by Pat Warren
Rain. It had started during the night and was a regular downpour by morning. Kate stood in the open doorway of the cottage, gazing out at the wet walkways, the sodden grass and accumulated puddles, hoping that this wasn’t an omen about this new fork in the road she was about to try.
Dodging the raindrops, Kate pulled her white BMW close to the front door. She loved the racy little convertible that her father had given her two years ago. George Spencer had been generous to a fault, often surprising her with no-occasion gifts, all expensive, all things he’d picked out himself. A Limoges candy dish, a Piaget watch, a Hermés scarf. He’d been equally, if not more, extravagant with his wife. Mom had scolded him frequently for his lavish spending sprees, but no one could stay angry with Dad for long. He’d loved life. He’d liked and trusted everyone.
If only he hadn’t, Kate thought, thinking of Tom Spencer.
It took her only twenty minutes to load the car and take a last look around the cottage where she’d spent many a happy summer. They’d gone boating, fishing, swimming. Dad’s boat was still anchored at the nearby marina, and it was also for sale. Tom seemed in a big hurry to liquidate every asset Mom and Dad had left behind. He was welcome to the lot, Kate decided. Fighting her uncle wasn’t worth the hassle.
Shaking off old memories along with the lingering bitterness, Kate removed the key from her key ring and placed it on the kitchen table. For a moment, she studied the new key to the Carver house that Fitz had given her yesterday. Off with the old, on with the new.
A brand-new start, Kate told herself as she made sure the front-door lock clicked in before she climbed behind the wheel. No looking back, no regrets. The best was yet to be.
She almost believed it as she turned on the windshield wipers, then swung out of the circular driveway.
Ten minutes later, she stopped in front of the black wrought-iron gate leading to the Carver house. Fitz had said it was seldom closed and hardly ever locked. She drove on through and paused by the front door.
In the gloom of a rainy day, with wet autumn leaves clinging to the grass and winding driveway and the wind whipping about the trees, the place didn’t look terribly inviting. Kate squared her shoulders. No negative thinking, she told herself as she followed the path around to the back entry.
Fitz had told her she could park in the third stall of the attached garage. But the door was down, and she had no opener. So she got out and hurried onto the small stoop and was digging in her jacket pocket for the key when the door swung open.
“There you are,” Aaron said. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.” Actually, he’d walked out front several times, hoping to spot her. He didn’t have her phone number, nor did he know exactly where she’d been staying. He’d had half a thought to phone Henry at the pharmacy but had decided to wait a bit longer. He was glad she’d shown up and saved him the embarrassing call.
She was standing beneath the overhang, and he was two steps higher. The additional height, added to his own six feet, made him appear quite large, Kate thought as her eyes traveled up. He had on a black turtleneck and stonewashed jeans with white running shoes. His dark hair was unruly, as if he’d only recently crawled out of bed, or maybe it was mussed from his blunt fingers thrusting through the thickness in frustration because he couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t shaved; the dark stubble gave his lean face an incongruously dangerous look. His eyes were hooded, assessing, as they’d been yesterday morning in the fog.
She slid up the sleeve of her leather jacket and checked her watch. “I told you midmorning, and it’s just ten. Am I late?”
“No, you’re right on time.” He held the door wider, motioning her inside. “Fitz is in Jamie’s room changing her outfit. She managed to get the top off her cup and spilled juice all over her clothes. Go on in while I get your things.”
She didn’t want to be a bother and she was far from helpless. “I can manage, really.”
The black leather jacket seemed a size too large for her, Aaron thought, as if she’d recently lost weight. Beneath it, she wore a pink sweatshirt and designer jeans. Everything about her spoke of money, from her gold watch to the antique pearl ring to the Bass loafers she wore. Yet here she was, needing a job and a home. A story there somewhere, Aaron thought as he held out his hand. “Give me your keys and I’ll get your bags.”
