well, and no one was going to hurt Lucy like thatânot if she could help it. No one was going to blithely waltz into her daughterâs life, and read her books, and get her to love him, and then leave.
She sat up in bed and scrubbed the tears from her eyes, piqued at this uncharacteristic bout with melancholia. It was all Ken Callahanâs fault, barging into her life, with that unraveling grin and mouthwatering body, and stirring up feelings better left unstirred. She switched the table lamp on and immediately felt better as the room was bathed in a warm glow.
Sheâd decorated the room for the middle of the night. It was a room that could dispel the gloom and horror of the most terrible nightmare. It was a room that conjured up gentle sunshine and warm summer breezes. The light from the lamp reflected in the patina of her queen-sized brass bed. An ornate rolltop desk hugged one wall, itâs pigeonholesoverflowing with trinkets, dried flowers, bills, half-finished correspondence, and rolled-up magazines. It was framed by an assortment of picturesâpictures of trains, pictures of gorillas, pictures of ice skaters, pictures of family. The walls were the color of vanilla cream, the lush carpet a dusky rose, the down comforter covered by an apricot coverlet that matched an adjoining bath done entirely in apricotâincluding the walls and ceiling. Her brother had dubbed it her âsherbet phase,â had merrily declared it to be sexist, and had concluded that his sister was substituting for all sorts of oral gratification.
âProbably,â sheâd told him breezily. âWho cares?â But deep down inside, she cared. She had made a terrible mistake, and she couldnât afford to make another. She couldnât afford the luxury of self-pity, and she couldnât admit to lonelinessânot even to herself.
Pull yourself together, Chris, she fumed. Twelve forty-five. She had to be at the rink by five-twenty. She would be tired tomorrow, and it was all Kenâs fault. He was sexy and charmingâand a rogue. His first night under her roof, and he was off in Loudoun County, staying up to all hours and doing heaven-knows-what. It certainly didnât take five hours to gather a few clothes together. Shethrew the covers off and sprang out of bed. It was simple. She would go downstairs, she would make herself a cup of hot chocolate, and then she would go to sleep. And with any kind of luck, Ken Callahan would decide to stay in Loudoun County, and sheâd never see him again.
She padded quietly downstairs and crept through the dark house. Reaching the kitchen, she switched on the light and set a pan of milk heating on the stove while she spooned the chocolate mix into a mug. The beginnings of a smile tipped the corners of her mouth. Her life was filled with small pleasures. Having a midnight treat in her cozy kitchen was one of them. She poured the milk into the mug and watched, enthralled, as the liquid became brown and steamy. It was her favorite mugâfine porcelain with a colorful picture of a mother rabbit. Her best friend Amy had given her a set of four because she knew Chris loved rabbits. There had been no special reason for the presentâAmy had simply seen them, thought of Chris, and spent her last cent on the cups. And that was the whole point, Chris reasoned. She had Amy. She had Lucy. She had Aunt Edna. What did she need with Ken?
The cocoa cooled on the counter while Chris enjoyed the quiet. The refrigerator hummed as itdefrosted. The sound of suburban traffic droned in the distance. A car door slammed. A key turned in her front door. Chris felt her heart skip a beat as the front door clicked open. It was him. Damn! What rotten luckânow she was trapped in the kitchen in her nightgown. She flicked the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. Maybe he hadnât seen the light. Maybe he wasnât hungry or thirsty. She closed her eyes in silent prayer.
She sat up in bed and scrubbed the tears from her eyes, piqued at this uncharacteristic bout with melancholia. It was all Ken Callahanâs fault, barging into her life, with that unraveling grin and mouthwatering body, and stirring up feelings better left unstirred. She switched the table lamp on and immediately felt better as the room was bathed in a warm glow.
Sheâd decorated the room for the middle of the night. It was a room that could dispel the gloom and horror of the most terrible nightmare. It was a room that conjured up gentle sunshine and warm summer breezes. The light from the lamp reflected in the patina of her queen-sized brass bed. An ornate rolltop desk hugged one wall, itâs pigeonholesoverflowing with trinkets, dried flowers, bills, half-finished correspondence, and rolled-up magazines. It was framed by an assortment of picturesâpictures of trains, pictures of gorillas, pictures of ice skaters, pictures of family. The walls were the color of vanilla cream, the lush carpet a dusky rose, the down comforter covered by an apricot coverlet that matched an adjoining bath done entirely in apricotâincluding the walls and ceiling. Her brother had dubbed it her âsherbet phase,â had merrily declared it to be sexist, and had concluded that his sister was substituting for all sorts of oral gratification.
âProbably,â sheâd told him breezily. âWho cares?â But deep down inside, she cared. She had made a terrible mistake, and she couldnât afford to make another. She couldnât afford the luxury of self-pity, and she couldnât admit to lonelinessânot even to herself.
Pull yourself together, Chris, she fumed. Twelve forty-five. She had to be at the rink by five-twenty. She would be tired tomorrow, and it was all Kenâs fault. He was sexy and charmingâand a rogue. His first night under her roof, and he was off in Loudoun County, staying up to all hours and doing heaven-knows-what. It certainly didnât take five hours to gather a few clothes together. Shethrew the covers off and sprang out of bed. It was simple. She would go downstairs, she would make herself a cup of hot chocolate, and then she would go to sleep. And with any kind of luck, Ken Callahan would decide to stay in Loudoun County, and sheâd never see him again.
She padded quietly downstairs and crept through the dark house. Reaching the kitchen, she switched on the light and set a pan of milk heating on the stove while she spooned the chocolate mix into a mug. The beginnings of a smile tipped the corners of her mouth. Her life was filled with small pleasures. Having a midnight treat in her cozy kitchen was one of them. She poured the milk into the mug and watched, enthralled, as the liquid became brown and steamy. It was her favorite mugâfine porcelain with a colorful picture of a mother rabbit. Her best friend Amy had given her a set of four because she knew Chris loved rabbits. There had been no special reason for the presentâAmy had simply seen them, thought of Chris, and spent her last cent on the cups. And that was the whole point, Chris reasoned. She had Amy. She had Lucy. She had Aunt Edna. What did she need with Ken?
The cocoa cooled on the counter while Chris enjoyed the quiet. The refrigerator hummed as itdefrosted. The sound of suburban traffic droned in the distance. A car door slammed. A key turned in her front door. Chris felt her heart skip a beat as the front door clicked open. It was him. Damn! What rotten luckânow she was trapped in the kitchen in her nightgown. She flicked the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. Maybe he hadnât seen the light. Maybe he wasnât hungry or thirsty. She closed her eyes in silent prayer.
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