“Theron, please!” Kathleen shouted, and dodged the thrashing legs that threatened to shower her again with the clear water of the swimming pool. Theron shrieked with delight and renewed his efforts to drench his mother.
“You’re a pest. Do you know that?” she teased, and grabbed his chubby body around the waist, lowering her head and nuzzling his neck while he strove to escape this show of affection. At seventeen months old, he was already developing an aversion to maternal protection and asserting his newfound independence. Only when he ran into trouble of some sort did he come to Kathleen seeking solace.
He was active, curious and headstrong, determined to have his way against all odds. On the days Kathleen was home, she spent nearly every minute in his company, basking in a glow of pride and love.
When Theron was born, Seth wanted her to quit working. He saw how time- and energy-consuming being a mother was. But Kathleen had been adamant.
“Before I was your wife, I was your employee. You hired me to do a very difficult job. Until I feel like I’ve accomplished what you outlined for me to do, I’ll continue working at least three days a week. With the new store in Stonetown and the boutique in Ghirardelli’s now open, you need me more than ever.”
He acquiesced, but only if she would accept her current salary. Each week, she endorsed a paycheck and deposited it into a savings account. Seth wouldn’t let her spend any of that money, but gave her a sizable “household account.”
She had hired an assistant to help her, but was never far from the telephone when not actually in the stores or at her office.
Her assistant was a young man named Eliot Pate. He knew the retail clothing business inside out, had a flair for style and an uncanny instinct about what merchandise would sell quickly. They had recognized each other’s talent, and an immediate friendship had sprung up between them.
She accepted his alternate lifestyle. He overlooked her flagrant femininity, and she overlooked his occasional bitchiness. When she was off, spending her days with Theron, she knew that Eliot had things well under control.
Today was one such day. She and Theron were languishing away the late afternoon hours in the Kirchoffs’ pool. Kathleen never thought of this estate in Woodlawn as her house. It was too large, too ostentatious, and Hazel never passed up an opportunity to let Kathleen know who was mistress of it.
When Seth had first brought her here as his bride, Kathleen was intimidated by the apparent show of wealth, but gradually she had become accustomed to it, which was strange considering where and how she had grown up.
The traditional house was fashioned after those found in the English countryside. The lawn surrounded it in a broad expanse of green, perfectly clipped and trimmed. The interior was decorated with the most meticulous attention to detail. But to Kathleen, the rooms looked like settings in a magazine instead of where people actually lived. Hazel’s personality was reflected in everything, and for that reason alone, Kathleen had never felt that she belonged here.
Her favorite rooms were those occupied by herself and Theron. Seth had generously offered to let her redecorate them to her own taste. She rid the rooms of the somber, cold, formal decor that Hazel had installed, and put in its place her choice of furnishings, which were lighter, brighter and much more conducive to everyday living.
Downstairs, what had once been a library had been converted into a den for Seth, which connected to a solarium that had become his specialized bedroom. Seth’s den was cheerful and pleasant, and they often sat in it in the evenings, talking over the stores’ progress and Theron’s precociousness.
Now, as she bounced her child in the water, she marveled again at how well things had turned out. When she had married Seth almost two years ago, she’d had no reason to expect that she could be this… content. The word happy had almost formed in her mind, but that really couldn’t describe her. Yet she felt a deep sense of satisfaction with what she had made of her life, when at one point it had seemed so hopeless.
Her relationship with the Harrisons had been restored. She had heard from them soon after letting them know of her marriage. Their congratulations were reserved.
But when she notified them of Theron’s birth, she was deluged with presents and advice on parenting. Since then, they corresponded often and telephoned periodically, on birthdays and such. If that closeness they had once shared had cooled since that pivotal summer, Kathleen was at least glad that the lines of communication remained open.
She shared their happiness over Jaimie’s adoption. When they told her about it, she felt only a momentary pang of jealousy for the family who had taken the boy into their lives. She often thought about the child who had touched her heart that summer.
With Seth’s full endorsement, she continued as an absentee board member for Mountain View, making anonymous and sizable contributions to it. The checks were always drawn on an account Seth had in a New York bank and signed by his attorney. One, Kathleen specified, was to be used to build some tennis courts. For years, the Harrisons had wanted to add that sport to the summer curriculum. Kathleen tried to convince herself that her donations weren’t made as recompense for the dreadful way she had treated the couple who had loved her so much.
Seth knew of the Harrisons, but not the extent of Kathleen’s former relationship with them. She had never told him that she had been at Mountain View only weeks before coming to San Francisco. That subject was better avoided.
