by Joan Kilby
“BOY, WAS THAT CLOSE.” Randall watched Max walk away, his heart still beating fast. “I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe we should forget about your plan.”
“Don’t worry so much. Wait here.” She ran to the drugstore exit, glanced down the street, then waved the all clear. Randall put his magazine back on the rack and made his way through the aisles. She grabbed his sleeve and tugged him in the direction of the florist’s. “Come on. I saw Dad get into his car and drive off. He’ll never know what we’re up to.”
Robyn chose the biggest bouquet they could afford with their pooled savings while Randall kept a lookout by the window, nervously glancing up and down the street.
“Come and sign the card,” Robyn called. “Your handwriting is more masculine than mine. Anyway, Mom would recognize mine in an instant, even if I tried to disguise it. You know Dad’s style. Try to copy it.”
Randall balked. “I’m not signing Max’s name. That would really be dishonest. Besides, I did that once and got in trouble.”
“Then how’s she going to know the flowers are from him?”
“Who else would send them?”
“You’ve got a point. Okay, sign it, With love and devotion from your Not-So-Secret Admirer.”
“Isn’t that a bit sappy?” Randall said.
“It’s beautiful.” She shoved the pen in his hand. “Trust me. She’ll love it.”
LATER THAT MORNING, Kelly was humming as she put together the contract for the most satisfying sale of her career to date. A tiny voice niggled that it was one of the only satisfying sales, but she ignored it. Vindication was sweet.
She heard the bell over the door tinkle and paid no attention. Annette had gone to lunch, but Ray was out front.
A moment later, he came around the corner of her cubicle carrying the biggest bouquet of flowers she’d ever seen. “These are for you.”
“Uh, thank you, Ray.” Kelly felt sick at the thought of Ray giving her flowers.
“They’re not from me.” Ray seemed equally appalled at the thought that he would shell out for a huge bunch of flowers. The doorbell tinkled again. He thrust the flowers at her and left.
Kelly buried her face in the magnificent arrangement, breathing in the mingled perfumes of her favorite blooms. Drawing back, she opened the small square envelope tucked among the greenery. Familiar handwriting in architect’s script read, Just because I love you… Max.
Kelly sank back in her chair, her heart swelling with love. Oh, Max. So extravagant. What a romantic!
“You’re not going to believe this!” Ray griped, coming around the corner with yet another bouquet of flowers.
Kelly stared in stunned surprise. “Don’t tell me those are mine, too?” She swept aside her daily planner and the Woolridge contract to make room for the second huge display.
“According to the delivery boy, they are. Is it your birthday?”
Kelly shook her head. “These are from Max,” she said, indicating the first bouquet. She tore open the second envelope and brought her head up. “A Not-So Secret Admirer?”
“And you’re not even officially separated.” Ray cast her a sly glance. “Are you seeing someone else?”
“No!” Kelly had told Ray she’d moved into the house on Linden Street to take care of her Gran, but she knew gossip around town hinted at trouble between her and Max. “I haven’t a clue who would send these.”
She peered closer at the card and her eyes narrowed. “The handwriting is awfully similar to Max’s, although he’s obviously tried to disguise it.” She passed the two cards to Ray. “What do you think?”
“You’re right,” he said after studying them. “They’ve got the same look about them, like hand-printed italics.” He passed the cards back to Kelly. “But why would he send two bouquets? And why would he send the second one anonymously?”
“He sent two to be lavish, thinking I’ll be doubly delighted,” Kelly said slowly, her mind familiar with the workings of Max’s. “And he didn’t sign the second card because—” her mouth flattened into a grim line “—he knows I’d kill him for throwing away so much money on flowers when we can’t afford it.”
MAX HEARD THE FRONT DOOR open followed by the pounding of small feet as Tina and Tammy thundered past his office. They’d been at a birthday party all afternoon and Kelly had picked them up on her way home.
He found Kelly and the twins in the family room and was immediately accosted by four-year-olds hyped on candy and birthday cake.
