“Are you okay?” Kendall asked.
“Depends on your definition of okay,” Charlotte muttered. “I’m fine, really. Just not a breakfast person but your order sounded so good, I figured I’d give it a shot.”
“No problem, honey,” Izzy said, then leaned closer. “Samson’s outside. I’ll just pack him up a bag and not tell Norman. Those two don’t always hit it off.”
“Thanks so much. Charge me, okay?” Charlotte said. Izzy waved a hand.
“Who’s Samson?” Kendall asked when Izzy had walked away.
“The town eccentric,” Charlotte explained. “He really doesn’t have any family or friends. He may or may not have money, no one knows but he seems to need the handout. I let him do favors for me so he doesn’t feel like he’s taking charity. I think he’s more misunderstood than anything.”
Kendall nodded. She glanced at Charlotte, still concerned at her odd reaction to the food but with the plate taken away from her, the other woman looked better. “We had our share of people like that in New York City. Difference is, no one seems to look twice. It’s sad.”
“D.C. too. Thank goodness Yorkshire Falls is different. More compassionate. At least some people are.” Charlotte glanced at Kendall’s plate and inhaled deep. “You go on and eat before it gets cold. I’ll just talk business until mine gets here if you don’t mind?”
“Well . . .”
“Eat,” Charlotte insisted. “And listen.” She grinned. “Something for you to keep in mind. I’ve made some contacts in Washington, D.C., and I’m considering opening up a boutique there. If your designs sell here, would you be interested in taking your work to the city?”
Kendall’s heart began to beat faster in her chest. “Are you kidding? I’d love the opportunity. Thank you.” She’d thought starting in Arizona would give her a more solid résumé and background. Never had she considered starting in a big metropolitan city first, but Charlotte was offering her that chance.
Kendall had come to Yorkshire Falls with no expectations except to sell the house and be gone. In less than a week she’d gotten herself a lover in name as well as fact, more than one friend, a sense of family, and the beginning of a stable career. If Kendall didn’t know better she’d think she was settling down.
* * *
Raina glanced at the timer on her treadmill, then slowed her pace. Less than five minutes left for her brisk daily walk, something she looked forward to more than ever now that her so-called illness limited her activity. But as she looked out the window, she noticed a car pull up to the curb and her youngest son climbed out.
“Darn.” Roman had the worst timing. She yanked the safety plug out of the treadmill and dove to the couch, covering herself with a blanket. Picking up a magazine, she made sure she had the telephone close by. Her phone served as an intercom and she could instruct Roman to come in without having to get the door herself. All in the name of the charade, she thought.
To her surprise, no doorbell rang but instead she heard Roman call out. “Mom?”
He’d obviously let himself in which surprised her since all three of her boys normally rang the bell before coming inside, even if they used their key instead of making her walk to the door. “I’m in the basement,” she called back.
His hard footsteps pounded down the long flight of stairs to the finished basement, a room that had served as a playroom when the boys were young, and a large TV room as time went on.
He crossed the room and stopped in front of the couch. “Hi there.”
She let her gaze travel over her son. Marriage definitely agreed with him, she thought, pleased. “Hello, Roman. Where’s your lovely bride?”
His blue eyes sparkled at the mention of his wife. “She’s having breakfast with Kendall.”
“And you came to see your mother.” She clapped her hands together. “You’re such a good son.”
“Why would you walk down the steps just so you could lie down in the basement? There’s a perfectly good television in the den on the main floor of the house,” he said, ignoring her compliment. “It can’t be good for your heart to go up and down the steps for no good reason.”
“Well . . .” She hadn’t anticipated or thought through an answer to that particular question. Her sons believed she’d been told to take it easy. They believed she walked the stairs from her bedroom to the main level with the kitchen just once a day. The basement should be off-limits for someone with a weak heart.
He reached out a hand to her forehead, his own brow crinkling with what she thought was concern, but his next words canceled out that emotion.
“You’re flushed and out of breath. I wonder why that is?” Roman lowered himself to the couch until he shared a cushion with her. “You’re also sweating like you’ve run a marathon, Mom.”
His journalistic instincts had obviously found something amiss and kicked in. Darn her youngest for being so perceptive.
“I’m perspiring, women don’t sweat,” she shot back, then caught herself and realized she’d agreed with his assessment. Not a good idea when she couldn’t afford to condemn herself in any way. She needed to get herself out of this predicament.
Then when she and her boys were together in one room, she had to confess. She couldn’t keep this up. It wasn’t good for her heart, she thought wryly. “Nonsense, Roman. I’m not sweating, I’m just warm under this blanket, that’s all.”
“I’d be warm too if I’d been running on the treadmill, then dove off and covered myself with a wool blanket so I wouldn’t get caught.” His lips turned upward in a semigrin.
She didn’t care if he seemed amused, she didn’t like his accusation and her heart picked up rhythm. “Caught doing what?”
“Cornered and you