The stability and peace of mind she was feeling this afternoon had been hard to come by.
“Do you want to go under?” she asked Theron. “Huh? Hold your breath.” She sucked in her breath with an exaggerated motion, and then quickly pulled the small, sturdy body under the surface, only to bring it up again. Theron blinked his blue eyes and gasped for air, then crowed with laughter. He began bucking, indicating that he wanted to do it again.
Laughing, Kathleen said, “Hold your breath. Ready? Here we go.” She dunked him again, and this time there was no delayed reaction. When he came up, he was already slapping his hands on the surface of the water.
His laughter and her own hoots of praise for his brave accomplishment prevented her from hearing Seth’s van as it pulled into the driveway. Nor did she hear the sound of the hydraulic system lowering his chair to the ground, or the muffled voices as they came around the flagstone path toward the swimming pool.
“Kathleen! What’s going on? We could hear you all the way on the front drive.” Seth’s voice, as usual, was warm with happiness. Keeping her full attention on her wet, wiggling son, she called over her shoulder, “Come see what Theron can do. He’s very proud of himself.”
“You be careful with that boy, Kathleen,” George said from behind her. “He’s getting almost too big for you to handle.”
“He is at that,” she agreed. Theron was now even more excited with his ardent audience, and waved his chubby arms at them before Kathleen told him again to hold his breath and dunked him under.
Everyone applauded when he broke the surface and smiled, revealing almost a full set of shiny white baby teeth. “That’s enough for now,” Kathleen said, laughing. “I’m pooped!” She lifted Theron out of the pool onto the redwood deck and he toddled toward Seth. George leaned down and picked up the little boy, swatted him affectionately on the rump and sat him in Seth’s lap, disregarding the fact that his diaper was dripping wet.
Only when Kathleen turned around and walked up the mosaic tile steps out of the pool did she notice the other man standing quietly behind Seth’s chair. There was something vaguely—
My God!
“Kathleen, I’ve committed the cardinal sin usually attributed to inconsiderate husbands and brought someone home for dinner without giving you notice.”
Kathleen’s heart was pounding so loudly that she could barely hear Seth’s words as Erik stepped from behind the wheelchair. “This is Erik Gudjonsen. Erik, my wife, Kathleen.”
Her heart seemed to swell and then burst, showering the universe with infinitesimal fragments of herself. And as it did, her world disappeared and was replaced by a smaller one comprised only of her and the man in front of her. Standing so close. Close enough to see, to hear, to smell, to… touch.
No, she mustn’t touch him. If she did, she would die of the pleasure and the pain. But the decision was taken from her as Erik extended his hand. She watched that hand as it closed the distance between them. And then, almost in wonder at this miracle, she reached out and grasped it with her own, closing her fingers around it as though to verify that this was no dream, but actuality.
The gentle squeeze she received in return made it abundantly clear that he was real. Her eyes lifted from the studied attention she gave their clasping hands to his chest, over the firm, strong chin, past the sensuous mouth under that mustache which, even now, she fantasized about, along the slender, aristocratic nose, to his eyes, which bored into her.
There the exultant celebration in her breast was squelched. His eyes resembled pieces of blue ice, hard and unyielding beneath the shaggy, sun-bleached brows. Lying deep in their depths was a terrifying hostility.
“Mrs. Kirchoff,” he finally said in acknowledgment of Seth’s introduction. The world came back, righted itself and demanded that she behave according to custom.
“Mr. Gudjonsen.” Her voice sounded foreign to her ears, and she only hoped that no one else noticed. His voice was poignantly familiar—deep, husky, befitting his size.
Then Seth was speaking excitedly. “Kathleen, Erik and I have been corresponding for the last several months. We’re working on a project for the stores. I’ve wanted to keep it as a surprise for you. Now that Erik’s here, we’ll go over all the details after dinner.”
Her smile was stiff, contrived, and she felt dizzy and nauseated, fearful that she might disgrace herself by throwing up at any moment. After the initial astonishment of seeing Erik here in her own backyard, feminine vanity had set in. She was all too aware of the wet hair that clung to her shoulders. She hadn’t put on any makeup all day and was dripping wet, her apple-green maillot suit clinging to her shivering body.
“I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been planning, Seth. If you’ll excuse me now, I’m going to take Theron inside and clean him up before Alice gives him his dinner. I’ll meet you on the patio in an hour for cocktails.”
