'Jessica, we all appreciate your need for a broad support net work,' Gordon said. 'But in my house, I need to know what's going on. We'll let it slip this one time, but from now on, every thing gets cleared through me, okay?'
Gordon flashed Mark a wink that suggested 'Oh, what we fa thers have to go through, right?' A freshet of anger sluiced through Mark's veins.
'How about breakfast?' Katy said. 'I was making some scratch biscuits.'
Scratch biscuits. The old Katy couldn't even handle Bisquik, and microwaving yeast rolls had been about the peak of her culi nary skills. Country life must have inspired her. Or beaten her down. He found himself scrutinizing her as he listened to Gordon. Had she lost weight? She'd done something different with her hair, the trendy, cheek-sweeping cuts she'd preferred giving way to a longer, more free-flowing style that feathered across her collar bones. Damn. She was still beautiful, but then, that had never been one of her shortcomings.
'Actually, I was hoping to take Jett out for breakfast, if that's okay. Where's the closest McDonald's?'
Gordon gave one of those bluff, hearty laughs that were simul taneously cheerful and irritating. 'Try Titusville. That's our college town. Population fourteen thousand when the semester is in session. Three thousand during Christmas break. But it's a twenty- minute drive, probably longer on a Sunday when the little old ladies drive their Olds Cutlasses to church.'
'Let me fix you something here,' Katy said. 'We have fresh eggs and bacon, and I have a new waffle iron, too.'
Mark shot her a glance. Gordon didn't have enough parental experience to pick up on the subtleties, but Katy should know the point of the suggestion was for Mark and Jett to spend time alone.
'How about the general store?' Jett said. 'We can get some thing from their deli. You and me, Dad, just like when you used to drop me off at school.'
Mark searched Katy's face for any hint of a sting, but she seemed lost in menu planning. 'That sounds great, pumpkin. A real-life general store, huh?'
'Yeah, it's like a hundred years old and it's full of weird old stuff you never need.'
'Sounds great. Is it open this early?'
'Sure,' Jett said. 'The woman who owns it lives next door. Except it's more like she lives at the store and just sleeps at home.'
'Sounds like the ticket to me.' Mark stood, half expecting Katy to invite herself along. He wasn't sure whether he would mind or not. Making Turtleneck Boy jealous would almost be worth the trouble, but Mark didn't want to reopen old wounds. Or risk fan ning old embers, either.
He was being a selfish ass, as usual. This was about Jett, not any of the three adults.
'Is that okay with you guys?' Mark asked.
Gordon and Katy looked at each other, Katy obviously awaiting her husband's response. Gordon nodded at her, then Katy nodded at Mark. Jett grabbed his arm and squeezed in joy.
'Do I need to have her back at any particular time?' Mark asked. 'Like for church?'
'I attend services, but Katy and Jett don't,' Gordon said. 'My spiritual interest is purely academic, though.'
'Great, then,' he said. 'I'll have her back in time for lunch.'
'I'll make a casserole,' Katy said. 'Table for four?'
Jett surreptitiously shook her head. Mark was beginning to see why his daughter was freaked out. The woman who had been his wife for ten years and girlfriend for a couple of years before that had become a completely new woman in the four months she'd been in Solom. Perhaps this was the real Katy, and the one he'd known had been inhibited and repressed. Though that made no sense, because Katy had always been independent and, if anything, a bit too strong-headed. Her head now seemed to be filled with little more than the back pages of
'I don't think I can stay for lunch,' Mark said. 'I've got some clients to check on this evening. Self-employed people work seven days a week, remember?'
Katy smiled, but it wasn't the sardonic grin she always flashed when she was pissed about his workaholic ways. 'That's nice. Gordon is a hard worker, too.'
'It's not work when you enjoy it, isn't that right, Mark?' Gordon said. 'Religion fascinates me, and faith is even more mystifying. As Mark Twain said 'Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.' '
'Well, may we all be dogs in the next life,' Mark said wishing he'd smoked a joint before meeting Jett's new stepdad.
Katy was determined to pull off a nice souffle, figuring Jett would talk Mark into staying for lunch after all. Gordon was at tending one of the churches, probably the True Light Tabernacle, and she figured he'd be hungry afterward. Part of her was also hoping to impress Mark, give him yet another reason to regret her loss. Seeing her ex-husband had shocked her in ways she never would have expected, and she wondered if Jett had planned the rendezvous so Katy wouldn't have time to psychologically prepare for his ar rival. Katy had done a good job of hiding her feelings. The physical attraction was still there, but for a grown woman, attraction was tied to love or at least like.
She opened a drawer to find an opener for the can of evaporated milk. The key lay in the drawer, among measuring spoons, whisks, peelers, and spatulas. Someone had moved it. She'd left it in the
She couldn't resist picking up the key. A floral smell drifted from the hallway, and barely audible footsteps trailed up the stairs. Katy frowned at the eggs she'd cracked into a metal bowl. Well, if she hurried, the eggs wouldn't go bad.
Katy ascended the stairs, following the faint aromatic thread of lilacs. It led to the linen closet. Someone had left the door open, and the attic access was ajar. Katy perched on her tiptoes and pulled the string, and the access door yawned wide, the ladder un folding as the door dropped. Key clutched in her fist, Katy climbed into the darkness above.
Her eyes adjusted to the gloom, the morning sun piercing the ventilation shaft on the east gable and throwing yellow stripes across the attic. Dust floated in the sunlight, and a stray wasp cut a slow arc in the air. Katy stooped under the low rafters and navigated the clutter until she came to the dresser with the dusty mir ror. The silver- handled hairbrush was still on the dresser, with an old stool pushed in front of the mirror as if someone had been checking her reflection.
'Rebecca?' Katy's voice was muffled by the insulation, furniture, and boxes of old clothing that lay scattered and stacked like a museum to unwanted things.
A rustle arose from inside one of the boxes.
'I don't want to take your place,' Katy said.
Katy wasn't sure whether she'd actually heard the words or if the breeze had whispered through the ventilation screen.
The access door slammed shut with a rusty scream of springs and hinges, making the attic even darker.
Katy backed away from the sudden noise. She bumped into the long wooden box that contained the strange outfit she'd discovered on her earlier visit. She forced herself not to think of the box as a coffin. The clothes inside had probably been the relics of a previ ous Smith generation, left to molder as moth bait. Except, why had the clothes
The surface of the mirror grew bright with collected light. Katy glanced from the mirror to the cramped attic. The reflection was somehow different from the reality that pushed itself against the sil vered glass. She fell to her knees, looking from the mirror to the dimly lit attic, trying to comprehend the juxtaposition of elements. There lay the golden strips of sunlight, the oblique darkness of the old bureau, the array of boxes, and the slanted brown rafters. What was missing?
She tore her gaze away from the mirror. An image of Jett popped into her head: Jett under the blankets in her
