by Joan Kilby
“Can’t you just tell me here?” Beth said, clearly wanting to get back to her book.
Max heard the distant sounds of Robyn practicing the same five or six notes over and over on the piano, trying in her determined perfectionist way to get the musical phrase exactly right. He couldn’t go through this twice more. “No. Please come with me.”
Robyn was still playing as they entered the sun-filled living room, which looked out on the side lawn through French doors. Her back was very straight and her hands moved over the keys with a fluid grace.
“Robyn.”
She paused, fingers poised over the keys. “Yes?”
Max beckoned his eldest daughter away from the piano. She had Kelly’s looks but his intuition. And she was a worrier. This time the telling wouldn’t be so easy.
Sitting erect, Robyn folded her long, slender fingers in her lap. Beth sprawled across three-quarters of the couch, her legs dangling over the arm.
Oh, Lord, how was he going to spit this out? Max took a deep breath. “There’s something I have to tell you. I have a son, from before your mother and I were married.”
“But, Daddy—” Beth frowned in confusion “—I didn’t know you were married before Mom.”
Man, this was getting harder and harder. “I wasn’t. The girl and I were just…friends. She got pregnant, but her parents thought we were too young to get married so she gave the baby up for adoption. The boy’s name is Randall Tipton and two weeks ago he wrote me a letter. I flew to Jackson to meet him last Saturday—”
“I thought you went to Seattle,” Robyn broke in.
Caught out in a half truth. “Yes, well, I went to Seattle to catch the plane to Jackson.” He was sweating now, under Robyn’s steady, accusing gaze. “Anyway, I met Randall and his adoptive parents. He’s a very nice boy and I’d like you girls to meet him.”
“You mean we have a brother?” Beth asked, looking interested.
“Half brother,” Robyn corrected her. “I don’t want to meet him.”
“I do,” Beth said. “I think it will be cool to have a big brother. Does he play softball?”
“Not really,” Max said, and Beth’s face fell. Somewhat desperately he added, “You could teach him. He’d be someone to play catch with.”
“Is he going to live with us?” Robyn sounded appalled.
“No, just visit for the summer. How would you feel about bunking in with Beth when Randall comes at the end of June. Then he could have your room.”
“No way! I’m not having a boy in my room, looking at my stuff, sleeping in my bed. Besides, Beth leaves her stinky sports socks lying everywhere.” Robyn jumped up, outraged, her voice climbing higher with every sentence. “No, Dad. No. You can’t make me.”
Max counted to ten. “I can make you, but I’m hoping you’ll be generous and welcome Randall to our home.”
“Why should I? He’s why Mom left you, isn’t he?” Robyn stormed across the room and paused at the door to declare dramatically, “I’m never going to be nice to him. Never.”
Max passed a hand over his face. When he looked up again, Beth was regarding him sympathetically. “Are you okay with this, Beth?”
She shrugged with her usual happy nonchalance. “Sure. He can have my room if he wants. But I’d rather share with the twins than with Robyn.”
“Thanks, Beth, but we’ll give Robyn a little time to come around.”
“Dad?” she asked, suddenly frowning. “Mom hasn’t really left us for good, has she?”
“No, of course not. She’s in the kitchen now, making dinner.” He got up and pulled her to her feet, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, sunshine. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Later, when the evening meal was over and the kids were in bed, Kelly went to the bedroom to pack more clothes while Max retreated to his office. Although he didn’t see her go, he heard her: the click of the door, her footfall on the steps, the car engine coming to life, then receding in the night. If Kelly was trying to punish him she couldn’t have come up with a better way to do it than by leaving him, over and over again.
MAX TOOK THE PASS FROM NICK and dribbled the basketball down the court, ignoring the shouts around him. He faked a pass to Ben, then leaped up to snag a neat slam dunk in the last few seconds of the game. They were playing in their regular Saturday-afternoon match: Hainesville versus Simcoe.
Breathing hard, Ben gaped at him. “Nice shot. Where’s your head at, buddy?”