“Okay, but bring Theron back. I want Erik to see him when he’s more presentable.”
“He seems like quite a live wire,” Erik commented as he looked down at Theron for the first time.
“Yes, he is,” Seth said proudly. “You ought to see him try to negotiate the stairs. He’s fearless.”
With growing horror, Kathleen saw Erik peer down into Theron’s face. The boy looked up at him with reciprocal interest.
“I have to get him inside,” Kathleen said, and barged between Erik and Seth to pick up Theron. “Excuse me,” she said as she held the child and hurried toward the house.
She practically ran through the kitchen door and, when she was safe inside, leaned against the wall weakly.
“Goodness, Kathleen, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What in the world is the matter with you, girl?” Alice asked with concern.
Alice, George’s wife, acted as housekeeper/cook and ran the house with the competence of a ship’s captain. She was as soft and plump as George was hard and lean, but they complemented each other perfectly. Kathleen knew that the couple had lost a teenage son to muscular dystrophy. While Seth was still in the hospital after his debilitating accident, George had come to see him on behalf of a paraplegic association. He had offered his full-time services to Seth. The couple had been with him ever since.
Now, Alice crossed the tiled kitchen floor, wiping her hands on a towel.
“Oh.” Kathleen laughed nervously. “I think I got too much sun. When I left the pool, I felt a little dizzy.” She took a deep breath. “What’s on the menu tonight? Seth brought Er—a guest home for dinner. I hope that won’t inconvenience you,” Kathleen said, despising her breathlessness.
“No. I’d planned on roast beef, so it’s already in the oven,” Alice replied absently. She was more worried about Kathleen’s pale color than how many people there would be for dinner. “I’ll fix a fresh fruit compote for an appetizer, then serve salad and vegetables with the main course. Instead of a heavy dessert, what do you think of a crème de menthe parfait?”
“Sounds wonderful,” Kathleen lied. The thought of eating was repugnant. “Well, Theron needs a bath.”
“I’m sure he could use one,” Alice said, laughing at the toddler, who was emptying a drawer of plastic measuring cups.
“Come on, Theron,” Kathleen said, taking his hand and leading him out of the room. “If you need any help, Alice, call me.” She always offered, but Alice never took her up on it.
“Don’t worry about dinner. You just dress up pretty for the company.”
Kathleen was glad that Alice didn’t see her footsteps falter as she walked across the wide entrance hall from which the broad staircase rose majestically.
As she bathed Theron, her mind was spinning with a million questions she hadn’t allowed to surface before. They did now. What was Erik doing here? What kind of business venture could he possibly have with Seth? Where had he been these past two years? What had he been doing? Was his wife with him?
He looked the same. No, he looked different. What was it? He was older. Time had etched tiny lines at the corners of his eyes. The creases on either side of his mouth were harder, less inclined to tilt mirthfully. His eyes—she shivered—his eyes didn’t dance any more with devilish humor. They were cold, cynical, callous.
She placed Theron in his playpen and indulged herself with a bubble bath. What was he doing here? Why had he come back into her life when things were going so well? Why hadn’t he come sooner?
She avoided the most important question, the one that plagued her more strongly than the others. Would he recognize Theron as his son? If he did, what would he do about it?
She toweled dry and padded into her bedroom with a bath sheet wrapped around her. Standing at her closet, she selected an ensemble, discarded it, then moved to another until she finally settled on a pair of white silk evening trousers. The accompanying strapless blouse was multicolored stripes in metallic colors. Her waist was swathed by a shocking-pink cummerbund. She slipped into white high-heeled sandals and put gold disks into her pierced ears. Two dainty gold chains encircled her suntanned neck.
Putting on makeup had never been so difficult. Her hand shook with the effort, and she smeared mascara that had to be wiped away before she could apply more. Since her butterfingers couldn’t quite cope with intricate clips and combs, she decided to let her hair hang free and loose on her shoulders.
She had learned that in the Kirchoff household it was customary to dress for dinner. In the almost two years she had been here, she had rather come to enjoy that tradition. Besides, Seth liked to see her wear fine clothes.
When she was ready, she dressed Theron in a navy-blue playsuit with “Ahoy, there!” appliquéd in white letters on the front. As she brushed his thick cap of blond curls, she marveled again at the miracle of his birth. She had known before Dr. Peters had made the proud announcement in the delivery room that the child was a boy. Her early visions of him had been mystically accurate. She shuddered whenever she thought back to the time when she had contemplated abortion. What a tremendous sacrifice it would have been never to have known the joy of loving Theron.
