Taking her hand in his, he led her to the deck, asking her about what she had done since he had spoken with her last, then, as she talked, guiding her toward the beach and their favorite rocks. She wanted to know more about his travels than he had told her on the phone, and asked question after question, all of which he answered eagerly.
“I have some news,” he said when they reached a comfortable breaking point. He had debated waiting to tell her but knew she would be hurt if she felt he hadn’t been forthright. “I have a teaching position for the fall.”
Her eyes lit up. “That’s great! Where?”
He hesitated for only a minute. “Harvard.”
Her eyes widened all the more. “That’s so close!”
“I know. I wasn’t sure if it would upset you.”
“Upset me? I think it’s wonderful!”
“It’ll only be one afternoon a week and just for the fall semester; I’ve never done anything like this before so I’ll have to spend a lot of time this summer getting ready, but I think it’s kind of exciting.”
“‘Kind of’?” she mocked, then wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed. It amazed her that she had come to be so physical, but then, Michael inspired no less. “You’ll be in Boston one afternoon a week. Now, that’s exciting.”
He grinned, unable to take his eyes from her face. “I think so. I was hoping…I mean, I thought…well, maybe we could have dinner together every so often.”
She knew what he was saying, or not saying, as the case truly was. If they saw each other in Boston, it would be on her turf. They would be breaking an unspoken agreement, paving new ground, perhaps making things more difficult. But she had little choice. “I’d really like that.”
“You would?”
She grew serious. “Yes, I would. This past winter was very long. I’m not particularly looking forward to a repeat of it.” She tore her gaze from his and sought the solace of the sea. “But I keep asking myself the same questions, and I don’t have any answers yet.” She glanced back at him. “Maybe I’m being unfair to you.”
“Am I complaining?”
“I can’t promise anything,” she warned softly.
“I know, sweetheart, I know. I also know how much I missed you all winter, and I’m not looking forward to a repeat of it, either.” He took a breath. “Please take this in the right light, because I don’t want you to feel guilty about anything. I didn’t go looking for a position in Boston. It came to me, and the opportunity was too good to pass up. Being able to see you will be frosting on the cake. If it happens, it’ll be wonderful. If not, then I’ll just concentrate on the pleasure of teaching.…But this is crazy. Here we are with the whole summer to look forward to and we’re worrying about the fall. I have another surprise. Wanna see it?”
“Is it as nice as the last one?”
He wiggled his brows. “Depends on your preference…man or beast.” Turning away, he set his lips and whistled loudly. He repeated it seconds later, then waited.
“Rusty?” Danica whispered, looking down the beach as Michael was doing. Moments later a large and handsome Labrador retriever loped into view. “Rusty! My Lord, look at him!”
With Michael right behind her, she scrambled down the rocks, falling to her knees to give Rusty a sound hug. “You’re beautiful!” she exclaimed, clutching his thick pelt while his entire rear end wagged.
“He’s been waiting for you.”
“He has not. He couldn’t possibly remember me.”
“Sure he does. And even if he didn’t, he has a good eye for women.”
“You’re training him.”
“Yup.”
She stood. “He’s magnificent, Michael. I’m so glad you got him.”
“So am I. We’ve had some good runs together on the beach. You’d be pleased watching.”
“I can’t wait. He’s a special dog made for a special man.” She couldn’t hide the adoration in her eyes when she gazed up at Michael.
“I’m gonna be swellheaded pretty soon. Come on. I want to see your word processor.”
He saw that, and the piles of papers and tapes she had brought. When they returned to his house, he showed her the galleys for his book on sports and the reams of notes and outlines for his newest baby. They discussed it for a while, then drove into town together. Michael took pride in showing her off there, not only to Sara but to Sara’s husband and the druggist and the librarian and the kitchen shop proprietor, all of whom Danica had come to know well the summer before.
They stopped at the market for food, then returned to Danica’s house, where she cooked Michael what he swore was the best dinner he had had in weeks. After an evening of quiet talk and smiles, though, he wisely said good night.
It was a pattern of closeness that was to repeat itself as the weeks passed. They biked together each morning before going their separate ways to work. As often as possible they had dinner together, sometimes at her house, sometimes at his, sometimes out. They shopped together, walked the beach together, talked about everything from Dutch elm disease to the plight of the miners in Appalachia. They spent a Sunday with the McCabes on their boat, which was perfectly wonderful since Danica and Michael had eyes only for each other and Greta and Pat indulged them their pleasure.
In mid-July, Eleanor Marshall came for a visit. Danica was indeed in better shape than she had been the summer before, but she still found her mother’s presence to be limiting, particularly when she wanted to be with Michael. At Danica’s insistence, he joined them for dinner on several occasions. Not only was she desperate to see him, but she wanted her mother to get to know him.
Unfortunately, she underestimated her mother’s perceptivity.
“Darling?” Eleanor had been home for three days, waiting for a moment when she and William were alone. They were having cocktails in the den prior to a rare quiet dinner. “There’s something I want to discuss with you. It’s about Danica.”
