Summer Breeze

by Catherine Palmer

  For the first few days of her mother-in-law’s visit, Kim had accommodated the changes. She told herself that Miranda was essentially a kind woman. Nothing would have to be modified all that much.

  Though able to ignore the dominating presence for a short while, Kim soon found her patience tested. When she wanted to scream in frustration, she made up her mind to be polite. Her waning goodwill lasted four or five days longer. By the end of the second week, she was downright angry.

  Now poised to cut her mother-in-law out of the phone conversation, Kim heard the voice on the other end of the line speak up.

  “Oh, is this Miranda Finley?” Kim recognized Brenda Hansen’s sweet tone at once. “For a moment I thought you might be Lydia.”

  “Lydia? Gracious, that would be odd, wouldn’t it? We’re not even related.”

  Kim flinched. Derek loved the twins like a father, and Kim had prayed that his own mother would see them as her grandchildren. But Miranda kept the lines clearly drawn between herself and the twins.

  “I was hoping to speak to Kim for a minute,” Brenda told Miranda over the phone. “Something has come up, and I’d like her advice.”

  “Oh, dear, I’m all the way down the hall in my room, and Kim is in the kitchen,” Miranda said. “She’s baking potatoes for dinner, though why, I surely don’t know. We’ve had enough carbohydrates today to sink a ship. She started us out this morning with French toast. Then she fed us sandwiches and chips for lunch. Now it’s baked potatoes, and I think I even saw her getting out a box of rice. Can you imagine? I’m afraid I’ll outgrow my clothes in no time if she keeps this up.”

  “I’ve always thought Kim was a great cook,” Brenda said.

  “I’m right here,” Kim spoke up. “I heard the phone ring. It’s okay, Miranda; I’ll take the call now.”

  “Well, I did have something to ask Brenda, if you don’t mind, Kim. She has such a way with decor, and I’ve been eyeing the lace curtains in the living room. I don’t mean to be critical, of course, but with the twill sofa and the two leather chairs, I’m wondering if lace is the right texture for the windows. I was thinking maybe a simple sheer fabric would be better in there. You could pick one of the colors from the sofa. Say that soft yellow, for example. Or the muted green. What do you think, Brenda?”

  There was a momentary pause. “I … uh, I can’t really picture the curtains in my mind right at the moment, Miranda.”

  “They’re sort of a thick lace with roses strewn everywhere. Very feminine. Now I don’t want to sound the least bit disapproving of Kim’s decisions about this lovely home, but I just have a feeling the curtains don’t work well with the leather.”

  By this time, Kim had wandered into the living room and was studying the beautiful lace curtains she’d found several years ago in an antique shop. The tag said they’d been made in Brussels, and Kim was delighted to discover that they fit her windows perfectly. What was wrong with leather, twill, and lace? To her, they made a perfect combination.

  “I’ll come over and take a look sometime,” Brenda told Miranda.

  “Why not now?” Miranda suggested. “Kim’s potatoes will take an hour at least, and we’re not doing a thing. Come by and see what you think. Then you and Kim can discuss whatever was on your mind.”

  Kim could think of about fifty things she needed to be doing, but she decided to echo her mother-in-law’s invitation. “Miranda’s right,” she told her friend. “I’d love to see you if you have a minute, Brenda.”

  “Well, I’ve got Cody here with me at the house. But I guess we could come over for a little while before Steve gets home. He and I are taking one of his clients to the country club for dinner at seven. Cody’s spending the night with Esther and Charlie Moore.”

  Before Kim could utter another word, Miranda had said good-bye and hung up. Replacing the receiver, Kim watched as her mother-in-law came sashaying down the hall in her spotless white slacks, matching leather belt, and pink-striped tank top.

  Miranda clapped her hands when she spotted Kim. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited Brenda over, though I wish she didn’t have to bring that young man. He strikes me as odd. But she’s so sweet, and more my age than yours anyway. I really enjoy Brenda. In fact, I think one day we might be good friends. She knows how it feels to lose your loved ones and be left alone day after day.”