Nick, his other brother-in-law, laughed and clapped him on the back. “With teammates like you, who needs an opposition?”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Glancing around, he realized he’d put the ball in Simcoe’s goal. Max swore under his breath and walked off the court to douse his head with water from a squirt bottle.
Ben came up behind him and threw an arm around his shoulder. “You okay, man? I’ve never seen your concentration break like that.”
“I’m fine,” he muttered, mopping his face with the hem of his T-shirt.
“Hey, Wrong-way Walker,” Gerry, a plumber who played for Hainesville, joked. “Just for that, you’re buying the first round at the Gillnetter.”
“Ah, come on, Ger,” Mike Travis, Simcoe’s center, put in. “Don’t hold it against Max.” He grinned. “We would have won anyway.”
Max shook his head, letting the good-natured ribbing from his teammates and their opponents wash over him. He just wished they’d all go.
With the authoritative ease of a fire chief used to giving orders, Nick moved the group of men away from Max. “Head on over to the tavern, fellas. We’ll catch up with you in a minute.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Max sat heavily on a bench and pulled his sweaty T-shirt over his head.
“You look like you’re not getting much sleep these days.” Ben’s assessing gaze was professional as well as brotherly.
Max shrugged and mopped at his damp chest.
Nick took a seat beside him. “We know Kelly’s staying at Ruth’s.”
“How bad is Ruth’s ankle?” Max hated checking up on Kelly’s story but was unable to stop himself. “Is it that badly sprained?”
Ben nodded. “Given her age, I don’t want her to walk on it for a few more weeks. She really does need someone with her.”
“We also know about your son.” Nick’s gaze was sympathetic.
Max grimaced. “The whole town probably knows.”
“I don’t think so,” Nick said. “Our wives share just about everything among themselves, but they don’t gossip outside the family. Neither do Ben and I, so if you want to talk about Randall, you can. It’s good that he got in touch with you.”
“Kelly doesn’t see it that way,” Max said. “But he’s my son. I can’t turn my back on him.”
“Of course you can’t,” Ben said. “It’s a tough situation. Geena’s worried about Kelly. Worried about you both.”
“So is Erin,” Nick added. “In fact, that’s all I hear about these days. Anything we can do to help, buddy?”
“At the moment, I’m coping.”
“Taking care of four kids must be a lot of work,” Nick said, misunderstanding.
“The kids aren’t the problem, and anyway, Kelly comes every day to help. In fact, she’s doing more than before she left. But I miss her. Now I know the meaning of that expression, ‘my other half.’ I feel like my arm’s been lopped off, or my leg.”
“Convince her to come home,” Ben advised.
“Yes, but how? Short of breaking off communication with Randall, which I won’t do.”
Nick bounced the ball between his feet. “You’ve been married, what—thirteen years?” Max nodded. “Maybe a little romance would help. You know, like flowers and chocolates. Women love chocolate.”
Max’s expression remained dubious. “We just had a second honeymoon at Snoqualmie Falls. That was when all the trouble started.”
“It could be that Kelly’s feeling insecure,” Ben said. “Even though
your liaison with Randall’s mother was long ago, it’s new to her. I agree with Nick. Women like to be wooed. Now that she’s living in her childhood home, you have a perfect opportunity to court her all over again.”
“It won’t solve our issues over Randall,” Max said slowly. “But I guess it couldn’t hurt…and it might get us talking constructively.” Remembering their first night in the Salish Lodge, he brightened. “In fact, it might even be fun. Kind of recharge our relationship.”
“That’s the spirit.” Nick clapped him on the back.
“Go get ’em, tiger,” Ben said. “Now, who wants a beer?”
“Not for me,” Max said, digging a clean T-shirt out of his kit bag and pulling it on. “I’m going to go ask my wife for a date.”
CHAPTER SIX
“TRY ON THE SCHIAPARELLI, Kel.” Geena held up a shocking-pink-and-black cocktail dress with matching beaded jacket.
