Authors: Sherryl Woods
Already irritable, Kate wasn’t amused by her secretary’s lighthearted attitude. She put aside the stack of messages on her desk and scowled as she searched for the Winthrop file. “It’s not a joke, Zelda. Not to me and certainly not to Davey.”
Zelda looked hurt by the reprimand. “I know that. But you have to admit it’s pretty unusual. You’re not really going through with it, though, are you? He’s just a kid. That Orlando case might have set a precedent, but I doubt the courts are going to start granting divorce decrees for disgruntled kids the way they do for adults.”
“In some cases, they may be justified,” Kate said, thinking of the way David Winthrop had deliberately distanced himself from his son. She wasn’t at all convinced he could mend his ways, even if he genuinely wanted too. She’d never much believed in behavioral changes brought on by the threat of legal action, either. They seldom lasted past the final court date.
“You didn’t like Davey’s father much, did you?” Zelda guessed.
Kate didn’t waste time reminding her that she wasn’t the one who had to like David Winthrop. He was Davey’s father and it was obvious the boy loved him. Her own reaction wasn’t all that clear-cut. “You sound surprised,” she said.
“It’s just that I’ve read about his father. He sounded like an okay guy. He’s some bigwig in the movies. I think he’s even won an Oscar.”
Kate glanced up from the notes she’d made after her meeting with David Winthrop. “He has? For what?”
Zelda shook her head in dismay. “For a woman born and raised in Hollywood, you don’t know zip about the movie business, do you?”
“Who has time for movies? Just tell me. What does David Winthrop do?”
“Set design, sometimes on those comic-book action pictures, but mostly on the big sci-fi movies. His newest one has everyone in town talking. I think it’s called
Future Rock.
Every reporter in town is trying to sneak a look at his sketches.”
Kate recalled all the designs pinned to his office walls. “Oh, yeah, I guess that’s what he was working on when I was there Friday night.”
Zelda’s turquoise eyes grew round. “You actually got into his office? You saw the designs?”
“I suppose,” she said, unable to work up nearly as much excitement over those as she had over the unusually dark and mysterious color of the man’s eyes. Still she made a mental note about David Winthrop’s professional life. Surely the fantasy worlds he created would be fascinating to a ten-year-old boy. Perhaps those could provide a bridge between him and his son.
“So what’d they look like?” Zelda demanded, perching on the corner of her desk, her face alight with curiosity.
Kate shrugged. “I didn’t pay much attention.”
Zelda groaned. “Do you realize what it would do for my social life if I could say that I know someone who saw those designs?”
Kate chuckled. “Well, that much is true.”
“Sure, but who’d believe me if I couldn’t even describe one? Come on, boss, surely you can remember some little detail.”
“Afraid not.”
Disappointment washed across her secretary’s face. “What’s he like?” she asked finally. “I mean, really. Be objective.”
Kate glanced up again. “Objective about what?”
“David Winthrop,” Zelda said impatiently.
“He’s…” She searched for a description that would satisfy Zelda’s curiosity without stirring her overly active imagination. She didn’t dare say anything about the way the man’s temper had riled her. She couldn’t mention that she’d been intrigued by the sorrow in the depths of his eyes. She settled for
pleasant.
To be honest, the description was far from accurate, but it was definitely innocuous enough to suit her purposes.
“Pleasant,” Zelda repeated incredulously. “What does that mean? Dinner is pleasant. Mediocre movies are pleasant. Men are either fascinating or dull or out-and-out creeps.”
Kate laughed. “Those are my only choices?”
“In my experience.”
Zelda had vast amounts of experience, which she was willing to share in the form of anecdotes or advice. “Given that, I’d have to say fascinating,” Kate conceded, thinking of the layers to David Winthrop that she’d suspected, but hadn’t begun to plumb and probably never would.
Zelda’s eyes lit up. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. So you did like him, after all?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sure you did. No man has climbed beyond dull on your rating system for ages now.”
Unfortunately Zelda’s perceptiveness was sometimes a pain in the neck. So was her tendency to think that Kate’s social life was fair game for discussion.
“Zelda, the man is our adversary. We represent his son.”
