by Joan Hohl
"This Tom that's waiting for you, your husband?"
"No, my son. My husband's dead." 1 m sorry.
"Thank you, but there's no need."
He shot a sharp, questioning look at her, and sighing she explained. "My husband has been dead for eighteen years."
"How old is your son?"
Katherine shifted in her seat, turning to face him, resigned to the inquisition. "Eighteen."
Again the questioning look, Katherine took her time, lighting a cigarette, before explaining. "My husband was killed in a car crash a month before Tom was born."
Matt was quiet a few minutes, lighting his own cigarette. Then his voice impersonal, he asked, "You never married again?"
"No," she replied quietly.
'That couldn't have been very easy, raising a child by yourself."
'Two children. I have a daughter two years older."
Mart's eyebrow inched up. "Your husband left you well provided for?"
Katherine felt a flash of irritation. Did this man think that giving her a ride into the city entitled him to ask her this kind of question?
"I managed," she answered shortly, turning her head away.
That put an end to conversation until he stopped the car in front of her apartment house. As she moved to open the car door his hand closed over her arm, his voice quiet he said, "I'm sorry if I annoyed you with my questions. I was genuinely interested, not prying."
She had looked pointedly at his hand, which was instantly removed, then his face, before answering. "That's all right, I suppose I'm too touchy about it."
She was standing on the sidewalk, waiting for Matt to get her case from the trunk of the car, when Tom came bounding down the stairs from their second-floor apartment, through the front door and off the small porch calling, "Hi, Mom, I saw you from the window."
Fairly tall and still growing, slim as a reed in tight faded jeans and a beat-up sweatshirt, Katherine thought him the most attractive young person she knew.
A grin on his good-looking face revealed perfect white teeth and as he gave her a quick, fierce hug she reached up her hand and ruffled his wavy dark hair and said, "You need a haircut, young man."
"Nag, nag," he murmured, the grin widening, before turning to Matt, who now stood to one side, patiently waiting.
Maybe it was the way he stood there, silent, unsmiling, that made Katherine feel oddly flushed as she turned to Tom and hurried through the introductions.
"Tom, this is Mr. Martin, a good friend of the Bening-tons, who was kind enough to offer me a ride into town. Mr. Martin, my son, Tom."
As Matt proffered his hand to Tom, she saw one brow twist slightly in question at her. She had very nearly stammered the words and now she rushed on, one thought uppermost in her mind, to have him go.
"We mustn't keep Mr. Martin, Tom," she broke in on whatever it was Tom was saying to him. In surprise at her own rude behavior, she noted the startled look Tom gave her. Almost breathlessly she finished, turning to Matt. "I know you have an appointment and I don't want to make you late, thank you very much for the lift in."
She had offered her own hand before she finished speaking and as he took it in his she glanced into a face devoid of expression, withdrawn.
"Anytime," he answered shortly, then nodding briefly to Tom, he strode around the car, slid behind the wheel and within seconds had driven away.
Tom eyed the car appreciatively until it turned the corner, then, his confusion mirrored on his face, turned to Katherine. "What the devil was that all about, Mom? You really gave that guy the bum's rush."
She had laughed somewhat shakily. "Is that how it seemed? I assure you, honey, I did not. Bringing me home probably took him out of his way and I didn't want to take up any more of his time. He is a very important and busy man."
Tom had been quiet as they walked up the stairs to their apartment but as they reached the door he turned to her suddenly and asked. "He's not the Matthew Martin, is he?"
"Yes, he is," she'd answered quietly. "He was also a
guest of the Beningtons this weekend and before you start asking all kinds of questions, I'll tell you this; I know very little about him and in all honesty, I don't care to know as I can't imagine having anything in common with his type. So could we speak about something else, please?"
Tom had given her a curious look, but the subject of Matt was dropped.