Geena, a former model, kept some of her huge collection of clothes at Gran’s. Saturday afternoon, she and Erin had come over to cheer Kelly up by playing dress-up. These days their childhood game had a grown-up twist: designer dresses.
“I don’t know.” Kelly gingerly touched the antique silk creation. “It looks so fragile.”
“Oh, my God! You have a Schiaparelli?” Erin squeaked in awe. “I thought her designs were only in museums.”
“The odd one comes up for private sale,” said Geena, glowing in a ruby sequin sheath. “I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. Come on, Kelly, try it.”
“Okay, but don’t blame me if I bust a seam.” Kelly wasn’t as fascinated by clothes as were Geena and Erin, but she enjoyed the time shared with her sisters.
She wriggled and shimmied and sucked in her tummy while Geena and Erin eased the delicate dress over her head and shoulders. It fit perfectly.
Geena stepped back and turned Kelly toward the full-length mirror on the cupboard door. Kelly stared, agog at the transformation the dress had made in her. She seemed a completely different person, elegant and mysterious. “Who is that woman?”
“You look stunning!” Geena exclaimed. “Doesn’t she, Erin?”
“Like Greta Garbo.” Erin, in a pearl-gray satin evening dress, was seated on a low stool, surrounded by a dozen or more pairs of shoes. She held up a pair of sparkly fuchsia slingbacks with very high heels. “These will go perfectly with that outfit. Try them on, Kel.”
Kelly climbed into them and turned an ankle to inspect the shoes in the mirror. “They’re gorgeous, but a bit too narrow and a lot too long,” she said regretfully. “My feet slide forward.”
Geena yanked a handful of tissues from the box on the dresser. “Stuff these in the toes.”
Kelly did, and it helped, although the shoes still pinched. “I actually appear tall, for a change.” She took a tottering step and had to grab Geena’s shoulder for support. “How do you walk in these things?”
“You don’t walk, sweetie—you summon a driver.” Geena fussed with the collar of the jacket. “You’re welcome to borrow the outfit anytime.”
“Thanks, but I never go anywhere fancy enough to warrant wearing a dress like this.”
“Maybe Max will take you someplace special to make up for Randall,” Erin suggested.
“He’s going to have to apologize before I’ll go anywhere with him,” Kelly replied. “You know, he hasn’t once said he’s sorry about his affair with Randall’s mother. He seems to think that if he didn’t intend to hurt me, then he doesn’t have anything to apologize for. He’s been like this since I’ve known him and I’m tired of it.”
“‘Never apologize, never explain’ does seem to be some men’s motto,” Geena said. “But Max hardly ever does anything to apologize for, does he?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean he should be let off the hook when he does,” Kelly said. “I go over there every day, but we hardly speak to each other.”
“I bet once Max realizes how much he misses you he’ll do whatever it takes to get you back,” Erin said, draping a Hermès scarf around her bare shoulders. “You’d better decide what you’re going to do when he does.”
“Try ignoring him,” Geena advised. “It makes men crazy. They can’t stand to think they’re not making an impression on you.”
Downstairs the doorbell rang.
Erin picked up her skirts and hurried out of the room. “Don’t you move, Gran,” she yelled down the stairs. “I’ll get it.”
She was back a minute later bearing a large flat box wrapped in gold paper and a card with Kelly’s name on it. “This was on the mat.”
Kelly opened the card and her heart contracted at the flowing lines of a familiar signature. “‘Sweets for my sweet, love, Max.’”
“Not terribly original, but it’s a nice sentiment,” Erin said.
Kelly tore open the wrapping. “Ooh, Godiva chocolates. Dig in.”
“I really shouldn’t,” Geena said, and took two.
“He must have gone to Simcoe for these,” Erin said, choosing dark chocolate. She sank her teeth into the soft center with a low moan. “They’re fantastic.”
Kelly ate one absently as she reread the card, recalling the love notes Max used to pin to the fridge. In the early days of their marriage he’d worked long hours to make ends meet. Now he was becoming successful, their girls were growing up happy and healthy and Kelly was feeling like a new woman with her job. How could their relationship fall apart just when everything else was coming together?
