Читать онлайн книгу «After the Loving» автора Gwynne Forster

After the Loving
Gwynne Forster
In the much anticipated follow-up to Once in a Lifetime, full-figured caterer Velma Brighton is constantly comparing herself to her thin, beautiful sister, Alexis, who seems to have everything. On Alexis's wedding day, Velma's insecurity kicks into overdrive when she puts on a formfitting maid-of-honor gown that reveals all of her curves.Worse still, the man who makes her heart race will be escorting her down the aisle. How will he react to her very shapely physique?Rugged, tough and a loner, Russ Harrington is every woman's dream. And Velma is his type of woman. He fell for her–beautiful curves and all. But he has little patience with her lack of self-esteem. Setting aside his concerns, Russ pursues Velma…until she tries to undergo a complete makeover. Ironically, Velma's attempt to attract Russ could cause her to lose the very thing she wants the most–his love.


After the Loving

After the Loving
Essence Bestselling Author
Gwynne Forster

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
So many of you have written to me over the past several years asking me when I would publish another book about the Harrington brothers. Finally, my editor agreed it was time to revisit this charming family. Originally there were only three Harrington brothers, and each had his own story. However, in my treasure trove of ideas, I discovered that the Harrington family is larger than I had initially thought, and includes stories of their extended family and friends.
I am pleased that this romance about the sometimes sizzling, sometimes rocky relationship between the second Harrington brother—Russ—and the woman he loves, Velma Brighton, is once again available to readers. And if you enjoy the handsome and fiery Russ Harrington—and I sincerely hope that you do—you will be happy to learn that a new Harrington novel, A Compromising Affair, will be published in September 2011.
In case you missed the other award-winning Harrington novels, Kimani Arabesque is reissuing them beginning with Once In A Lifetime, which was released in November 2010, and Love Me or Leave Me, which is being reissued in August 2011. I hope you have an opportunity to read all of the books in the Harringtons series.
I enjoy receiving mail, so please email me at GwynneF@aol.com. If you write by postal mail, reach me at P.O. Box 45, New York, NY 10044, and if you would like a reply, please enclose a self-addressed stamped envelope. For more information, please contact my agent, Pattie Steel-Perkins, Steel-Perkins Literary Agency, at MYAGENTSPLA@aol.com.
Warmest regards,
Gwynne Forster

ACKNOWLEDGMENT
To the memory of my parents,
who gave me a legacy of faith, instilled in me
the efficacy of kindness, integrity and commitment to
good; to the memory of my siblings from whom I learned
the art of distinguishing conflict from competition;
to my late mother, especially, who wrote the first fiction
I ever read and taught me to read and write
by the time I was five; and to my beloved husband,
who fills my life with joy in so many ways.
Finally, I thank God for the talent he has given me
and for the opportunities to use it.

Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12

Chapter 1
Velma Brighton zipped up the mauve-colored, strapless silk-and-lace gown, fastened a strand of eight-millimeter pearls at her neck, and forced herself to look in the floor-length mirror that leaned against the wall. Grimacing at the sight of her more than amply rounded figure in the fitted gown, she cringed with embarrassment.
“Now, he’ll know what I really look like,” she said to herself, lamenting the fact that she couldn’t wear her usual caftan and wishing that she was tall and slender. As she stared at the mirror, she saw not only her own likeness, but a reflection of the groves of snow and icicle-laden trees on the north side of Harrington House that created an idyllic dream world. For a better look, she walked over to the window of the guest room she occupied and fixed her gaze on the broad expanse of snow-covered beauty, shaking her head in wonder at the sunlight dancing against the icicles. No bride could ask for a more beautiful wedding day.
This was her fifth or sixth visit to Harrington House, an enormous red-brick colonial set off by a great circular driveway, dominating John Brown Drive in Eagle Park, Maryland. She first visited it in order to be with her sister, Alexis, but on each subsequent trip to visit her sister, her heart had fluttered wildly in her eagerness to see Russ Harrington again. And though he always welcomed her, often being especially attentive, she didn’t think she’d made much headway with him.
She checked her hair and make-up and went downstairs to the rooms her sister occupied with her five-year-old daughter, Tara.
“How do I look, Aunt Velma?” Tara asked the minute Velma walked into the room.
“Beautiful. You’ll be the perfect flower girl.”
Smiles enveloped Tara’s face. “My mummy said I looked, uh…spec…spec…what, Mummy?”
“Spectacular.”
Velma regarded her sister—tall, willowy and beautiful in the ivory-colored silk-satin-and-lace wedding gown. “I was a little surprise when you said you’d wear white, but I’m glad you did.”
“Telford asked if I would—he wanted a traditional wed ding. I wasn’t going to deny him because of a foolish convention that a divorced or widowed woman shouldn’t wear white at a subsequent marriage. Brides wore white traditionally because they were virgins. Honey, that was then. Telford’s never been married, and he deserves a good old-fashioned wedding if that’s to his liking.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I ever saw,” Velma said. “Just wait till Telford sees you. The poor man’s heart will jump right out of his chest.”
“I certainly hope not,” Alexis said, adjusting her tiara. “I haven’t seen him since last night, and it seems like years.”
“You’re not supposed to see the groom on your wedding day until you meet him at the altar. You know that.”
“I do know it. I just wish I could see him. Velma, I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m…I’m so happy. If I’m not careful, I’ll bawl.”
“You won’t. It’s not your style.” She reached up to Alexis with open arms. “I’m happy for you, sis. After all you suffered with Jack, you deserve this wonderful man. Turn around and let me fasten these buttons. I never could figure out why they put these tiny things on the back of a wedding dress, unless it’s to frustrate the groom when he tries to get the gown off the bride.”
She loved Alexis’s low, sultry laugh when she said, “I hope to have him in such a state that he’ll rip ’em off.”
Velma stopped her task and wondered aloud, “Would he do that? Good Lord, how exciting! I would never have believed him capable of it.”
“Can’t judge a book by its cover, hon, nor a man by his height. And that’s gospel. Seen Russ today?”
Velma shrugged as if didn’t matter, but it did. “Not since last night. If he ate breakfast, he did it before I went downstairs. That man is an enigma. Last night, he laughed, joked and teased with me, and this morning, he acted as if I wasn’t in the house.”
Alexis placed a hand on her sister’s arm. “Understanding Russ may prove to be a full-time job, Velma. He’s tough and sometimes he seems cynical, but dig deeper. He’s loving, caring and if he tells you he’ll do something, he does it.”
“I believe that, but—”
In the act of inspecting the long white leather gloves she planned to wear, Alexis stopped, threw them on the bed and stared at her older sister. “I want you to listen to me. No buts. Russ is straight. What you see is exactly what you get. Don’t bother to look for hidden meanings either in his words or his actions. There won’t be any. What you see is exactly what you get.”
“Not many people are like that. I guess he’s too ornery to be dishonest.”
“No,” Alexis said. “Russ is too self-assured to lie or to be devious. Pay attention to him if you want him, otherwise forget it. When it comes to Russ, those notions about how to get a man aren’t worth the mental energy required to remember them.”
“I know he’s special,” Velma said. She finished buttoning the dress, checked its hem and train. Her happiness for her sister was boundless, but she couldn’t help wishing for Alexis’s beauty, her flawless figure and her self-confidence.
“I’ve been a bridesmaid half a dozen times,” Velma said, “each of which was increasingly painful for me. This is the last time I’m doing it. It hurts too badly.”
“Aunt Velma, has Grant come yet?” Tara asked of Grant Roundtree, her friend and the son of Adam Roundtree and Melissa Grant-Roundtree.
“I didn’t see him, but don’t worry—it’s a bit too early for the Roundtrees.”
“My mummy said he’s the ring bearer. Can Mr. Telford and my mummy get married if Grant doesn’t bring the rings?”
“He’ll be there,” Alexis said. “Anyway, we can get married without rings, although I wouldn’t like to. But relax. Grant will be here on time.”
“Yes, ma’am. You already told me to relax four times. How do I do it?”
“Excuse me for a few minutes,” Velma said, and made her way down the corridor toward the stairs.
“Well, now don’t you look real special?” Henry said as he met her near the bottom of the stairs.
“Thanks, Henry. What about you? You look great. With that tux on, you could snare a princess.”
“Yeah? If I believed you, I’d get out of this monkey suit fast as I could.”
“Did…er…re—” Velma began tentatively, so that Henry wouldn’t think her question important.
He second guessed her anyway. “The boys ate breakfast in town this morning. Drake and Russ had to keep a lid on Tel. Never saw anybody so shook up about getting married as Alexis and Tel.” With an expression of reverence, he glanced toward the ceiling, then smiled, a rarity for him. “They’re meant for each other sure as my name is Henry Wooten.”
Velma started up the stairs. “What are you going up there for?” he asked her. “Ain’t gonna be nobody up there but you. Stop worrying about him. Can’t nobody second-guess Russ.”
“I’m not worrying about him.”
“You are so, and he won’t appreciate it. You listen to what I say. You hear?”
First Alexis and now Henry lectured her on how to deal with Russ. Life didn’t revolve around that man; not so far, anyway. “Thanks, Henry. I’ll…uh…see you later.”
Inside her room, she closed the door and, for a minute, had an urge to lock it. Fighting back moroseness, she admonished herself sharply.
It’s her day, so put a smile on your face and grin if it kills you. For years, you’ve gone alone to the movies, theaters and concerts. You’re used to it, girl, used to having no one to hold you when you hurt, no one to love you when you can’t stand being alone. Nothing has changed. Not one damned thing.
No. Everything remained as it had been. Except the joy, the happiness Alexis radiated when she mentioned Telford’s name. She wanted that joy, that happiness, that knowledge that she belonged to a man who belonged to her.
“I gotta snap out of this,” she told herself as she got a small lavender-colored handkerchief and folded it into the palm of her left hand. She dabbed some Hermès perfume behind her ears and at her wrists, inhaled its elegant scent and went back to Alexis and Tara. She entered the room as Alexis picked up the telephone receiver.
“Hello. Alexis speaking.”
“Hello, sweetheart. Russ, Drake and I are leaving for the church. The stretched-out white Lincoln Town Car out front is for you, Velma, Henry and Tara. The Roundtrees will meet us at the church. Can you believe that in an hour and a half you’ll be my wife? Baby, I can’t wait.”
“Me, neither. Drive carefully.”
“Russ is driving, and you know he wouldn’t consider breaking the speed limit.”
Alexis treated him to a deep, throaty laugh, a happy laugh. “I know. Tell him I said he’s carrying precious cargo, so he shouldn’t go beyond sixty.”
“I’ll tell him that, for all the good it’ll do. I love you, woman. See you.”
“And I love you.”
Velma listened to that side of the conversation and couldn’t do one thing about the ache that settled inside of her. An ache that would vanish for all time if she had Russell Harrington and three children who looked just like him.