The following weeks had seemed to fly by. Katherine, loaded down with work, hardly noticed winter's passing until one early April morning on her way to work. The breeze no longer bit at her nose with sharp little teeth, but seemed instead to kiss her cheeks softly and there was that indescribable scent on the air that only comes in early spring.
The brilliant blue sky and sparkling butter-yellow sunshine combined with the feel and scent of spring caused a ripple of feeling through Katherine that was almost painful.
The first thing she'd done on entering her office was phone Carol and suggest they play hooky that afternoon and do some spring shopping. Carol had been delighted with the idea and they set a time and place to meet.
They shopped happily until late in the afternoon then, pleasantly tired, strolled along discussing the pros and cons of the different restaurants in the area where they could have dinner.
Suddenly Carol's face lit up, "I've got an idea." She smiled impishly, heading for a small coffee shop. "Come on, we'll have a cup of coffee and I'll make a phone call." As they entered the shop Carol murmured, "You sit down and order, I'll be right back,"
and she walked toward a public phone in the corner of the shop.
The waitress had just set the coffees on the table of the tiny booth when Carol slipped onto the seat across from Katherine, a look of satisfaction on her face.
Katherine finished lighting her cigarette, arched delicate brows at her and asked, "What are you up to?"
Carol had the look of a well-fed kitten. "Not only do we no longer have to lug these packages around, we're getting a free meal." Katherine's brows arched higher.
"We, my friend, are being taken to dinner by a very charming and handsome man."
"You're incorrigible," Katherine laughed, "and who is this so charming and handsome saver of foot weary females?"
"You'll see." Carol softly sang the words, refusing to say anymore.
She had seen, not much more than ten minutes later as, glancing up, Katherine went cold. Striding through the door was one Matthew Martin, looking big and confident and far too attractive.
was drinking rather heavily. The man with her is her husband. She married him less than a month after Matt broke off their—ah—friendship. I can't decide whether I feel pity or disgust for her."
"I should think compassion would be my reaction," Katherine stated tartly. "She's been ill-used surely."
"No way" Carol said sharply. "She knew what the outcome of the affair would be from the start They all did, for that matter. As I understand it, Matt leaves no chance of doubt of that from the beginning. But I suppose they all hold out some hope of snaring him someway." Then she added chidingly, "No, Katherine, she has no right to feel ill-used."
Katherine opened her mouth to protest what she considered an obviously biased opinion when Carol groaned, "Oh no!"
Glancing around to find the cause of Carol's dismay she saw the man in question just coming to a stop at Peggy's table.
Bending slightly over the table Matt spoke quietly a few minutes then, at the young woman's agitated reply, placed his hand on the table to brace himself and bending closer to her, spoke even more quietly.
Fascinated, Katherine watched the look of annoyance that flashed across Peggy's husband's face as her hand fluttered then came to rest on top of Matt's. Matt spoke a few more words to her then turned to say something to her husband who nodded, seemingly in agreement The light that had been turned on in Peggy's face at die sight of Matt was as suddenly extinguished as Matt slid his hand from beneath hers and moved away from the table. Katherine felt a shaft o
f pity go through her at die look of pain on Peggy's lovely face as she watched him walk away.
Unable to look at that unhappy young face any longer, Katherine shifted her gaze to Matt and caught her breath, thinking, this man's inhuman. As he walked away from the table his bearing was one of supreme confidence, his visage ruthless unconcern. He had taken just a few long strides when, turning his head arrogantly, his gaze clashed with Katherine's and held.
Making a sharp-angled turn smoothly, he made for their table, his eyes still locked on Katherine's.
Carol had sat through the small drama as quietly as Katherine, but now, as Matt stopped in front of them, she smiled and said softly, "Hi, Matt."
"Hi, sweetheart, how have you been?" The smile he bestowed on Carol did strange things to Katherine's spinal column. A devastating flash of white that transformed his face. But not for her, for it disappeared as turning to her he gave a brief nod and murmured, "Katherine."
