How pretty you are? Whatever it was, it would be patently unbelievable, she thought.
“Layne,” he repeated gently, “you haven’t changed a bit.”
CHAPTER THREE
“How did you find us?” Layne demanded.
Kyle looked her over while he carefully considered his answer. Then he said softly, “I didn’t. Robbie found me.”
Her eyes dropped to her son, and Robbie shifted uncomfortably on his crutches. “Robert?”
she asked.
“You said you didn’t want to talk about it, Mom. You didn’t say I couldn’t do anything.
And I’d already done it when you said that, anyway.” His tone was apologetic, rather than defiant.
Kyle looked down at Robbie with an approving smile, and then turned to Layne. “He called my office yesterday.”
No wonder Robbie had looked guilty when she came in last night, Layne remembered. He
hadn’t been feeling sorry about being hurt, but because he’d just done something that he knew she wouldn’t like. And it was a good thing for him that she hadn’t known. What would she have done? Strangle him was what she’d like to do now.
“Shall we make ourselves more comfortable and talk about it?” Kyle asked, indicating a chair. “Robbie, I believe this is a matter for the adults in the family. I’ll see you again before I leave, and we can make some plans then.”
Robbie groaned, but a direct unsmiling look from Kyle silenced his protests.
“Why don’t you take Beast to the back yard and hose the rest of the shampoo out of his coat?” Layne suggested quietly.
“I’ll do it later, Mom.” The child let himself out the front door and sat down on the steps, where he could keep an eye on the Mercedes in the driveway.
Gary came in from the hallway, carrying his cup and the towel that he had used to wipe up the spilled coffee. “What a mess, Layne. That mutt of Robbie’s should be shot.” He stopped as he saw the man in the living room. “Oh. You must be Robbie’s father. The resemblance is amazing.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “And who are you?”
Layne ignored the interruption. “Let’s not bother to talk about it, Kyle. I don’t think we’re likely to come to any amicable arrangement. So you can walk out that door and forget Robbie and me just as you have for the last eight years.”
“You have your facts twisted, my dear.” Kyle’s voice was suave, but underneath there was a thread of steel. “I may have forgotten you, but since I never knew Robbie existed...”
“Layne!” Gary protested. “What’s wrong with you? The man wants to take some
responsibility for his son. Don’t be ridiculous; you’re hardly in a position to make any grand gestures.”
Kyle looked him over. “You’re a man with a practical point of view, I see. And your
name?”
“Gary Spencer. I’m Robbie’s Little League coach.”
“It’s a bit unusual for a coach to be showing so much concern for an injured player.” Kyle didn’t actually ask for an explanation, but polite enquiry hung in the air.
You don’t owe him anything, Gary, Layne pleaded silently. Don’t take the bait.
But Gary did. “I happen to think Robbie is a special kid. And Layne and I are planning to be married,” he announced.
Layne put her hand over her eyes.
Kyle’s expression did not change. “I do hope that you’ll invite me to the wedding,” he said politely.
Gary beamed. “See, Layne? I don’t know what you’ve been so afraid of. We’d be delighted to have you there, Mr. Emerson.”
Kyle went on as though there had been no comment.
“I’d really enjoy watching from the front pew as my wife embarks on bigamy.”
Gary sputtered, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Layne knows,” Kyle suggested gently. “Don’t you, darling?”
Layne dug her fists into her hips. “Just what makes you think I didn’t divorce you long ago?”
“It’s very difficult to divorce a man without first serving legal notice that you intend to do so. But you just gave me the proof with that charming, embarrassed little blush. You never could lie worth a darn, Layne.”
“You’re still married to this character?” Gary’s voice was starting to rise.
“Be careful, Spencer. A few minutes ago you were delighted that I planned to take the
financial responsibility for Robbie off your hands. Now you’re calling me names.”
Layne took a deep breath and tried to steady her voice. “I assumed that you had divorced me years ago, Kyle. You had grounds.”
“All kinds, as I recall. But it’s been an advantage, through the years, to be able to say that I’m still a married man.”
“I’m sure it came in handy.” Layne’s voice dripped sarcasm; she knew exactly why he
hadn’t gotten a divorce, though she had expected that after she’d been gone nearly nine years, he would have given up. “But as much as I’m enjoying this conversation, Kyle, I’m going to bring it to an end. I don’t think we have anything to talk about after all.”
“I am Robbie’s father, Layne.”
Layne looked at him with bitterness in her big brown eyes. “Any man can be a father, Kyle.
It’s a mere biological function, and it gives you no rights.”
“It gives me any rights I choose to claim, my dear. We can, however, hardly talk about it here.” Those dark blue eyes flicked over Gary, who stood, arms folded, in the middle of the room, obviously unwilling to leave.
“Shall we discuss it over dinner? I’ll pick you up at seven. Don’t dress formally.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Kyle. I meant it, I have nothing to talk to you about.”
“Nothing?” His tone was one of polite interest.
“Nothing.” She folded her arms and did her best to look defiant.
He shrugged. “Then I should ask whether you want me to take Robbie with me right now,
or if you prefer to have him disappear from your life sometime next week when you least expect it.”