  “Brenda stays busy,” Kim inserted. “There was a time when she felt a little adrift. But she teaches Cody, and she helps Steve manage their rentals in Tranquility. I think she’s even been doing some decorating in the homes he has up for sale.”

  “Now isn’t that wonderful?” Miranda had lifted one of the lace curtains, and she began examining it. “What are these flowers anyway? Roses or peonies? Well, Brenda will know exactly what to do about the windows. Lace is such a feminine fabric, and you’ve got all this masculine twill and leather in here, Kim. Not to mention the wood floors and coffee table. Don’t you think lace is a little jarring to the eye?”

  No, Kim wanted to retort. I love my lace curtains. But the doorbell was ringing, and it would be Brenda. Kim asked her mother-in-law to let in their visitors, and then she returned to the kitchen to finish up the potatoes.

  So what if the Finleys ate carbohydrates now and then? They had fresh fruits and vegetables, meats, and dairy products, too. Kim fumed as she pushed the tray of foil-wrapped potatoes into the hot oven beside the large, onion-coated slab of beef that had already been roasting for several hours. She always checked to make sure Luke carefully counted his carbohydrates. Often they worked together to save up carbs so he could join the rest of the family in treats like an ice cream sundae or a slice of cake. What right did Miranda Finley have to come into her home and criticize the way she cooked? And how dare she disapprove of her beautiful European curtains?

  “Hey, Kim! Do you have any chocolate cake in your kitchen?” Cody stood in the doorway, hands pushed down into the front pockets of his blue jeans. “I like chocolate cake, and Esther doesn’t make it because of Charlie’s diabetes. I’m sleeping at Esther and Charlie’s house tonight, and they won’t have any chocolate cake. Do you?”

  “No, I don’t, Cody,” Kim told him. The sight of the earnest young man took her frustration level down several notches. “I’m sorry. I’ve got chocolate-chip cookies, though.”

  “Those are not my favorite.”

  “How about if I invite you over the next time I make chocolate cake?”

  Cody grinned. “Okay.”

  “You know, I had forgotten that Charlie has diabetes,” Kim said as she checked the pot of green beans on the stove. “So does my Luke.”

  “I know your Luke. He’s a twin to Lydia. That means they popped out of you at the same time.”

  “Actually, Luke came first and then Lydia arrived about five minutes later. And believe me, Cody, neither one of them popped out.”

  “Pete Roberts told me that babies pop out of their mothers, and everyone has a mother, even me, because I have a belly button.”

  Kim blinked for a moment, trying to process the information. “I suppose Pete is right. I’m the mother of Luke and Lydia, and they both have belly buttons.”

  Cody’s eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched up as if he were about to cry. “I don’t know what happened to my mother. My daddy wrote in a letter that she was dead, but I want to know why. What happened to her? What if she died from getting drunk and wrapped in fishing line like that woman in the lake?”

  “Now, Cody,” Brenda said in a warning tone as she stepped into the kitchen and put her arm around the young man. “We’ve been over this too many times for you to keep repeating it. Your mother died a long time ago. We don’t know exactly what happened, but the woman who drowned in the lake was not your mother.”

  “But she might be,” he said mournfully, “because nobody knows who the drowned lady was. And I don’t know who my mother was. So maybe they’re the same person.”

  “Oh, Cody.” Brenda sighed and glanced at Kim as i
f seeking assistance. “He doesn’t seem to understand the passage of time the way we do. Evidently Pete Roberts mentioned to Cody that everyone has a mother, so now we’ve got this huge issue to deal with.”

  Kim set the pot holders on the counter. “Cody, did your daddy tell you anything at all about your mother? Ever?”

  He shook his head. “He just said when men disappear, no one comes looking.”

  “Well, I’m sure your father thought he was telling you the truth, but I’m afraid he was wrong. Derek looks for missing men quite often.”

  “Derek is Officer Finley,” Cody stated. “He found the drowned lady.”