A man used to being in charge, Kate thought as she pulled her keys from her pocket and placed them in his open palm. In doing so, her fingers brushed his. She felt a slight jolt, a sudden awareness. Quickly, she looked up and met his eyes and saw that he was both surprised and annoyed that such a brief contact could cause a reaction. Also a man used to controlling his feelings, one who disliked surprises, Kate decided as she brushed past him and went inside.
In three trips, Aaron had all her things deposited in her new room and bath. He opened the spacious closet. “I see that Fitz has supplied you with plenty of hangers. The bed’s just been changed, I’m sure, and fresh towels are kept in the linen closet at the end of the hall when you need more.”
“Thank you. I’ll unpack and go find Jamie.” She slipped off her jacket.
Aaron stuck his hands in his back pockets, feeling strangely disconcerted. Having a woman other than Fitz in the house was unnerving. Kate Spencer was a lovely woman. Any other man would be thrilled to have her under his roof. But he was different, dead inside, unable to feel anything. That brief awareness downstairs had been a nervous reaction and nothing more, he assured himself.
On the table by the window, Kate spotted an African violet in full bloom in a lovely little pot. She wandered over and picked it up. “These were Mother’s favorites. She used to have them all over the house. They’re difficult to grow, but she had a way with them.”
“Did she talk to them?” Aaron asked, moving to her side. “That’s what Stephanie used to do. She often said that plants could hear you, identify the tone of your voice and respond to praise. Silly.” He almost smiled at the memory.
“Perhaps, but it does seem to work.”
“Well, then maybe you can say a few words to our plants. Fitz has been too busy to tend to them, so most are in pretty bad shape.” He watched her set down the pot with great care. “If you have time, that is.” He’d hired her for Jamie, not to resurrect his plants, he reminded himself.
“I love working with plants and flowers. I’ll check them out.” She turned to him then, wondering why he was still hanging around. He seemed nervous, fidgety.
Her scent reached him, something softly feminine. Aaron found himself inhaling deeply. Then he noticed she was watching him with a questioning look in her eyes. Clearing his throat, he turned. “If you need anything, I’ll be in my study. I’ve brought some work home.”
Kate followed him out into the hallway just as Jamie came crawling out of her room. Gazing up, her eyes skimmed over her father and landed on Kate. She gave a little happy sound and headed straight for her new nanny.
Stopping in his tracks, Aaron watched his daughter reach Kate, sit down on her little padded rump and stretch up her arms to be picked up. He heard Kate’s soft “Hi, sweetie,” then saw her hoist Jamie into her arms and cuddle her close.
For an instant, he envied his daughter the simple affection of that childlike embrace and craved the comfort Jamie sought and found. As he studied the two of them, Kate’s eyes met his over the baby’s head. At that moment, seeing the warmth in their blue depths, Aaron was certain he’d found the right person to take care of his daughter.
Aaron parked his black Mercedes by the front door and stepped out. Stretching, he rolled his shoulders, trying to get the kinks out. He’d spent hours bending over his drawing board, then driven to the shopping-mall developer’s office to drop off the set of revised blueprints. By then, it had been after five, and he’d opted to drive home rather than return to his own office.
He wasn’t checking up on how Kate was doing, not really, he told himself. In the two weeks she’d been with them, there’d bee
n no problems. Jamie seemed happy enough, and Fitz had had no complaints, had in fact said she was much happier with Kate around. Of course, Aaron was home very little, leaving around seven most mornings and rarely returning before seven or eight in the evening. Which was why he’d thought that arriving home earlier than usual would give him a clearer picture.
Using his key, he entered and looked around. No one in sight. He set his briefcase by the front door, removed his jacket and tie and dropped them on a chair; then wandered toward the back of the house. He heard a voice coming from the direction of the kitchen and headed that way. In the dining room, he paused, gazing at the scene through the archway.
Jamie was in her high chair, and Kate was seated alongside her. He leaned forward to listen.
“Here comes a pretty red snake,” Kate said, placing the item in question on the baby’s tray. As Jamie reached for it, Kate stole it from her fingers. “And zoom, into your little mouth.”
Jamie giggled, then clamped her lips together and chewed.