“Kidnapping is a federal offense.”
“There’s been no ruling on who has custody of our son, so you would find it difficult to convince the police that I had kidnapped him.”
Layne’s voice shook a little. “You’ll take him away from me and never let me see him
again.”
“Don’t assume that I’ll do what you tried to accomplish, Layne. My mind doesn’t happen to work the same way as yours does. And don’t try to disappear again. You couldn’t do it this time, and it would make me very angry.” There was a moment of silence. “You really should join me for dinner. You might discover that there are some options.”
“And if I don’t come?”
“Then you have no options. I’ll be back at seven. If you don’t plan to have dinner with me, you might as well have Robbie’s things packed.” He pulled a card case from his pocket and put a business card on the nearest table. “That number rings directly into my office, just in case anyone wants to talk to me this afternoon. Robbie already has it. And Layne? If you make Robbie suffer because he called me, you’ll pay twice as hard.”
“Kyle! You can’t do this to me!”
He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Is there something special about you? Don’t despair, darling. You have all of dinner to change my mind. I’m sure you can come up with something to persuade me. You always used to be able to ... if you remember.” He stopped at the door, one last formality remembered. “I’m so glad to have met you, Spencer. Layne’s taste is very ...
interesting. I wouldn’t order the wedding invitations yet, if I were you.”
Layne watched from the window as he bent over Robbie on the front steps, ruffling the
child’s soft dark hair. Robbie looked up at his father, and the expression on his face clutched at her throat. He looked like a child who had just found a Christmas tree surrounded by packages on
a hot June morning, when it was least expected.
The two of them walked slowly across the yard to the Mercedes, Robbie swinging along on his crutches, Kyle with his jacket pushed back, hands deep in his trouser pockets, his head bent as he listened to his son’s chatter.
Layne watched from behind the curtain as Kyle opened the car door, then turned back to Robbie to say something. Robbie’s face showed disbelief, then he flung himself against his father and tried to smother him in a bear hug. Layne let the curtain drop back into place.
“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t divorced, Layne?” Gary asked quietly.
“I didn’t know I wasn’t. I thought by now he’d probably have gotten tired of looking for me.” She grimaced. “If he ever looked at all,” she added in a low tone.
“What were you going to do? Take it on faith? Cross your fingers all through our
wedding?”
“Gary, please don’t be sarcastic. I told you last night that I’d never thought about marrying again. It has never made any difference to me whether Kyle got a divorce. Gary, he wants to take Robbie away from me! And Robbie will go!” Hearing the words seemed to make it even worse.
Layne dropped into a chair, her hand across her eyes. “That’s what they’re talking about out there,” she said, her voice low and painful.
“Layne, I’m going home to think things over. I hope you aren’t planning to go anywhere with him tonight.”
He hesitated, waiting for an answer. When none came, he sighed and said, “I’ll ask Clare to come over.”
She hardly heard him leave, but she did hear Clare at the back door a few minutes later.
“Layne? Are you all right? Gary said you needed me.” Footsteps sounded across the kitchen tile and then Clare was beside Layne’s chair on her knees. “Honey! What’s happened? What did Kyle do to you?”
“No more than I expected,” Layne said dully. “He said if I wasn’t ready to go to dinner with him at seven tonight that I should have Robbie’s clothes packed.”
Clare rocked back on her heels for a second. “In that case, you’d better be waiting for him at seven.”
“He’s going to take him anyway, Clare. And Robbie wants to go.”
Clare sighed. “Do you have coffee made?”
“Unless Gary drank it all.”
“Of course he had to be here to see all this, right?” At Layne’s nod, Clare sighed. “Darn Gary anyhow. Let’s get you a cup of coffee, and then perhaps you can tell me all about it.” She guided Layne to the kitchen, put a box of tissues beside her, and prepared to listen.
Robbie came in a few minutes later. “What’s the matter with Mom?” he asked Clare.
Without waiting for an answer, he announced his news. “Dad asked if I wanted to come live with him this summer at Wheatlands. What’s Wheatlands, Mom?”
“See?” Layne pointed out to Clare, who sighed. “Wheatlands is your dad’s house, Robbie.”
“I always wanted a house that was important enough to have a name of its own,” Clare
admitted. “Where is it, anyway?”
“In Mission Hills.”
“The most expensive real estate in the Midwest?”
“Something like that. Certainly the most expensive suburb of Kansas City.”
“What’s it like, Mom?” Robbie asked.
Clare intervened. “Your mother doesn’t want to talk about it right now. And whatever
came over you to call your father without asking her, anyway?”
“You’re the one who said he should be taking care of me.”
“I said what?” Clare sounded shocked.
“The other day. The day I broke my ankle. You said Mom shouldn’t have to try so hard
when it was Dad who should be taking care of me. Since she wouldn’t call him, I did.” He sounded half-proud of himself, half-fearful.
“Guilty. Oh, damn,” Clare muttered. “Robbie, run along now.”
“What did you tell your father, Robbie?” Layne asked quietly. “About staying with him at Wheatlands?”
“I said heck yes. Can I have a cookie, since it looks like lunch is going to be late?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just dug a hand into the jar. He stopped at the door to announce, “I’m going to hose Beast off now.” Then he was gone, whistling.
