“Gosh, that’s awfully exciting.”
“Don’t get fresh,” Edna called from the kitchen. “It is exciting. Isn’t every day you get to order the Thanksgiving turkey.”
“Aunt Edna, try to control yourself this time-last year we ate leftover turkey for two months. Maybe you could hold it down to…ten or twelve pounds?”
Edna looked insulted. “I don’t cook little birds for Thanksgiving.”
Chris shook her head. “I have to go to work.” She looked at Ken. “Measure the oven before you go, and make sure she buys a bird that fits in there.”
Ken pushed away from the table. “I’ll drive you to the rink. Edna and I need the truck to go shopping.”
Chris zipped her jacket collar high around her throat as she waited for the heater to warm the truck. “You’re being a good sport about Aunt Edna and her theories on courtship and Thanksgiving.”
“I’m enjoying every minute of it.”
Chris slouched in her seat. “To tell you the truth, I’m kind of jealous. I wish I could order the turkey and bake the pies. And I wish I could spend more time with Lucy. She was gone all week. She came home with a cold, and I only got to see her for an hour and a half at supper.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her mitten. “Boy, this is dumb. I feel like an idiot.”
“It’s not dumb. I understand how you feel. I think it must be hard to be a working mother.”
Chris searched her pockets for a tissue. She blew her nose and reached out to Ken in the darkness. “Thanks.”
His voice was husky when he spoke. “Let’s change the subject and pump you up for coaching. Who do you have lessons with today?”
Chris redirected her emotions to his suggestion. She listed her itinerary and soon found herself babbling about Alex, and how she intended to change the last thirty seconds of her routine to include a double Lutz.
From the corner of her eye Chris noticed a flash of black hair and swarthy beard approach the rink barrier. She checked her watch to find that the last twenty-minute lesson of the morning was over. Ken had obviously listened to her schedule this morning and remembered when her lunch break would be. She gave her skater a few last minute words of encouragement and glided over toward Ken, who waved and bent to hoist a heavily bundled Lucy into his arms so she could see her mother over the guardrail.
Lucy squealed and clapped her hands in delight. “Mommy!”
Suddenly, they were surrounded by skaters who hovered over the little girl. She was trundled onto the ice to slide among them. She laughed and fell. She was set back on her feet and cooed over, and carefully pulled and pushed around the rink. Chris stood quietly, enjoying the scene. “This is nice. Thank you for bringing Lucy.”
“Edna didn’t want to send her to school with a cold, but she said it would be all right to bundle her up and bring her in for lunch with you.”
Lucy made her way back to her mother. Her eyes were shiny with excitement of the day. “Mommy, wait till you see! We’re going on a picnic. Ken arranged it all.” She tugged at Chris’ sleeve. “Hurry and get your skates off.”
Chris led the way to the lounge, where she sat on a bench and unlaced her skates. “A picnic? It must be thirty degrees outside.”
“It is,” Lucy laughed. “It’s real cold. And it’s snowing. Great big flakes-but they melt right away.”
“You guys wait right here while I put my skates away and get my shoes.”
“And your coat,” Lucy called. “Don’t forget your coat.”
Chris followed Lucy and Ken into the parking lot. “This is a mystery,” she said to Lucy. “How are we going to have a picnic?”
Lucy ran to the truck. “Ken got a cap on the truck. We spent all morning fixing it up.”
Ken opened the back of the truck and a rush of warm air swirled out to greet them. Lucy climbed in and settled herself on the layers of quilts. “See? It has a heater to keep it warm.”
Chris and Ken followed the little girl in and closed the gate behind them. Chris sat cross-legged and looked around. The cap was fiber-glass, lined with walnut paneling. Snowflakes scudded past the large windows. A small battery-powered lamp bathed the interior in soft light. Lucy’s favorite books were scattered in a corner, keeping company with her dolls, Fanny and Snuffy. Chris watched her daughter. This was the most fun she’d ever had with a cold, she thought. She must have spent all morning snuggled in this camper.
Ken opened the lid on a large wicker hamper. He spread a red checkered tablecloth over the quilts. “Aunt Edna packed a feast,” he exclaimed. “Fried chicken, fresh-baked biscuits, coleslaw, and apple crisp for dessert.”
When they were done eating, they lay back and took turns reading story books until it was time for Chris to go back to work. She gave Lucy a hug and a kiss and buckled her into the front seat.
“How about me?” Ken asked. “Do I get a hug and a kiss, too?”
Lucy’s eyes grew large and round. “Mommy, are you going to kiss Ken?”
“You bet!” She laughed, throwing her arms around him as he stood by the passenger side door. “This was the nicest surprise I’ve ever had.” She gave him a big smackeroo-type kiss that sent Lucy off into gales of giggles. Ken’s eyes met hers, and they exchanged looks of tender affection. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Ken deposited a friendly kiss on the tip of her nose and pushed her toward the rink. “See you later.”
Bitsy was waiting for her. “I know him,” she groaned. “It’s driving me nuts. I can’t figure out how I know him.”
“Maybe he just looks like someone you know. Some other incredibly handsome man.”
“No. It’s his eyes. They’re so dark-midnight blue. And those thick black lashes. I’d kill for those lashes.”
“Yeah. He’d be great in mascara ads.”
Chris switched off the light on her night table and gave herself a mental hug. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and it would be the best Thanksgiving ever. All week she’d come home to a household that was in full preparation for a holiday. On Monday, Edna had proudly informed her that Ken now knew how to make pumpkin pie. Ken had good- naturedly appraised his flour-smudged shirt and suggested that he knew how to scrub pie bowls and clean flour- dusted countertops, but he doubted if he could make a pie. Tuesday evening, he sported a blood-stained, bandaged thumb and declared that if he lived to be a hundred he didn’t ever want to slice up another head of cabbage. Today, he’d spent the afternoon with Lucy, coloring page after page of Pilgrims and turkeys in her Thanksgiving coloring book. He had a definite flair with a box of crayons. She smiled. He made purple turkeys and green Pilgrims and showed a decided preference for orange sky.
There had been no more mention of marriage, but Chris knew Edna and Ken had a plan. They got along in noisy harmony interlaced with friendly teasing and obvious affection. Meanwhile, Ken had maintained his distance, ending each night with a loving but brief kiss at the foot of the stairs.
It was growing tedious. Chris felt her mood changing from one of contented happiness to heated exasperation. She thrashed from side to side, ending in a tangle of sheets and blankets. Dammit, there hadn’t been a man in her life for seven years, and now all of a sudden she was in a dither because she had to sleep alone for a week. Darn that Ken Callahan, anyway. See what a bother men are? She got up and straightened the bed, then she threw herself back into it with a “Hrmmph.” And why is he in such perfect control? Why isn’t he frothing at the mouth, like me? She punched her pillow and snarled. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, she thought rebelliously, it was a man with morals.
The floor creaked just outside her door. She lay dead still and listened. Had she awakened Lucy with her rumblings? Chris blinked as the door cracked open and a sliver of light spilled across the dark carpet.
“Chris?” Ken whispered.
Chris propped herself up on her elbows and debated attacking him before he got away.
“What are you doing here?” If it had anything to do with tomorrow’s turkey…she’d kill him.
He closed the door carefully behind him and crept to the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Hmmmmm,” she purred at his bare chest and revealing jeans.
His eyes glittered feverishly as he took in the rumpled sheets and wild orange hair. “You couldn’t sleep, either?”
Chris thought the heat had become unbearable. If she didn’t get her nightgown off soon she would surely slither from the bed in a pool of lust and sweat. She swallowed and pressed her knees together and tried to sound
