What a different side of him she had seen today. The well-groomed banker had vanished hours ago, submerged in the young man whose only goal seemed to be having a good time on a hot holiday afternoon.
And she thought, Marry Patrick? I wouldn’t mind marrying his whole family.
The idea came as a bit of a shock. I hadn’t realized, she thought, just how lonely I’d let myself become. “Why do you ask?” she said crisply.
Cohn grinned and gestured with his fork. “I just wanted to know if I could rely on one of your cakes at every future family gathering.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“That’s a shame.” He sounded genuinely sorry—but only for the sake of his appetite, Camryn thought.
Across the yard, Dennis McKenna blew a whistle and announced the start of a three-legged race. Susan sat up and rubbed her eyes sleepily and called Patrick’s name; he broke away from the basketball game and came over. “Do you want to be my partner?” he asked her, and his hand brushed against Camryn’s bare leg as he lifted the child off the porch. He smiled at Camryn and carried Susan off across the yard.
Camryn’s heart did a tiny little flip and settled uncertainly back into place. That was new, she admitted reluctantly. Darn Colin, anyway, for suggesting such a thing.
He polished off the last bite of cake. “Camryn, if everything you make is this good, I’m going to start coming over for all my meals. What’s the address of that place of yours?”
“Sorry, but I just do breakfast. And only for overnight guests, at that.”
He looked disgruntled. “You’re losing out on a sure bet, you know. A restaurant serving that kind of food— you could make your fortune. What’s it called? The Stone House? I’ve even got a slogan for you. Where the pastry is tender, and the house is rock-solid.”
The idea struck her fancy. She sat there and watched the breathless progress of the three-legged race and thought about it. Why hadn’t she considered that possibility before? She couldn’t manage a full-fledged restaurant, of course, but surely she could work out a simple, limited luncheon menu, to be served by reservation only. And she had always loved doing the baking and fussing that went along with afternoon tea, and no one else in the city was offering a service like that. Why not do it every day— not just for her overnight guests, but for the public? Judging by Colin’s reaction, there might be a demand.
And with the extra income... She couldn’t wait to see if Patrick thought it would be enough to get her mortgage.
He dropped down beside her with a smile. “We lost,” he said, and lay back flat against the porch. “Susan went off to fill water balloons with the rest of the kids. She’s learning all kinds of new games today.”
Camryn shuddered.
Nell pulled up a rocking-chair on the porch. “I don’t suppose you’ve talked to your mother yet, Patrick.”
“As a matter of fact, I have.” Patrick didn’t open his eyes. “Give it up, Nell. Frankly, the place needs a coat of paint, inside and out. Besides, you’ve lived with Mother for fifteen years, and you ought to realize by now that once she’s got the bug to do something she won’t rest till it’s done.”
“That’s true enough,” Colin agreed.
“Why don’t you just let her get the paint out of her system? You know that once it’s finished, she’ll forget all about it. She won’t even move a stick of furniture again for five years.”
“Furniture-moving doesn’t give me headaches,” Nell said sternly. “And if I have to smell paint for days and nights on end, I won’t be alive to care in five years. I probably won’t be alive in five days.”
“So check into a hotel.” Patrick didn’t sound interested. “Better yet, go and stay with Camryn for a week or two. You’ll have all the comforts of home, with breakfast thrown in. You can find room for one irascible old lady, can’t you, Camryn?”
“That’s my favorite kind,” she murmured.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he only said, “I’ll tell Mother the painters can come on Monday, then. It’s all settled.”
Nell said tartly, “That’s easy for you to say. Who’s paying for this, I’d like to know? You? You aren’t expecting Camryn to do it for nothing, I hope.”
“What about for love? That’s a charming idea,” Patrick said, with his eyes still closed.
Camryn tried to keep herself from turning red, and failed. “I’m sure we can arrange a weekly rate.”
Patrick opened his eyes and considered her. “I’ll trust you,” he said finally. “Send me the bill. We’ll call it your birthday present, Nell. And Mother’s, too,” he added under his breath.
Colin said, hopefully, “As long as you’re handing out money, Patrick, I’m having a little trouble making my car payments.”
“See me at the bank on Monday.”
Colin groaned. “I knew it was too good to last.”
Nell stood up. “I think I’ll go and do a little packing. Oh, and Patrick, dear? I’ll do my best to enjoy myself. It would be such a shame if I didn’t get your money’s worth.”
*****
After the party broke up at twilight, they went down to the wide green-belt park on the shore of Lake Michigan to watch the city fireworks display over the lake. Patrick spread a blanket on the sand, and Susan, who was flat out exhausted from her day, flopped down on it and went straight to sleep. She flinched a bit when the aerial bombs started going off, and she sat up and blinked at a few of the skyrockets. “Pretty,” she said when one huge golden burst lit the sky with spangles, and then went back to sleep with her head on Patrick’s knee.
“This is the stuff nightmares are made off,” he mused.
“All the noise sinking into her subconscious mind?”
