Stark could not think of anything to say to that.
Benedick's mouth formed a grim line. “I had no excuses. I simply had not realized how dangerous Northstreet was. I didn't take sufficient precautions to protect my family. It was my fault that he got to Desdemona. He intended to kidnap her first and then return for Celia, you know.”
“I looked up the old records of the case. Northstreet was crazy. You couldn't have known he'd try to kidnap Desdemona or her mother before he put that gun to his own head.”
“No. I couldn't have known. But I told myself that I should have known. I couldn't forgive myself for a very long time afterward. Couldn't find any peace of mind for months. I kept thinking of how close I had come to losing my new daughter. I was afraid that Celia would never again trust me to take care of her and Desdemona.”
Stark stared unseeingly at the screen of his electronic calendar. “How did you get past it?”
“Celia got me past it. She reminded me that I was a man, not a superman. That I couldn't take responsibility for everything that went wrong in life. She said that if I did, I'd be impossible to live with.”
Stark looked up from the calendar. “What did she mean by that?”
“A man who holds himself accountable for everything that goes wrong in his world soon becomes what I believe is termed a control freak. He becomes rigid. Inflexible.” Benedick paused delicately. “A computer, if you will.”
Stark narrowed his eyes. “Did Desdemona send you here today?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
Stark reminded himself that the man was an actor. “Forget it. What's your point, Benedick?”
“My point is simple. A man who demands too much of himself makes other people uncomfortable. They figure if he can't live up to his own standards, they'll never be able to satisfy him, either. After a while they tend to drift away from him.”
“So?”
“So, after a while he finds himself alone in the world.”
“You're telling me that if I don't let myself off the hook for what happened to Desdemona, I'll drive her away?”
Benedick smiled faintly. “She's my daughter. She's loyal, but she's not stupid. She'll only bash her head against a stone wall for so long.”
“I see.” The deep cold of chaos swirled up out of the cauldron inside Stark.
“Listen up, son,” Benedick said. “The world's a hard enough place as it is. Don't spend what time you've got in it alone.”
Alone in chaos
.
Stark looked down into the endless depth of the cauldron.
Two days later Desdemona set a platter of steaming tortillas onto the kitchen table in front of Stark, Jason, and Kyle. “Gentlemen, start your engines. Everyone at the table is responsible for creating his own taco.”
“I don't want any hot peppers on mine,” Jason announced.
“Then skip the hot peppers,” Desdemona said. “I'll probably eat them all, anyway.”
Kyle made a face. “You like hot peppers?”
“Love 'em.”
Desdemona sat down and reached for a large flour tortilla. Stark reached for one at the same time. Their fingers collided lightly. The fleeting contact sent a tremor through Desdemona. She looked up quickly and managed an overly bright smile.
Stark did not return the smile. He met her eyes with an unblinking gaze. For an instant Desdemona could not look away. She saw the shadows brooding over his soul. The vision chilled her.
She knew then that somehow Stark had sensed her growing uncertainty about the wisdom of their marriage plans. He knew she was having second thoughts.
Just like the others
.
Desdemona loaded jalapeño peppers and hot sauce onto her taco, but when she took a bite it was all bland and tasteless.
At that moment something settled inside her. She could not leave Stark to his lonely fate. She loved him. No matter what the risks, she would not abandon her work in progress. She had begun the task, and she would finish it.
“Stark asked me and Kyle to be best men at your wedding,” Jason said around a mouthful of taco.
“Really?” Desdemona asked. “Two best men? That will be unusual.”
“He says we have to wear tuxes,” Kyle said. “And we have to make certain he gets to the altar on time.”
“A big responsibility.” Desdemona concentrated on her taco.
“Who makes certain that the bride gets to the altar?” Jason asked.
Desdemona nearly strangled on another bite of taco.
Stark watched her. “The bride has to get herself there.”
Desdemona swallowed the last of the taco and met Stark's eyes. “Don't worry about this bride,” she said firmly. “She'll be there. You can count on a Wainwright. No one in our family would ever miss the opening of a show.”
Stark searched her face for a moment, and then the fierce anguish seemed to fade in his eyes. He smiled slightly for the first time since Dane McCallum had been arrested. “So I'm told.”
The doorbell rang.
“I'll see who it is.” Stark got to his feet and walked out of the kitchen.
“Please pass the cheese,” Kyle said to Desdemona.
The murmur of a woman's voice caught everyone's attention.
“Hey, that's Mom.” Jason dropped his taco, shoved back his chair, and leaped to his feet.
“Mom's here?” Kyle let the spoonful of grated cheese fall back into the bowl. “I hope the shrink isn't with her.”
Stark walked back into the kitchen before Jason and Kyle reached the door. He was accompanied by an attractive, dark-haired woman in her late thirties. She was stylishly dressed in a camel-colored pantsuit and a ruffled blouse.
There was no sign of a shrink.
“Hi, Mom,” Jason said. “I thought you were on vacation.”
“I decided to come home early,” Alison said. “I wanted to see you two.”
“This is our mom,” Kyle said to Desdemona. “Mom, this is Desdemona Wainwright. She's going to marry Sam in a few weeks.”
Alison Stark smiled at Desdemona. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Desdemona said very firmly.
Stark looked at her. Some of the shadows disappeared from his eyes. He turned to Alison. “Want a taco?”
“Why not?” Alison said.
A couple hours later Desdemona, Stark, and Alison were alone in the kitchen. Jason and Kyle had finally wound down and had excused themselves to watch television.