She returned his nod, a tight, small smile on her lips, then looked down to study her pre-lunch drink as if its contents held the secret of the universe.
Carol and Matt exchanged pleasantries and Katherine paid little attention until she heard Carol ask with genuine concern in her voice, "Is Peg all right, Matt?"
"She will be, her husband will take care of her. Seems like a nice guy." He paused, then went on even more quietly. "I blame myself in this, Carol. I shouldn't have become involved in the first place."
"Matt!" Carol objected. "You have nothing to reproach yourself for. She made the run at you, you know that, and now if she's found she fell and scraped her knees, she has no one to blame but herself."
Katherine had looked up in surprise at the vehemence
in Carol's voice and was struck by the almost tender expression on Matt's face.
"Maybe so," he replied softly, "but she is hurt and I don't like it. The hard part was convincing her it would have been much worse if I hadn't ended it."
Well, perhaps he wasn't completely ruthless and inhuman, Katherine admitted to herself grudgingly.
He shot his cuff to glance at his watch, then said ruefully, "I have to go, business lunch, take care of yourself, Outlaw. Katherine. Oh, yes, don't worry about the check, I'll get it." The words had come out strung together and on the last one he turned and strode away.
Carol laughed softly while Katherine watched his retreating back thinking, what a strange man.
Spring sprang into summer with a vengeance. Most of the month of June had been hot and humid and by the last week of June she had been feeling tired and edgy.
On the Monday the week before July Fourth, Katherine practically had to drag herself to work. She could not remember ever being at such a low ebb, either physically or mentally.
She had been working nine and ten hours a day plus keeping the apartment tidy. And if that wasn't enough, Janice and Carlos were in the Bahamas and Tom had come home at the close of school term only to leave again two days later for Wildwood, New Jersey. Of course they'd be home for the Fourth but they'd be off again a few days later. Janice and Carlos for Argentina, Tom for a camping trip in Canada. The prospect of spending the lion's share of the hot, sticky summer alone did absolutely nothing for Katherine's flagging spirits.
That Monday had been a loser from the beginning. The sky had hung oppressive and gray until late after-
noon when it grew steadily darker. By five-thirty it was a blackish green with jagged streaks of lightning tearing through it like a crooked sword through rotten cloth. Minutes later it seemed as if all the water in the world was pouring from those rents onto center city.
At six o'clock Katherine threw in the towel, pushed her high stool back from her drawing board and drew the back of her hand across her forehead. The office air conditioner had not been able to keep up with the mug-giness of the outside air and the room was close, airless. Reaching for the phone she decided to give Carol a call and ask her to dinner. Her hand lifted the receiver then replaced it remembering Carol was at Richard's until after the Fourth.
Picking up her umbrella and handbag she left the office slowly. The elevator was empty as most of the employees had gone home at five. Standing in the middle of the car Katherine suddenly felt old and alone and very weary and, for the first time ever, defeated. She gave herself a mental shake; as the door slid back she hurried toward the wide glass door facing the street.
The rain still poured down like a solid wall of water and Katherine stepped through the door, paused under the narrow overhang, head bent, fingers working at her umbrella catch, not noticing the long black car at the curb.
Glancing up as she opened her umbrella, the movement of the car's rear door swinging open caught her attention at the same time as a familiar low, raspy voice called, "Katherine."
She stood, blinking through the rain in surprise that quickly changed to astonishment as Matt stepped from the car, strode across the pavement unmindful of the rain, gripped her arm and said impatiently, "Come on,
get in the car before you're soaking wet." Apparently unaware or uncaring of the fact that by now he was getting wet, he practically dragged her to the car and shoved her inside.
The car moved smoothly into the sparse flow of traffic as Katherine blurted, "What are you doing here?"
"Taking you to dinner," he replied casually.