William settled deeper into his high-backed chair. “I’m glad you went up there. I just can’t get away.”
“I’m sure she understands. But that’s not what I wanted to discuss. I’m worried about Blake and her.”
“What about them?”
“It’s not right the way they never see each other.”
“I’ve told her that. She doesn’t listen to me.”
“What does Blake say?”
“Blake can’t do anything about it,” William said gruffly. “He can’t be traipsing north all the time when he’s busy in Washington, and he can’t force her to stay there. What in the hell does she have against the place, anyway?”
“She never did like it. You know that.”
“But I don’t know why. Okay, so she doesn’t like going out every night. You’d think she could force herself for Blake’s sake.”
“She doesn’t want to. That’s what worries me.”
Ice cubes clinked as William rapped his glass against the arm of his chair. “She has more than most women could ever dream of having. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She should be grateful. Instead, what does she do? She buries herself with that old fart Bryant—”
“She says he’s nice.”
“This whole working thing is ridiculous. She’s no bra-burner; at least, I never brought her up to be one. What possessed her to want to work? I still can’t figure that one out.”
“She says she loves it.”
“Stubborn fool, she probably wouldn’t admit it even if she didn’t.” He brooded for a minute. “Someone’s influencing her. That’s the only explanation. You say she’s met people up there?”
Eleanor smoothed her dress over her knee, pressing the silk with her palm. “She introduced me to quite a few. They seem nice enough. I’m worried though.”
When she didn’t go on, William scowled. “What is it, Eleanor? Spit it out.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Eleanor,” he warned, lowering his brows in command.
“The one…her n
eighbor…Michael Buchanan…”
“He’s trouble. I could have bet on it.”
“No, no. He’s very nice. Very nice.”
William sighed. “What are you suggesting, Eleanor?”
Eleanor’s expression was pained. She didn’t know if she was doing the right thing. On the one hand, she felt she was betraying Danica. On the other, she knew her ultimate loyalty had to rest with William, who would surely be furious if something did happen after she had kept mum.
“I’m wondering,” she sighed, “if it’s possible that Danica could be involved with another man.”
William pulled in his chin. “With Buchanan?”
“They seem very fond of each other.”
“Did they do anything?”
“In front of me, of course not. They were very proper. Danica went out of her way to be nonchalant when he was around, but I saw. A woman sees things like that.”
“Things like what?” William demanded impatiently.
“Expression. Tone of voice. Little things. She’s not that way with Blake.”
“Blake is a man. Buchanan is…is…”
“A man, too,” Eleanor provided softly. “A man who’s just as good-looking in his way as Blake. A man who’s just as successful in his way as Blake. A man who is there, while Blake isn’t.”
But William was shaking his head. “Danica wouldn’t do something like that. She wouldn’t dare.”
“Danica isn’t a child anymore. We both seem to have missed that somewhere along the line.”
“She wouldn’t dare. That’s all there is to it.”
Eleanor pressed her lips together, then nodded.
“Well, I just wanted to mention it to you.”
William finished his drink. “Why?”
“I thought maybe you might want to speak to her. Or to Blake. You know, not to make any accusations, just to suggest that they should try to be together more. I wouldn’t want anything to happen, Bill. Blake’s in a position of great visibility. If Danica does something foolish, you and Blake could both be embarrassed.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” He inhaled deeply. “By the way, Henry and Ruth were asking for you today. I saw them at the club.”
For the moment, the discussion of their daughter was over. Feeling that she had discharged her duty, Eleanor gratefully seized on the subject of her friends. William, though, thought about the matter of Danica and Blake for a long time. He didn’t want to confront Blake and risk being closed off by a man he considered to be an important friend and ally. He didn’t want to confront Danica, who would surely deny everything.
No, he decided, there was a safer way to handle the matter. Determinedly, he put in a call the next morning to Morgan Emery.
On a Saturday morning in late July, Michael suggested they drive north along the coast to Camden. Danica, who didn’t care where they went as long as they were together, readily agreed. For comfort’s sake, and because she was feeling particularly feminine, she wore a new blue sundress she had bought in Boston that spring, and strappy sandals.
Michael was more quiet than usual. From time to time, when she glanced at him, he smiled and squeezed her hand, but he said little.
“You seem preoccupied,” she ventured softly. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no. Well, not really wrong. I, uh, there was a special reason I wanted to bring you up here.” They were no more than ten minutes from their destination.
“Another surprise?” she teased.
“In a way. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Last time I heard that, I found Cilla on your deck. Who is it, Michael?”
“Her name’s Gena. Gena Bradley.”
Danica thought, then shook her head. “I don’t recognize the name. Who is she?”
“Bradley is her maiden name. She reverted to it after her divorce. When I was a kid, it was Gena Bradley Buchanan. She’s my mother.”
“Your mother? But I thought she lived in New York. I hadn’t even realized your parents were divorced.” Michael rarely talked of his father for reasons he had already explained, and though he had spoken fondly of his mother, Danica had just assumed their relationship had suffered some from the rift.
