Laughter and good cheer echoed from the backyard, which meant there would be other guests besides Kevin and his kids, but that was normal. His father-in-law’s barbecues were famous in three counties.
Kevin paused at the corner of the house, letting his eyes scan over the guests. He hoped that his mother-in-law didn’t have a free “young lady” around, one who “happened” to be in the neighborhood. He just wanted to visit with his kids.
“Daddy.” Stacy dropped her badminton racquet and came running toward him.
His breath caught as he stared at her. Damn. His little girl was a woman. A beautiful woman.
“Daddy,” she said again as she hugged him fiercely.
He swung her around, happy with her greeting. But then Stacy had always been a cheerful, bouncy sort. It was his son that he was really worried about. He had his mother’s eyes but his father’s reticent nature.
“Hey, Dad. What’s happening?”
Kevin stared. Jon had only been gone a couple of months, but it was almost a different person standing before him. Jon had gone away a boy and come back a man. Kevin tentatively extended his hand. His son just as slowly put his own out.
“So,” Kevin said as they shook hands. “How are things going?”
“Pretty good,” Jon replied. “Pretty good.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Stacy said. “You guys look like an insurance salesman meeting with a customer. Hug each other, you dummies. You’re father and son. Remember?”
Embarrassed, they took each other in their arms, stiffly.
“Oh, that’s swell,” Stacy said. “You want I should search you guys for weapons first?”
Laughing, they tried again. This time they were relaxed—pretty much.
“That’s better.”
He and Jon exchanged put-upon looks as they separated. Stacy looked a lot like Kevin but there was no doubt she was Debbie’s daughter.
“Man. All summer I have to look after him,” she said, shaking her head and pointing at Jon. “And now I have to take care of the two of you.” She looked pointedly at Kevin. “I hope I get some help soon.”
It was just as well she didn’t know about Samantha, he thought, as he walked with them toward the people sitting on the deck. He quickly eyeballed the group as they drew near. There were some younger children, kids Jon and Stacy’s age, and a handful his in-laws’ age. No thirtyish ladies, sitting off to themselves. Kevin let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“Don’t worry,” Stacy murmured. “Grandma didn’t get you a date today. She said you’ve been kind of grumpy lately.”
“I have not.” Maybe it was just as well that his daughter was living away at school. His mother-in-law was bad enough. He hated to imagine what his life would be like if the woman had help from Stacy.
“She said you’re really early for male menopause but things sometimes happen that way when you’ve been under a strain.”
“Give me a break,” he muttered.
“Hey, Kevin.” His father-in-law came toward him, hand extended. “You’re looking good.”
“Hi, Barney,” he replied. “You’re looking chipper yourself.”
“Hello, Kevin.” His mother-in-law came up and gave him a hug. “How about something cool to drink?”
“Thank you, Mabel. I’ll have some lemonade.”
He had a few bones to pick with his mother-in-law but he didn’t want to give her any ammunition for her “Kevin is grumpy” analysis. So he put on a big, big smile and found himself a place to sit down.
“Boy,” Kevin said. “Sure has been hot this year.”
“We’ve had more ninety-degree days this year than any summer in the last seventy-five years.”
“And so humid. There are days you can barely breathe.”
“I wonder how people stand it without air-conditioning.”
Kevin smiled as he took his drink and murmured a thankyou. He really appreciated Midwestern weather. Once folks got started, it preempted all other topics of conversation. Let’s see you try steering things toward my lack of dating, he wanted to say to his mother-in-law. But he satisfied himself with giving Mabel a bland look as she settled herself in a lawn chair.
“Chow’s on,” Barney shouted before they could get the weather conversation restarted. Kevin looked around for a place to put his drink but his kids were already at his side.
“We’ll get your food, Daddy,” Stacy said.
“Yeah,” Jon added. “Can’t have you old folks running around in this hot sun.”