  “Sometimes people do get lost, Cody,” Kim said gently. “And then the police, the Highway Patrol, the Water Patrol, and lots of others start looking for them. Men and women get lost. Children too. People search for the lost ones until they’re found.”

  “But does anyone ever get lost and then nobody goes looking for them?”

  “Once in a while. No one has mentioned missing a woman near the lake, for example. So that’s why this particular drowning case has been in the newspaper a lot.”

  “I am missing a woman,” he said firmly. “I am missing a mother.”

  “But you have Brenda. And what about Esther and Patsy? Those women look after you and love you just like a mother would. You have me, too, Cody. I care about you very much. So do Ashley Hanes and Opal and all the members of the TLC.”

  “But you’re not my mother. None of those ladies is my mother. Everyone here has a real, true family. Everyone but me. What if I have a sister? Or maybe a brother? Or an aunt or uncle?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe someone at some point could help search to find out if you have any relatives.”

  “Which someone at which point?”

  “I could do it,” Miranda offered. She had been leaning against the kitchen doorway, one of the living room’s lace curtains in her arms. “I traced my husband’s genealogy all the way back to Ireland in the 16 00s. And I’ve followed my own family to the Civil War. It gets rather complicated there, but I’m not giving up. I’m actually quite good at finding people’s relatives.”

  Kim and Brenda both turned to Miranda and stared at her. Hardly knowing how to respond, Kim watched in astonishment as Cody threw his arms around Miranda.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know who you are yet, but you must be a Christian, because only a Christian would help somebody find their relatives.”

  Miranda stiffened and carefully detached Cody from her neck. “I am not a Christian,” she told him. “I believe that many paths lead to God—Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, even paganism. I’m proud to say that I’ve looked into just about every world religion that is now practiced or ever existed in the past, and I’m convinced there can be any number of roads toward divinity.”

  Cody looked at Brenda, his eyes blinking in wonderment. “Did you hear that? She’s not a Christian. What’s her name?”

  “My name is Miranda Finley,” the woman herself answered. “I’m Officer Derek Finley’s mother. We met the day I arrived—by the lake.”

  Gaping, Cody eyed her in silence for a moment. “Only a Christian would give you chocolate cake,” he murmured.

  “That’s not true, young man. There are plenty of good, caring people in the world, and not all of them are Christians. I would give you chocolate cake.”

  “Right now?” he asked, brightening.

  “No. But if I made some cake, I would share it with you. I’m a very nice person, and I’m not a Christian. I’m not even particularly fond of Christians, truth be told. They’re pushy.”

  Miranda’s eyes focused on Kim for an instant; then she trained them on Cody again. “Now then, you need to be quiet while Brenda, Kim, and I chat.”

  “But what about my relatives?”

  “I’ll start looking for them on Monday morning. Meanwhile, stand aside, Cody.” She stepped between him and the other two women and held up the Belgian lace curtain. “What do you think of this, Brenda? Isn’t it a little too flowery to go well with leather and twill?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Derek couldn’t believe his good fortune at finding Kim awake in bed when he got off work after a twelve-hour shift that Saturday. The twins had been asleep for a while, he knew, and evidently his mother had shut herself into the guest bedroom for the night. This was definitely a positive sign, and he planned to make the most of it. Derek had been out on the lake all day, spending some of it snacking on a bag of nacho cheese–flavored tortilla chips. He would need to take a quick shower and brush his teeth before giving his wife the kind of kiss her eyes were begging from him.

  “You look like heaven itself,” he told Kim, his voice low as he unbuttoned his shirt. She was wearing one of his favorite nightgowns, a blue scrap that was slinky and silken. “I must have seen a couple dozen half-naked girls in Anderson Hollow today, and not a one of them could hold a candle to you.”

  “Though I’m sure you didn’t spend much time comparing, right?”

  “Right,” he said with a grin. “Of course not.”