“It happened after we all left the roost. My memories are of the family together.”
“What happened?” Danica breathed, stunned. “I thought…I mean, the picture was always so pretty.”
“It was pretty, at least for us kids. We always knew that Gena had an independent streak. She was our greatest champion when Dad was trying to steamroller us. And I don’t think she was all that unhappy then. She loved us, and she and Dad had struck what seemed to be a fair compromise.”
“Then…why?”
“When we all left and there was just Dad and her, she realized something was more wrong than she’d thought. She discovered that Dad was seeing someone else, a younger woman.”
“Oh, Michael.”
“Gena was really hurt, mostly because she felt she’d been so loyal all those years. He didn’t fight the divorce. And she moved up here.”
“It must be a comfort having you so close.”
“I don’t see her as often as I’d like.” He shook his head in admiration. “She’s a remarkable woman. More independent than ever. She’s not the type who expects her children to hold her hand. She’s made a new life for herself and stays so busy that we all but have to make an appointment to see her.”
Danica couldn’t help but contrast Michael’s mother and her own. The situations seem to have been reversed. She was glad, for Michael’s sake, that he had gotten the better end of the deal. “What does she do?”
“What doesn’t she do. She owns a small real estate concern in Camden. She teaches Russian at an adult ed program. She pots.”
“Pots?”
“Works with clay. She’s really pretty good. Do you know that big slate-colored lamp in my bedroom?”
Danica cleared her throat. His bedroom had been off-limits. “No, uh, I don’t happen to know that big slate-colored lamp in your bedroom.”
Michael shot her an embarrassed glance. “Right. Well, anyway, she made the base and had it wired up for me. She sells her things to some of the local shops.” He paused. “You have one of them.”
“I do?”
“The ashtray in the den.”
Danica heard the quiet pride in his voice. “Your mother made that? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was pleasure enough for me to know.”
“I love it!” She lowered her voice. “I keep paper clips in it, though. Do you think she’ll mind?”
He laughed and shook his head. “I keep telling her that she should try to sell in New York, but she claims she doesn’t have the time. She says she doesn’t want the pressure and that if she enjoys what she’s doing, that’s all that matters. I wish I could be as content. It’s not that I need adulation, but I’m not sure my work would mean much to me if people never read my books.”
“The situations are different, Michael. Your mother—”
“Call her Gena. She’ll want that.”
“…Gena is at a different stage in life, and in a sense she already has public exposure. Her four greatest works are out on the streets of the world—Brice, Corey, Cilla, and you.”
Michael grinned. “You two will get along fine. Just fine.”
But Danica was suffering momentary cold feet. “Does she know about me?”
“I’ve spoken of you as a friend.” He grew solemn. “I haven’t told her everything. Given her own experience in life, I’m not sure she’d appreciate the fact that I’m in love with a married woman.”
If Gena suspected anything, she kept it to herself. To Danica, she was warm and welcoming, to Michael openly adoring. Danica easily understood where Michael’s physicality came from. Gena, too, was a toucher.
She was slender, more petite than Cilla, and had an attractive crop of short silver hair. Michael had her brown eyes—or maybe it was the warmth in them whic
h was familiar—but there the physical similarity ended.
As with Cilla, Danica found herself quickly drawn to this other woman in Michael’s life. Gena was interesting and nonconforming in a way Danica found thoroughly refreshing. Though Michael claimed that Cilla was like their father in terms of agressiveness, Danica could see where she got her impulsiveness. In the course of the day Gena excitedly dragged them to see the house she had just sold to a painter, corraled them into the local movie house to view a short foreign film she had heard was superb, scrambled on Michael’s shoulders to hang a bird feeder she thought was too low, and cooked the most delicious vegetarian dinner Danica had ever imagined could be made.
“Tired?” Michael asked as they drove back to Kennebunkport much later that night.
“Mmmm. But pleasantly so. She’s wonderful. How lucky you are to have a mother like that.”
Her tone held appreciation, perhaps a little envy, but no bitterness, and for that Michael was grateful. He hadn’t wanted to underscore Danica’s own problems by introducing her to Gena. Indeed he had spent hours worrying that that might happen. In the end, though, he had simply wanted these two women to meet. Danica’s reaction to the day had convinced him he’d been right. Moreover, he was thrilled with the genuine affection Gena had shown Danica. It pleased him to know that his mother saw the beauty in the woman he loved.
Cilla was surprised to look up from the jumble of notes on her desk to see Jeffrey approaching. She wasn’t sure what had alerted her to his arrival, certainly not his footsteps when the city room was filled with the steady click of computer keyboards. She broke into a smile, but waited for him to speak first.
“Hi,” he said quietly.
“Hi, yourself.”
“I was passing by and just thought I’d drop in. I wasn’t sure you’d be here. You’re usually out running around.”
There had been no censure in his voice to discourage her. “I don’t get any writing done when I’m out running around. For that matter, I don’t get much writing done here.” She gestured toward her cluttered desktop. “Look at this mess. I’m not terribly organized.”
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