He wanted to give his daughter a smile but instead he glared at his son. The kid hadn’t even started college yet and already he was an obnoxious smart aleck. But Kevin’s frown had no more effect now than it had when Jon was ten. His kids hustled off to the serving table where Mabel was now helping Barney pass out the food.
They brought him an overflowing plate, another glass of lemonade, and no smart-ass remarks. Thanking Providence for small favors, Kevin bit into his barbecued chicken leg. A couple of bites of chicken and some potato salad and he would toss out another few remarks about the weather. If people got tired of that, he could always bring up the Silver Hawks, the area’s minor-league baseball team that was doing quite well this year.
“How did you enjoy the Las Vegas Night?”
The chicken in his mouth turned to sand. Kevin glanced over at one of Mabel’s lady friends and swallowed hard. He would never be able to look Jon in the eye if he let some little old lady in blue hair and pink Bermudas push him around.
“Okay,” he replied.
“My friend Annie went. She said it was a lot of fun.”
Kevin nodded slowly. “Yeah, the folks running it did a good job.”
“She said you went with one of the Scott girls.”
The woman might as well have fired a cannon. The air went dead quiet as everyone turned to stare at him. His kids and Mabel looked especially interested.
“One of the Scott girls?” Mabel asked her friend.
“Yes.” Kevin jumped with the answer. “She’s one of my customers.”
“That’s such a nice family.”
“Which one of the girls was he with?”
Hey! They were talking as if he weren’t there. Maybe he should jump up on his chair, pound his chest and give a Tarzan yell.
“Annie said it was Samantha.”
“Oh, it can’t be Samantha. Why, that girl’s no more than a child.”
“Had to be her. Fiona’s married and Cassie’s engaged.”
“Well, how old is Samantha?”
“Twenty-seven,” Kevin said.
The people chattering all turned to look at him. His children had never taken their eyes off him. No one said anything.
“That’s what she indicated on her mortgage application form,” Kevin added. “So I’m sure it must be true.”
The silence hung in the air like the smoke from Barney’s barbecue. Then, as if swept away by a gust of wind, it dissipated.
“Boy, how time flies.”
“I remember when those girls were in high school.”
“They’ve all gone to college.”
“My, my.”
“I just went as a favor to her,” Kevin said.
“Here I was worried you were lonely,” Stacy mocked. “And now I find out you’ve got this humanitarian service you provide to the unattached females of South Bend.”
Everyone burst out laughing.
Kevin glared at them but it didn’t slow their laughter one bit. Mabel gave him a wink. Damn. Why hadn’t he remembered that Plymouth was shouting distance from South Bend?
“Good morning, Kevin.”
“Morning, Cindy.”
Kevin hurried into his office, hoping his secretary would read the message in his clipped tones. She liked to start the week by sitting down with him and chatting for a while. Normally he didn’t mind, but not today.
The weekend hadn’t gone as he’d planned. He’d had a nice time with Sam. All right, a great time. But
that had been Saturday night. And so what, if he thought about her most of Sunday? He’d decided they were not going to date. No way. Never. They would be business associates and that was all.
Spending time with his kids was supposed to drive away the image of her smile, but it hadn’t worked out that way. They’d split their time between him and their grandparents and then gone off with some high-school friends who had dropped over.
When he’d gotten home, the house had seemed especially empty. Even the cats had other interests, barely giving him a glance while they watched fireflies flitting about in the backyard.
For a moment he was tempted to call Samantha. Tell her about the people who still thought she was a kid; who hadn’t realized that she’d graduated from college. Share a laugh with her.
But that would hardly be keeping their relationship businesslike. Besides, she probably wouldn’t be home. A pleasant weekend, with no rain, was a rare treasure this year. She would have been with her friends—probably out on one of the many beaches lining the eastern shore of Lake Michigan.
So he hadn’t talked to anybody. He’d finished out the evening watching some show on TV. All in all, he’d felt a good grump coming on. And for him, those things always had to run their course. Like a cold or the flu.