  Like most of the other officers on the water, Derek was careful about what he looked at in Party Cove. If he spotted some young gal exposing herself, he turned his head quickly. Focusing on contacting the dispatcher and navigating through clusters of swimmers on his way to intercept the woman’s boat, he kept his attention in the right place.

  A Water Patrolman’s hours were long, the sun hot, and the temptation great. Of Derek’s entire graduating class, only three officers remained on duty. The job—like most in law enforcement—took a toll on marriages and other relationships. Before committing himself to a wife and children, Derek had made very sure he knew how to handle his assignment and not get into trouble. With a woman like Kim waiting for him at the end of each shift, he didn’t have much to worry about.

  “I was thankful for my canopy today,” he told her. “The sun was blistering. I hope you and the twins stayed inside.”

  “Most of the time. The three of us drove over to Just As I Am for a cup of tea at about four this afternoon. Luke wanted to go as badly as Lydia.”

  “Three of you? Didn’t my mom tag along?”

  “She elected to stay home and wax her legs. Evidently she can’t find anyone down here who does it as well as her salon in St. Louis.”

  Derek made a face. “Wax her legs?”

  “Whatever floats your boat.”

  He shook off the thought and focused on his wife again. “Oh, babe, I can’t wait to hold you in my arms. Can you give me five minutes to shower and wash off the day?”

  Kim shrugged as she gazed at him. Just the sight of her dark, liquid eyes and bare shoulders sent currents through Derek’s stomach.

  “Actually, I stayed up because I was hoping we could talk,” she said. “There are some things going on that I want to tell you about. I need your opinion.”

  “Talk?” He froze, his belt halfway out of its loops. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Listen, Derek, I know what’s on your mind, but I’m exhausted tonight. I’ve spent the whole day on the house, trying to put things back in order after working all week. I must have done fifteen loads of laundry. I made French toast for everyone for breakfast, and then I fixed ham-and-cheese sandwiches for lunch. And then I put in a pot roast and I thought I would bake … bake some … potatoes…”

  “Kim? Are you crying?” He couldn’t believe this. He had walked into the bedroom to find his wife looking like a seductress. Setting all his hopes on kissing her sweet lips, he discovered she only wanted to talk about her day … it wasn’t possible. Laundry and French toast?

  “I’m not crying,” she said, sniffling and wiping a finger beneath one eye. “I’m fine. It’s just that you know I do everything I can to show you and the kids that I love you. I never ask anything of you except to watch the twins when you can. I do all the cleaning, the cooking, and the washing, plus I hold down
a full-time job. I’m happy to do it. But then I find out I’ve hung the wrong curtains in the living room.”

  “Curtains? Wait a minute… What?” Derek had a bad feeling his wife was upset that he didn’t help around the house more. He had been steeling himself to apologize when her train of conversation took a sudden twist, like that last unexpected loop on a roller coaster ride.

  Curtains. Derek tried to remember the living room drapes. How could curtains matter after a long, tiring day? What they both needed was to hold each other and ease their stress with some welcome loving.

  “I don’t know about curtains, baby,” he said, stepping toward her and gathering her in his arms. “All I know is that you look delicious in that little blue thing. I could just eat you up.”

  Usually Kim slipped her hands around him and began drawing circles on his bare back. This time she laid her head on his shoulder and let out a deep sigh.

  “The curtains are lace,” she murmured. “From Belgium. I think they’re wonderful, but even Brenda Hansen said they might look better in the dining room. Can you believe that?”

  Derek made a valiant attempt to concentrate on his wife’s words instead of on the warm, pliant figure pressed against him. He mumbled in her ear, “So, what was Brenda Hansen doing here?”

  “Your mother asked her to come!” With that, Kim pushed on his chest until he plopped down on the edge of the bed. She began pacing. “Your mother said she thought our house needed Brenda’s decorating expertise. Brenda Hansen is a good friend, but it’s not like she knows everything there is about home decor. She doesn’t have a degree in interior design. I don’t think she even went to college. But everyone around here considers her the expert.”