Would Erik feel that affinity that she did each time she looked at Theron? Did fathers have that same oneness with their children that mothers did?
She swung Theron down from his padded changing table and took his hand. “Are you ready?” she asked, the question really directed to herself. The unqualified answer was “no.” She was torn between her burning desire to feast her eyes on Erik once again and the anguish of seeing him dangerously near his son. But if she didn’t hurry, Seth would wonder what was keeping her. She couldn’t arouse his suspicions in any way. At all costs, she must remain cool and collected around Erik, for Seth must never know their former relationship. He must never be hurt. She prayed he wouldn’t see the resemblance between Theron and their dinner guest.
They descended the stairs hand in hand. Kathleen slid open the glass door that led out to the patio, and, released from her restraining hand, Theron barreled past her toward the man sitting at the round, umbrella-shaded table sipping a drink.
Erik, taken by surprise, laughed and reached down to ruffle the curls on the head pressed against his knee. “Ahoy there, Captain. Where’s your—”
At that moment, he glanced up and saw Kathleen standing in the doorway. God, she’s beautiful, Erik thought, and impatiently swallowed the lump in his throat. He had considered himself cured, able to take anything fate threw in his path, but when he had seen her coming up out of that pool this afternoon, his heart sang with joy while his mind cursed the gods who had played this despicable trick on him.
From the back, he had thought the young Mrs. Kirchoff looked familiar. Her hair had a radiance that he had seen only once before. When she had turned around and he saw the face that had haunted him for years, he had ridiculed the desire that coursed through his veins like a raging fever, threatening to ignite him from the inside out until he disintegrated to ashes. Standing as she was, wet and glistening, time rolled back to another time he had seen her coming out of the water. He still had that tape of her. Only on the most depressive days did he indulge—and torture—himself by watching it. Today she had been no image captured on electronic machinery.
Somehow he prevented himself from vaulting past Kirchoff and taking her in his arms and devouring her with a mouth that was still hungry for the taste of her lips. But the other man was in the way. The man in the wheelchair. The man whom, over the past few weeks, Erik had come to admire and respect for his courage, integrity and shrewd business acumen.
Seth Kirchoff had talked about his wife endlessly, praising her talents and beauty to the hilt, but had he ever called her by name? No, surely not, or Erik would have reacted to that name. But who would have thought that Kathleen, his Kathleen, would end up as the wife of this San Francisco entrepreneur?
That was when his previous flare of joy at seeing her turned to bitter bile in his soul. Of course. She had run away from the struggling videographer when she had been given a golden opportunity. She had probably been disgusted with herself for allowing his hands to taint her. She obviously aimed for higher things. How had she felt about giving away her most valuable bargaining asset? It hadn’t mattered to Kirchoff, Erik supposed, because she had gotten him to marry her. Congratulations, Mrs. Kirchoff. You’re a very wealthy woman.
Seth had every reason to be proud of his wife, Erik thought as she crossed the patio toward him. She was lovely, graceful, motherhood having smoothed away some of her coltish angles and replacing them with feminine curves.
She was still slender, almost too much so. No one looking at her would believe that she had carried a child. Her stomach was flat, the results of fifty faithful and vigorous sit-ups a day. If it weren’t for the generous fullness of her breasts, no one would ever know that she was a mother.
Her heels tapped on the patio. He heard the rustle of her clothes as she knelt down to pick up the child at his knees. The silk covering her breasts gapped slightly and blessed him with a glimpse of the smooth, bare flesh beneath. Her fragrance wafted up to him as she stood. Passionate longing raced through his body and centered in his loins, making him throb with desire.
“Mitsouko,” he spoke aloud, though he hadn’t intended to.
Kathleen stood stock-still and stared at him. “Yes,” she answered. Moving away from him, she took a chair across the table, keeping the boy on her lap. “I see you have a drink,” she said breathlessly. She didn’t look at him.
“Yes.”
“Where is Seth?” she asked, almost in desperation.
“He went inside with George to change clothes. He said he’d be out shortly.”
“Hazel?”
“Hasn’t made an appearance.” He took another sip of his drink and said, “So we’re all alone, Kathleen.”
Her head snapped up. He looked rakish in his crisp white shirt and navy blazer. The shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and provided a view of the tanned column of throat and hard, hair-matted chest. Her fingers tingled in remembrance of how that hair felt over the contour of muscle. His beige slacks hugged the hard thighs and molded over taut hips and…
She raised her eyes quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed the direction of her gaze, but he had. He insulted her by tipping his glass in a mocking salute.