“Hard-hearted little brat,” Clare muttered.
Layne gave her the first genuine smile of the day. “He only did what you threatened to, Clare.”
Clare groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“And remember, what happened to him this morning is the biggest event of his life.
Imagine, after eight years of knowing only that you had a father somewhere, to work up the courage to call him and have him come running as Kyle did.”
“He didn’t waste any time, did he?”
“Oh, he wasted enough to check it out. I know Kyle that well. Robbie called him
yesterday.” Layne reached for a tissue and blotted tears off her cheeks. “I guess I’d better stop this sort of nonsense and figure out what I’m going to do.”
“That’s one of the things I like about you, Layne. You bounce back. Nothing can keep you down for very long.”
“That’s flattering, but you’re wrong. If Kyle takes Robbie...”
“Surely he won’t,” Clare said as she reached for the coffeepot. It was empty. “Want me to fix another pot?”
Layne shook her head. “I used the last of the coffee this morning.”
Clare gave her an inquisitive look, but she didn’t question. Layne was grateful. Whether she bought coffee or not was, after all, a personal decision. It didn’t necessarily mean that she was out of money.
“I doubt Kyle will actually ask for custody.”
“I agree. I don’t think he’ll ask for anything,” Layne said with wry humor. “He’ll just take Robbie.”
“But the child needs you. After all, you’re the one who has raised him. Oh, Kyle will
probably hold you up for visiting rights — summers and holidays like every other divorced father has.”
“You forget. Kyle isn’t like every other divorced father. He isn’t even divorced.”
“But surely...”
“I’m certain he won’t stay married for any longer than suits his purpose. And that shouldn’t be long now. After all, once he has Robbie he doesn’t need me any longer.”
“The child isn’t some kind of commodity, Layne.”
“I’m sure Kyle will learn to love him. No one can resist Robbie’s charm. But even if
Robbie wasn’t a cute kid, Kyle would take him. I’m certain of it.”
“So what are you going to do about tonight?”
“I suppose I’ll go. He said we’d talk about options, and that if I didn’t go, there weren’t any options.” She thoughtfully sipped her coffee. “I don’t suppose it will make any difference, because nobody talks Kyle out of something once he’s made up his mind. But — can I borrow your orange dress anyway?”
*****
It was like getting ready for her first date, Layne thought as she tied the narrow straps of Clare’s flame-orange halter dress at the back of her neck. But on her first date there had been anticipation of pleasure. Tonight there was only weariness, and worry, and a deep certain knowledge that no matter what she did or said, the results of tonight’s discussion were already determined. Nobody changed Kyle’s mind, she had told Clare that morning. And nobody
prevented Kyle from doing exactly as he wanted. Except that time, so long ago, when Jessica had interfered with his carefully-made plans.
For a moment the bedroom seemed to dissolve around her and she was sitting in the
walnut-paneled library at Wheatlands, her fingers tapping on the arm of her chair because she didn’t trust her hand not to shake if she tried to pick up her teacup. Sitting there silently as Jessica Tate had told her in that elegant voice of hers just why Kyle had married her.
Layne swallowed hard. That was years ago, s
he reminded herself, though the pain was as sharp in the pit of her stomach as it had been the day it happened. She sat down at her dressing table and reached for her makeup case, and let herself remember those six long-ago months – the summer she had met Kyle Emerson, and the autumn that she had been his wife.
Layne had grown up in the building trade; her father owned Baxter Construction. Mostly he built one-family houses, but sometimes he would do work subcontracted by other companies.
One of the men who called on him often was Stephen Emerson, Kyle’s father.
They had worked together so much that year, Layne remembered, that they had even talked about merging their businesses into one. But it had gone no farther than talk; Stephen Emerson ran a conservative ship, while Robert Baxter would take a flyer on anything. His colleagues had nicknamed him Lucky; they shook their heads pessimistically whenever he made a deal, and shook them again wonderingly when — as usual — Lucky Baxter’s bets paid off.
“They’d have fought like cats and dogs over whether to pay the rent,” Layne thought with a fond smile. Her father enjoyed sailing close to the wind; he never paid a bill till the day it was due, declaring that there was no sense in letting someone else earn interest on his money. Every penny he controlled he gambled to make another profit. Stephen Emerson was almost the
opposite. He had inherited money and by cautious investment tripled his fortune. Working with a partner like Lucky would have driven the careful Stephen into a breakdown in a month.
So the merger plans had come to nothing, and the two men went back to working side by
side on a new office building.
And then had come the day that Kyle stopped by the three-bedroom split-level that Lucky had built, and Layne fell in love.
It had been just about that fast, too, she reminded herself glumly. She had been seventeen and vulnerable, and Kyle had been overwhelming, a girl’s dream come true.
What was really unbelievable to her now was that Kyle had seemed to feel the same way
about her. In the next weeks he had taken her everywhere — to baseball games and movies at first, and then to dinner with his father at Wheatlands. Layne adored Wheatlands; she felt incredibly clumsy there, but she fell in love with the house as quickly as she had tumbled into love with Kyle.
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