Henry met them at the front door, handed a bouquet of mauve and pink calla lilies to Velma and a bouquet of white ones to Alexis. “From Tel and Russ. You can figure out who sent what to whom,” he said, and added: “Thank you, Alexis, for the honor of letting me escort you and give you to Tel. You’re my daughter now, and it’ll be the proudest moment of my life.”
An hour and a half later, bells of the Eagle Park Presbyterian Church in Eagle Park, Maryland, began to peal, and Velma stepped behind Alexis, straightened the train of her dress, adjusted Tara’s mauve-pink hat and Grant’s bow tie, kissed her sister’s cheek and headed toward the altar.
Walking up the aisle that was banked on both sides with white calla lilies, she knew her face was devoid of emotion, reflecting neither her happiness for her sister nor the loneliness that was her interminable visitor. She took her place at the altar, made almost surrealistically beautiful and magical with dozens of lighted white candles, white calla lilies and white rosebuds. When she could no longer avoid it, she let her gaze find Russ who, as Telford’s older brother, served as best man. Drake served as groom.
She knew Russ heard her audible gasp, for a slow-moving smile formed around his mouth seconds before he greeted her. Granted it was a solemn occasion, but there was no need to behave as if they were in a morgue. Her composure once more in order, she let the smile that came from her heart light up her face.
To her, Russ stood out among men, tall, tough and handsome, but in that black tuxedo and mauve-colored accessories—the uniform for every male in the wedding party, including Grant—he took her breath away. Although he stood with his brothers, themselves imposing men by any standard, she barely looked at them. And when Russ caught her ogling him and winked at her, she lowered her gaze in embarrassment.
Russ shifted his glance from her face to a spot somewhere below her left elbow. She looked down and realized he wanted her to know that Tara and Grant stood beside her solemnly holding hands. She heard the tune, “Here Comes the Bride,” held her head up and smiled at Telford, for her heart seemed to overflow with joy.
“Who gives this woman to be wed?” the minister asked.
Henry’s voice, strong and not quite steady, replied, “I do.” He kissed Alexis, placed her hand in Telford’s and took his seat beside Adam Roundtree.
Velma watched Telford and her sister exchange their vows, speaking directly to each other and looking at each other as if they were alone. She realized that in their hearts, they were alone. The minister asked for the rings so that he could bless them, and Grant released Tara’s hand, walked up to the minister and said, “Here they are, sir.”
Velma’s eyebrows shot up. She forced back a grin, took pains to avoid looking at any of the adults who stood around the altar, for no one told Grant to say that. Yet, it seemed so appropriate. He stepped back to Tara, reached for her hand and held it. Finally, the minister pronounced Telford and Alexis husband and wife. They enfolded each other in a joyous embrace as they laughed, hugged and cried.
As if she didn’t want to be left out, Tara tapped on Telford’s leg. He looked down at her, grinned, and lifted her into his arms to the applause of the wedding guests.
“Is this what you meant by ‘working it out,’ Mr. Telford?”
He hugged her. “This is exactly what I meant.”
“And we can be together now, you and Mummy and me?”
“Yes. That’s what it means.”
Her arms tightened around Telford’s neck, then she kissed his cheek. “I have to tell Grant I was right.” He set her on her feet, and she went back to Grant who immediately reached for her hand. With Tara and Grant walking ahead of them, the bride and groom smiled and waved to their guests as they walked away from the altar. Her eyes glittering with tears of happiness, Velma looked up into Russ Harrington’s face as he held out his arm to her, his smile as radiant as she knew her own had to be. She nearly tripped, but he tightened his grip.
“It was the most moving thing I’ve ever experienced,” he said in low tones. “I’m happy for them.”
“I am, too. It was… I can’t describe it.” She said silent thanks that he didn’t see her face, for she knew that all she felt—happiness, pain and loneliness—were mirrored in her eyes.
I’ll be back on track as soon as I can get away from Eagle Park and this man whose arm I’m holding. I don’t want his casual friendship. I want him.

Russ held the door of his car, seated Velma in the front passenger’s seat, and left Henry and Drake to make themselves comfortable in the back. Tara and Grant rode with the bride and groom.
“You want to offer the first toast, Drake?” Russ asked as he moved the Mercedes away from the curb and headed for the reception.
“That’s your job, brother,” Drake said. “I’ll do the honors when you tie the knot.”
“If that ever happens,” Henry put in. “You both shoulda seen how happy Tel is. Now maybe you’ll figure out how to get some of that happiness for yourselves.”
“Don’t bring that up, Henry,” Drake said. “I’m not interested in walking the remainder of the way to the reception.”
“Would he put us out?” Velma asked with a tone of wonder in her voice.
“Maybe not you. I’m taking no chances,” Drake said.
Henry sucked his teeth loudly enough for all of them to hear. “He ain’t putting nobody out. I raised him to have manners. Just because he can’t stand foolishness, don’t mean he’d screw up Tel’s wedding reception.”
“What’s going on back there, Velma?” he asked the quiet woman beside him. “After living with me for thirty-some years, you’d think they’d know what a real pussycat I am.”
“Which feline family you talking about, brother? Surely not the house variety.”
“Do they always meddle with you like this?” Velma asked him, and he got the impression from her tone of voice that she didn’t like it.
He turned into the driveway leading to the Eagle Park Palace Hotel. “The three of us jostle all the time, and because Henry practically raised us, he reserves the right to say whatever appears on the tip of his tongue, but if my finger began to bleed, all of them would run to me with Band-Aids. That’s what this family is all about, Velma. We’re here for each other.”
She looked great, and he felt good walking through the hotel lobby with her holding his arm while the crowd of onlookers waved and smiled. “You should wear this color all the time,” he told her. “And this style suits you. I like it better than your caftans. You…you look terrific.”
“Thanks, but maybe you need glasses.”
He stopped and looked hard at her. “You’re telling me I don’t know my own mind, that I don’t know what I like and don’t like? I’ll tell you this—I do not like those caftans you wear. Dressed like this, you look like a real woman.”
If she was posturing for more praise, she could forget it. He wasn’t in the business of building egos with empty phrases.
Just what I needed to keep my head straightened out. He walked on with her but didn’t offer her his arm. They joined Telford and Alexis in an anteroom, and he watched a subdued Velma embrace her sister and her brother-in-law.
“My mummy is going off with Mr. Telford on a honeymoon. What does a honeymoon look like, Mr. Telford?”
“I’ll…uh…find out while I’m there and explain it when we get back.”
Russ snickered. It wasn’t often that he saw his older brother squirm and loosen his collar.
“Time for the party to enter the reception room,” the manager told them.
They stood around the table laden with the wedding cake, calla lilies and glowing candles. Russ stepped up and raised his glass. “It gives me the greatest pleasure to introduce to you Telford and Alexis Harrington.” After the applause, he continued. “To my brother and his wife. May you always be as deeply in love as you are this day.” He let the champagne drizzle down his throat, set his glass down and moved aside.
Drake held up his glass. “I thank my brother for giving me such a wonderful sister and a niece who I adore as if she were my own child. Telford and Alexis, God bless you with a long and happy life.”
It was Henry’s turn. “This is one of the happiest days of my life. Take care of each other, and grow old together in peace and love.” He took a few sips and set the glass aside.
Russ motioned to the orchestra, and Telford waltzed onto the center of the floor with his bride in his arms. His turn, but he felt a little shaky about it. He figured it would pay him to keep his distance from Velma, though he didn’t discount his strong attraction to her. He preferred independent, self-assured women, and Velma had just showed signs of a lack of self-confidence, at least with him. He liked the company of mature people who knew who they were and where they belonged. However, as custom demanded, he stepped in front of Velma and opened his arms. “Dance with me?” he asked her, for he didn’t believe in taking anything for granted.
She smiled, lifted the hem of her gown and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks. I’d love to dance with you.” She danced well, he realized, a point in her favor, for he loved to dance.
The manager announced that dinner was served and that dancing would continue later. After dinner, Russ said to Velma, “Drake’s car is in the hotel garage. If you wish to stay, he’ll drive you home along with Tara and Henry. I’m driving Telford and Alexis to the airport in Baltimore as soon as they change clothes. I can drop you by Harrington House, but no one will be there with you till Drake gets back.”
She thought for a couple of seconds and quickly made up her mind. He liked that. Nothing got on his nerves faster than shilly-shallying.
“I’ll go back with Drake,” she said. “Drive carefully. Will you come back to Eagle Park tonight?”
“Yes, but it will be late. I’ll see you in the morning.” To his own surprise, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “It was fun. Good night.”
He could take her with him, and maybe he should, but if he did, it would seem that she was his date, and he wasn’t ready for what that would imply. He walked over to Telford and tapped his elbow.
“Alexis will blow a fuse if I speed, so we’d better get started. Check-in time is an hour and a half from now. Say your goodbyes, man.”
It amused him when Alexis, who stood within hearing distance, said, “If he spoke to all these people, we’d miss the plane. Everybody thinks newlyweds are off-the-wall anyway, so why don’t we just sneak out? I’ve already prepared Tara. Let’s go.”
“Woman after my own heart, brother. Meet you in the lobby in ten minutes.”
Telford clapped his hands. “Unmarried ladies to the right please.” About a dozen women including Velma gathered there. Alexis tossed her bridal bouquet, and Adam Roundtree’s cousin caught it.
As Russ was leaving the reception hall, he glanced to his right, toward the spot where he last saw Velma, and noticed that her gaze followed him. His heart battled with his will in a fight to which he was entirely unaccustomed. He stopped, turned and walked over to her.
“Do you want to ride with me? I’ll drop them at the airport and head directly to Eagle Park. Do you want to go?”
She gazed steadily up at him, almost as if trying to see inside of him, to divine his motive. He wasn’t accustomed to that Velma—serious, standing her ground and doing it without the props of wit and quips. He spread his hands palms out, telling her without words, “what you see is what you get.” Suddenly, a smile enveloped her face, and relief flooded him, though he could not imagine why.
“I’d love to go, Russ.”
No silliness such as “if you’re sure you don’t mind” or “if it won’t inconvenience you.” Straight from the shoulder. She wanted to go with him, and she didn’t mind letting him know it. Another point in her favor. He liked a woman who let a man know what she wanted.
He took her hand. “Come on. I’ll tell Drake you’ll be home later.”
“Way to go, man,” Drake said, his voice well contained. “It’s the simple things that count—they can make you or break you.”
“Yeah. It’s easy to forget that.”
“Would you like me to get a vase for your flowers?” Russ asked Velma.
“Thanks, but each stem is in its own little water cup.” She gazed up at him. “You’re a thoughtful man, and it’s something I appreciate.”
He didn’t know what to make of that statement, so he let it go. Fortunately Telford and Alexis appeared, having changed into traveling clothes. To his amazement, neither of them seemed surprised to see Velma with him.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s get this show moving. If we waste another minute, I’ll have to drive ninety miles an hour in order to get you to the airport on time.”
“Don’t tax yourself, brother,” Telford said. “I can get us there driving fifty-five or sixty, so if you’d rather I drove…”
Russ couldn’t help laughing. “All right. All right.” He buckled Velma’s seat belt. “You two buckle up back there.” He ignited the engine and headed for Route 70. He didn’t feel the need to talk; most any subject would take him down from where he was. He didn’t want anything to blight his mood. How many times had he feared Telford would let Alexis slip through his hands? It took him a long time to concede Drake’s point, that Telford was a different man when he was in Alexis’s company, that he had never known Telford to be truly happy until he fell in love with Alexis and Tara. It was an incontestable truth; they belonged together.
He glanced at Velma, who sat beside him serenely with her hands relaxed and the bouquet lying in her lap. “Thank God, she doesn’t feel the need to chatter,” he said to himself. He flipped on the radio and out came the strains of “Will You Dance This Waltz With Me?” As if of its own volition, his head turned toward Velma and, at the same time, she looked toward him. A grin formed around her lips, and then she laughed. He didn’t ask her why she laughed, because he knew. It was the reason why he also laughed. They could duck it as much and as often as they liked, but something would always remind them.
“I won’t ask what the two of you are laughing about,” Telford said.
“Oh, you can ask,” Russ replied, “but it won’t do you much good.”
“What if I ask?” Alexis put in.
“Won’t do you any good either,” Velma said.
That wasn’t the first notice she had given that she would support him, that she’d be there for him if he needed her. He recorded it in his mental notebook. A long-term arrangement with her wasn’t on his agenda, but he had to reckon with it because her attraction for him was nothing to gainsay. He wanted her, but he wasn’t sure he was willing to pay the price.
“You’re here with twenty minutes to spare,” he said to Telford when they reached the Baltimore International Airport.
“What was his top speed, Velma?” Telford asked.
“My lips are sealed. You two have the time of your lives.”
“We’ll do our best,” Alexis said.
“Thanks, brother, for everything. I’ll finish thanking you when we get back.”
Driving away from the airport, Russ found himself thinking of a way to end what, for him, had been a perfect day. “We’ve got about an hour and forty-minute drive ahead of us, Velma. Would you like to stop somewhere for some kind of beverage and a snack? I don’t drink anything alcoholic when I have to drive, but I could use some iced tea or a soft drink.”
“I’d love to stop,” she said. “Anyplace where this evening dress won’t look silly.”
He couldn’t help laughing. “No matter where we stop, your dress won’t look a bit sillier than this tux with mauve-colored accessories.”
She seemed disappointed, but she was good at bluffing, he saw, when she lifted her chin and said, “I remember you said you liked this gown I’m wearing. Well, it’s mauve, too.”
“I like it on you.”
She didn’t let him drop it. “It’s not more outlandish than the brilliant red or royal blue accessories that some men wear with formal dress. Besides, you look fantastic in that getup. I was practically ogling you when we were waiting for the bride to reach the altar.”
“Really? Thanks for the compliment.” He knew she’d stood there cataloging his assets until he caught her at it and looked her straight in the eye, but he didn’t think she’d be comfortable knowing he was aware of her uninhibited admiration.
“What do you say we stop at the first drive-in restaurant on Route 70? Give ’em something to talk about in there.”
“Fine with me.”