“Actually, I wasn’t thinking about Susan’s nightmares at all—just mine. I was watching you, in the glow of the fireworks, and thinking what a rotten shame it is that if I move, I’ll wake her up.”
“It is?”
“Yes. As it is, I can’t even reach you to drag you over here and kiss you.”
“Oh.” She didn’t look at him.
“Has anyone ever told you what a beautiful profile you’ve got?” His voice was soft and husky, and it sent shivers down Camryn’s spine. He had a knack for doing that, she thought, for giving an ordinary compliment a twist that made it soft and appealing and oh, so seductive to listen to.
If he ever talked to Dianna Stanford like this, she thought, I can understand why she feels the way she does. How easy it would be to convince herself that he meant more than he actually said. How easy it was to love him.
Above her head, a skyrocket splintered into green fragments; each bit fell screaming towards earth and then, in rapid succession, burst into liquid golden fire. But the explosion in the sky was no less shattering than the one in Camryn’s heart.
I love him. She tried it out hesitantly, in her mind, feeling as if she were screaming the words. I’ve fallen in love with him.
Out of the corner of her eye she studied him covertly, as he watched the fireworks. She wanted to creep over next to him and let him hold her, kiss her—do whatever he wanted. And then, she admitted quietly, I want to go home with him, for always.
It was too short a time, she told herself. She’d only known him a matter of days. And yet she was surer of herself than she had ever been before. A month from now, a year, a decade—it wouldn’t matter. She would still be in love with Patrick McKenna.
But what about Patrick? That was a good question, she thought. He had told her last night that he wanted to make love, but he had said nothing about loving her. He had taken her out to his parents’ home today, but was that only because he’d promised Susan the picnic, to avoid the consequences of last night’s tantrum?
And what about Susan? He was sitting there so still right now in order not to disturb the child’s rest, but what did that really mean? A man could like a child, and enjoy her company, and be entertained by her, without wanting to have her around on
a regular basis.
And when a woman has a four-year-old child, she thought drearily, then any relationship certainly has to include both of them, or it can go nowhere at all.
She closed her eyes and let her mind drift, dreaming of what could be. The three of them, together, at the Stone House. . .Susan and Patrick, all dressed up for a Dads-and-daughters banquet at school. . . Herself and Patrick, snuggling by the fire on a cold winter’s night.
Don’t be a fool, Camryn, she told herself. He’s gone above and beyond duty in trying to fix your mortgage. And he certainly seems to enjoy your company, too. But don’t ruin it by demanding more. Don’t try so hard to figure out how the skyrockets work that you let one of them explode in your face!
And perhaps, given some time... It had, after all, been such a little time. Once the mortgage was taken care of, then perhaps she could see what she really meant to him.
The mortgage. It reminded her that she needed to talk to him about it. “Patrick?” she said. Her voice didn’t want to work quite right.
“Hmm?” He sounded half-asleep.
She told him about Colin’s careless comment, and the train of thought it had sparked for her.
“A restaurant?” he said doubtfully.
“Not really. A... Sort of a private party service,” she explained. “Reservations only, of course. I couldn’t possibly manage big groups, and the varying crowd of a regular restaurant would drive me out of business in a week. But there aren’t many nice places to have lunch in Lakemont. Surely businessmen would like a truly private place to entertain clients? And no one does afternoon tea the way I can. I could make a regular business out of hosting bridal showers and engagement parties and all that sort of thing. I don’t know why I never thought of it before.”
The sky had grown dark, and in the interval between sky rockets she couldn’t see his face, only the dim silhouette of his body. “Camryn, is that what you want to do for the rest of your life?” he asked quietly.
She drew her feet up and wrapped her arms around her knees and thought about it very seriously. Was it what she wanted? Could she even manage to do it? It would mean planning, and self-promotion, and months of hard work before she even knew if she would be successful. But wasn’t the end worth the means?
“I’m not afraid of work, Patrick. And it’s a way to get some extra money together, and trim the mortgage down.”
“You can’t run a restaurant and go to college. It will be a lot different from what you’re doing now.”
“Yes, it will. But if I like what I’m doing, maybe finishing my degree isn’t so important after all. I can’t manage going to college right now, that’s for sure, so why not do this instead?”
He didn’t answer, but he looked doubtful.
“Don’t you think I can do it?”
There was a long silence. Then he said, very quietly, “I think you can do whatever you make up your mind to do.”
It warmed her heart to know that he had confidence in her after all, and it gave her courage to go on.
“It’s going to take a while to get it put together,” she said. “And even longer to make a profit. In the meantime, I still have to do something about the mortgage.”
She clenched her fists and took a firm grip on her courage. “With the promise of extra income, surely I’m a better risk?” she began. “And you said that if I had someone to guarantee my loan, that it would be a great deal easier to get. Maybe now, that person wouldn’t even have to put up any money, just be a sort of character witness—a promise that I’ll pay it back.”
“Something like that,” he said. “But—”
“Will you back my loan, Patrick? Personally, I mean— not as a bank officer?”
