Arriving at the Emerys’ house, she rang the doorbell, then heard voices and running footsteps. The door opened and Ginny stood, shyly smiling.
Mark was not far behind.
“Hi, come in. We’re getting things lined up. Mrs. Aguilar left us all sorts of instructions.”
“She always does on Daddy’s night in the kitchen!” chirped Ginny, then clapped her hand to her mouth, “Whoops, sorry!”
“Rumors.” Mark grinned. “Here, let me take your jacket.”
Coryn had changed into a plum colored tunic sweater and matching pants. She had tied her hair back with a velvet ribbon and wore silver and turquoise earrings. Mark’s gaze moved over her appreciatively.
The first time Coryn had been here, the day she had come bringing Ginny’s eye patch covers, Mrs. Aguilar had taken her right to the back of the house. Later, they had sat in the kitchen. She had not really seen the rest of the house.
From the center hall, Coryn saw two rooms. One was the living room, the other, from the glimpse she got through half-open glass doors, had probably originally been the dining room. It looked as though it had been turned into an office with a desk, computer and bookcases. It probably served as his study when Mark worked at home, she realized.
“Come in. I got a fire going, should take the chill off,” Mark said. “Would you like something to drink? Soda, coffee? I’ve some apple cider simmering.”
“That sounds good.”
Mark rubbed his hands together. He seemed a little nervous. Ginny had told her that they didn’t have company often. Did that include Mark entertaining ladies?
“Fine. Make yourself comfortable. Ginny, you want to help me?”
Ginny trotted off to the back of the house alongside him.
Coryn walked over to the fireplace, held out her hands to its glowing warmth, turned back, studied Mark’s home.
On one side of the fireplace was a worn leather armchair and reading lamp. In front was a sofa, beside it a smaller armchair with matching, rather faded chintz covers. On both sides of the hearth were built-in bookcases crammed with books. There were lots of children’s books on the lower shelves, easily accessible for Ginny.
Mark’s domain was in sharp contrast to Jason’s condo. Coryn remembered the first time she saw Jason’s apartment. The address was a good one with an expensive view. The huge living room had glass doors leading out to a balcony overlooking the pool. Modern prints hung on the stark white walls. Furniture consisted of a contoured white sofa and a blackleather Eames chair. In front of the couch was a coffee table with a free-form glass top on which were neatly piled copies of GQ and Fortune. There was a gleaming black entertainment center with a twentyfour-inch television and CD cabinet. An exercise machine stood in one corner.
In Jason’s black-and-white tile kitchen, the size of a boat galley, there was a chrome microwave and an automatic coffeemaker. It had struck her at the time that although he had lived there two years, the place looked like a high-priced motel room. As though Jason was just passing through, on the way to somewhere, on the way up. As it turned out, on the way out, out of her life.
The rattle of cups and spoons on a tray signaled Ginny’s return. Holding the tray with both hands, Ginny approached with careful steps. Mark followed with a steaming server of apple cider.
Ginny put the tray down on the low coffee table, then stepped back, looked at Mark.
“That smells delicious,” Coryn said.
“There are cinnamon sticks in each mug,” Ginny told her, pointing. “You stir them and they kind of melt into the cider. It tastes yummy.”
After they finished the cider, Ginny asked, “Would you like to see my room, Coryn?”
Over Ginny’s head Coryn met Mark’s gaze. He gave an imperceptible nod and smiled.
“While you ladies take an inspection tour, I’ll get the charcoal started.”
Ginny was small and wiry. She had lost her baby fat and would soon be all arms and skinny legs. Her hair was short, cut with bangs. If it had a tendency to curl, Coryn couldn’t tell. Perhaps this style had been decided upon because it was quick and easy, needed no dexterity for French braiding or some other kind of hairstyle a little girl might like.
“Mrs. Aguilar made the curtains,” Ginny said, skipping over to the high windows. “They match the dust ruffle on my bed, see?”
Coryn admired them, then Ginny pointed out her small old-fashioned school desk. “We found it in a junk shop. Well, not really junk, sort of an antique shop.” She put her head to one side and grinned impishly. “Daddy hates them but Mrs. Aguilar says, ‘You just never know what you might find there.’ And we found this.”
There was a low bookshelf with books and games and a floor lamp beside a small rocking chair. Then Coryn saw the dollhouse. It was empty. No furniture, no little doll occupants.
“Is this new? Something you’re working on?” she asked.