A groan escaped him when he saw the long line. “You have a seat somewhere,” she said. “I’ll get what you want, and we’ll be out of here in twenty minutes.”
He stared at her. “I’d like to know how you plan to manage that.”
“Have a seat and you’ll see.”
He took out his wallet and handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “I’d like a huge bottle of ginger ale and a blueberry muffin.” She saluted him, and he went to find a table, praying that he wouldn’t have to spring her from jail. In less than five minutes, she arrived at the table he chose holding her bouquet as if it were a baby, and followed by a busboy who carried their order. The busboy took the food off the tray and placed it on the table. Russ handed the man a five-dollar bill and thanked him.
“No problem, sir. Congratulations and much happiness.”
“What was he…?” He stared at Velma who was near convulsion with suppressed laughter. “How did you…?”
“I just went to the busboy and told him we were already late for the wedding. People heard me and it was like the opening of the Red Sea. They assumed I was the bride. The busboy ran behind the counter and collected what I wanted, took it to the cashier, I paid, and you know the rest. Here’s your change.”
When he could get his breath, he said, “Well, hell,” opened a bottle of ginger ale and was about to pour some in a glass for her when the humor of it struck him. He slumped in the chair and gave in to the laughter that rolled out of him. He knew that everybody in the restaurant was looking at them, but that seemed to make it all the funnier.
When they managed to control their laughter, he found her staring at him. “What is it? Did I get some blueberries on my teeth?”
“I never knew you to laugh like this. It is wonderful. Just…just wonderful.”
He sobered then. “Drake likes to call me ‘old sourpuss.’ Is that what you think of me?”
“That hadn’t occurred to me. In this context, I think of you as a serious-minded man who has a low tolerance for nonsense.” She lowered her head a little, and stole a glance at him. “Russ, I’ve been called a prankster, and I suppose you’d classify that as nonsense.”
“Most of it is nonsense, but if it’s witty, if it’s clever, that’s different—then it’s a challenge. However, that’s not an invitation for you to—”
She held up her right hand. “I know. I stand sufficiently warned. Still…” She let him wait for her next words, and he found himself anticipating them with heightened pleasure. “Uh…I can’t imagine myself not going to great lengths, if necessary, to make you laugh.”
“Yeah. A prankster would do that.” He pondered her words, but didn’t wonder why she enjoyed seeing him laugh. As frank as he was finding her to be, she’d probably tell him without any prompting.
Nonetheless, it gave him something to contemplate. “I never thought much about my personality or how it strikes others,” he said. “It’s who I am, and I can’t see myself pretending to be what I am not.”
Her left hand moved toward him, and he thought she would reach for his hand or, at least, touch it. But she almost snatched it back, and he realized that what he’d thought was insecurity could well be an uncertainty as to how to relate to him.
“Velma, I find that it never pays to try to figure out a person.”
“You think I’m trying to figure you out?”
“Aren’t you? You wanted to touch my hand, maybe even hold it to show the sympathetic understanding that you felt, but you weren’t certain how I’d react and you withdrew.”
“What would you have done, Russ, if I’d held your hand?”
“How many times tonight did I take your hand? Did I ask permission?”
Her eyes sparkled like a dozen night stars, and her face bloomed into a smile. “Russ, what you’re saying is like dangling money and jewels in front of a thief.”
He glanced at his watch, poured the remainder of the ginger ale into their glasses and took a sip. “Not quite. It means take a chance. Show me who you are, and I’ll reciprocate.”
“But not necessarily in a way that I’d like.”
He drained the glass. “True. But you have one thing going for you. We Harrington men respect women. Now, if we don’t get out of here, that busboy will know you handed him a line.”
“Right.”
When they stood to leave, the busboy appeared with a tray, cleared the table and let a grin take over his face. “Congratulations again, sir. This made my day.”
“You’ve been very kind,” Russ said. He wanted to get out of there before he folded up in another laughing fit. As they walked toward the door, the other diners applauded, and he could feel his lower lip drop when Velma waved and blew kisses to the people.
Deciding to play along, he slipped an arm around Velma’s waist, and while he didn’t succeed in keeping the grin off his face, he was able to resist howling with laugher until they got into the car.
“I never had so much fun in my life,” she said. “My sister wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that.” She shifted her position until she sat with her back partly against the door. “Wasn’t that fun?”
“Probably. I’ve never been tempted to do anything like that. I don’t know which cracked me up more, your arriving at the table with the busboy or blowing kisses at your fans.” He ignited the engine and headed for the highway. “Velma, you’re full of surprises. I had a very different picture of you, and I’m glad you agreed to come with me.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Neither Henry, my brothers, nor Alexis would believe I’d participate in any harebrained thing like that.”
“Are you ashamed that we did it?”
“Who, me? No, indeed. I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun.”
“I’m glad, Russ. I’d like us to be friends.”
He came within a breath of asking her what kind of friends, and he was glad he corrected himself before the words slipped out. He finessed a response. “Why shouldn’t we be?”
When she didn’t answer his question, he considered it another point in her favor; she wouldn’t gainsay something was important to her. She stifled a yawn.
“Sleepy?” he asked her.
“Terribly. I was so keyed up when I went to bed that I was still awake at four-thirty this morning.”
“I won’t feel badly if you sleep.”
“But I will. If you talk, I’ll stay awake. What was it like being the middle of three boys when you were growing up?”
“Now that’s a topic for a cold night. Growing up and being an adult…it’s all the same. Telford and Drake are closest, because Telford was protective of Drake. So was I, for that matter. That left me to my own devices, and I used it to my advantage. Strange thing is that Drake isn’t spoiled—he’s one hundred percent man.”
“What did you do on your own?” she asked with such sincerity that he knew her questions sprang from a genuine interest in him.
“I read the great philosophers, the leading writers of the Harlem Renaissance, Shakespeare, Richard Wright, newspapers, the funnies, whatever I got my hands on. And one day, I read about Frank Lloyd Wright. After that, I read everything about him that I could find.”
“So he was your idol and the reason you became an architect?”
“Partly. Telford’s the other reason. He had this dream of vindicating our father, and he talked about it so much that… Well, it fit with my passion for Wright’s work. Drake’s a born engineer. From childhood, he was always interested in how to make things work, and it is he and not Telford or I who fixes things around our home.”
“The three of you work well together. I assume Telford is the project manager.”
“Right. He negotiates contracts, purchases supplies, hires the workers and oversees them. He’s responsible for bringing the project in on time. He’s the boss, but we take a vote on everything important. If there’s disagreement, I always lose.”
He heard himself say it, and knew it was true, but it didn’t much bother him and never had. When he wanted to get his way, he knew how to do it.
Her reaction didn’t surprise him. “You don’t seem resentful. How’s that? I’d be after their heads all the time.”
He slowed down to take a curve on a poorly lighted section of the highway. “Sure I’ve resented it, but only at the moment and only about the issue in question. When I seriously want to have my way, both Telford and Drake yield. We care about each other, Velma, and neither of us is ever knowingly going to hurt the other.”
“All of you have strong, dominant personalities, what we call the alpha males. It’s a wonder you’re so close.”
“Henry’s the best leavening agent three young Turks ever had. Even before our father died, Henry was the adult we looked to, because Papa was rarely at home, always off working himself to death.”
He swallowed and ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, surprised at his dry mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked this much. We’re practically home, and I haven’t learned very much about you. What I got, though, was special.” He pulled into the circular driveway of Number Ten, John Brown Drive, stopped and cut the motor.
“Here we are, and I didn’t speed.” He wondered at her nonresponse. They entered the foyer, and after locking the door, he hung up their coats. “I’m going into the kitchen to get some juice. Want some?” he asked her.
She shook her head.
“Thanks for making these last few hours so pleasant. You and your brothers have been fortunate, Russ. You didn’t have your parents, but you had peace and love. Alexis and I had our parents, but I think I’d be a happier person today if they had separated or put us in foster care.”
He could feel both of his eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes seemed twice their size. “Does Alexis feel this way, too?”
“Alexis is a Quaker. She thinks in terms of a peaceful, serene present and doesn’t worry about the past. Furthermore, I’m older than she is, and I understood better what I heard and saw. But let’s not end this lovely day talking about my parents.”
“Then we won’t.” He took her hand and walked with her into the kitchen. They drank the orange juice, and he remembered that they would ascend the stairs together to go to their separate rooms. From the expression on her face, he knew she had already thought of it, and that her nerves were on edge.
“Come on,” he said, deciding to make light of what was becoming an embarrassing situation. “We can be trusted to walk up those stairs together.”
“Speak for yourself.” When she glanced up at him, heat roared through his body. Blatant vulnerability spread across her face. He wanted her. He’d wanted her all evening, from the minute she reached the altar. He reached out to gather her into his arms.
“I… Sorry. I shouldn’t have come with you. Good night.”
“Wait a minute. You can’t. Look here, Velma. You’re beautiful, intelligent and you’ve got a wonderful, outrageous sense of humor. Why are you—”
“Thanks for trying to prop up my ego. What happened to all that honesty everybody says you have?”
He stepped back. “Thanks for the reality check. From time to time I need those. Good night.”
He went into the den and dropped himself into the big overstuffed leather chair. In another second, he would have kissed her senseless. He didn’t remember ever enjoying a woman’s company so thoroughly. In the space of two hours, she taught him a lot about himself, and he liked all of it. But he wasn’t going to tie himself to a woman who didn’t know and appreciate her own assets.