“Busy?” Cindy asked.
Damn. People always said women were the sensitive ones, the ones who could read others’ feelings. That was bull. A lot of times they didn’t have a clue as to how a person felt inside. Kevin slowly forced his head up.
Cindy had a smile on her face—the kind women wore when they were going to do something for you; something that did not contain mutually-agreed-upon benefits. Great.
“Actually, I am busy.” Kevin indicated the piles of papers on his desk. “I have all these—”
“I won’t be long.”
His secretary sat down and let him bask in the warmth of her smile. He took a deep breath, slumped back into his chair, and waited.
“Mr. Cartwright’s party is this weekend,” Cindy said.
Kevin just stared.
“Like in Chairman of the Board Mr. Cartwright,” she said.
“Yes, I know.” Kevin nodded as he worked up to a good, hard glare. “This Friday night.”
“You must also know, those things are much more fun if you go with someone.”
Apparently Cindy had work backed up, too. She usually liked to beat around the bush for thirty or forty seconds, take her time getting to the point.
“Are you trying to organize a car pool?” Kevin asked, twisting his lips into a smile of his own.
Cindy made a face at him. “Anyway, we got together and made a list.”
The smile dropped off his face like a snowslide down a cliff. He could have asked, Who got together? Why? And what kind of list? But he knew that he didn’t want to know any of the answers.
“I’m glad you’re making good use of your free time,” Kevin said, picking up a stack of loan applications that his staff had preapproved. “But I really need to—”
“There are a lot of nice women on our list,” Cindy said. “Any one of whom would enjoy the Cartwright party.”
“I enjoyed it last year.”
“You went alone.”
“I enjoyed it very much,” Kevin said. “So much so that I can’t imagine making any changes to my modus operandi.”
“You were the only one who came alone.”
“Which made me the center of attention.” Kevin smiled. “And you know how I love that.”
His secretary’s lips tightened into a straight line and her fingers, tapping on the arm of her chair, went from waltz time to a country-and-western line-dance beat. Kevin could feel a lecture coming on. It was best to head it off now, before both of them became angry. Spending several days not speaking to each other would take a big nick out of his productivity.
“These items need to be reviewed by me and approved or disapproved by eleven this morning. And, as much as I’m enjoying our little chat, I really have to get to work.”
Cindy slowly stood. “I’ll check with you later in the week.”
“Great.” He didn’t try doing anything with his tone. Cindy was one of those women who were totally impervious to sarcasm.
“How about Wednesday?”
“Wednesday would be terrific. Want to shut the door on your way out?”
Cindy left. She could have used some lessons on the difference between shutting and slamming, but the door was closed. And that was all that mattered. He forced his attention to the forms before him.
The morning went by reasonably fast. There were a number of things that needed his attention and years of discipline had taught him how to concentrate on the task at hand; how to keep stray, extraneous thoughts out of his head. Such as Samantha, who would be a nice date for Cartwright’s party. But that idea was quickly dismissed. They’d just done the one thing together. And that was only because she’d needed someone to fill in an empty space; someone to keep her brothers off her back. Even though they both had enjoyed themselves, they were not going to pursue the matter.
Along toward noon, he leaned back from his finished work and stretched. Fortunately, there was a knock on his door before his mind had a chance to drift.
“Got a minute?” William—not Bill—Cartwright looked in the door.
“Sure,” Kevin said as the chairman came in. “Something wrong?”
“Ah, no.” Mr. Cartwright shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Good.”
“Everything’s great.”
“Super.”
They shared a long silence. His manager was not a man to be hurried, so Kevin slouched back and waited. Finally Mr. Cartwright cleared his throat. Ah, a pronouncement was coming. Kevin sat up and leaned forward.
“Are you coming to our party this Friday?”
“Yes, I am.”