“Daddy, Daddy.” Tina raced toward him and connected so hard she almost knocked him over. “I won Pin the Tail on the Donkey.”
Tammy tugged on his pant leg. “And I won the egg-and-spoon race.” She dug in her treat bag and pulled out a squashy caramel. “Want a candy?”
“No, thanks.” He gave the girls both a hug, but his gaze was on Kelly.
She was smiling as if all her birthdays had come at once, and his own mouth lifted in a grin as smug as the Cheshire cat’s. Those flowers had really done the trick. He’d thought she might bring them home with her, but maybe she preferred that they brighten up her office.
“Listen to this, Daddy,” Tammy shouted, blowing a noisemaker in his ear.
“Take that outside, please, honey,” he said. “In fact, why don’t you two put on your bathing suits and run under the sprinkler.”
“Come on, Tina. The sprinkler!” Tammy yelled, and the girls tore off to their room.
As Kelly brushed past, he leaned in close to smell her hair. “You look as though you had a good day.”
Her smile widened and her eyes danced. “I had a fabulous day. An ultrastupendous, unbeatable day of all days!”
“Yeah?” He grinned. “Go on. What happened?”
Exultant, she raised two fists in the air. “I sold the Harper house!”
“You’re wel— What?” It was so not what he was expecting to hear he could only stand and gape, awash in disappointment.
“Yes! Victory at last is mine. And you should have seen the look on Ray’s face when the price I negotiated was five thousand dollars more than he’d expected.”
Despite his disappointment, Max was impressed. “Who bought it—the bed-and-breakfast people?”
“Uh-huh. Hal Woolridge would have spotted the problems, anyway, but he thanked me for being so honest. Even better, he made a point of telling Ray how pleased they were with my service.” She chacha’d over to the fridge. “Have we got any wine? I feel like celebrating.”
“There’s a bottle of chardonnay in there.” Max got a couple of glasses from the cabinet and set them on the counter next to where she was opening the bottle with a corkscrew. Unable to help himself, he reached out and sifted his fingers through her shiny, silky hair. “Anything else happen of note?”
She flicked her hair back as if his hand were an annoying insect. “No, I don’t think so….”
“Nothing? Not one little thing?”
Her face remained blank.
“Flowers?”
“Oh…the flowers!” To his surprise, her smile faded. “Max, I appreciate the gesture. It was so sweet. But honestly, did you have to get so many?”
“But…I thought you’d like them. You love flowers.”
“I do. They’re beautiful. But they must have cost a fortune.” Kelly snatched up the sheaf of bills sitting on the counter and thrust them under his nose. “Look at these…gas, electricity, telephone. And our grocery bill has skyrocketed since a certain teenage boy joined the household.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Max pushed aside the bills and walked away, leaving his wine untouched. “Congratulations on selling the Harper house,” he said sarcastically from the doorway. “Maybe with your commission we’ll be able to afford to eat for another month.” With that parting shot he stalked down the hall toward his office.
“Flowers and chocolates aren’t the way to a woman’s heart,” Kelly yelled after him.
Max paused in the hall, waiting for her to inform him what was t
he key to her heart. But the next instant he heard the CD player go on and knew he would not receive enlightenment tonight.
“WOMEN!” Max expostulated to Ben and Nick the following week when he found them playing one-on-one at the high school basketball court. They, like him, had come early to practice before the game. “Can’t live with them. Can’t shoot ’em.”
Nick chuckled and passed the ball across the court to him. “Trouble in paradise?”
Max dribbled to the hoop and made the toss. The ball bounced off the backboard and into Ben’s waiting hands.
“Uh-oh,” Ben said, glancing at Nick. “Max never misses a shot. He must be having another bad day.”
“Want to talk about it, buddy?” Nick wiped his damp face with the hem of his T-shirt.
Max threw up his hands. “Chocolates didn’t work. Flowers didn’t work. What do I do now?”