Chapter 2
Velma strolled up the stairs as casually as if the pain she felt wasn’t eating a hole in her. He’d opened his arms and taken her into them, but he couldn’t lock her to him the way she wanted him to, needed him to. No matter what he said, he had to notice her size and the way her dress fitted. Alexis’s gown covered a work of art, but hers covered rolls of flesh, and he didn’t need 20/20 vision to see it.
“I’m sick of being miserable,” she said aloud, “and I’m tired of being embarrassed about the way my dresses fit. If I wear them loose, I look as if I’m middle-aged. If I wear them fitted…” She didn’t finish the thought. “I’m going on a diet.”
With that comfort, she made her ablutions and got into bed, but sleep evaded her. She heard every creak, the grandfather clock in the living room and the engine of an automobile in the distance, all the time aware that she waited for the sound of Russ’s footsteps on the stairs.
The next morning she awoke early, showered, dressed in a green paisley caftan and went downstairs.
“I thought you’d sleep half a day,” Henry said when she walked into the kitchen. “What you want for breakfast?”
“Whatever. Thanks. Where’s Tara?”
“Over at Grant Roundtree’s house. They’re inseparable.”
Velma picked up a grape and put it in her mouth. She didn’t want to ask Henry, but she knew he’d force her to do it, so she said, “Am I the first one down?”
Henry put a pan of biscuits in the oven, dusted his flour-filled hands on his apron and looked hard at her. “Since you asked, Russ ain’t ever the first one to come downstairs.” He ran his fingers through the few strands of hair remaining on his head and glared at her. “Today’s Sunday. If you’re not going to church, you don’t come down all dressed up. Go put on some jeans and a sweater.”
She sat down in one of the Moroccan chairs at the little kitchen table. “Henry, please don’t get on my case. I don’t own any jeans, because they don’t look right on me.”
“They will so. Whatever you’re trying to hide in that dress is all in your head. I saw you and Russ last night. He liked what he saw, but he ain’t gonna like that thing you got on.”
“Too bad. I don’t have anything else to put on. I’ll set the table.”
She’d hardly begun before she heard Drake’s voice. “Who’s here other than you and me, Henry?”
“Russ and Velma. Tara’s visiting her boyfriend.”
“This early? Weren’t they something to see yesterday? Great-looking kids. That was the best-looking wedding party I’ve seen. Did you see Velma in that dress? I could hardly believe my eyes. She ought to wear more dresses of that type.”
Velma stopped setting the table and leaned against the wall. Hadn’t Russ said the same thing about her dress? Maybe… She shook herself out of it. No more debates and personal recriminations, she was going to take hold of her life and run it; she’d had enough of taking what came. She pasted a smile on her face and returned to the kitchen.
“All finished, Henry. Hi, Drake. Do you realize my sister did not tell me where she was going?”
“Hi. You’re assuming she knew. She was told only to prepare for a warm climate,” Drake said.
“I’ll bet you know how to reach Telford in an emergency.”
“I don’t, but Russ does. Give him a secret and it’s safer than if you stored it in Fort Knox. Where is he?”
The quick rise and fall of her right shoulder gave him the answer, but not wanting to seem disinterested, she said, “I don’t know. When I went upstairs last night, he was headed for the den.” Drake’s whistle was barely audible, but she heard it and understood its meaning.
“I say let’s eat. Old sourpuss has been known to sleep till three o’clock.”
She turned to face him. “Oh, Drake. Is it nice to call him that awful name? Wouldn’t you think it makes him feel badly?”
Drake gazed hard at her. “I never thought of it that way—it’s always been a joke. I’m sorry.”
“’Morning. Is Henry on strike or something? Where’s the food?” Russ walked over to her. “I hope you slept well. Thanks for taking my part, but it gives Drake so much pleasure to call me old sourpuss that I wouldn’t deprive him of it.”
“How long were you standing there?”
“I walked in when Drake said, ‘Let’s eat.’” His gaze seemed to penetrate her. “I place a high value on loyalty.”
“Serve yourselves at the stove, and let’s eat in the breakfast room,” Henry said. “If we break one of Alexis’s rules, she’ll know it even if she’s not here.”
Velma began piling biscuits, sausage and grits on her plate as she usually did, and stopped. She kept the grits, put half a pat of butter on it instead of the usual three pats and got a bowl of mixed fruits from the kitchen counter.
“You not eating my biscuits?” Henry asked.
“I will, if I’m still hungry after I finish this.”
Russ eyed her with a frown on his face. “You feel okay?”
She assured him that she did, but she ate as slowly as she could hoping she wouldn’t be hungry when she finished. She concentrated on eating, dreading the moment when she would swallow that last spoonful of grits. “I may be hungry,” she told herself, “but I’ll be happy.”
“Ain’t nobody talking this morning?” Henry asked.
“I’m eating,” Drake said. “You knocked yourself out with these biscuits, Henry. I imagine Telford would put away half a dozen of ’em.”
That was the old man’s joy in life, Velma realized, when he smiled and passed the plate of biscuits to Russ. “You ain’t eating much, either. Alexis found some special flour, and it’s right good, if I do say so myself.”
When she glanced at Russ, her heart skittered in her chest. The expression on his face, open and—there was no other word for it—adoring as he gazed at her, shook her to the core. She tried to shift her glance, but his eyes, dark and slumberous, trapped her. From their silence, she realized that Henry and Drake watched them and, with effort, she lowered her gaze. But he had stirred her as thoroughly as a spinning bottle mixes what it contains.
She sought safety in the bowl of fruit before her, but the spoonful she intended for her mouth dropped onto her lap. “Ex…cuse me, please.” She pushed back her chair and, forcing herself to walk rather than run as she wanted to do, headed for the stairs. Nobody was going to affect her that way with just a look, robbing her of her aplomb, of the control of her emotions. Nobody, she vowed. Her foot had barely touched the bottom stair when she felt his hand on her arm. She whirled around and into his arms.
“Russ. Please.” The feel of his hands through the silk of her caftan, of her breast beaded and aching against his hard chest caused her breathing to quicken.
He stared down at her. “Why didn’t you eat a decent breakfast?”
“That’s not why you’re here,” she said, refusing to allow him the upper hand and hating her shortened breath and the rapid rise and fall of her bosom.
“You’re right. It’s not. I’m here for the same reason that you bolted from the table.”
“I spilled food on my dress, and—”
“And we both know why. Did you wear it because I said I didn’t like it?”
“Of course not. I didn’t bring any other kind of clothes.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed furiously, his eyes—dark and long lashed—seemed to drag her into him, filling her head with dangerous ideas. If only he would ask no questions, but simply take her to his bed and love her until she couldn’t move!
As if he read her thoughts, pure sexual hunger blazed in the stormy orbs that his eyes had become. He held her closer.
“No matter what I want and how badly I want it, I keep my counsel.”
Anger diluted the desire that raged in her. “Sure. You want me on the terms that you decide. If you would kindly communicate those terms to me, I’d tell you where you stand.”
“I know where I stand, and so do you.” As he continued to gaze at her, she could see a change in his demeanor, a softening in him. “Can’t you find some pants and a sweater? I thought we might go down to the warehouse. I need to check supplies.”
“On Sunday?”
“It’s the only day no one’s down there.”
“Sorry, but this is all I brought along. Don’t try to make me into what I’m not, Russ. I don’t look right in tight-fitting clothes, so I don’t wear them. Case closed.”
“Nonsense. You looked terrific in that dress you wore last night.”
“And you need glasses.”
The daggers from his gaze sent pain piercing through her. “That’s the second time in less than twenty-four hours that you told me I don’t know my own mind. See you.” His shoulder brushed her as he dashed past her up the stairs, and she heard his bedroom door close with a louder than usual or necessary bang.
The remainder of her breakfast forgotten, Velma leaned against the railing for a minute, thinking that if she hadn’t promised to look after Tara and if she didn’t want to investigate property in Baltimore, she’d go home.
“You could have him eating out of your hand. What’s wrong?”
Her head snapped up. “I don’t know, Drake. One minute, he’s wonderful. The next, I’ll say or do something that turns him off.”
He regarded her intently. “And that happened last night as well as a minute ago. Right?”
She nodded.
“Then figure out what it is, and don’t do it. He’s straight, Velma. I told you that.”
“I know he is. It isn’t Russ—it’s me. He sees me differently from the way I see myself, but I’m changing that.”
He patted her shoulder. “See that you do. And make it up to Henry. Nobody ignores Henry’s biscuits unless they want to eat cabbage stew.”
“Thanks, Drake.” She thought for a second. “Why are you…encouraging me? Why are you telling me this?”
“I know my brother. He rarely extends himself to people, and we’ve all known from the time the two of you met that you were special to him. And your being Alexis’s sister has nothing to do with it. If anything, it’s a strike against you. Russ is a strong man. If he makes up his mind that nothing should happen between the two of you, he won’t change it.” He started up the stairs, turned and walked back to her. “I want my brothers to be happy. Whatever works for them, works for me. You understand that?”
“I could use a brother like you,” she said, and he treated her to his celebrated charisma with a wide grin.
“Get busy. I just might be one of these days.”
Alexis didn’t know how fortunate she was to belong to the Harrington family, a part of it, and loved by every person in it. She went up to her room, took her appointments calendar and cellular phone out of her briefcase with the intention of working. She had left the two weeks following her sister’s wedding free of engagements so that she could take care of Tara while her sister and brother-in-law enjoyed their honeymoon. But with an agenda of her own, Tara got up early, dressed herself and, with Henry’s blessings, left around eight-thirty that morning with Grant Roundtree and his father, Adam, to spend the day with them at the Beaver Ridge Roundtree estate twelve miles away.
Velma began work on the menu for the annual gala and awards dinner of the Society of Environmentalists that would be convened at the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center in New Orleans the first of February. Planning a gala dinner in the food capital of the United States was no cinch, but she knew she could pull it off. Problem was, she needed a test kitchen and a place to store supplies. And she needed office help. The business had become so big that she could no longer manage it with her computer and cell phone.
Five hours later, she drank her fifth glass of water trying to appease her hunger. “I don’t care,” she told herself. “One day, he’ll say I’m nice-looking and mean it.”

Russ tempered his urge to slam his bedroom door with all his might. He had gone to her to comfort her, to let her know that he cared, but he was damned if he would settle for less than he knew he deserved. He needed a woman who stood up to him as an equal, who believed him if he said that to him she was the Venus de Milo incarnate. He snapped his finger. Her preoccupation with the way she looked began with the wedding—at least that was the first time she had revealed it to him. All right, so Alexis was dazzling in that slim white gown, but hardly one in a thousand women looked like Alexis, no matter what she wore.
Feeling inadequate beside her sister probably wasn’t new, but he suspected that it had just come to a head. And it obviously explained why she didn’t eat her usual breakfast. Maybe… Oh, what the hell! He slipped on his favorite pair of alligator boots, a short mackinaw coat and a pair of wool-lined leather gloves and bumped into Velma as he stepped out of his room.
He grabbed her arm to steady her. “Sorry. Did I shake you up?”
“Not half as much as you did earlier,” she said, her wry tone matched by an open, vulnerable facial expression.
She had a way of getting to him without trying, by just being herself. Honest and forthright. And it had been that way since he first saw her.
I’m a sucker for this dame, but I’m not caving in just because everybody expects me to. “Look,” he began. “Can’t you hem that thing or pin it up so you won’t trip on it, put on a coat and come with me down to the warehouse?”
She looked up at him as if divining his motive. “All right. Maybe Alexis has a pair of sneakers somewhere. They’ll be a size too big, but I’ll put on a pair of her socks. Twenty minutes?”
He trailed the back of his left hand down her cheek. “Perfect. Meet me at the garage door off the kitchen.”
She headed first to her room, and he hoped she would hem that caftan or, better still, cut it off.
“I’m short enough without these sneakers,” she said when she stepped into the garage.
He shook his right index finger at her. “I don’t want another word of that.” After placing a .22-caliber rifle on the floor of the truck, he helped her in and fastened her seat belt, which he had installed after Tara developed a passion for riding with him in the truck. “You’re damned perfect just the way you are, and don’t dispute me.”
She folded her hands in her lap and lowered her head. “Yes, sir, your honor.”
Laughter felt good, and she had a way of pulling it out of him. Rolling laughter poured from him only when he was with her, as it did then. “That’s more like it,” he said, when he could get his breath.
“Why did you bring the rifle?”
“I prefer not to run into a bear if I’m unarmed.”
“Oh! Could you…uh—”
“I can, and I have. Self-preservation is the first law of nature. When you’re in the jungle, you play by the jungle’s rules.”
At the warehouse, he knew his pride was evident when he showed her through the ultramodern storage facility, built by Harrington, Inc., Architects, Engineers and Builders.
“What are we going to do?” she asked him.
“Check inventory. You’re going to help me?” She nodded. “Telford pays a man to do this, but from time to time one of us double-checks. That way, we control every facet of our business. Inventory is one of our most important assets—we don’t entrust it to anyone.”
He turned on a computer. “You sit at this desk and check the number of unopened boxes in each case against the number on this chart.” He pointed to the screen. “Each case and each box in it has a numerical indicator. Okay?”
“Fine. What’s in them?”
“Screws, clamps, nails, different types of fasteners.” He stacked a dozen cases beside the desk. “I’ll be back later,” he said, and went to the basement to deal with cables and girders. After what he surmised was an hour had elapsed, he looked at his watch and gasped.
“She must think I’m crazy. I’ve been down here two hours.” He left his coat and gloves on a pile of steel rods and raced up the stairs. At the top, he stopped still. She wasn’t pouting or posturing in anger as he had expected, but was bending over a case to inspect its contents.
“I’m sorry, Velma. I’m so used to working here alone, and I got so involved that I…I hope you’re not annoyed with me.”
Still holding a box, she raised up and looked at him. “Why would I be annoyed? We came here to work, didn’t we? By the way, I’d love to meet the genius who posted these records.”
“Why?”
“’Cause every case is missing two or three boxes. I’d think you’d open a case, use all the boxes in it and then open another one.”
He rushed to her. “That’s what we’re supposed to do. Let me see.”
“Hmm. And that is how it looks on this spread sheet,” she said, frowning. “Somebody is dipping in the till. Big-time, too.”
He didn’t like the sound of it. To prevent rip-offs, they built the warehouse on their own property where they could easily oversee it. And now, this. “You mind reading it off to me, beginning with PN3306?”
“Sixty.”
He let out a long breath. “Four missing.”
For the next three hours, as they rechecked, anger flooded him. Someone had discovered an easy way to increase his salary, but not any longer, he vowed.
“Every order, sealed and unsealed, in this place has to be checked. I don’t know how to thank you. You took it seriously, and look what you found. Look, I’m hungry and so are you. Let’s go.”
“Why wouldn’t I take it seriously, Russ? It’s important to you.”
He stared at her before shaking his head as if that would straighten out his mind. “Don’t go there, man,” he cautioned himself. To her, he said, “Thanks. I appreciate that. I’ll get my coat and gloves and be right back.”
When he returned, she had put on her coat—another point in her favor; unlike some women he had known, she didn’t wait for him to do for her what she was capable of doing for herself, though he would happily have held her coat for her.
“Well, what do we have here?” she asked of the snow flurries that glided down on them as they stepped out of the warehouse.
He let his gaze roam the sky. “I don’t think we’ll get much snow.” He took out his cellular phone and punched in a number. “Henry, is Tara home?”
“She’s here. Adam brought her home soon as it started snowing. I’m gonna take a nap, so you and Velma can make yourselves a sandwich or something. Drake’s out on that horse of his, and Tara’s playing the piano. See you at supper.”