Cartwright nodded his head for several moments. “Good, good. Marcella will be pleased to hear that.”
There were going to be two hundred people at the party. Kevin couldn’t imagine why Mr. Cartwright’s wife cared whether or not he came. He silently waited for further enlightenment.
“You know,” Cartwright said, pursing his lips. “Women are different from us.”
“I’ve heard that,” Kevin replied dryly.
His boss didn’t even glance at him, maintaining eye contact with the window on the far wall. “Now take Marcella, for instance.”
Kevin considered saying no, you take Marcella, she’s your wife. But he decided that, for the moment, anyway, discretion would be the better part of valor. So he said nothing.
“She’s a fine woman,” Mr. Cartwright said.
Kevin nodded.
“But she has this thing about symmetry.”
“Symmetry?”
“Yeah, you know. Equal here.” He indicated with both hands to his left. “And equal there.” Cartwright swiveled toward his right. “Balanced.” His boss bounced his hands in opposition to each other, indicating weighing something on a balance scale. “You get my drift?”
In normal circumstances Kevin would have pretended that he didn’t understand. But he was pretty damn sick of this whole thing, himself. It was bad enough having his daughter, his mother-in-law and secretary trying to manipulate him. But now his own boss. A guy like himself. It was enough to make a grown man cry.
“I presume you’re talking about a boy-girl, boy-girl kind of balance.”
“Yeah, yeah.” For the first time, Cartwright smiled. “You got it.”
Oh, he had it, all right. Like a bad case of the stomach flu. It took all of Kevin’s effort to stay civil.
Cartwright cleared his throat and Kevin held his breath. “Marcella knows a lot of people.”
“I’m sure she does,” Kevin replied.
Marcella and William Cartwright gave a party every year around this time for the employees of the savings and loan, but also for Michiana’s high society—such as it was. With catered delicacie
s and a string quartet from the South Bend Symphony Orchestra, the party was held on the Cartwright’s spacious grounds on a bluff above the St. Joseph River. Dress was formal.
“I was wondering, Bill.”
His manager’s face hardened, but only a person who knew Cartwright well would have noticed. By calling him Bill, Kevin had indicated a smart-ass remark was coming.
“Should I wear my green loincloth or the red one?”
“Aw, come on, Kevin. Be a sport.”
“Me?” Kevin laid a hand on his chest. “I’m supposed to be a sport? Am I the one butting in on other people’s lives?”
“Now don’t go blowing a gasket.”
Kevin turned slightly so he could glare out his window.
“You know this picnic thing is important to Marcella.”
Yeah, he knew. She spent her time schmoozing at it, raising a lot of money for the symphony orchestra. It served as the start of the year’s social season in the area. Kevin didn’t say anything.
“So she’s got this thing about symmetry,” Cartwright said. “You’ve got to admit she does a lot for the city.”
Yes, she did. The Cartwrights had no children and Marcella didn’t need a job, so she was a professional do-gooder and fund-raiser for just about every charity in Michiana.
“You want me to talk to Marcella?” Cartwright asked.
“I’ll take care of it,” Kevin muttered, the words slipping out the spaces between his clenched teeth.
“Good.” Cartwright nodded and bounced up from his chair. “Great.”
“Yeah, great.”
“Well.” His boss looked at his watch. “Gotta run. Lunch with the mayor.” He turned to leave but paused at the door. “See you Friday?”
For a moment, Kevin thought of telling Cartwright to go to hell. Of telling him that by Friday he would have a bad case of typhoid. Maybe leprosy. But he didn’t. It wasn’t that he was a coward. He was just tired of this nonsense.
“Yeah, sure,” he replied, as he turned toward his window.
He heard the door shut quietly behind him. Damn. He sighed, fighting back that image of Sam that came dancing unbidden into his thoughts once more. He was a loner. He’d had his chance at love and it had ended early. So now he was no longer part of a couple. Why couldn’t people accept that?
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