Leaning back against the seat with a deep sigh, Katherine closed her eyes murmuring, "Oh, Matt, not tonight, I'm too hot and tired to go out and eat. Please, I'd just as soon go home, have a shower and a light supper."
His voice was very low. "All right, I accept."
Eyes wide, she straightened. "Oh, but..."
"That was an invitation to join you, wasn't it? Not in the shower, of course, but the light supper?" His voice had gone even lower and held a slightly coaxing quality.
Too tired to argue, Katherine gave in with a small laugh. "Yes, Matt, that was an invitation."
Two hours later, in a deliciously cool living room, Katherine sat on her small love seat, legs curled underneath her, sipping at a glass of white wine. Lifting her eyes from her glass she let them rest on Matt standing at her window, back to her. He had shed his damp jacket on entering the apartment and his white silk shirt stood out like a beacon in the dimly lit room.
Idly she watched the play of muscles in his back as he lifted his glass to his mouth and drank deeply of his wine. Again she felt that odd sense of recognition. Second later a picture swam into her mind. A picture of a tall, skinny boy who was all gangling awkwardness on the sidewalk and poetry in motion on the baseball field and basketball court.
"Oh God," she whispered.
Matt turned, a frown creasing his brow. "Something wrong?"
"Oh God," she repeated, voice still low. "You're that Matt Martin."
The frown was replaced by a wry grin. "The dawn finally broke."
"You knew," she accused. "You knew all the time."
"Yes, all the time ." His face had sobered as had his tone.
"But why didn't you say something?" she asked in confusion.
He shrugged turning back to the window. "Guess I was curious to see how long it would take for the penny to drop."
"Well really, you could have—"
"Forget it," he cut in none too gently. "It's not important"
Silence, not quite as comfortable as before, settled on the room. Katherine drank her wine, eyes once again on Malt's back. Much to her surprise it had been a quiet, pleasant evening.
Matt had sat reading the paper while she showered and dressed, then competently set the table, opened the wine and poured, while she tossed a salad and cooked a western omelet for their supper. The meal was eaten in comparative quiet and yet it was a restful quiet. And the last hour had been much the same, one or the other of them making an occasional remark.
Matt turned suddenly, catching her eyes on him, and said abruptly, "Will you many me, Katherine?"
Stunned, she had stared at him some minutes before asking dumbly, "What?"
He repeated his question softly, adding, "Don't give
me a flat-out no. Let me explain, then think it over. Okay?"
She nodded numbly, eyes following him as he walked to the table holding the wine bottle, picked it up, then seated himself at the other end of the love seat.
"I need a wife," he stated flatly as he filled first her glass then his own. Lifting his glass, he took a long swallow before continuing. "A hostess, companion for the long weekend invitations that include the wife, the working holiday sort of thing."
"But I understand your sister—" Katherine began.
"Yes," he interrupted her, "Beth has been acting as my hostess and has occasionally accompanied me when the invitation included a wife. But a sister is not the same as a wife. You would be amazed at the business deals that have soured because the wives didn't jell. Besides, Beth is still a young woman with a life of her own. I can't expect her to devote it to me."
"But why me?" she asked blankly. "I would think a younger woman would—"
Again he interrupted her. "No, a younger woman would not. A younger woman would make demands. Demands I'd have no inclinations to fulfill." He lifted his head arrogantly, eyes hard on hers. "I'm forty-one years old, I work hard and I have no time to entertain a woman. Most of the men I do business with are the same age or older, with wives not much younger. In effect what I require is a woman who will run my home smoothly, be a gracious hostess, a comfortable traveling companion and, of course, share my bed."
Katherine's brows went up over eyes that had widened with surprise.
"Yes, of course." He answered her questioning look
flatly. Tm a normal healthy man with all the natural drives. I am not a fool and to propose some sort of platonic relationship would be foolish. It couldn't possibly woik. I'm away on business a lot, often weeks at a time. Your free time would be just that, your time, to do what ever you wish."