“Next, we have a bright yellow worm,” Kate went on. “Look how it wiggles and squirms on your tray.” She waited until Jamie swallowed, then picked up the worm and popped it into her mouth. “All gone!”
Snakes? Worms? Aaron stepped into the kitchen, not bothering to muffle his footsteps. “What have we here?”
“Oh, hi.” Kate saw that Jamie was still absorbed in trying to pick up another worm. “Look, sweetie, your daddy’s home.” But the baby was too absorbed to greet her father.
Aaron bent to place a kiss on her sweet head, then checked out the colorful assortment on his daughter’s tray. “What is all that?”
“Worms and snakes and even wiggly spiders.” Kate showed him the two bowls. “Macaroni and cheese in here, and gelatin cutouts in this one.” To demonstrate, she picked up a daddy longlegs and held it out to Jamie. “Here comes a green spider.” With a laugh, Jamie closed her mouth around the offering.
Aaron slipped his hands into his pockets, obviously puzzled. “What brought this about?”
Kate held the cup for Jamie to drink as she explained. “Your daughter’s a bit of a picky eater, especially when she’s teething. She kept spitting out her baby food. She’s got six teeth. So I thought I’d make a game of it with table food that’s good for her. She likes the bright colors and she thinks it’s great fun when the bugs and things I cut out wiggle into her mouth.” She smiled at the baby as she wiped her chin. “Don’t you, sweetie?”
Jamie smiled back, then went to work trying to pick up another red snake.
Impressed with Kate’s ingenuity, Aaron pulled out a chair. “I thought girls were afraid of bugs and snakes.”
“They are, of the real thing. But Jamie’s too young to recognize these as replicas of something harmful.” Kate slipped another spoonful of macaroni and cheese into the child. “They really keep her busy.”
“Mealtime takes quite a while that way, I imagine.”
“Yes, but I believe that if you make mealtime fun, children eat better instead of picking at dinner, then filling up on cookies and sugar-coated cereals.” She dropped another green spider on Jamie’s tray.
Aaron cocked his head at her. “I thought you said you didn’t know much about kids.”
Kate shrugged. “I don’t. But I used to manage a bookstore, and the children’s story hour was my favorite time. I read up on how to hold a toddler’s interest at mealtime and bath time and story time. Kids will cooperate with most anything you want them to do if you make it appealing in some way at their level.”
Aaron had to admit that Jamie was eating more happily than he’d seen before. Actually, the bowl of macaroni smelled good and looked awfully inviting. He hadn’t tasted that particular dish in years. Earlier, he’d grabbed lunch on the run and had told Fitz this morning to not count on him for dinner. But his plans had changed, and suddenly he found his mouth watering. He went to the cupboard, took down a plate and spooned himself a generous helping.
Kate glanced at him and frowned. “Oh, you don’t have to eat this. Fitz is lying down with a headache, but I can fix you something more substantial.”
Aaron swallowed a savory spoonful. “Why, is there something wrong with this?”
“No, of course not, or I wouldn’t be giving it to Jamie.”
“What were you planning to eat?”
“The same thing. But you must be used to…”
“Gourmet meals?” Aaron shook his head. “Not really. When Stephanie was alive, our schedules were always at such cross-purposes, hers at the hospital and mine at the office, that we didn’t share that many dinners. We ate on the fly quite often. She had no interest in cooking, so Fitz was in charge of the kitchen. This—” he pointed to the pasta “—is a real treat. My mother used to make this when I was a kid.” Realizing what he’d said, Aaron stopped. He rarely mentioned his mother. All these years later, and it still hurt.
Kate noticed his sober expression and wondered what he was remembering.
Chewing, Aaron screwed up his face thoughtfully. “There’s something different about your version, some taste I can’t quite identify.”
“Mushrooms. I love mushrooms, so before baking, I added some fresh ones chopped fine so the baby wouldn’t have trouble with them.”
“Ah, yes, mushrooms. It’s great.” Finished, he scooped another helping. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I usually wait until Jamie’s finished.”
He glanced at the baby, who was finger deep in squiggly gelatin worms. “She’s happy.” He rose to get another bowl and some silverware. “How about a glass of milk? I’d like some.”