“Sex?” Ben suggested. “Whenever Geena and I spar, a trip to the bedroom usually smoothes over the rough edges.”
“In my experience, you’ve got to soften ’em up first,” Nick countered. “A little cuddling, a few compliments, then before you know it, they’ve forgotten there was even a problem.”
Max shook his head. “The chocolate and flowers were supposed to soften her up, and as for sex, forget it! I’m not even allowed to touch her hair. She says all she wants is for me to apologize, but I know that what she really wants is for me to disown Randall.” He shoved a hand through his hair, leaving it ruffled. “I can’t do that.”
“And you shouldn’t have to, buddy,” Nick said, slapping him on the back.
“Maybe it’s time to stop softening her up and start playing hardball,” Ben said.
Max stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Forget about tackling this logically and start looking at the problem like a woman—emotionally.” Ben tucked the basketball under his arm. “Kelly has to be feeling left out. After all, she’s at Ruth’s and the rest of you, including Randall, are having a great ol’ time in her home. She’s on the outside, looking in.”
“I know,” Max said. “It’s bad.”
“No, it’s good,” said Nick, who apparently saw where Ben was going with this. “You’ve got to use her fear of being left out to bring her back into the fold. Right, Ben?”
“Exactly,” Ben said approvingly. “What you do is, you have a party, a barbecue or something, to introduce the rest of us to Randall. Then when she sees how great it is to be together with the whole family and how everyone takes to the boy, she’ll start to think, ‘Hey, maybe I’m wrong.’”
“I dunno.” Max scratched his head. “Right or wrong, Kelly’s got this thing about having her feelings ‘validated.’ Trouble is, if everything’s about feelings, and all the important stuff is, then she’s always right.”
Nick chuckled. “Face it, buddy, when it comes to rationalizing their way to being right, women have us beat hands down.”
“Still, a party might not be a bad idea,” Max said thoughtfully. “Kelly loves parties. Plus Randall would love to meet everyone—he’s very interested in his roots—and I know you’d all like him.”
“’Course we would,” Ben said. “Just tell us when and we’ll be there.”
“Maybe we should wait until Ruth is up and around,” Max said.
“She’s been off her crutches for over a week,” Ben said, surprise coloring his voice. “Didn’t you know?”
“No.” Max’s mouth set in a grim line. “Kelly is still staying over there nights.”
“Hey, fellas,” Mitchell, a member of the Simcoe team, called as he jogged onto court. “What ya doing standing around? Let’s play.”
“This week we’re going to whup your asses,” Max called jovially. To Nick and Ben he said, “I’ll organize the barbecue for next Sunday. But one thing’s for sure, I’m not going to humiliate myself again. If she wants to come home, she’s going to have to ask me to take her back.”
“THIS WAS A GREAT IDEA, getting everyone together for a barbecue, Kel,” Erin said, returning to the kitchen after putting Erik down for a nap in the living room. “You should have let us bring something, though. You’ve got a lot of mouths to feed.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Kelly was busy threading cubes of marinated chicken onto wooden skewers. She’d been up early making the salads, which sat wrapped in plastic and ready to go on the table. Once she’d finished the chicken she just had to do the hamburger patties…. “The barbecue wasn’t exactly my idea. Max came home from his basketball game last week and informed me he’d arranged the whole thing with Nick and Ben. Not that I mind,” she added. “I’m always glad to get together with my family.”
But she and Max used to plan social occasions together and his going ahead without her only served as another reminder of how far they’d drifted apart. In fact, he’d treated her so much as an outsider she’d had to insist on being allowed to organize the food.
“Well, I for one am glad to finally meet Randall,” Geena said. She had ignored Kelly’s refusal to accept help and was adding fresh strawberries and light rum to the ice and sugar syrup in the blender. “He’s a real sweetheart.”
“He’s very considerate,” Erin agreed.
“And so patient with the twins,” Gran chimed in from the dining table. She’d found the bag of hotdog buns and was busy slicing them.