“I must congratulate you, Kathleen. You’ve come a long way from the camp counselor in the Ozarks. How long has it been now? Let’s see.” He squinted his eyes, feigning concentration. “Two years? Yes, two years. There was an accident at the airport in Fort Smith. It was costly in lives and equipment, but I managed to survive. It happened on July sixteenth at two forty-three in the afternoon.” His tone was hard, intentionally hurtful, and Kathleen felt the tears swimming in her eyes.
“I’m glad… you… you survived.”
“Yeah. Your concern at the time overwhelmed me,” he said sarcastically.
What gave him the right to be angry with her? “I couldn’t very well join the crowd around your bed, could I?” she asked tersely.
Crowd at his bed? What in the hell was that supposed to mean? There had been no one there except Bob and Sally, and she had never even met them. He had quizzed them enough to know that.
Before he could pursue her enigmatic question, George helped Seth onto the patio. Erik had noted that everywhere there were steps, ramps had also been built to accommodate Seth’s wheelchair. Light switches and thermostats on the walls were also placed low so Seth could easily reach them.
“Well, I’m glad to see that you two are getting better acquainted. You look ravishing, darling.” He wheeled over to Kathleen and she got up, setting Theron on the patio. Placing both hands on Seth’s shoulders, she leaned over to meet his chaste kiss. He held her hands as she straightened. “Isn’t she gorgeous, Erik? I’ll bet you thought I was exaggerating about her, didn’t you? Have you ever seen coloring like this, or skin so soft?”
Kathleen paled by several shades. Erik had seen much more of her skin than Seth ever had. Since he had brought her to this house, they had gone to separate bedrooms each night. He had only been in her room once, and that was when George had carried him up the stairs to see her completed redecoration. They kissed a warm goodnight each evening. But she went up to her room, while Seth went to his with George, who would get him into bed for the night.
“Your wife is indeed beautiful, Seth,” Erik said, but Kathleen could hear the underlying mockery in his voice.
“George, would you please tend bar? I’ll have a scotch on the rocks and Kathleen her usual spritzer.”
Involuntarily, Kathleen’s eyes went to Erik, who, unnoticed by Seth, again saluted her with his glass. They both remembered another time. Kathleen’s recollections were warm. Erik’s were obviously those of the triumphant seducer.
* * *
The scene on the patio set the mood for the remainder of the evening. If anything, Kathleen felt more strain when Hazel joined them for predinner drinks. As usual, she was polite and played the sweet sister-in-law and aunt like a grand dame of the theater, but Kathleen knew it to be an act. When they were alone, Hazel vented her hatred and resentment on Kathleen. Sometimes Kathleen would catch Hazel with a malevolent look directed toward Theron. She refused to leave Theron alone with the woman, whom Kathleen considered to be pathological in her possessiveness toward Seth.
By the time Alice announced dinner and relieved Kathleen of the squirming Theron, she was a tangle of nerves. Often, she had noticed Erik staring at the child. For once, she was thankful Theron always ate dinner in the kitchen in a high chair under Alice’s supervision. Kathleen had disapproved of this banishment, thinking that he should be included with the rest of the family. But early after his birth, Hazel had made clear her wish that he not be at the table with them. Seth had agreed by saying, “I think you need that time to relax and enjoy your own dinner, Kathleen. Hazel’s only thinking of you.”
They went into the dining room, and Kathleen was disconcerted to find that Erik sat directly opposite her, since Seth sat at one end of the table and Hazel at the other. The delicious food that Alice served so aptly stuck in her throat, and she was barely capable of eating a third of her portion.
She hated this room. It always seemed to stifle her. The walls were covered with dark blue moiré, a fabric she had always disliked. The furniture was dark and heavy, the china overpatterned, and the chandelier too ornate.
“Exactly what is this project that you and Seth are working on, Mr. Gudjonsen?” Hazel asked in her unctuous tone.
Erik laughed easily, in the manner Kathleen remembered so well, lifting the corners of his mustache and teasing at the possibility of a dimple hiding beneath it. His eyes shone a brilliant blue in the softly lit room. In spite of her earlier anger, her heart turned over at his masculine beauty.
“I’m sure that you, Ms. Kirchoff, and you…” he hesitated before he said, “Kathleen, are wondering why I suddenly burst upon the scene.”
“This is your show, Erik. You tell them what we want to do,” Seth said.
