Layne patted his shoulder reassuringly and stood up. “Mrs. Andrews, you’re fired. You can pick up your check at the employment office tomorrow. Don’t bother to stay for dinner; I’ll take care of it.”

  The woman’s mouth dropped open. It was plain that she had not expected this. “Mr. Kyle...

  he won’t like this,” she stammered. “He won’t stand for it. You’ve got no authority to fire me.”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see what he says. If Mr. Emerson wishes to rehire you, that will of course be his option. He’ll be home tomorrow if you care to call him.” She turned to Robbie. “Chocolate chip, I believe you said?”

  He grinned and waited till Mrs. Andrews had departed before saying, “A virtuoso

  performance, Mom!”

  “And just where did you get that word?” Layne was rummaging in the refrigerator. Veal

  cutlets, she was thinking. The menu had said they were having veal... Here they were. Well, she certainly could handle that.

  “From Grandpa. He says my vocabulary is lousy.”

  “I somehow doubt that he phrased it that way. We’re going to have to get to work, Robbie, if we’re going to get cookies baked. We now have dinner to cook, too.”

  *****

  “Now I can run!” Robbie caroled as he and Layne came out of Dr. Morgan’s office on to

  the sun-baked street. “And without those awful crutches, I can do almost anything!”

  “You are still wearing a cast, however,” Layne warned, “and it still hasn’t hardened

  completely.” She wondered if she was sounding like a cracked record. She certainly felt like one.

  “Yeah, but it’s a walking cast,” Robbie said.

  “And why do you suppose it isn’t called a running cast?” Layne asked. “Because you aren’t supposed to be running, that’s why. Another three weeks of good behavior and you can do whatever you like.”

  “But by that time the summer will be over.” Robbie’s face was long.

  “No, it won’t. And I know how difficult it has been to go through a summer without

  running or baseball or swimming. It will certainly be one to remember, won’t it?”

  The little face brightened. “Dad said he was going to enclose the pool this autumn, so it’ll be heated. We can swim all winter.”

  “I wouldn’t plan on it.” Why waste her breath?

  “Are we going to the airport now?” Robbie did a sudden little hop.

  “No skipping allowed, Rob.” She unlocked the car door. “No, we’re going back to

  Wheatlands first because your dad’s plane isn’t due in for a couple of hours. And I need to get dinner underway.”

  “Didn’t you hire that woman this morning?”

  “No. I asked her if she could make baked Alaska and she said she’d never been there. I didn’t think she was suitable for the job.”

  “Oh.” Robbie thought that over. “Why did she have to go to Alaska to be a cook?”

  “Forget it, Rob.”

  “Okay.” He whistled and watched Kansas City go by for a few minutes, then broke off

  abruptly. “I forgot — Grandpa said to tell you that since you came upstairs for dinner with us last night we’d dress up and come down for dinner with you and Dad tonight.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of him.” It was enough trouble for the staff to prepare two dinners every night; for her to do it by herself —especially today, with the new cast and Kyle to pick up at the airport —would have been impossible. Bless Stephen for thinking of it.

  “But what if I don’t want to dress up?”

  “Unless you take a bath and put on a clean shirt and probably a tie, you will have dinner in the kitchen while I’m putting the finishing touches on it.”

  She had hoped to have a cook hired in time to prepare tonight’s meal, but the two

  applicants the employment office had sent this morning had been impossible. So she was just going to have to do it herself and hope that Kyle didn’t get angry. If she was lucky, he might not even notice. And if she could
once get a cook hired and installed in the kitchen, she didn’t think he would care an iota whether it was Mrs. Andrews or not. The thing that was guaranteed to make him angry was if there was no one in the kitchen.

  Well, there was another applicant coming this afternoon. Perhaps she would be lucky.

  “Can Beast come to the airport to meet Dad?” Robbie asked as he caught sight of the big dog waiting mournfully in the kennel.

  “I don’t think that would be wise. You’d better leave him in the kennel again.”

  “But he hates the kennel. And I hate to put him in it.”

  “Would you rather have him run away again?”

  “No. Do you think Dad will change his mind about Beast?”

  “I stopped predicting what your father would do a long time ago, Robbie.” She shut the car off and picked up her handbag. “Don’t forget your new baseball glove. And be sure to stop up and show it to Grandpa right away.”

  “And remember to say thank you,” Robbie added, before she had a chance. “Now that I

  don’t need the crutches, I can start practicing again. Maybe Dad will pitch for me when he gets home.”

  She went straight to the kitchen, the long list of things yet to be done running through her mind. She’d never get finished, she thought despairingly. The wait at the doctor’s office had thrown her off schedule.

  The little maid caught her at the kitchen door. “The lady’s here about the cook’s job.”

  Layne glanced at her watch. “All right. Send her in. I’ll have to work while I talk to her.”

  “She’s already in the kitchen,” the maid said.

  A cheerful voice greeted her from the butcher block island in the center of the kitchen. A gray-haired woman was sitting on a high stool there, inserting whole cloves into the top of a Virginia ham. “I hope you’ll pardon me, Mrs. Emerson,” she said. “I saw your list lying here, and it looked to me as if an extra pair of hands might be welcome. So I brewed myself some tea and started in.”

  Layne was taken aback. “Mrs. Kirk?”

  “Carolyn Kirk. My references are on the table, over there.”

  Layne flipped through them. It didn’t surprise her that they were impressive; Mrs. Kirk was impressive all by herself.

  “There’s tea in the pot, if you’d like some. Now, what sort of cook are you looking for?”