“Yes, thank you.” Funny, she’d been picturing him preferring more-adult fare or possibly something foreign, coq au vin with a glass of wine or beef bourguignonne. Certainly not a bowl of macaroni and cheese with cold milk eaten at the kitchen table. Oddly, the fact that he liked a simple meal made him more approachable to her.
Kate gave the baby another drink, then turned to eat her own dinner. “I should at least have made you some rolls or…”
Aaron shook his head. “This is fine.”
As she ate, she couldn’t help stealing glances at him from under lowered lashes. This impromptu meal seemed so homey, so normal. It was reminiscent of occasional evening suppers she’d shared with Dad when he’d come home after a long day of surgery and Mom was still at her office. He’d made pasta with clam sauce, his favorite, and the two of them had discussed their day. Kate swallowed down a sudden lump in her throat.
“You miss them still, don’t you?” Aaron asked softly. He’d been watching her, noting how quiet she’d become, realizing she was remembering her parents.
Kate blinked. It was amazing how he knew without her having said a word. She looked up at him, her eyes moist. “You too, eh?”
He nodded. “Yeah, me too.” Without giving it much thought, he covered her hand with his and squeezed in a gesture of sympathy.
Kate looked down at their joined hands, his fingers long and lean and strong, hers fragile by comparison. And she couldn’t help noticing the gold band on his third finger. Seven months after his wife’s death, and he still wore his wedding band.
Aaron followed her gaze and sighed. “I can’t seem to make myself take it off. It seems so…so final.”
“I understand.”
He drew back his hand and rose, reaching to clear the table. “Listen, why don’t you take Jamie up for her bath, and I’ll clean up here?”
“You shouldn’t have to. I’ll clean up here first and—”
He swiveled toward her, his face looking strained. “Just go, please.” He turned to the counter and opened the dishwasher.
Uncertain why he seemed upset, Kate took Jamie from her high chair and left the room. Climbing the stairs, she hoped she hadn’t said anything to bring on Aaron’s sudden mood shift. More likely, he was struggling with memories that refused to retreat, as she was.
In the kitchen, Aaron braced his hands on the
edge of the sink and leaned forward, his eyes closed. He realized that, as much as anyone could understand what he was going through, Kate did, for she bore her own grief. But she seemed to be handling her pain better than he was, perhaps because she was younger, only twenty-four. He was nine years older and, tonight, felt every day of it.
Her hand had been soft, her skin silky smooth. How long had it been since he’d reached out to touch a woman? Too long, yet even that small gesture had him feeling guilty and disloyal. He’d loved Stephanie, deeply, completely. He didn’t want to forget her and he hadn’t.
But it was damn difficult living in the same house with a lovely woman and not having some thoughts about her. He didn’t want to think about Kate, and she certainly didn’t invite the smallest intimacy. But on weekends, he’d be working in his study and he’d hear her explaining something to Jamie in that throaty voice or the two of them laughing. And his mind would wander.
She dressed in loose tops and baggy sweaters, never in anything enticing. Yet he noticed her, her scent, her walk, her smile. Drawing in a shaky breath, he bent to load the dishwasher.
Damn, it wasn’t fair. His wife was gone, and he missed her terribly. But his body longed for a woman’s touch, and that wasn’t all. Another part of him wished he could sit with Kate in his study by the fire after Jamie was in bed, and they could talk. Not in a sensual way, just discuss their day, the cute things Jamie had done, a book one of them had read. He yearned for the return of those times he’d shared with Stephanie.
Yet he had no right to want to curl up by the fire with Kate. He loved someone else, someone lost to him forever. He had no right to look at Kate as a man free of entanglements might. He had no right to be disloyal to his wife’s memory. What kind of a man began thinking about another woman when his wife was barely cold in her grave? Aaron dropped the last of the silverware into the tray and slammed the dishwasher door shut.
Fair or not, he had no right to touch Kate. He would watch himself in the future, avoid cozy moments together. The last thing he wanted was to hurt this vulnerable young woman.