He drove with care, mindful of the slippery road, and how glad he was when a big brown bear ambled across the truck’s pathway.
“Now, you know why I brought along this rifle. If I got stuck on this road, one of those babies could turn this truck over.” He let a grin circle his mouth when he looked at her. “Bear meat’s good. It is,” he added when she shivered.
He stopped the truck at the front door, got out and went around to help her climb down. “Want my baseball cap?” he asked her, deliberately holding her longer than necessary. “Pile your hair up under it so it won’t get wet.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep it as a souvenir.” He was about to ask, souvenir of what? when he remembered how candid she could be, so he let a smile suffice for a response.
“I’m sorry about the problems at the warehouse, but I had a good time, and I learned a lot. Thanks for taking me along.”
With his fingers tight around her arm, he sprinted with her to the front door, opened it and stepped inside with her. “I’m in your debt. I’m not sure I would have opened a sealed case to check its contents.”
“Some of those that had been tampered with were sealed, and some had been opened. That’s what’s mysterious.”
“But only temporarily.” He shifted his gaze lest he betray himself. “After I wash up, I’m going to the kitchen and see what I can find to eat. Want to meet me there in about ten minutes?”
“Thanks, I sure will. I’m starved.”
“I’m not surprised. See you later.”

She hated to face him again wearing something he disliked, but what could she do about the caftan? She checked her address book, found the cellular phone number that he gave her during her visit the previous Christmas and called him.
“Russ, this is Velma. Can you wait half an hour? I have to do something.”
“All right, but if I starve, be prepared to make amends.”
“What kind of amends?”
“Not to worry. Whatever punishment I mete out will be enjoyable. I guarantee it.”
“Make it an hour. By that time, your tummy should have begun pinching you, and you’ll be eager for vengeance.”
“Watch your words, woman. I’m serious even when I’m joking.”
“Who’s joking?”
She heard him suck in his breath and could barely stifle a laugh. He was a tough man, and he worked hard at hiding his feelings, but she knew when a man wanted her. And he did. The question was whether he’d do anything about it.
“Let’s see how you talk when you’re not hiding behind a telephone wire,” he said.
“Really! And I’d like to see how you act when your ironclad control slips. Lord, please let me be right there when it happens.”
After a telling silence, he said, “Would you say those same words if I was there with you?”
I may regret this, but what the heck! Right now, I’m batting zero. “If you doubt it, honey, step out into the hall.”
His labored sigh reached her through the wire. He was two doors away, and he might as well have been in Baltimore. The silence bored into her like a screw tearing through wood. Had she angered him?
“You still there?” Only air and the sound of her own breathing. She lay the phone on the table, but didn’t hang up on the chance that he still held the receiver. After brushing her hair, she inspected a navy blue cotton caftan, decided that it would have to suffice and sat on the edge of her bed to put darts at the waist and shorten it.
A knock on her door sent her blood racing like a spooked thoroughbred. She grabbed her chest as if to slow down her heartbeat. Knock. Knock. A greater urgency characterized the second knock, sending the unmistakable message that he would knock until she opened it. With unsteady fingers, she threw the garment on the chair, then got up and walked in her stocking feet to the door. Another knock followed by, “Open the door, Velma,” startled her as her hand reached for the knob.
“Hi. I mean, what’s the matter?”
He stared down at her. “You got the nerve to ask me that? If I had been dressed, I’d have been here ten minutes earlier. Now, what was that about seeing me without my control?”
Did she dare? She stepped back, the better to see his eyes. “That’s not what I said.”
“What did you say?”
She folded her arms across her chest to hide her shaking fingers. “I said I’d like to see how you act when your ironclad control slips. Looks to me like it’s firmly in place.” She looked at her watch, realizing that she enjoyed needling him, that the more she did it, the more secure she felt.
His eyes darkened, but that didn’t unnerve her; no matter what color they happened to be, they lured her to him the way a magnet attracts nails. “Don’t you think I’d better finish what I was doing so we can eat? You threatened to punish me if I made you starve. Remember?”
He leaned against the doorjamb, casual-like, but exuding an energy she hadn’t known he possessed—a sexual energy that encircled and entrapped her, kindling a fire at the edges of her nerves. In his yellow shirt, short-sleeved and open-collared, and with his arms folded across his chest, the sight of his hard biceps and prominent pectorals made her mouth water. She hadn’t seen him that way before: a big jungle cat—hot, powerful and ready to pounce.
Why didn’t he say something? It was as if he was waiting for her to burn all of her bridges. When she lowered her gaze, it fell on his flat belly and meandered downward to the flap of his tight jeans. Barely half aware of her movements and gestures, her gaze traveled back to his face. Quickly, she shifted her glance, only to see him ball his fists, loosen them and ball them again. She felt his heat then, and tremors streaked through her as the rough male in him jumped out at her, heating her blood and driving it straight to her loins.
Mesmerized, she couldn’t tear her gaze from his face, and as he seemed to drag her into him, she rubbed her hands up and down her sides. Frustrated. Up and down. Up and down. His stance widened and, nearly out of her mind with the sweet and terrible hunger that gripped her, she threw back her head and rimmed her lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Why don’t you—”
He stepped into the room, reached out, brought her to his body and lifted her to fit him, securing one hand on her buttocks and the other on the back of her head.
“Russ!”
He kicked the door closed with the back of his foot. “Open your mouth. My God, I want you!” With a harsh, terrible groan, his mouth came down on hers. Then she had him inside of her at last, knew his taste, knew the hard thrust of his tongue as he plunged in and out of her, simulating the act of loving. More. She had to have more of him. All of him. With her nipples beaded and hard, she moved against his chest, and when she sucked his tongue deeper into her mouth, he let the wall take his weight and his hand tightened on her hips.
Her blood raced. Her mind shut down and she rubbed her left nipple. The hand that had held her head caressed her breast, and teased her nipple, drowning her in a pool of sensuality, and her hips began to undulate against him, leaving no doubt as to what she needed from him. Suddenly, he attempted to push her away, but she wouldn’t be denied. She had him at last and didn’t want to let go. Her weaving body invited his entrance, and he rose against her, hard and strong. Weakened by the force of her own libido, she slumped against him in what they both recognized as surrender.
Cradling her in his arms, he sank into the lounge chair beside the window. “I can’t talk about this right now,” he said. “Just…I’d like us to stay here like this for a few minutes.” She sat on his lap with her head against his shoulder and his arms tight around her, and couldn’t have said a word if he had asked her to. She didn’t know how long they remained in that position. Her only thought was that she never wanted to leave him. But she understood the decision was and never would be hers alone, for she had known from the start that Russ charted his own course.
After a long while, he said, “It’s been about an hour, and I feel as if something’s eating away the lining of my stomach.”
She hoped that didn’t signal his intention to pretend he’d never kissed her out of her mind.
“And you promised some sweet revenge. If it’s anything like what you just meted out, I can’t wait.”
He set her on her feet and got up. Rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Still like to challenge me, huh? Don’t do that, sweetheart. I never accept a challenge unless I am sure I can win, and I won’t play games with you.”
“That isn’t a challenge,” she said, a little miffed. “Aren’t you used to women telling you the truth?”
“Let’s say I’m not used to expecting it. What were you doing that was supposed to take an hour?”
She pointed to the blue caftan that lay across the back of the desk chair. “Hem that and fit it with darts front and back.”
A frown clouded his face before slowly dissolving into a grin. “You’re kidding. Because of what I said?”
“I figured if seeing me in these graceful, flowing caftans gave you something akin to gallbladder, I’d better find something else to wear.”
The frown returned. “Gallbladder? I didn’t—” She stared at him as a grin circled his lips, spread over his face and lighted his eyes seconds before laughter poured out of him. “Ah, Velma. Baby, you’re precious.” He gathered her to him, looked down into her face and grinned. “I’m too hungry to start that again. Come on. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
She slipped her feet into her high-heeled shoes and, with her hand in his, tripped down the stairs. At the bottom, she stopped. “Russ, how long has it been since you heard that piano?”
“I don’t know. What I’ve been concentrating on had nothing to do with music. Let’s walk down there and see what she’s up to.”
Just before alarm set in, she saw the note on the piano: “Dear Aunt Velma, I’m over at Mr. Henry’s house with Biscuit.”
She handed the note to Russ. “Would you believe a five-year-old can write this well?”
“With five teachers in the house, why shouldn’t she? Besides, she’s smart. I hope she put on some boots before she went down to Henry’s place.”
“Is she allowed to go there?”
“I think that’s the only place she’s allowed to go without getting permission. To the kitchen with you, woman.”
Their laughter echoed through Harrington House as they raced down the hall, free of pent-up tension and inhibitions, open to each other. He found the makings of sandwiches on a platter in the refrigerator. “Like your bread toasted?” he asked her.
“Yes. Thanks.”
He made turkey sandwiches, ham sandwiches and tuna-salad sandwiches, stacked them on a platter, cut some sour pickles, added jars of mustard and horseradish and headed for the breakfast room. “You put out some plates while I get us a couple of bottles of beer. Okay?”
She found place mats and set the table. If anyone had told her that she would be sharing these idyllic moments with Russ, seeing the loving and tender side of him, she might have accused them of idiocy. Yet, although she believed that the wit, tenderness and gentleness he’d showed her defined him as truthfully as did the tough, stoic and solitary side of him, he had not yet acknowledged their passionate exchange, and she wondered if he ever would.