“Well,” Erik said slowly. “I’m a photographer, working mainly with videotape instead of film. I worked at a network affiliate television station for a while.” He darted a quick glance at Kathleen. “Last year, I went to Europe and knocked around for a while. Missing the States, I came back with hopes of establishing my own production company and thought that the Bay Area was a good place to settle. Some financial backers, whom I was lucky enough to find, referred me to Seth. Not only has he agreed to invest in my new company, but he has also dubbed Kirchoff’s as my first major account. We plan to produce commercials for the stores that will be innovative and unique. Hopefully, when they begin to air, they’ll generate more clients for my company. Kirchoff’s is, after all, a very prestigious name to have in one’s portfolio. Eventually, I’d also like to do industrial films, documentaries, things like that.”
“That’s wonderful, Erik!” Kathleen cried, her enthusiasm for his new venture bubbling forth before she could stifle it. The other three at the table turned to her in surprise. Flushing, she looked toward Seth and said, “This is what we’ve needed to do, Seth. I couldn’t be more pleased with your decision.”
He grinned and reached for her hand. “I knew you’d feel that way. I’m counting on you to help Erik.”
Her eyes flew to Erik, then back to her husband. “In… in what way?” she stammered.
“I want you to act as a consultant for him. He knows a lot about production, but he claims not to know a lot about fashion. He wants your expert opinion on all that before each commercial is made.” His dark eyes shone with excitement and, despite her own misgivings about Erik’s sudden resurgence in her life and the prospect of their working together, she couldn’t help but be glad to see Seth’s exuberance.
“Hazel, what do you think?” Seth asked. She had remained ominously silent.
The older woman smiled sweetly at Erik and said, “I’m afraid I am ignorant about television commercials. I’ll reserve judgment on Mr. Gudjonsen’s craft until we’ve had time to see the results of his labors.” On that dim note, she suggested that they go into the living room for coffee.
Erik ushered in Hazel, while Kathleen walked beside Seth’s chair, holding onto his free hand. No sooner were they settled than George carried in a large silver tray with a coffee service and china cups and saucers on it. He set the laden tray on the coffee table. Alice came in with Theron straddling her broad hip. “The little prince is ready for bed, but he wants to kiss everyone goodnight.”
Kathleen noticed Hazel’s expression of stern disapproval, but Alice set the toddler on the floor and he immediately ran to Erik after his mother had given him the first goodnight kiss. With a naturalness that surprised Kathleen, Erik picked up the pajama-clad boy and hauled him onto his lap. With the indiscrimination of a child, Theron wrapped his chubby arms around Erik’s neck and gave him a smacking kiss on the mouth.
Theron pulled away and rubbed his face comically. The mustache had tickled and he was instantly intrigued by this new, fun toy. His fingers reached up and plucked at it.
“Ouch! That’s attached, Captain,” Erik said, but he didn’t deter Theron’s curiosity. He laughed and stroked Theron’s back, staring down into eyes that Kathleen knew were mirror images of his own.
She watched Erik’s face in suspense. At first she read incredulity, then bewilderment, then enlightenment. Her heart stopped. Erik raised his eyes over the top of Theron’s head and she shook under their piercing accusation.
Theron clambered down and toddled on his sturdy little legs to Hazel. She accepted his kiss with a gushing falsity that sickened Kathleen. Then he was beside Seth, climbing unassisted onto his lap.
“Isn’t he wonderful, Erik? Was ever a man so lucky to have a son like this?” Theron got down from Seth’s lap and went once more to Kathleen, who knelt and hugged him to her fiercely. He indulged her by allowing her to cover his face with soft, quick kisses before he was again handed over to Alice.
“Thank you, George. I’ll serve the coffee,” Kathleen said quietly as the couple left the room to carry Theron to bed before eating their own dinner in the kitchen, another custom that irked her. Why couldn’t they all eat together like the big family they were?
Seth extolled Theron’s virtues and recounted escapades for Erik while Kathleen poured the coffee, first serving Hazel, who drank hers black. Both Erik and Seth had ordered theirs with a splash of brandy. When she handed Erik his cup, her fingers had momentarily made contact with his, and it was like an electric bolt that ran up her arm and aimed directly for her heart.
Shakily, she poured Seth’s coffee and was carrying it to him when Erik said, “He’s quite a boy. How old is he? When did you say his birthday is?”
That was when Kathleen’s trembling hand lost control of the cup. It slipped off the saucer and into Seth’s lap, splattering it with scalding coffee.