Ginny shook her head. “It’s a kit. My gramma sent it for Daddy to put together. We were going to finish it—but we sort of…” She gave a little shrug. “A dollhouse family needs a daddy and a mommy.” It wasn’t said sadly, just matter-of-factly. But the little girl’s words made Coryn wince.
She thought of the elaborate dollhouse she had received the Christmas she was ten. Now she realized what a project it must have been for her parents. Especially her mother. The hours that had gone into the furnishing, the wallpaper, tiny curtains, coverlets for the beds. She also remembered the wonderful small china family that had come to live there, with a lace-capped grandmother and tweed-coated grandpa, even a small framed sampler cross-stitched “Home Sweet Home” that hung in the parlor.
Every little girl should have a dollhouse family. Coryn would have to ask Mark if she could give hers to Ginny.
“I guess we better go back. Daddy’ll be wondering what’s keeping us,” Ginny said.
The evening passed with incredible speed and it was Ginny’s bedtime before anyone realized. With one minor protest met with Mark’s firm, “School tomorrow, honey, I’ll be up in a few minutes, to hear your prayers and tuck you in.”
Ginny made a reluctant start then asked, “You’ll come again, won’t you, Coryn?”
“Thank you, Ginny, I’d love to.”
“We want her to, don’t we, Daddy?” Ginny glanced at Mark.
“Sure thing,” Mark answered. Ginny lingered a moment longer until Mark said with a grin, “Quit stalling, young lady.”
“I’m not, Daddy, I just—” she hesitated. “Is it okay if I give Coryn a hug?”
“Of course you can!” Coryn said feeling a rush of pleasure, and holding out her arms. Ginny ran across the room and into them. Her body felt small and warm and incredibly dear against Coryn as she held her for a minute.
Ginny wiggled loose then said, “’Night, Coryn.”
“’Night, honey,” Coryn replied, her voice suddenly husky.
“Now, scoot,” Mark said and with a mischievous grin Ginny skipped out of the room calling over her shoulder, “I’ll call you when I’m ready, Daddy.”
The two adults looked at each other and laughed softly. “She’s a darling, Mark. You’ve done a great job bringing her up.”
A shadow passed over his face before he answered.
“I’ve tried It’s a big job. Mrs. Aguilar has been a tremendous help. I couldn’t have done it without her.”
Ginny’s piping little voice called, “I’m ready, Daddy.”
“Okay, hon. Coming.” Mark unfolded himself from the deep chair. “Will you excuse me, Coryn? This may take a while. I don’t like rushing bedtime. It’s important to make a child feel safe, secure at nighttime.”
“Of course,” Coryn answered, thinking what a good father Mark was, patient, sensitive, understanding. She could see how hard he tried to make up for the loss of Ginny’s mother.
After Mark left, Coryn got up. She wanted a closer look at some of the photographs she’d seen along the top bookshelf. There were lots of them. Pictures that could be captioned Happy Family.
Coryn picked up one of a gamine-faced young woman with wide dark eyes, a smiling mouth, short dark hair. Shari. There were pictures of her with Mark on a tennis court, each holding rackets, some photos of them sitting in beach chairs, palm trees in the background. Mexico? Hawaii? Honeymoon? Then Ginny began to appear in the shots, as a baby, a toddler. The photographs all seemed to stop when Ginny was about three.
On the lower shelf there was a picture of Shari against a snowy background, in ski togs, dark glasses pushed up on her head, smiling. Was that the weekend it had happened? The terrible accident Mark had told her about. Knowing the story, it broke Coryn’s heart to look at the pictures. Why did Mark keep them on display? Coryn decided he probably wanted to keep Shari fresh in Ginny’s memory, remind her that she had had a loving mother, that they had been a family.
When Mark came back after putting Ginny to bed, she asked, “All settled?”
“Yes. The last drink of water, the last hug, all settled.” He grinned and sat down on the sofa beside her.
“She’s a treasure, Mark.”
“Yep, a great kid.” He nodded. “By the way, I’ve made a decision. And you’re responsible.”
Coryn looked surprised. “Me? How?”
“I’ve decided to let Ginny have a pet. A kitten is what she wants.”
“I really think it will be good for her, Mark.”
“Will you go with us, help us pick one out?”
“Sure. I’d love to. The animal shelter always has dozens of kittens available. They have their shots and everything. They’re ready to take home.”