“I’m not going to question it,” Russ said to himself, as he searched in the bottom of the beer and soft-drink chest for two bottles of Czech Pilsner beer, his favorite. “I’d been dying to do that since I met her.” He reached into his back trouser pocket for a handkerchief and wiped perspiration from his forehead. “Whew! She hit me like a speeding train. I may regret it later, but right now, I’m not sorry.”
He walked back into the breakfast room in time to see her nearly trip on the edge of the Turkish carpet his mother fancied and which Alexis brought up from the basement to brighten the room. He rushed to support her.
“Why do you wear those things?” he asked of her spike-heeled shoes. “It’s a wonder you don’t fall and kill yourself.”
“The world loves tall, slim people,” she told him. “I’m not slim, but the shoes make me look taller.”
He bit into a ham sandwich and chewed the bite carefully before helping it down with several swallows of beer. “They don’t make you taller. Some women put their hair up on top of their head thinking that adds height. Neither makes a speck of difference, so why not be comfortable and—” he told himself to say it even if she got mad “—why not accept yourself? If you don’t love yourself, it’s damned near impossible for anybody else to love you.”
She removed the top slice of bread from the turkey breast sandwich and scraped the mayonnaise off the remaining slice. When she didn’t look at him, he knew he had touched a sensitive spot. “Don’t smooth it over,” he cautioned himself. “This is an issue between us, and if she doesn’t solve it, we’re not going anywhere.”
“You want me to believe that a man like you who can have any woman that appeals to him is so different from all the rest—that these tall, willowy women like Alexis aren’t your ideal, the kind you want? You honestly expect me to believe that?”
He put the sandwich aside, leaned back in his chair and looked hard at her. “Whether or not you believe that is immaterial to me. They’re your words, not mine.” He pointed to her plate. “You ate hardly any breakfast, so you’re half-starved, and look at what you’re doing to that sandwich.”
“I don’t like not being able to wear pretty clothes, so I’m going to lose weight.”
He felt for her and deeply so, but he knew it was unwise to express it. “To me, at least, you’re a beautiful, charming and witty woman,” he said, “but if you want to change yourself into someone I won’t recognize, well…it’s your body and your life. I wish you luck.”
She put the glass of beer on the table, untasted. “Those are the nicest…the most endearing words that I remember ever having heard. Thank you.”
“But you don’t believe them.”
“I know you mean them.”
“But I’m either blind or I’ve got poor judgment, right?” That kind of talk would solve nothing. He poured the remainder of her beer in her glass, cut a turkey-breast sandwich in half and put it on her plate. When she looked at him with an appeal, an entreaty, he removed the top slice, scraped the mayonnaise off the bottom slice as she had done earlier, and set it in front of her.
“Even if you want to lose weight, don’t damage your health.”
Her smile, radiant and grateful, affected him like a shot of adrenaline, and he wanted to get her back into his arms and try to soothe away her concerns. However, he wanted to communicate to her trust, caring and reasons why she could hold her own with any woman. He cleaned the table, put the dishes in the dishwasher and left the kitchen as he found it.
“You’re neat,” she said.
He couldn’t help laughing. If Telford, Drake and Henry had heard that, their opinions of Velma would have plummeted. “Neatness is something I never expected anybody to accuse me of. I straightened up the kitchen because I wouldn’t like to eat cabbage stew for dinner tomorrow night. That’s Henry’s favorite form of punishment. Let’s go in the den.”
He motioned for her to sit in the big brown wing chair, and he sat opposite her on the sofa. “What was it like growing up with Alexis and your parents? You’ve told me that your home life was unhappy. How did you and Alexis manage to come out of a dysfunctional home as the women you are—educated, successful, professional and refined? You are interesting women. How’d it happen?”
“I’m fifteen months older than Alexis and, even with that little difference, I was protective of her. Our mother taught us how to be ladies, but not how to be women capable of dealing aptly with life. I’m not sure she knew. Our father evidently didn’t think it his responsibility to nurture us. He left the house and us children to our mother and, as I look back, that was a principal source of their never-ending battles. Alexis and I got love from each other. She’ll tell you they loved us, but she has never made me believe it.
“I think I told you that our mother ran out of the house one winter night, escaping the bickering, and froze to death. Before the funeral, Father left us a note saying he was going to Canada, but didn’t include an address. A man who’d do that didn’t love his daughters.”
“You can’t be sure of that, because you don’t know the measure of the guilt he felt. How old were you?”
“Eighteen. I’d just finished high school, and Alexis was in her senior year. We sold the house and everything in it to pay for our college educations. If there had been a will, we might have had a nest egg, but the state took a huge chunk of it. One of these days, I’m going to confront that man.”
He understood her bitterness, but he didn’t believe in letting such things clog his thinking or his outlook. “Let it lie, Velma. Harboring ill feelings against anyone is like filling yourself with poison. Try to drop it.”
“That’s what Alexis tells me, but she’s a Quaker, and it seems to give her a peacefulness that I wish I had.”
“Your father let you down, but you emerged like a newly minted platinum disc. A lovely woman. Forgive him.” He looked at his watch. “I’m going to check on Tara, Henry and Biscuit. That little dog trails Tara every place but school. Thanks for the pleasant company. See you at dinner.”
He put on his mackinaw coat, a pair of old boots and a woolen cap, got his rifle and a pair of gloves and headed down the hill to Henry’s cottage.
Tara opened the door. “Hi, Mr. Russ. We were going to the house as soon as Mr. Henry finished feeding Biscuit. Mr. Henry gave Biscuit a red sweater so he won’t get cold.” He lifted her, walked into the house, and for the first time, he kissed the child’s cheek.
“Biscuit is a lucky little pup,” he said, wondering what had just gotten into him. “Henry, it’s snowing harder than we’d thought, so why don’t you come prepared to spend the night over at the house?”
“I was thinking I’d do that.”
Russ realized he was still holding Tara and set her on her feet, but a strange feeling pervaded him, shocking him. He shook his body as a bird flexes its wings after a bath. For the first time in his life, he had a yearning for a child of his own.

Chapter 3
Back in her room, Velma stared at the blue caftan that she had begun to alter before Russ altered her. Until the previous evening, he’d never seen her in anything but a caftan, and that hadn’t stopped him from liking her and wanting her. She was damned if she’d ruin her dress. She hung it up. If he didn’t want to look at her in her green silk caftan, she’d eat her dinner in the kitchen. From the window she saw that the snow had become heavy, and recalled the Christmas Eve just past, the happiest Yuletide of her life. She had thought that night that Russ would at least kiss her with the passion that she knew he felt, but he had settled for putting his arm around her and resting her head against his shoulder.
That night, the Harrington men had sat around the Christmas tree and the lighted fire in the den, each with a woman, along with Henry and Tara in an idyllic family celebration. Everyone, including her, had thought that the men would pair off for the night with their women, but Russ had walked up the stairs with her to her room, kissed her cheek and told her good-night. And it was clear to her the next morning that Drake did not spend the night with Pamela. Three extraordinary men governed by their own counsel. She heard the voices on the lower floor, and rushed down to greet Tara.
“Auntie Velma, do you want to hear me play the piano? Mr. Henry gave me my piano, and Mr. Telford teaches me how to play it.”
“You’re gonna have to stop calling Tel Mr. Telford,” Henry said.
“I know. Soon as he comes back, I’m going to call him Daddy.”
“Hadn’t you better ask your mother about that?” Russ asked. “You have a daddy.”
“I know, but I never see him, so I only have to call him that when I see him. I’m going to let Mr. Telford be my daddy.” The tears that glistened unshed in her eyes finally dripped down her cheeks. “If he won’t be my daddy, I’m going to run away.” Her eyes beseeched Russ. “Can’t he be my daddy, Mr. Russ? Can’t he?”
Russ dropped down on his haunches and pulled Tara into his arms. “He will be your daddy. It seems to me he has been ever since you came here. Telford loves you as much as you love him, so no more tears. All right?”
She nodded. “Do you think my mummy will let me call him Daddy?”
He hugged Tara and stroked her back. “You’re five, going on six, so it seems to me you should call him Dad.”
She threw her arms around Russ’s neck. “Thanks, Mr. Russ. That’s just what I’ll call him.”
Velma wondered at the significance of that strange conversation with a five-year-old and thought of her father, a man with whom she could never communicate to her satisfaction. Russ understood Tara and knew how to quiet her fears. She looked at Henry who seemed awestruck, with his gaze pinned on Russ. No one had to tell her that to Henry, Russ’s behavior was out of character. She mused as to the reason and, especially, whether it could be traced to what had gone on between Russ and her that day. Her heart fluttered, more with joy than with excitement, when she thought he might be softening, that—like her—he had begun to feel the need for love.
“I’ll be in and out for the next couple of weeks,” Russ told Velma after dinner that evening. “We’re thinking of building an annex to the Florence Griffith-Joyner Houses in Philadelphia, and I need to work there for a while. If you need me, you have my cell phone.”
“Who’ll shovel the snow?” She asked the question more to show an indifference to his leaving Harrington House for the remainder of her stay than because she worried about snow removal.
“If it continues after I leave, Henry will call a snow-removal company. Drake’s leaving in a couple of days for Barbados. We’re building Frenchman’s Village there—an apartment, hotel, shopping mall complex—and, as you know, he’s the engineer for all our projects.”
“You’re the architect, Drake’s the engineer and Telford is the builder. How did that happen?”
“We decided on that when we were teenagers, and it suits us.”
“Wasn’t Drake planning to eat dinner at home tonight?”
“He decided not to risk driving through this snow. He’ll be here tomorrow. Join me in the den for some cognac? Henry and Tara will probably have some kind of juice.”
She didn’t want casual chitchat. As much as she loved her niece and Henry, she didn’t want to talk with them right then, and the thought of an hour of impersonal conversation with Russ had about as much attraction for her as poison ivy. Nonetheless, she said, “I won’t drink, but I’ll sit with you while you enjoy yours.”
He leaned against the big walnut commode that had belonged to his maternal grandparents and looked at her. “How is it that you so often manage to surprise me with the right words or behavior?”
She lifted her shoulder in a slight shrug. “It isn’t intentional, I assure you.”
He straightened up. “Oh, I know it isn’t. It’s you.”
To her relief, Tara began to yawn and nod almost as soon as they went into the den. “I’d better put her to bed,” Velma said to Russ and Henry.
“Good night. Sleep well,” Russ said, letting her know that their evening was over.
“Good night,” Henry said. “As for sleeping well, ain’t no point in telling you to do that, ’cause you’re gonna be awake half the night. You young people think you got forever to start living. Dumbest thing I ever heard of.”
“You’ve got my life all laid out, Henry,” she heard Russ say as she started down the hall with Tara, “but I will live it my way, not your way or Telford’s or Drake’s. You listening to me?”
“Yeah, and I ain’t heard nothing you haven’t said before. You’re running from that one just because we think she’s good for you. Go ahead. Make yer own bed hard. I ain’t the one sleeping in it.”
She would have been happier if she hadn’t heard that exchange between Russ and Henry. She put Tara to bed, laid out her clothes for school the next day, pulled off her shoes and tiptoed up the stairs to her room. The last thing she wanted was to bump into Russ. He and Henry didn’t seem to notice that she ate hardly any supper. Hunger pangs pelted her belly, and she drank two glasses of water in an effort to ease the pain. Still longing for solid food, she eased between the sheets and tried to sleep. Three hours later, she sat up and turned on the light beside her bed, exhausted from dreams of a battle with oversize steaks and spareribs and of trying to hide huge hamburgers from Russ, whose mocking laughter echoed everyplace she went.

