September Love

Mr. Driscoll tried to help. “Oh, come on, Myrtle. This is a lovely old mansion. Be glad the lady opens it to the public.”

Whereupon Mrs. Driscoll turned to Beth and said with woman-to-woman frankness. “Actually, Bert is the one who likes these bed-and-breakfast places. I’d much rather have the anonymity of a motel—so much more privacy.”

Beth’s perfect hostess smile remained fixed while she wondered who in the world could possibly dream of invading this woman’s privacy. She indicated the small desk.

“You’ll find house stationery in there and postcards with a picture of the house on them. There’s also a city map and a what-to-see leaflet. Mrs. Driscoll, are your allergies food related, too? Our breakfast menu offers a fairly wide variety. Both for low-cholesterol people and high-cholesterol people. We have eggs, any style, with sausage or bacon. Plus a wide selection of muffins or home-baked bread. The muffins are small, two-bite sized, so you can have different kinds. Then, for those who need to eat more carefully, we have muesli, nonfat milk and, of course, lots of fruit and juices.”

“You’re very kind,” Mrs. Driscoll said sadly. “I’m sure I can find something.” And Mr. Driscoll patted her shoulder in a comforting manner.

Beth escaped into the hallway with a suppressed sigh as she heard Doug enter the front door. As always, her heart lifted and all fatigue vanished. She ran down the stairs like a teenager.

“Doug!” She flew into his arms and was held for a moment against his strong body, raising her face for a kiss.

“Where’s Kayla?” he asked anxiously, glancing around.

Beth drew back, letting her hands linger on his arms. “Upstairs resting a bit. She was tired from her trip.” Should she tell him about Adam? No. Let that come from Kayla. Presenting Doug with a grandson might be part of Kayla’s fence-mending with her father.

“Did I get here in time to carry suitcases?” Belatedly he kissed her, but it landed on her temple as she was drawing away from him.

“No. I did it all, and I’ll have you know it weighed a ton. Their name is Driscoll. Mrs. Driscoll requires pampering, so I put them in the front bedroom.”

He frowned. “Isn’t that Justin Bryant’s regular room? Isn’t he coming tonight?”

“I’ll explain later, darling. Why don’t you go up and see your daughter? They—she’s in the back bedroom. You two have a lot to catch up on and I have to change.”

“You’re all wet,” he said, suddenly noticing, and just then the doorbell chimed again.

“Go on up. I’ll get that. It’s probably Justin Bryant,” Beth said, touching the side of his face briefly. She found herself listening intently to Doug’s steps as he went up the stairs. She had an odd little sense of dread, which she quickly brushed aside as she hurried to open the front door. She knew Justin Bryant well and was ready to welcome him on his spring foraging among the collectibles of Seattle.

“Come in,” she said eagerly. “And yes, I know my clothes are wet. I was just about to change. I’ll show you up this time. I’m sorry, Justin, but I had to put you in a different room. I hope that’s all right.”

“Oh, I can’t stand that,” he said in mock despair. “You know how set in our ways we middle-aged guys get. Well, how many kinds of muffins will I get for breakfast? Maybe that will make it right.”

“Four kinds,” Beth assured him, and, as they mounted the stairs, she explained tactfully about Mrs. Driscoll’s sleep disorder.

As she spoke she couldn’t help but look toward the back bedroom, but the door was shut. Would Doug be shocked at finding a grandson he had never been told about?

Justin Bryant was still talking. “…and I intend to beat Doug at Scrabble this time. I have a new dictionary. Who else is here besides the fragile lady who took my bedroom?”

Beth found herself telling him about the sudden arrival of Doug’s daughter and the other two guests who were arriving tomorrow.

“Oh, good. Full house,” Justin said. “You can always find somebody interesting in a full house.”

After she left Justin, she finally managed to change into an at-home outfit, one of Doug’s favorites. A soft heather jersey with a swishy draped skirt. Doug was trying to paint a picture of her in it. He had made dozens of sketches but he wasn’t satisfied.

“I guess what talent I’ve got is for landscapes,” he had said. “Trees. Rocks. Hills. Sea. Those I can do. Why can’t I capture your beautiful face?”

She went into the kitchen to start dinner and realized she was still listening intently for some sound from upstairs. Twice she couldn’t resist going to the bottom of the stairway for a moment. When would they ever come down? Would Doug really be happy? Was he as pleased as he had sounded on the phone? From the kitchen she heard the Driscolls leaving, and the murmur of Mrs. Driscoll’s voice, sounding plaintive. She hoped they wouldn’t come back early, but they probably would. Then, a few minutes later, she heard Justin Bryant bounding down the stairs. He had friends in Seattle, so he would probably be back late.

