“Is there any of that bread you made left?”
“Yes.”
“Then the white bean soup and bread sounds great.”
“Here, in front of the fire?”
“Yes.”
He followed her into the kitchen and helped with chopping onions and gathering silverware. There was something reassuring and cozy about working side by side to prepare a meal. How long had it been since they had done that? Before he’d hired the housekeeper certainly. And long before that? Maybe so.
Possibly from the first moment he’d gone to work at Halloran, when he’d realized that Lacey didn’t really want to hear how his days at his father’s company had gone.
Before that, early in their marriage they had both rushed in after six and divided up the chores so they could get dinner on the table at a decent hour. Lacey had cooked. He had set the table. And they had used the time to compare notes on everything they’d done while apart.
Occasionally he had fixed dinner and let her catch up on laundry. Without any particular planning, they had had the ultimate liberated household, Kevin realized now with amusement. Still, the rhythm of their evenings had been satisfying in some elusive way he couldn’t begin to explain. There had been a closeness, a unity. How had he forgotten that?
The phone rang just as Lacey was ready to ladle up the soup. “I’ll get it,” he offered and picked up the receiver.
“Kevin?”
“Hey, Dad, how are you?”
He glanced at Lacey and saw her shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly.
“Fine, now that that rapscallion of Dana’s has gone home. That boy wears me out.”
“Are you sure it isn’t the other way around? What did you two do all weekend?”
“Played some fool video game. A lot of nonsense, if you ask me.”
“You must have lost,” Kevin guessed.
“The boy whipped the daylights out of me,” his father admitted with an indignant huff. “No respect for his elders.”
“You wanted Sammy to let you win?”
“Of course not, but he didn’t have to humiliate me.”
Brandon cleared his throat, always a prelude to saying something he figured the other person didn’t want to hear. Kevin waited, his nerves tensed.
“I didn’t call up there to discuss video games,” his father announced. “Just wanted to see how things are going.”
“Things,” he mocked, realizing where the conversation was headed, “are going fine.”
“You ready to get back to work?”
“Dad, don’t start.”
“I’m not pushing, son. Just asking.”
“With you, it’s hard to tell the difference.”
Brandon uttered a long-suffering sigh. “It sure is hard to get an ounce of respect in this family.”
Kevin ignored the play for sympathy. Finally his father said, “You and Lacey doing okay?”
Now they were really getting down to the reason for the call. Kevin studied his wife out of the corner of his eye. There was no mistaking the tense set of her shoulders now. It was as if she could hear her father-in-law’s end of the conversation, rather than just Kevin’s innocuous replies.
“Okay,” he said, wondering if he was stretching the truth.
“Hear she was staying across the hall.”
“Dad! That is none of your business.” Only Lacey’s presence kept him from saying more. He would speak to Jason first thing tomorrow about spreading tales, especially to Brandon. Jason had had his own bitter experience with his grandfather’s meddling. He should have known better.
“Of course it’s my business. Your happiness will always be my concern.”
“Drop it,” Kevin warned.
“Okay, okay. The papers on that deal for the new looms are due in tomorrow. Shall I send ’em on out there?”
Kevin hesitated. Those papers were likely to be like waving a red flag under Lacey’s nose. On the other hand, what harm could there possibly be in looking through a contract? Somebody besides Brandon needed to look at the fine print. His father wanted those new looms too badly to worry about whether they were being taken to the cleaners on the deal.
“Send them out,” he said finally. “Dad, I’ve got to go now. Lacey has dinner ready.”
“You give her my love, then,” his father said. “And tell her to get the hell back in her own bed where she belongs. Better yet, put her on and I’ll tell her myself.”
Kevin groaned. “You will do nothing of the kind. Good night, Dad.”
When he’d hung up, Lacey put their bowls of soup on trays, along with the warm bread. They carried the meal into the living room and settled down on the sofa in front of the fire.
For the first time in the last twenty-four hours the silence that fell between them was uneasy. Kevin was more disappointed than surprised.
“Okay,” he said finally, putting his spoon down carefully. “What’s on your mind?”
“Who says anything is on my mind?” Lacey asked stiffly.
“Lacey, being evasive won’t help anything.”
“Okay, what did Brandon want this time?”
“He just called to say hello.”
She regarded him doubtfully. “It certainly took him long enough to spit one word out.”
“You know what I meant,” Kevin said, his irritation beginning to mount. “What is it with you and my father? I thought all that animosity was a thing of the past. I thought you’d forgiven him years ago.”
“I did.”
“Then why do you react like this every time he calls up?”
“He’s trying to get you to start working again, isn’t he? Doesn’t he realize that the whole purpose of your coming out here was to recuperate?”
With her gaze pinned on him, he couldn’t manage a convenient lie. “It’s just some papers. It’ll take me an hour or two.”
“Just some papers. An hour or two,” Lacey repeated. “Can’t you see that’s just the tip of the iceberg with Brandon? Next he’ll be pulling up here with an attaché case filled with more papers and a fax machine.”
“So what if he does?” Kevin snapped. “I have to get back to work sooner or later. I’ll be a helluva lot more relaxed here than I