“What does that have to do with whether or not he’s a hunk?”
“I did not say he was a hunk,” Kate protested.
“You said fascinating. That’s close enough.”
“Zelda, don’t you have work to do?”
“Sure. I always have work to do,” she said, not budging.
“Then go do it,” Kate prodded.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes blinking wide. “Sure.” She made it as far as the door before she turned back. “It’s a good thing your new stepfather doesn’t know about this David Winthrop, huh?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Kate demanded, though she knew perfectly well what Zelda was getting at. Brandon Halloran had taken a personal interest in her future not ten seconds after he and her mother had spoken their wedding vows. Given his meddling ways, Zelda was right on target. Brandon would latch on to the news of Kate’s
fascination
with David Winthrop and start making plans for a wedding.
Kate’s gaze narrowed. “He will not hear about this from you, will he?”
“Me?” she repeated innocently. “Never. Of course, the man does seem to have a real nose for romance. You told me how he plotted to marry off his grandson. I’d be real careful what you tell him about your current caseload.”
“Brandon and I do not discuss my caseload. He and my mother are on their honeymoon. If we discuss anything at all, it’s which European capital they intend to visit next.”
“Oh, I guess he doesn’t bother to ask you because he’s already pumped me for all the information he wants,” Zelda added slyly.
Kate’s heart plummeted. “He what?”
“Don’t worry, boss. I am very discreet.”
Kate scowled at her. “See that you are or you will be very unemployed.” The last thing she needed was Brandon Halloran taking an active interest in her love life. In fact, she didn’t especially want her new stepfather involved in any aspect of her life. She’d had a wonderful father she’d adored. She didn’t need a replacement.
For the next three hours Kate returned urgent phone calls, delegating those less pressing to Zelda. At four-thirty, she packed up her briefcase and walked out of her office. “I’m gone for the day.”
Zelda regarded her with open astonishment. “It’s only four-thirty.”
“I have to visit a client.”
Her secretary glanced at the appointment book in front of her. “Which client? It’s not in here. Boss, how do you ever expect the accountant to keep the billing straight if you forget to write things down on the calendar?”
“This isn’t a billable appointment. I’m going to see Davey Winthrop.”
Zelda propped her chin on her hand and contemplated her boss with a look that was openly speculative. “Oh, really?”
Kate glowered at her. “I’ll check in for messages about six. Don’t beep me unless it’s an emergency.”
“You got it. I don’t suppose you’re planning to have a cozy mediation meeting between father and son over a snack of milk and cookies?”
“No. I’m sure your hotshot set designer will still be in his office. I’m out of here. Call Davey and let him know I’m on my way.”
She found him waiting on the front steps, wearing a neatly pressed cotton shirt and jeans with creases so sharp they could have sliced through butter at the very least. His expression was thoroughly dejected. The weekend had obviously not gone nearly as well as she’d hoped. She took a seat beside him.
“How you doing?” she asked.
“Okay,” he said without looking up.
“How’d things go with your dad?”
He glanced at her then. “Not so good. I think he was mad at me for talking to you.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked, infuriated by the thought that David Winthrop might have taken her visit out on his son.
“We started to talk when he got home Friday night, but then he got mad and then I got mad.” He shrugged. “Nothing’s changed. Not really. He acted like everything was all my fault. I think he’s really mad about what I did. I knew he would be.”
“He was probably more embarrassed than mad. Sometimes grown-ups don’t want other people to know about their troubles.”
“I guess.”
“Did you do anything together?”
“Not really. He stayed at home, though. I guess he’s trying.”
Staying at home didn’t sound like much to her. He obviously wasn’t trying hard enough by Kate’s standards. “Why don’t you and I have dinner together?” she suggested impulsively. “Do you have plans?”
His expression brightened. “Really? You can stay?”
“Absolutely. We’ll work out a settlement plan to propose to your dad. Will your housekeeper mind if you invite a guest?”
“Heck no. She always makes a ton of stuff anyway, just in case Dad comes home. He almost never does,” he added forlornly.
Mrs. Larsen gave Kate a thorough once-over when Davey introduced them. The lines in her face suggested her mouth was always turned down in a perpetual frown. Still, she was polite enough when she was told that Kate had been invited to stay for dinner.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Kate said.