That was the whole trouble with Randall, Kelly thought irritably; to find fault with him was almost impossible. Even Robyn had made friends with the boy, as the astonishing conversation Kelly had overheard between the pair that morning testified. Which reminded her, she owed Max an apology.
“Don’t bother with the buns, Gran,” Kelly said. “I’ll get them in a minute.”
“Whether it was your idea or not, putting on a barbecue for Randall is a kind gesture,” Gran told her, obstinately continuing to slice. “Whatever your issues with Max, I’m glad to know you’ve tried to make Randall feel welcome.”
Guilt stabbed Kelly, just as she jabbed her thumb with the pointed end of the skewer. She hadn’t been as nice to Randall as she could have been, but while she hated to think she’d made any child feel unwanted, she couldn’t help resenting him. The truth was, today was only worsening matters. Her family had taken to Randall instantly, and Randall, of course, lapped up the attention, causing her to feel more on the outside than ever. Sighing, she skewered the last bit of chicken and washed her hands. Then looked around to see what was left to do.
Geena handed her a frothy pink daiquiri. “Smile, sweetie. Life is too short to worry about the things you can’t change.”
Kelly took a sip and followed her sister’s instructions. She really ought to try to relax more. Oddly enough, smiling did make her feel better. Though she still had to put out the condiments and napkins… “Do you think the guys want a daiquiri?”
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the family room she could see the three men clustered around the barbecue, which Max had positioned next to a picnic table overlooking the river. Her gaze homed in on Max, tall and athletic, fair head thrown back in laughter. Being apart hurt. It hurt so bad.
Her daughters—even Robyn—Randall and Miranda were throwing the Frisbee around on the wide lawn. Billy and Flora ran back and forth, pouncing like bandits on any missed catch.
Erin joined her at the window. “I know Nick is happier with beer.”
“Ben, too—” Geena said, then went quiet, a hand to her ear. “Whose baby is that?”
The four women cocked their heads to listen and the second little one started up. Geena and Erin looked at each other and smiled.
“Well, what did we expect, putting them to nap side by side in the living room?” Erin said.
Geena glanced at her watch. “Sonja’s going to need a feed.”
“Erik, too,” Erin said. “That boy is always hungry.”
Somewhat wistfully, Kelly watched her sisters go off to attend to their offspring. It would have been fun to be caring for a baby when her
sisters were caring for theirs.
Gran put the last cut roll on the stack. “Anything else need doing?”
Kelly set mustard and ketchup on the table where plates and cutlery were laid out buffet-style. Salads, rolls, chips. The meat was ready to go on the coals…. “No, looks like we’re done for now. Go on outside and enjoy the sunshine.”
“I will.” Gran rose from her chair with the help of her cane. “Why don’t you join me. You need to get out of the kitchen.”
“I’ll just tidy up a bit and be right out.” Kelly whisked away one of the twins’ ride-on toys as Gran negotiated her way around the table. “Do you want me to carry your drink?”
“I can manage.” Gran demonstrated by hanging her cane on the back of a chair and walking through the open sliding doors onto the patio under her own steam.
Max, who was just coming in, waited for her to go through. He watched her progress to the group of lawn chairs set up for the adults, then turned to Kelly. “She gets around pretty good for a crippled woman.”
“She’s much better,” Kelly admitted. As usual, she was full of conflicting emotions where Max was concerned: irritation rising from his constant needling, guilt because she knew he was right and frustration for their inability to restore physical and emotional closeness. She was about to tell him that in spite of Gran’s recovery she still wasn’t ready to come home, when her resistance crumbled and all she wanted was to connect. Touching his arm, she said, “Everybody really likes Randall.”
Max’s face brightened to a degree she hadn’t seen in years, possibly not since the twins were born. “He’s really enjoying having so much family.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t invite your parents,” she said, both loving and hating him for his paternal devotion. “Surely Randall would have liked to meet his grandparents.”
“I did.” Max said shortly. “They wouldn’t come.”