She knew, in her heart, that she was really asking a great deal more than that. She was asking him to promise that there was something in the future for them, whatever it might be – for if he was willing to take this chance on her, then it must mean that he did not intend to turn his back on her.
He sighed heavily, and her heart slid to her toes and stayed there. “I can’t, Camryn.”
“But it isn’t going to matter!” she said wildly. “You won’t have to come up with the money—I’m going to pay it back, I swear it! Dammit, Patrick, just a minute ago you said you had confidence in me! What happened to that?”
“Nothing happened. But there are regulations, honey. Me guaranteeing a loan for you is the sort of thing that gives bank examiners nervous tics. They’d be down on me in a matter of days.”
She lay back on the blanket and put her arm over her eyes. “Maybe I should have taken the doctor up on his offer, after all,” she said drearily.
“Oh, if you’re agreeable to that sort of arrangement, to hell with the bank examiners!” It was cheerful, and an instant later he said, “I’m sorry, Camryn. That just popped out.”
She stood up stiffly. “It’s time to go home. The fireworks are over.”
He was silent for a long moment, then he shifted Susan’s weight and freed himself and stooped to pick the child up. “We’ll take this scheme to Warren first thing next week,” he said, “and see what he thinks. The additional income will make it much easier for him to bend the rules. You may not even need a guarantee.”
For an instant, she didn’t even really hear what he had said. Then she asked herself, Could this really be the end of it? Could the answer have been so simple after all?
Simple...
Well, it was hardly that, she thought. It was going to take a lot of hard work, and a lot of time. And the weight still rested squarely on her own two shoulders.
Where it had always been, she reminded herself. That hadn’t changed at all.
It was a quiet ride back to the Stone House. At the back door Camryn tried to rouse Susan, who muttered sleepily and refused to budge. Patrick lifted her bodily out of the back of the car. “She’s dead weight,” he warned Camryn. “Would you like me to carry her up to bed?”
“Please.” She hadn’t been looking forward to climbing those long flights of stairs with Susan in her arms.
It was the first time he had come upstairs with her, she thought as she led the way, and, though there really was no reason to be nervous, her heart was beating a tattoo rhythm. She turned on the nightlight in Susan’s room and watched as Patrick put the child carefully down on her bed. Camryn pulled her sandals off and decided to forget the rest; Susan’s lightweight shorts and shirt were very much like summer pajamas, anyway. She tucked Freddy Bear into the curve of the child’s arm and gave her a gentle kiss.
Neither of them spoke till they were back downstairs. Patrick kissed her, almost casually—just a brush of his lips against her cheek. “Goodnight,” he said.
“It isn’t really late. Would you like coffee?”
He half-smiled, and Camryn remembered the night before, and the moonlight, and her offer, and started to turn red.
“I don’t think it would be wise.”
“Why not?” Then she caught herself. “I mean—of course. You don’t have to explain.”
He smiled, a little ruefully, but his voice was deadly serious as he said, “But I think I should. It’s because there are too many things I want tonight besides coffee, Camryn. And because I don’t want you to think I’m the same sort as your doctor friend.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket and turned towards the door.
She stood very still in the center of the hall, knowing that if she stayed silent for one more instant the decision would be out of her hands, and he would not blame her. And then she knew that she couldn’t do that. She could not let him leave.
Whatever else happened, whatever the future held, she wanted him—needed him—too much to let him go tonight.
Her fingers raised almost of their own will to touch the spot on her cheek where his lips had rested. “Patrick...”
He turned, with his hand on the knob of the half-open door.
Her voice was little more than a whisper. “It never occurred to me to thi
nk that you were like him. I just knew that you couldn’t be. Please, I wish you’d come back inside.”
His eyes were dark. “If I do, Camryn,” he said levelly, “I may not leave.”
“I know.” It was only a whisper. “Don’t you see, Patrick? I don’t want you to leave.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The weight of the world seemed to hang in the balance for a timeless instant, and then Patrick closed the door, and twisted the lock, and turned to face her.
For a second, Camryn felt panic percolate through her. I’m crazy, she thought. My hormones are raging out of control, as if I were seventeen again.
But that wasn’t it, she knew. What she felt for him was not just a matter of a woman’s physical longings suddenly come back to life. If that had been the case, she might have assuaged her hunger easily enough; there were no doubt plenty of men who would be willing, even eager, to take her to bed, if she chose to look for them.
But none of those men could be Patrick, and only Patrick could soothe the need she felt tonight.
So, when he crossed the hall to her, she firmly put her fears behind her and held out her hands to him.
Her bedroom was dim, except where the ruffled white curtains let the moonlight filter in to throw shadowy patterns against the ceiling and over the quilt. The room was full of odd nooks and angles, because it had been fitted under the slant of the roof at the very top of the house. It wasn’t particularly neat, either; she had made her bed this morning, but there were books and papers strewn around, and her dressing table was a mess.
Camryn looked around uncertainly in the dim light. It didn’t seem the same place at all, seeing it for the first time through a man’s eyes. What would he think of it— and her?
A Matter of Principal Page 11