Finally. Beth heard Doug and Kayla coming toward the kitchen. Oh, please, God, let Doug be happy. Let this be right for Doug. Then, belatedly, she prayed, And let it be good for Kayla, too. She breathed a sigh of relief at Doug’s wide grin. He was carrying Adam. The little boy wasn’t frowning, but his small face was dead serious.

“Ah, something smells wonderful. And I’m famished. Why didn’t you tell me my grandson had arrived?” He leaned over to kiss Beth, and she felt herself flushing like a schoolgirl on her first date.

“I wanted Kayla to tell you,” Beth said. She couldn’t help but smile, too. Kayla looked radiant, so the reunion must have gone well. She was a pretty woman.

“Everything’s almost ready,” Beth said happily. “Just go in and sit down. I’ll bring in the food.” She had set the dining room table with her best china and silver in Kayla’s honor. There was a low centerpiece of early white crocus. She had put the wooden booster seat on one of the chairs for Adam. As the three seated themselves, Beth began serving. The London broil marinade had tenderized the meat so it could be cut with a fork. The roasted red-skinned potato wedges were perfectly done. Beth sprinkled grated cheese over them, knowing it would melt by the time it reached the table. Then she quickly filled the chilled salad bowls with greens. She took everything in on the big silver tray because she didn’t want to get up from the table again until dessert, and because she knew Doug would leap up to help her. Let me take, Beth, it’s too heavy for you.

It was a lovely, comfortable meal, enriched with talk and laughter. Kayla’s tension was gone. She was relaxed, pleasant and sometimes quite funny. Adam tucked into his food with sober concentration, as if he hadn’t had a peanut butter sandwich and cookies in midafternoon. Kayla ate hungrily, too, with little approving comments. “Oh, Beth, this is so good.”

Looking at Adam fondly, Doug said, “I had a bit of trouble getting acquainted with the little guy, but he loosened up after a while.”

“Adam’s kind of quirky,” Kayla said. “He’ll probably end up like his daddy. Mitch was a loner. I don’t think he ever had any real friends.”

Beth met Doug’s eyes across the table in time to see the quick look of rejection. She could almost feel his thought: No. Not Adam. Somehow, some way, life must be better for Adam. And again, Beth felt the sense of uneasiness.

Kayla’s energy didn’t last long after dinner, and Adam had already fallen asleep, curled up on the floor beside Kayla’s feet, soon after they had gone into the living room.

“Why don’t you go to bed, sweetheart?” Doug asked her. “I know you’re beat. Traveling does that.”

Kayla hid a yawn behind a slender hand. “I think I will, Daddy—if that’s all right with you, Beth. Tomorrow I’ll be a new woman. And I intend to be some help. I’m a pretty good house cleaner when I get going. Daddy, will you carry Adam up for me?”

Beth went back into the dining room and cleared the table. She was putting the last things into the dishwasher when Doug came into the kitchen. He sat down at the kitchen table and she joined him. Both reached out and clasped hands as they often did. Doug was looking at her intently.

“Thank you for what you did, my love.”

“What? I don’t—”

“For Kayla. For Adam.” His voice was unsteady for a moment.

“What do you mean?”

“I know Kayla. I’m her father, remember? I know how grungy she can be when she reaches the point of going back on the wagon again. And I recognized Jill’s blue dress.”

“Oh, that,” Beth said in sudden embarrassment. “I… She lost her luggage and she needed—”

“And if anybody needs, you fly to the rescue. I love you, Beth. I hope I deserve you.” He tightened his hold on her hands. “And it salvaged Kayla’s pride a bit, too, not having to face me looking like a ragamuffin. I know she must have been.”

“How…how did things come out?”

He released her hands and got up. “Pretty well, I guess. With Kayla I’m never sure. But this time I think she really means it. Endicott’s death got to her, I believe.”

“Who’s Endicott?”

“Adam’s father. Mitch Endicott.” He went over to the refrigerator. “I’ll start the breakfast preparations while I tell you. No, don’t get up. You’ve done enough today.” He took the melons out of the fridge and put them on the long drain board.

Beth sat back as he took things out of cupboards and drawers and rolled up his sleeves. She loved to watch his big hands working. The big hands that could saw logs for the fireplaces or wield a tiny paintbrush to put sunlight on leaves or, as now, use the small scoop to create melon balls for breakfast.

“Kayla wants to go back into rehab. This time for the complete cure. She knows it won’t be easy, mainly because she’s tried before and failed. The rehab treatment takes about three months and will cost the earth. But I can afford it—though my emergency fund is taking a bit hit.”