A cell phone rang. The three women scrambled among the pile of dresses and scarves, blouses and skirts heaped on the bed to locate the ringing device.
“It’s mine.” Kelly pushed a button to answer. “Hello?”
“Kelly?” Max said. “Hi.”
Kelly held her hand over the mouthpiece and turned to her sisters. “It’s Max. What should I do?”
“Tell him you’ll call back when it’s convenient,” Geena suggested.
“No! Talk to him now,” Erin admonished in a loud whisper.
Kelly rolled her eyes. “Hi, Max. Thanks for the chocolates. Is everything all right with the girls?”
“They’re all fine. At least, I assume they are. Nancy’s looking after the twins and Beth and Robyn are at friends’ houses.”
“So…what’s up? Where are you?”
“I’m parked around the block. I, uh, I was wondering what you’re doing tonight.”
Kelly covered the mouthpiece again. “He wants to know if I’m busy tonight.”
“Say you’re available,” Erin advised.
“Tell him you’ve got plans,” Geena countered.
“Why, Max? Do you need me to be with the girls?” Please, God, don’t let him be going out with another woman. Would he do that? No, surely not—
“There’s a new movie playing in town,” he said. “Do you want to go?” When she didn’t answer right away, he went on. “We could stop by the Burger Shack first.” Pause. “Or go someplace nicer.”
Every cell in her body longed with a force beyond reason to say yes. Pride made her utter, instead, “Sorry. I can’t.” She glanced at her sisters, who were watching her avidly. “I…I’m doing something with Geena and Erin.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Kelly could feel his anger and disappointment as keenly as if he’d expressed it verbally. Seeking privacy, she walked out of the room and into Erin’s old room next door and sat on the window seat. “Max, are you there?”
He grunted.
“Listen, Max. You can’t just call me up and ask me for a date as if nothing’s happened. We need to talk about our problems.”
“You come home after work to spend a few hours with the girls, then rush off again. You never sit down long enough to talk with me. I’m trying to make that happen.”
“We can’t talk until—A, you apologize, and B, you agree to joint counseling.”
“For God’s sake, Kelly, not that again.”
“Yes, that again. Ra
ndall has added a truckload of baggage to our already shaky marriage.”
“Our marriage has a strong foundation. It’ll hold up.”
She didn’t answer, couldn’t think of any way over the impasse. The silence stretched until she started to think about how much this call must be costing them. “Was there anything else?”
“Actually, yes,” Max said. “I had a favor to ask, but now I doubt you’ll agree.”
“Try me,” she said, wary but willing to listen. They might be estranged, but they still had a responsibility to each other.
“Randall’s arriving later this month—”
“Oh, no. Not that. Max, don’t ask me—”
“I’d really like his adoptive parents to gain a good impression of the home he’s going to be staying in.”
Agitated, Kelly swung her legs off the window seat and paced across the room. “I want no part of that boy.”
“Kelly, you’ve got to be home when they arrive. You’ve got to pretend nothing’s wrong between us. Please.”
“Max—”
“If you won’t do it for my sake, what about our daughters? Think how awkward it will be for them if Marcus or Audrey Tipton asks them why their mother isn’t home. We’ve taught them not to lie, Kel.”
“I’m away because I’m looking after my grandmother.”
“I really think the Tiptons would be more comfortable leaving Randall in a two-parent household. Please. I…I’m begging you.”
Kelly was mildly shocked. Max never begged.
“All right, I’ll do it,” she agreed reluctantly. But it wasn’t for Max’s sake, or even the girls. She would do it for the boy. He wasn’t to blame for the situation and she would play no part in hurting an innocent child.
“Thanks, Kelly. “I really appreciate—”
“I don’t want your thanks,” she said, cutting him off. “Just don’t ask me to like him.”
RANDALL FELT INSTINCTIVELY that the woman greeting him resented his presence in her home, but he told himself he was imagining things and politely held out his hand. “How do you do, Mrs. Walker?”
