without you.” The last card she’d received had been mailed from Calcutta. “Business is finally done here in Calcutta. Next stop on my itinerary is Zanzibar. I hear they’re expecting an epidemic of bubonic plague and typhoid. Do you think I should cancel?”
Why was it so hard to say yes? Chris groaned. Why couldn’t she just tell him to cancel Zanzibar and come home and marry her. Why couldn’t she admit, “You’re right, Ken Callahan Knight…I fabricated a bad guy because I was afraid to make a commitment.” Chris wasn’t sure. She still felt doubt and uneasiness. There was something about him that disturbed her-something skulking around in the dark corners of her mind. Chris thought of the beautiful diamond ring, another symbol of her inability to make a decision; it wasn’t on her finger, and it wasn’t in his pocket. It was in never-never land. Ignominiously relegated to life in a cup by the toaster. Yuk, she thought, turning from the Mercedes and heading for her front door, what an indecisive wimp. She was a disgrace to her new black Mustang and her wicked lace garter belt.
Lucy flung the door open and threw herself into her mother’s arms. “I got a A on my spelling test, and we got flowers! A man came and delivered them. And Aunt Edna wouldn’t let me open the card. She said we had to wait for you.”
Chris looked at Edna. “Flowers?”
Edna took the small yellow envelope from the kitchen counter and handed it to Chris.
Chris struggled with the sealed envelope. She held the note card in front of her and read out loud. “Arrived Darby Hills. Need instructions regarding Zanzibar.” Chris smiled. “Ken’s home.”
“Seems like a funny note. I don’t understand any of it. What’s this business about Zanzibar?”
“Inside joke.” Chris snitched a cucumber slice from the salad bowl. “Let’s eat. I’m famished.”
It was a no-pressure message, Chris decided later that night. Ken could have called when he got home, but that would have required an immediate response from her. The note gave her time. It gave her a chance to come to terms with her feelings and plot a course of action. She thought of the quiet smile that had been on his face when he’d left. She’d thought about that smile a lot. It was not the smile of a man who was angry, or mad, or heartbroken, and it certainly wasn’t the smile of a man who had lost interest. It was the smile of a man who thought he might eventually win. It was patient and gentle with love. Chris wrinkled her nose. Very different from the cold shoulder he’d given her in Boston when he’d returned her key.
Chris took the key ring from the hook on the bulletin board. She held it in her hand and remembered how she’d felt that morning when he’d moved into her life. Obviously, the key hadn’t been as significant to him as it had been to her. She could never have parted with it as easily as he had. She looked at the key in the dim light of the silent kitchen, glad that Edna and Lucy had gone to bed early. If she was going to get maudlin over a stupid key, she’d rather do it in private.
It was the first time she’d really looked at the key since he’d returned it to her. Suddenly, her eyes opened wide and a smile creased her face. “That sneak!” Chris ran to her purse and got her key chain, then put the two house keys on the table and compared them. They were different. He hadn’t returned the key to her house, he’d given her the key to his house! She held it up to the light and examined it more closely. DARBY HILLS had been inscribed on it in tiny letters.
Chris felt as if her heart would burst. Kenneth Knight had given her that key. She knew it was Knight because he’d been clean-shaven and immaculately groomed. And it had been Knight who’d recognized her tears of frustration and confusion in the restaurant parking lot, and who’d held her close, wanting to erase the pain. She cocked an eyebrow. Of course, it also had been Knight who’d gone off on business trips and never even called to say hello. Big deal, she told herself, that’s hardly a criminal offense.
She felt obligated to enumerate another fault: It had been Knight who’d bought the rink on the sly. Chris sank lower in her chair. He’d bought the rink and turned it into a first-rate training center, making her wildest dreams come true-not exactly something you could give him a black mark for. She sought out the real reason for her discomfort. What was it about him that scared her so? And then, finally, she realized that it was the whole man.
Combined, the personalities of Ken Callahan and Kenneth Knight created an overwhelming, complicated mixture of masculinity that she knew she could never totally understand and certainly could never control. And if she couldn’t do either of those things, how could she keep him? She would lose him just as she’d lost her first husband. Chris wrinkled her nose. Was that really what she’d been worried about? It sounded dumb. It was like never eating peas because you hated brussels sprouts. Just because they were both green and round didn’t make them identical. At the ripe old age of twenty-nine she might be incredibly inexperienced in the mating game, but she should have known the real thing when it came along, she scolded herself.