Before breakfast the next morning, Russ got the snowplow and cleaned the circle in front of the house, the road leading to it and the one that connected the house and the warehouse. Sitting in the office at the warehouse, he telephoned Allen Krenner, their foreman, and told him what he and Velma had discovered.
“I haven’t got a clue as to how that could happen, Russ,” he said, “but from where I sit, at least one of the culprits works for either the manufacturer or the packaging company.”
“You don’t think the accountant is involved?”
“Hard to say, Russ, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”
He trusted Allen, a longtime family friend. “Whoever he is, I’ll find him.” He hung up, made the necessary notes in the daily log and went home to get his breakfast. After eating, he checked the weather on local radio and phoned Velma. “We got about eight inches of snow last night, so I doubt school will open today.”
“Oh, dear,” she said. “I had planned to drive Alexis’s car to Baltimore today. I need to take care of some business.”
“The roads will be open by ten o’clock, but most businesses will probably be closed. If it can wait until tomorrow, you can drive me to Baltimore, and I’ll get a train there to Philadelphia.”
Twenty minutes later, he had reason to be thankful that he was at home. “Aunt Velma! Aunt Velma!” he heard Tara screaming, obviously on her way up the stairs.
He bolted from the room and met her as she reached the landing, both hands on her belly. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“My tummy. My tummy. I thought it was candy, and I ate it.”
He grabbed her and ran as fast as he could to Alexis’s rooms. “What? Show me.”
She pointed to the remainder of a substance that he supposed Alexis used either in her sculpting or painting. He tried to force Tara to give up the substance, but she couldn’t, and when her eyes widened, he knew that her stomach pains had intensified. He went to a closet.
“Get your coat,” he told her.
She pulled one off a hanger, and he sped down the hall still carrying her in his arms. “Velma!” he called. “Get your coat and let’s go.”
He ran into the kitchen. “Henry, Tara swallowed something toxic, and I’m taking her to the hospital in Frederick this minute.”
He pulled out his cellular phone and punched in Velma’s number. “Get ready to come with me right now,” he said, when she answered. “Tara swallowed something, and we have to take her to the hospital.”
Minutes later he put Velma, Tara, blankets, and his first-aid kit in the backseat of his Mercedes and headed for Frederick. “How do you feel, Tara?” he asked the child, more worried that he would let either of them know.
“My tummy hurts, Mr. Russ.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, “and that’s why we’re taking you to the doctor.”
“Did I do bad, Mr. Russ?”
“No, you did not. You made a mistake.”
“Do you think she has a fever?” he asked Velma.
“Her forehead is cool, so I don’t think so.”
“Last time I was in Frederick Hospital, I went there to see my uncle. One of the shocks of my life. Someday, if you’re interested, I’ll tell you about it.”
“If it was important enough to shock you, of course I’m interested.”
Her words sank in, even though he didn’t want them to impress him. He drove several miles without speaking, but at last he was compelled to respond. “I wish I could see inside of your head, know how your thoughts form and why they seem almost always to fall so nicely on my ears.”
“I try to tell the truth. I am not interested in being clever or witty, though some people say I am. I just try to be myself.”
He wished he’d been looking at her when she said that. “Including the other night when you blew kisses to your fans in that restaurant? It will be a long time before I let you forget that.”
“I told you that I’m a prankster. That came as natural to me as breathing.”
“How’s she doing? Don’t let her go to sleep.”
“Right. And that’s what she’s trying to do.”
“Talk to her. Anything to keep her awake. We should be there in about ten minutes, providing a highway patrolman doesn’t catch us.”
At last, he parked in front of the hospital, jumped out and took Tara from Velma’s arms. “If you pray, this would be a good time,” he told Velma, slammed the car door shut and raced into the emergency room.
A nurse took Tara from him, but although he knew he had to give the child up for care, a heaviness formed in his chest when he handed her over. “She swallowed some material that her mother uses either for painting or for sculpting, and she complained of terrible stomach pains.”
“Thanks. Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of her.”
“Can we go with you?” he asked the nurse.
She shook her head. “Sit here. I’ll let you know how she is.”
Velma’s hand clutched his wrist. “Should we put the car in the parking lot?”
“Yeah. I guess so.” But leaving the waiting room was like deserting Tara, and he couldn’t do that. As if she understood his feelings and divined his thoughts, she held out her hand. “Give me your keys. I’ll move the car.”
He reached into his pocket, got the keys and handed them to her. “Thanks.” Feeling that his heart would break, he stared up at her as she stood over him, her face the picture of compassion. Then, on what was certainly an impulse, she leaned forward and kissed his lips.
“You got her here in time, and she’ll be well taken care of,” she said. “It’s hard for me, too, but please try not to worry. You’re a wonderful man. I’ll be right back.”
She left him, and he leaned forward with his knees apart, rested his forearms on his thighs and let his hands dangle in front of him. Useless. Powerless. Unfamiliar feelings. He got up, walked to the other end of the small room and retraced his steps. Walls white and bare, gray chairs side by side around the room. Why didn’t someone put pictures in waiting rooms, or anything to distract a person’s attention? He walked back to the other side of the room. If only he could kick something! Thinking that an hour had passed and wondering why Velma hadn’t returned, he looked at his watch and grimaced. Less than twenty minutes had elapsed since he stopped his car in front of the hospital.
Since he stopped… What had he been thinking? He didn’t allow anyone to drive his car except Telford and Drake, and he wasn’t keen on their doing it. Maybe he should pray, but he didn’t know how to begin. He sat down, leaned back in the chair that was too small for his big frame and closed his eyes. He remembered the Lord’s Prayer from his childhood, and he said it then in barely whispered tones. When he opened his eyes, Velma stood before him.
She handed him the car keys. “I parked on the side. No news yet?”
He shook his head. “No. She’s so little. What could they be doing to her?”
“Probably pumping her stomach.”
He sprang forward. “Will that hurt?”
“I’m not sure. I hope not.” He started to get up, and she tugged at his hand. “Honey, try to relax. They’ll tell us something soon.”
She caressed his hand, and he let her do it; he needed the comfort. “That little girl is so much a part of me. If she were my own child, I doubt I could love her more. Telford, Drake and Henry adopted her at once, but it took me a long time. One day late last summer, I saved her life, and she’s been in here ever since.” He pointed to his heart. “I couldn’t bear it if she—”
She sat beside him then and put her arm around his shoulders. “She’s going to be fine.”
He closed his eyes in an effort to blot out his surroundings and tried to think of his next project, but he failed. He sensed that Velma stood up abruptly and opened his eyes to see the nurse approaching, her face brilliant with a smile. He rushed to meet the woman.
“Is she…? How is she?”
“She’s fine, but we want her to rest a couple of hours before you take her home.”
“You’re sure? You’re sure she’s all right?” he asked her.
“Absolutely. You got her here in good time, so there won’t be any permanent damage, but there certainly could have been. She said she thought she spit it out when she realized it wasn’t chocolate, but she swallowed enough of it to make her very sick. If you want something to eat or drink, there’s a cafeteria on the first level down. Take the elevator.”
“Can we go in and see her?” he asked. “Just for a second?”
“I’d rather not. It’s important that she rest. Are you Mr. Russ?”
“Yes. I’m Russ Harrington, and this is Velma Brighton, Tara’s aunt.”
“I’m glad to meet you. I’m Nurse Parker. She said to tell you she’s not sick. She’ll be out in two hours.”
“Two hours to…well, at least she’ll be all right,” he said to Velma. “Let’s go downstairs and get something to eat.” They got on the elevator and went to the cafeteria. He chose a hamburger, french fries and salad. He put it on the table and stared at it.
“What’s wrong?” Velma asked him.
He ran his fingers through his silky curls and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I must be losing it. I don’t eat junk like this.”
“This chicken fried steak is pretty good, want a sample?”
He tasted it. “Not bad.” He dumped his tray of food into the trash bin and returned with the steak, mashed potatoes and a container of milk.
“After we finish, I want to go upstairs and see my uncle. He’s terminally ill, and my brothers and I are his only visitors. I’d like you to come with me, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll be glad to go with you.”

He found Fentress Sparkman propped up in bed reading the Bible that Russ had given him as a present the previous Christmas.
“How are you feeling, sir?”
“Some days, I feel pretty good, some not. I’m glad to see you. Telford sent me an invitation to his wedding. Did he marry a woman you like?”
“Yes, indeed, and he’s on his honeymoon right now. This is Velma Brighton. Velma, my uncle, Fentress Sparkman.”
Sparkman nodded his head. “Glad to meet you.” He patted the Bible. “It was good of you to give me this, Russ. I read it all the time. You and your brothers have made my last days happy ones.”
Russ grasped the frail hand that reached out to him. “It’s too bad we couldn’t have had a normal relationship all along, sir. I’ll be back to see you as soon as I can.”
“Don’t make it too long. Thanks for coming and bringing your friend.”
They told him goodbye and went back to the waiting room. Almost as soon as they sat down, he heard himself telling her the story of his uncle and his father. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” he said, “except maybe because it still surprises me, makes me wonder. That story had a strong effect on me—I pay careful attention to the way I treat people. A stranger, even an enemy, could be a close relative.”
He got up and walked toward the door leading to patient care. “What’s holding them?” He walked back to Velma. “All I have is that nurse’s word.”
Velma walked over to where he stood strung out with anxiety. “She’s a professional, Russ, and she deals with patients’ families all the time. She wouldn’t mislead us.”
He slapped his left fist in his right palm. “You’re right, I know, but it’s taking so long. How could she be so weak that she needs to rest for two whole hours?” He remembered to call Henry who he knew was worried about Tara and anxious for her well-being.
“How is she?” Henry asked as he lifted the receiver.
He told Henry as much as he knew. “It appears that she’ll be as good as new. I just didn’t want you to worry more.”
“Worry more? I never been so upset in me life. Thanks for letting me know.”
As Russ hung up, the door swung open, and the nurse wheeled Tara through it in a wheelchair. “Mr. Russ! Aunt Velma! They put a tube down my throat, they gave me this big bunny and these balloons, and when I get big, I’m going to play the piano for them.”
He raced to the wheelchair, stopped and stared at the nurse. “Can’t she walk?”
“Yes, but we always release patients this way.”
“Do you have a clerk or someone who I can pay?” he asked her.
“Fill out this form, and we’ll send you a bill. After you do that, she may go.”
He thanked the nurse, filled out the forms and lifted Tara from the wheelchair. He looked the child in the eyes. “If you ever give me another scare like this one, I’m going to tweak your nose.” Her giggles filled his heart with such happiness that he couldn’t help hugging her as he walked to his car with her in his arms and Velma holding his hand.
As he drove home, the thought occurred to him time and again that he’d learned much about himself in the last five days, all of it important and some of it life-changing.
After supper, when they had finally tucked the excited little girl in bed, he sat with Velma and Henry in the den musing over what he considered his odd behavior.
“Henry, I had planned to work on a project we have in Philadelphia, but what happened with Tara suggests to me that I ought to work here at home until Telford gets back. Drake can’t stay home. He has to leave for Barbados tomorrow.”
“Well, I ain’t what I used to be, and I haven’t driven a car in years, but Velma here can drive. You don’t have to change yer plans. We can manage.”
“I know I can count on you, Henry, and that you care as much for our home as I do. After all, it’s your home. But my mind tells me to stay here, and I don’t mind doing it. My computer and my brain are about all I need in order to work.”

Around ten in the morning, two days later, he looked up from his draft board and glanced at his bedroom window just as a silver-gray Lincoln Town Car turned into the circle that graced the front of Harrington House. A familiar car. He got up, went downstairs and opened the door at the first peal of the doorbell.
Jack Stevenson. “What can I do for you, man?” he asked Jack.
“I want to see Alexis.” He started past Russ, but didn’t get far before he felt the weight of Russ’s hand on his shoulder.
“What do you want with her?”
“It’s not your business.”
Same old Jack. “It may be her husband’s business. Would you like me to give him a message?”
“What husband? What the hell are you talking about?”
The pleasure he got from anticipating Jack’s reaction to his next words sent tremors through his body. “Didn’t anybody tell you? Alexis Harrington is on her honeymoon with Telford Harrington. As we speak, man.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“Sorry. It’s a matter of public record. Check it with the minister of the First Presbyterian Church in Frederick, or with me, since I was best man and legal witness. You want to check it with Velma? I think she’s playing checkers with your daughter.”
Jack stared at him. “The big guy. He got her after all.”
“Nobody in this house ever doubted that they would marry. Uh… You want me to call Tara?”
“Naah. I’m…I’m out of here.”
“Really? Yesterday, just before I took Tara to the emergency room in Frederick General Hospital, she asked me if she could call Telford ‘daddy,’ and I told her she had a daddy. She said she only has to call you daddy when she sees you, and she doesn’t see you often. What do you think she should call her stepfather?”
“Damned if I care.” Jack moved the few steps toward the front door, but Russ had one more rock to toss and put his hand on the doorknob, effectively imprisoning Jack.
“I got your daughter to the emergency room in time for the doctors to save her life, but since it didn’t occur to you to ask how she is, I won’t tell you.” He opened the door, and with a sweep of his hand, invited the man to leave.
“I see we won’t be bothered with you in the future, buddy, and good riddance,” he called after Jack.
He went into the kitchen and related the incident to Henry. “There’s no telling how he might have behaved if I hadn’t been here. Jack learned months ago not to cross me.”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “Oh, his type is nothing to worry about. Just put his five-year-old daughter in front of him, and he’s ready to go.” He stopped kneading dough. “Alexis sent him an invitation to the wedding, but I guess he didn’t open it, probably thinking it was something about his daughter. She don’t need him. Tel’s her daddy, and has been since the day she came here.”
Russ stuffed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and leaned against the kitchen counter as memories of his mother flooded his mind. “I’ve often thought that there ought to be some kind of test for parenthood, or at least mandatory classes for people who bring children into this world. My mother and Jack Stevenson would have been prime candidates.”
Henry oiled a bowl, put the bread down to rise and covered it with a sheet of plastic. “It ain’t good to think like that, Russ. Miss Lizzie was one of those people that needed freedom. She loved her children, but she didn’t like being married and having to answer to another person.”
“I’m glad she bothered to give birth to me and my brothers, but if she did that, she should have accepted her responsibility to take care of us. Instead, she took off without warning whenever she felt like it. I remember waking up one morning and going in my parents’ room and asking my father where she was. He wiped a tear, didn’t look at me and said, ‘I don’t know, Son. I don’t know where she went.’ That was the day before I started first grade. She came back, and she left again. When Dad died, she came back and stayed, but I didn’t give a damn. I was eight.”
“I know. It affected you more than it did Telford and Drake. Since Mr. Josh died, your brothers and me are the only people you let get close to you. Best thing that could have happened to you, Son, was finding out how much Alexis loves her child. She come here that day, she told me later, with a total of thirty-eight dollars to her name right after she signed away twelve million in exchange for full custody of Tara.”
He released a sharp whistle. “I didn’t know it was that much. Jack Stevenson is a jerk. I don’t see how any human being could fail to love Tara. Well, if I’m going to stay home, I’d better get to work.” And he’d have to find a way to avoid Velma except at breakfast and supper when it would be impossible. As it was, thoughts of her interfered with his concentration, and that was a first.
His mind made up, he told Henry, “I think I’ll work in the office at the warehouse. Less distraction.”
“Yeah,” Henry said. “She ain’t likely to go down there. If I need you for anything, I’ll call you on your cell phone.”
He didn’t bother to answer. As long as Henry could breathe, he’d say whatever came to his mind. “See you at supper. I’ll get a sandwich out of the vending machine in the basement at the warehouse.”
“Won’t taste like nothing.”
“Right, but it will serve the purpose.”