“There’s plenty,” Mrs. Larsen responded succinctly. She scowled at Davey. “Young man, have you washed your hands?” she demanded, hands on ample hips.
Davey grinned, not put off in the least by the older woman’s brusque tone. “You ask me that every night.”
“Because you never wash until I do,” she retorted. “Now get along with you.”
When Davey had gone, Kate asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind my staying?”
“It’ll be good for Davey to have company,” the housekeeper said grudgingly. “The boy’s alone too much. He eats in the kitchen with me most nights, but I’m afraid I’m not much company by that hour. I like to watch the news and, tell the truth, I’m pretty worn out after taking him this place and that all day long. I’m sixty-five. I don’t have the stamina I once did.”
Kate sensed this was the start of a familiar lament. “I’m sure a boy Davey’s age is always on the go.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Larsen said. “Summertime’s the worst. It’s hot as the dickens here in town, and the boy’s into everything. In my day, a child’s friends all lived in their neighborhood. Davey’s are scattered all over the county.” She shook her head, clearly disapproving of the changes in society.
“How do you think Davey and his father get along?” Kate ventured cautiously.
“I’m not one to gossip, miss,” Mrs. Larsen replied sternly.
“I’m sure,” Kate agreed. “But I am trying to help Davey. To do that I really need to know what you’ve observed. You’re closer to the two of them than anyone.”
The housekeeper appeared placated by the explanation. “That’s true enough,” she said. “I suppose since it’s for Davey’s sake, I could tell you what it seems like to me. I’ve been with the family since Davey was a toddler. The two of them adore each other. Always have. That’s why it’s been so sad, seeing how Mr. David spends all his time at the office these days. He claims it’s because he’s got more work than he can handle, but the truth of it is that he just can’t bear to be in this house.”
“You mean since his wife died?”
Mrs. Larsen nodded. “This place was Miss Alicia’s choice. Her touch is on every room. I doubt he’s admitted, even to himself, how much that bothers him. Asked him once why he didn’t move after she was gone. He liked to bit my head off.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “I haven’t said another word about it. He’ll snap out of it one of these days. It’ll just take time.”
“And in the meantime, Davey’s suffering,” Kate murmured, more to herself than the housekeeper.
When Davey came back and they were seated at one end of the huge, formal dining room table, Kate suggested they draft a schedule of the time Davey wanted his father to spend with him.
“And he’ll have to do what I ask?”
“We’ll negotiate,” Kate explained. “But yes, I think he’ll agree to most of it.”
Breakfast every morning, he suggested, glancing at Kate for approval. She nodded and made a note. An hour each evening before bedtime. Saturday and Sunday afternoons. One all-day outing a month on a weekend. The requests seemed pitifully small and yet it was clear from the hopeful gleam in his eyes that they would mean so much to Davey.
As Kate drew up the list, she used her own childhood as a model, then modified that optimum to allow for David Winthrop’s current emotional state. It would be pointless to demand that he correct everything overnight. If she could get him to commit to making small changes, the big ones would come eventually. Coaching one of those teams his son was on, perhaps. A weekend fishing trip. An honest-to-goodness vacation.
Kate thought back to the special relationship she had shared with her father. He had always been there for her and Ellen, cheering them on in sports, encouraging them with their schoolwork.
Only recently had she discovered that he hadn’t even been Ellen’s natural father. Yet he had never openly differentiated between the two of them. If Kate and he had shared a special bond, he had done his best to balance that by spending extra time with her sister. She couldn’t imagine what life would have been like if he hadn’t played such an integral role in their family.
To Kate’s growing irritation, David Winthrop still wasn’t home by Davey’s bedtime. Mrs. Larsen found them in Davey’s playroom, a huge, cheerful room filled with games, long-neglected stuffed animals, a rocking horse, sporting equipment and a state-of-the-art computer. The colorful storybook murals on the wall had obviously been painted with loving attention to detail. Davey had confirmed that his father had done them.
Mrs. Larsen observed Kate and Davey silently from the doorway for a moment before saying firmly, “Bedtime, young man.”