She had consistently underestimated Ken. And she’d underestimated the depth and scope of their love. He would never leave her…and it was impossible for her to leave him. The revelation didn’t hit like a thunderbolt. It was more like molten molasses that crept along brainy crevices, soothing, healing, filling corridors of despair and doubt with hope and courage and joyous security. She held the key in the palm of her hand. It was the key that had opened the door to enlightenment. The key. The smile. And Zanzibar. He had hung in there. There had been times when he’d been angry, but he’d never deserted her…not even when she’d kicked him out of her house.
Chris looked at the clock on the wall. Nine o’clock. She could be at Darby Hills by ten. She gave herself a mental hug and slipped Ken’s key onto her key chain. She snatched her ski jacket from the hall closet and closed the front door quietly behind her. Chris was halfway down the sidewalk when she remembered the ring. She thunked her head and went back inside. How could she possibly go anywhere without her ring? She was practically naked without it! She looked down at the diamond sparkling reproachfully in the cup and apologized. “Sorry,” she whispered, “I’ve been a real cluck.” She slipped the ring onto her finger and thought for a moment just how right it felt. Locking the door behind her once again, she took a moment to enjoy the cold air that prickled on her flushed cheeks and to wonder at the beauty of the sliver of golden moon that hung low in the navy night sky.
Chris considered the two cars at her disposal for a moment, then chose the Mercedes, making a mental note to enroll Edna in driving school first thing in the morning. The Mustang would fit her perfectly. Chris doubled over with laughter at the idea of little Aunt Edna terrorizing the neighborhood in the flashy black car. And she’d be a celebrity at her next senior citizens meeting!
When her laughter had subsided, Chris was plagued with more somber thoughts. What on Earth can I say to Ken? she worried. I’ve been such a boob. She turned onto Little River Turnpike and headed west toward Middleburg, winding her way through Fairfax City. Traffic thinned dramatically once she reached the county line, and she relaxed and enjoyed the solitude. A few stars blinked on. She approached Middleburg and was reminded that it was the Christmas season as she drove past candles burning in small-paned windows framed by ruffled white colonial curtains. Green wreaths and red bows adorned doors. Holly garlands wrapped around front-yard gaslights. Chris hummed a few bars of “Deck the Halls” and wondered about Darby Hills. Surely, it was not as awful as she remembered it…and she’d never gone inside. The inside was probably very nice.
Chris drove on out of town and searched for the road leading to Ken’s estate, wishing she’d been more attentive on her previous visit. Crossing her fingers for luck, she turned at the next intersection, following instinct more than memory. After a mile she suspected she was on the right route. The private drive appeared to her right. She turned and gave a sigh of relief when her headlights bounced off the gold plaque. She reached into the glove compartment and found the controls to open the gate, and for the first time since she’d discovered the secret of the key, Chris felt the familiar butterflies of fear fluttering in her stomach. The narrow drive stretching in front of her looked ominously black. The steers that by daylight looked so placid and picturesque had turned into brooding bovine hulks.
Courage, she admonished herself, don’t let your imagination run wild. She passed the caretaker’s house and was relieved to see it decorated for Christmas in traditional Middleburg style. Light shone from every window, giving the impression that this was a home filled with activity, but the cheery scene didn’t ease her nervousness. She was pleased to replace the image of Vincent Price with Paddy O’Grady as caretaker, but the feeling of trespass remained. She approached the thicket of trees separating the main house from the servants’ area and scolded herself for not calling first. Taking a deep breath, she encouraged the Mercedes to roll along the winding road. The trees thinned, and Chris found herself gaping in chilled horror at the sight in front of her.
The mansion sat on the dwarfed hillock like a huge black lump. It was more menacing, more forbidding, and twice as ugly as she’d remembered it. Not a single light shone out in welcome. Chris gripped the wheel and eased the car forward. A rude four-letter word escaped from her tight throat. Thinking of Aunt Edna she quickly amended