“If I regret this, I’ll know who to blame,” he teased. “Ginny’s not above using you to nag me, you know. ‘Coryn had a dog when she was a little girl.’“ Mark imitated Ginny’s childish tone.
Coryn laughed. “I don’t think you’ll regret it, Mark. Making a child happy has to be the best possible thing to do.”
“Yes, that’s true,” he agreed.
“You’ve done a great job, Mark. Ginny’s a wonderful little girl,” Coryn added.
“Thanks. She had a good start. Shari was a superby mother. I also have to give Mrs. Aguilar lots of credit. Ginny’s like one of her own grandchildren to her.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Mark. Girls have a special relationship with their fathers. I know. And Ginny absolutely adores you.”
Mark put another log on the fire, then came to sit beside Coryn on the sofa. He didn’t say anything for a minute, then sighed and said, “It still doesn’t make up for not having a mother.”
“Of course not, but—” Coryn started to suggest that maybe some day there would be someone else, not to take Shari’s place, but to make up for that loss by creating another place in Ginny’s life, an important but different place. But she stopped herself from saying that. It would seem too intrusive, too selfasserting. Besides, she asked herself, would I be ready to take all this on even if Mark was thinking of me?
Another silence fell between them. The flames of the new log flared brightly and the wood crackled as it burned. There was a certain intimacy simply sitting together in the firelight. Coryn was very conscious of Mark’s nearness. A kind of inner tremor shot through her, an inner knowing. Mark was a man she could trust, someone she could fall in love with. That sudden conviction made her nervous and she shifted her position, moving a little away from him. At almost the same time, his arm went around her shoulder. Then he kissed her. There had been no anticipation that it would happen and yet no hesitation. It seemed as natural as breathing. It was a good kiss, a satisfying kiss without being demanding. A kiss that held a promise she found exciting.
Suddenly the bell chime of the marine clock in the hallway struck ten. Was it sounding a warning for her heart? She sat up, moving out of the circle of Mark’s arm, “Time for me to go.”
As he helped her on with her coat, she said, “It’s been a wonderful day, Mark.”
“There’ll be others I hope, Coryn,” he said in a low voice.
He turned her around and drew her close and kissed her again. The kiss was slow, very sweet. When it ended, she stepped back and they looked at each other smiling. As if acknowledging there would be other kisses just as there would be other times.
He walked her out to her car, opened the door so she could slide in the driver’s seat.
Although she had not planned to, she put her arm around his neck, drew his head forward and very deliberately kissed him on the mouth. “Today was very special, Mark.”
Driving home through the dark streets Coryn felt happy. It had been such a fantastic evening, so right, so natural to be with Mark and Ginny. As if somehow it was something they’d done before and might go on doing.
Cooking supper together had been fun. Ginny had made the hamburger patties, shaping the meat into flat circles with little hands, for Mark to grill. They all had made the salad, laughing as they took turns adding cut up carrots, celery, bits of broccoli to the bowl of torn lettuce, making jokes about a “tossed salad.” It was a joy to hear Ginny laugh, to see the tender amusement in Mark’s eyes observing her.
It had felt so cozy, like a family. Maybe that was dangerous thinking. After her experiences of dating in L.A. Coryn had almost given up on the idea that men of character and commitment were still around. A man like Mark Emery would be easy to fall in love with. What she wasn’t ready for was to be hurt again. But then love sometimes just happened.
At the memory of Mark’s kiss Coryn smiled as she turned into the driveway. Ready or not, maybe she had already fallen in love with Mark Emery.
Mark stood on the sidewalk watching Coryn’s car make a boulevard stop, the taillight blinking as she made the turn, then he walked slowly back into the house.
He made himself a cup of coffee and brought it into the living room. He felt somewhat uneasy.
Today had been really wonderful. He’d felt happier than he had for a long time. Although he was undeniably attracted to Coryn Dodge, he wondered if getting seriously involved with anyone was the right thing to do. Sometimes he thought it would be best if he didn’t get into a serious relationship with anyone until Ginny was older. Grown up even. Ginny had lost her mother and sometimes seeing her longing for that special presence in her life made his heart ache. But other times he thought it was best if some other woman didn’t try to fill that empty place.
Yet he felt a deep-seated loneliness. The need, the longing, to share his life with someone was strong. But was Coryn Dodge the one? Was he getting in too deep, too fast with Coryn? He didn’t want to make a mistake. It was too important a step. Maybe, he’d better slow down, be cautious.