At the same time, Velma was considering ways to avoid encountering Russ. She knew that it was mandatory that they all eat supper together, for Alexis had made that a house rule. However, nothing prevented her from leaving before breakfast. That evening after supper, she laid out Tara’s clothes for school, read stories to her niece and went to her room early. She heard Russ’s steps as he mounted the stairs and her breathing stopped until she heard his bedroom door close. She had known that he wouldn’t knock on her door, and she hadn’t wanted him to, but in her heart she longed for him to come to her.
She slept fitfully, rose early and got Tara ready for school. She’d never been efficient at braiding hair, and Tara didn’t like the result. “Aunt Velma, I’m going to learn how to braid my hair,” she said after looking in the mirror.
“I don’t blame you. The school bus will be here in ten minutes, so let’s hurry.” At the front door, to her surprise, Russ was waiting for them.
“Hi,” he said. “I’ll walk with her out to the bus. It stops almost directly in front of the house, but the walkway may be a little slippery.”
She stood in the foyer beside the big oval window watching as Russ lifted Tara, hugged and kissed her and set her on the bus. She hadn’t known him to be so affectionate with the child and wondered again at the reason. He seemed surprised to find her still standing there when he returned.
“I had planned to work in Philadelphia for a few days, but with both Telford and Drake away, I think I’d better stay close to home.” He told her about Jack’s visit the previous afternoon. “I wouldn’t put it past him to do something to upset Telford, who he detests. I told the bus driver not to release her to any man but me, and I’ve just this second decided to go to the school and warn the principal.”
“Surely, he wouldn’t—”
“A principled man wouldn’t treat his daughter as Jack treats Tara. He didn’t want Alexis when she was his wife, but as soon as she divorced him for philandering, he wanted her back. Telford got in his way. I’d better get moving.”
“I’m driving to Baltimore today. I hope to be back before supper time.” It was on the tip of her tongue to add: so you won’t need to work in the warehouse.
As if making the connection himself, his left eyebrow shot up. “Driving Alexis’s car?” She nodded. “Better let me check it out.”
He opened the closet beside the door leading to the downstairs game room and got a bunch of keys. “Be back in a few minutes.”
She sat on a stair step, waiting for him and ruminating about his protectiveness. He was responsible for the house and the family in Telford’s absence. Maybe that accounted for it.
“It’s okay. Be sure and take my cell phone number in case you need me for something.”
“Thanks.”
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, and she sat on the third step, but he still towered over her. She looked up at him, seeing his long-lashed and slumberous dark eyes, full bottom lip and square but dimpled chin; the muscled chest that emphasized his six-foot-three-and-a half-inch height, his long legs, flat belly and the aura of power that he exuded. She sucked in her breath and knew he saw and heard her.
His breathing accelerated, and she could see his Adam’s apple bobbing furiously. Her tongue rimmed her bottom lip, and he seemed to gulp air. He wanted her, and she wanted him inside of her. Disgusted with herself for having started it and for her inability to control her passion for him, she jumped up and raced up the stairs. But he reached the landing when she did, pulled her into his arms and lifted her hungry body to his, chest to chest and loins to loins.
“Russ. Oh, my Lord.”
He stared down at her, his nostrils flaring, his eyes telling her what she knew his mouth wouldn’t say. His lips were so close that she breathed his breath, and her senses swirled dizzily as her nostrils caught the odor of his heat. Spirals of unbearable tension snaked through her and, frustrated beyond reason, she put her hands behind his head and brought his lips to meet hers, open and waiting.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth, and she took all that he would give her, as he tested and tasted every centimeter, swirling and tantalizing until she moaned the agony of her desire.
Recovering as best she could, she rested her head against his shoulder. “Stop playing with me, Russ. You give in to your feelings when they overwhelm you, but you don’t want this to go anywhere.”
“I am not playing with you. Whether you were aware of it or not, you gave me one of the most seductive invitations a man could get. You know how things are with us. What was I supposed to do? Pretend you weren’t there?”
His arms tightened around her and she kissed the side of his neck. “You’re famous for your self-control, so—”
“So I decide when to use it. Is that what you’re accusing me of?”
She leaned back and gazed into his face. So close and so precious. “Don’t you?”
His rough half laugh almost startled her. “I would have gotten to you if I’d had to jump over a mile-deep ravine. Decision had nothing to do with it.” A grin spread over his face. “I suppose I ought to put you down.”
“Yes, considering how much I weigh.”
“It probably gets less every day, considering how little you’re eating.”
“That’s the problem. I haven’t lost an ounce, and I’m hungry all the time.”
“Then stop being vain and eat. Losing weight won’t change your personality and probably not your face. They’re what I find most attractive in you or any other woman. I’d better get dressed if I’m going to Tara’s school.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Be careful driving.”
She had told him she hadn’t lost weight, but she had actually gained a pound. “If this continues, I’m going to see a nutritionist,” she vowed to herself. “Henry, I’ll be in Baltimore most of the day,” she called to him from the kitchen door.
“Ain’t no need for that. Russ is working at the warehouse today.”
“Henry, I am not going to Baltimore to avoid Russ.”
“You are so. He’s running from you, and you’re running from him, though I can’t for the life of me see what the two of you are running for. Any adult who’s around you for ten minutes can slice the heat with a knife, it’s so thick.”
“That’s not very consoling, Henry.”
“I ain’t supposed to console you. That’s Russ’s job. I’m just watching the two of you postpone the inevitable. Soon as Tel and Alexis get back here and start showing you how nice it can be… You just watch. I ain’t saying no more.”
After determining that Henry didn’t need anything from Baltimore, she started on her journey, shocked to have discovered that Russ had driven the car out of the garage and positioned it so that she wouldn’t have to back out.
“I could love that guy,” she said to herself, and not for the first time. “He’s everything I need, but I don’t believe he’s even thinking about developing a relationship with me, to say nothing of marrying me.”

In Baltimore, she made her first stop at a real estate company that specialized in small business needs. After settling with the agent as to what she wanted, she headed for Layne Bryant’s, intent on seeing how she would look in jeans.
She didn’t like the jeans, stretch or otherwise, and settled on two pairs of pants, one oxford gray and the other dark tan. She looked around until she found a sweater, below-hip length and very loose with one side tucked and held up with a self bow. She liked the design and bought lavender and burnt-orange versions of it. Then, she gathered her courage and went into the dress department, trying not to notice the beautiful caftans as she passed them. She saw a navy blue silk-crepe dress that had three-quarter-length sleeves, a fitted silhouette and flared ruffles at the hem. She tried it on and, encouraged, found a burnt-orange replica and bought both of them.
Maybe I’ll never wear them, she thought, unless Alexis says they look all right. But what did her svelte sister know about what did or didn’t look right on a short, overweight woman? She put her parcels in the trunk of the car, bought a bag of miniature Snickers to make herself feel better and headed back to Eagle Park, munching as she drove, diet forgotten.
She arrived at Harrington House half an hour before seven, heard Tara practicing the piano and rushed to her room to shower and change. She expected comments from Henry and Tara, but she prayed that Russ at least would keep his opinions to himself.
When she got downstairs, feeling self-conscious in her brown pants and burnt-orange sweater, Tara greeted her, “Aunt Velma, Mr. Russ came to my school today and talked to my teachers and he brought me home from school, so I didn’t have to ride the bus. Mr. Russ loves me.”
She knelt before the little girl and wrapped her arms around her. “Of course he loves you, all of us love you.”
“You look pretty, Aunt Velma. Is Mr. Drake coming home tonight?”
“No, dear. He’s gone to Barbados for a few weeks.”
“Oh. He likes to go there a lot.”
Tara took her hand and walked with her to the breakfast room where Russ and Henry waited for them. As soon as they sat down, Russ said grace.
“Mr. Russ says my grace takes too long,” Tara said, blessing them all with her smiles and giggles.
“Henry, this food is first class,” Russ said of the medallions of pork, saffron rice, artichoke hearts in cream sauce and asparagus.
“I made a brown Betty for dessert. Alexis left a slew of recipes, and I’m using ’em. I suppose you know how to cook, Velma.”
At least he hadn’t mentioned her clothes. “Henry, I have two degrees in home economics, and I make a living catering galas and other affairs. And you ask me if I can cook.”
“Well, you don’t have to do the cooking yourself. You can hire somebody.”
She glanced at Russ, and found his gaze pinned on her. “If you want a sample, I’ll cook one day this weekend.”
“I’d like a sample,” Russ said almost before the words left her mouth. “Make it Sunday. One of my college buddies is having supper with us. I was going to take him out to dinner because I don’t like adding to Henry’s burdens, but since you’re cooking—”
“Ain’t no burden to add an extra plate. He ain’t on a special diet, is he?”
Russ shook his head. “Tara, did you finish your homework?”
“Yes, sir. I did my whole workbook.”
“What about your reading?”
“I read that yesterday. Can I go play the piano?”
“After your Aunt Velma or I checks your homework, you may.”
“And after Mr. Henry gives me some black-cherry ice cream,” she said, bringing a laugh from the adults.
Once more, she left the table feeling as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She took the plates into the kitchen, rinsed them and opened the dishwasher. As she raised up to get the plates off the counter, she glimpsed Russ’s gray pinstriped pants.
“You could at least make some noise when you walk. Scare the bejeebers out of a person.”
His hands gripped her shoulders, his lips covered hers, and she tasted him. “Russ!” His fingers sent fiery ripples spiraling along her arms, and she pulled his tongue into her mouth, loving him, shaken by the terrible sweet hunger he stirred in her.
When he released her, she gripped his arms for support. “Russ. Honey, would you please leave me down here on planet earth. I want to stay off this seesaw of yours.”
“I like the way you look, and I wanted you to know it. Warm and sweet.” He kissed her nose. “Nice nose, too.”

In the days that followed, she planned her time carefully and managed not to be alone with Russ except on the rare occasions when he surprised her, as he said, “Just so you’ll know I’m here and that I know what you’re doing.”
She didn’t ask him what he meant, because she knew. She also knew that until he indicated that he wanted more from her than hot kisses, more than a casual relationship, she intended to stay out of his way.
“If you’re going to let me cook tomorrow, Henry, I’d better run into Eagle Park and do some shopping.”
“Guess you’d better. If you told Russ you’d do it, that settles it. He don’t break his word for nothing, and he expects the same of everybody else. Check the pantry before you make yer list.”
She returned from shopping, made a large bowl of crème Courvoisier, put it in the deep freezer, made raspberry sauce for it, marinaded a pork roast and called Henry.
“The kitchen’s yours till around one tomorrow,” she told him.
“If you need from one to seven to get dinner together, you must think the president’s coming.”
She winked. “What makes you think he isn’t?”
Not to be outdone, Henry called to her as she walked down the hall, “If that’s the case, it’s high time you started acting like it. If a man’s head honcho, his woman lets him and everybody else know it.”
Russ turned the corner with Tara holding his hand. “Who’s head honcho?”
Henry didn’t look at him. “Humph. Since you don’t know, telling ya won’t do a bit of good.”
She hurried up the stairs, went to her room and busied herself with plans for the gala she had contracted to service in New Orleans. The more she thought about it, the less attractive the venture appeared.

Darkness had already set in that Sunday afternoon around five-thirty when she began setting the dining room table. She decorated it with a large crystal bowl of pink and white rose buds that she had bought in town the previous day, and pink candles in crystal candle holders. She used a white damask cloth and napkins, white porcelain that had a tiny pink floral design, heirloom silver and crystal goblets.
At the last minute she decided to wear her new navy blue dress, added rose quartz beads and earrings, combed out her hair, remembered his comment about short women piling their hair on their heads to look taller and pinned hers up on top of her head.
“I’m not going to remake myself for him, and I want him to know it,” she said aloud and she walked down the stairs.
She dressed Tara in a red-and-white-checkered pinafore and secured her hair with two red clamps. “Sorry, honey,” she said, “braids will have to wait till your mother gets back.”
“How many more days?”
“Five.”
She clapped her hands and exuded happiness as giggles poured out of her. “And then Mr. Telford will be my daddy… I mean my dad.”
“He’s been your dad ever since the wedding.”
Tara’s wide eyes stared up at her. “Will he like being my dad?”
“He will love it, because he loves you. Let’s go. It’s supper time.”
“Who’s she?” Velma heard a male voice ask, looked in the direction from which the voice came and saw a tall man-for-the-ages sexual dynamite staring at her.
“She’s Velma Brighton. Why?” Russ asked his guest.
“Why? You have to ask why? Is she yours?”
“No, she isn’t,” Russ replied. “Dinner’s ready.”

Chapter 4
Russ steered Velma away from her usual place at the table, beside Tara, and sat her opposite him. With Telford away, he sat at the head of the table.
“That’s my mummy’s seat, Aunt Velma.”
“Not tonight,” Russ said. After saying grace, he looked at Velma. “Ms. Brighton, this is Dolphe Andrews. We were roommates for a while when I was in graduate school.”

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