Desdemona made coffee. She moved about quietly, sensing that Alison was preparing herself to say something important to Stark.
“Jason and Kyle seem to be doing well.” Alison poured cream into her coffee.
Stark accepted his cup from Desdemona. “They're good kids.”
“Yes.” Alison stirred her coffee. “They've had a rough time of it for the past few months, and things aren't going to get any better in the future. Their father will never come back.”
“No.” Stark sipped his coffee.
“I suppose you know that better than anyone,” Alison said.
Stark said nothing.
Alison looked down at her coffee. “Boys need a father figure.”
Stark did not respond.
“Jason and Kyle appear happier than they have for months. I think Dr. Titus is right. You've become a substitute for Hudson in their eyes.”
Stark made no comment.
“I think they need you,” Alison said.
Stark sipped coffee.
Alison glanced at Desdemona as if seeking support.
Desdemona smiled encouragingly. “Stark is an excellent father figure. He has a real talent for the role.”
Stark gave her a surprised look.
“I've been doing a lot of thinking lately,” Alison said. “What would you say, Sam, if I told you that I'd like to move my interior design business here to Seattle?”
Stark shrugged. “It's your business.”
“I've already got a handful of Seattle clients. I could build on that,” Alison said.
Stark nodded.
Alison drew a deep breath. “It would mean that Jason and Kyle would have you in their lives on a regular basis. How would you feel about that?”
“Okay,” Stark said.
Desdemona smiled to herself.
Alison appeared confused by the single-word answer. “I know they're not your responsibility, and God knows you probably don't want them hanging around all the time, but I can tell that their relationship with you has become very important to them and—”
Stark frowned. “I said okay.”
Alison switched her gaze to Desdemona in a silent request for clarification.
Desdemona poured more coffee. “He said it was okay, Alison. That means it's okay with him if you move Jason and Kyle to Seattle so that they can have him in their lives. He understands the importance of family. You can trust Stark. He always means what he says.”
“I see.” Alison smiled tremulously. The tightness around her eyes and mouth eased. “That's good to know.”
“Yes,” Desdemona said. “It is.”
How could she have had even a moment's doubt about marrying Stark, Desdemona wondered. Bridal jitters. That's all it had been. Now that they were over, she felt more confident than ever.
She smiled across the table at Stark. He reached out with one big hand. His strong fingers closed very tightly over hers.
Jason appeared in the doorway. “Hey, Mom, you want to come see our play tomorrow?”
Alison smiled at him. “I'd like that very much.”
Jason grinned. “I told Kyle you would. What happened to the shrink?”
“Dr. Titus and I are no longer seeing each other,” Alison said carefully.
“Maybe Bess and Juliet can find a husband for you,” Jason said.
Desdemona laughed at Alison's blank expression. “That's not a bad idea, Jason. Bess and Juliet are going to need a new project now that I'm getting married.”
“Yes,” Stark said. “They are.”
Desdemona charged into Stark's office the following afternoon. “Is he in, Mrs. Pitchcott?”
Mrs. Pitchcott smiled serenely. “Why, yes he is, Miss Wainwright. “I'll tell him you're here.”
“Thanks.” Desdemona began to pace the outer office.
Mrs. Pitchcott kept an eye on her as she informed Stark that he had a visitor.
“Send her in, Maud.” Stark's voice sounded preoccupied over the intercom.
“Go right in, Miss Wainwright.” Mrs. Pitchcott beamed. “And may I say how happy I was to learn of your engagement to Mr. Stark. We're all just delighted here at Stark Security Systems. Third time's a charm, I always say.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Pitchcott.”
“The future glows brightest for those who face it with hearts full of love.”
“I couldn't agree more.” Desdemona opened the door of the inner office.
Stark did not look up from his computer screen. “Something wrong?”
“I just saw Ian.” Desdemona planted both hands on his desk. “He says you've agreed to back
Dissolving
.”
“Uh-huh.” Stark scowled at the numbers on the screen. He hit a key.
“Are you certain you want to do this?”
“Consider it my contribution to the arts.”
“That's ridiculous. You aren't particularly interested in the arts.”
“I owe the guy. He got conked on the head because of me.”
“You don't owe him this much,” Desdemona said.
“Maybe not. But it's sort of a family thing.” Stark issued a rapid series of commands to the computer.
Desdemona was dumbfounded. “A family thing?”
“Ian has promised to use as many Wainwrights as possible in the production. I figure that even if I'm not making an important contribution to the arts by playing theatrical angel, I'm at least making a contribution toward Wainwright family financial stability. Assuming
Dissolving
doesn't dissolve the first night.”
Desdemona laughed. She went around the corner of the desk and dropped into Stark's lap.
No longer able to view the computer screen, Stark leaned back in his chair, put one hand on her thigh, and switched his gaze to her. “Was there something you wanted?” he asked politely.
“Yes.” She fiddled with the top button of his shirt. “But I suppose I can wait until tonight. I know how big you are on deferred gratification.”
Stark's eyes gleamed behind the lenses of his glasses. “My new policy is to defer certain kinds of gratification as seldom as possible.”
He got to his feet with Desdemona in his arms, went around the desk, and locked the door.
“What will Mrs. Pitchcott say?” Desdemona asked as Stark carried her back to the desk and sat down.
“I don't know.” Stark unbuckled his belt. “I'm not sure. Probably something about making lemonade.”
“Lemonade?” Desdemona stared at him in amazement. “Why in the world would she—”
Her question was cut off in midsentence.
“I've always liked lemonade,” Desdemona murmured a few minutes later.