“That sounds great.” She was watching in admiration as his muscles bunched when he stretched. “I have to get to Mass yet,” she added, “but they have one at five this afternoon.”
“Well,” he conceded slowly, “I might be ready
to
let you leave by then.”
She laughed, got out of bed and bent to pick up her pajamas. “I’m getting dressed,” she said firmly. “You lecher.”
He grinned. “I have a lot of time to make up for.” He watched her folding her pajamas to put them in the drawer. “You always did wear the sexiest night-wear,” he murmured. “Flannel pajamas.”
“When you live in New England you opt for warmth,” she replied serenely, putting them away. “I never could see the point of a sexy nightgown anyway. I bought one for our honeymoon, you remember, and all it did was wind up on the floor.”
His teeth were very white in his dark face. “True.” He headed for the shower. “I won’t be long.”
She put on her terry-cloth robe and went out into the living room to finish tidying up. It was a good thing the maids didn’t work on Sunday, she thought as she poured herself a glass of apple juice. They would have gotten a shock if they had opened the bedroom door half an hour ago!
Kit came out of the bedroom wearing navy cotton pants and a red-striped rugby shirt. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said. “Don’t run away.”
“I won’t. But neither do I think I’ll accompany you out to the porch.”
He laughed. “No use borrowing trouble,” he agreed. After he had left, Mary went in to take a shower.
He was gone for almost an hour and she was on the point of having more peanut butter and jelly for breakfast when she heard his car pull up in front of the cottage. He came in carrying a bag in either hand. “Coffee,” he said, putting one bag down on the table. “Donuts.” He put down the other bag.
“Thank heavens,” Mary replied, taking out a container of coffee, “I was about to have a caffeine fit.”
He sat down next to her on the sofa and picked up his own coffee. “I ran into George as I was driving out, that’s what kept me.”
“Oh? What did he have to say?” She sipped her coffee with obvious pleasure.
“He gave me this.” Kit reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “It’s John Calder’s review, the one that will appear in the
Times
tomorrow morning. He dropped a copy of it off with George before he left this morning.”
Mary put her coffee down and took the papers from him. There was more than one typed sheet and she spread them out and began to read. The first sentence allayed her anxiety: “A milestone in American theater occurred last night with the Yarborough Festival’s production of
Hamlet
with (with the single exception of Melvin Shaw’s Polonius) an all-American cast.” She glanced up at Kit quickly but he was calmly munching a donut. She looked down and continued to read. There was praise for George, for his “sensitive and perceptive” handling of the staging and the relationships among the characters. Carolyn was singled out for her “bewildered and delicate Ophelia,” Frank for his “simple, gullible, likeable Laertes,” and Alfred for his “authoritative Claudius.” Calder devoted a whole paragraph to Margot’s “light-minded, light-hearted, light-skirted Gertrude.”
The second half of the article concentrated on Kit. “If anyone had doubts about the acting ability of Christopher Douglas,” she read, “they were laid to rest last night.” Mary went through the remainder of the article in growing jubilation. When she had finished she looked back to the one sentence that had lodged in her mind and read it out loud: “Quite possibly the finest Shakespearean performance ever delivered by an American actor.” She put the article down and turned to him with glowing eyes. “Oh, Kit!”
“Nice, huh?” he said nonchalantly.
“Nice? It’s marvelous. And it’s true. You were—oh, I can’t find the right word. But I cried and you know I don’t often do that.”
He put down the dregs of his coffee and looked at her with warm, dark eyes. “Did you cry. Princess? That’s the biggest compliment of all.” She smiled at him a little mistily. He smiled back and said, “I’m afraid I’ve eaten all the donuts.”
“You haven’t!” She leaned forward and grabbed the bag. There was one left and she appropriated it firmly. “I imagine George was thrilled,” she said around a mouthful.
“He was feeling pretty good. He’s sure we can go to Broadway if I want to.”
“Do you?”
“What do you want to do?” he returned. “Would you like living in New York for a few months.”
“Sure,” she said recklessly. “I could always work at the Columbia library if I wanted to.”
His brow cleared. “In that case, I’ll do it. It will help enormously, when I try to borrow money to do a picture of my own, if people are reassured that I really can act.”
“Do you know,” she said thoughtfully, “Daddy might lend us some money. He’s always looking for a good investment.”
“Yes, well I haven’t worked out the details yet. But I will. I have no intention of overspending my own budget.”
She smiled a little abstractedly. “Speaking of Daddy, I think I’d better call home and break the news.”
“Mel flew in this morning,” he said in a seeming non sequitur. “He and George have set up a press conference for this afternoon at three. The TV people will be there. I said I’d come.”
“Then I most certainly better call home,” she said decisively.
“You don’t mind if I announce that we’re back together?”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ll come with you.” She picked up the phone. “But first...”
He sat quietly next to her as she dialed the familiar number. Her mother answered on the third ring. “Hi Mother,” she said. , “Mary Kate! Darling, how are you?”
“Fine. Listen, Mom, sit down. I have some news that may surprise you. Are you sitting?”
“Yes,” came the faint response.
“Kit and I are getting back together again.”
“Oh, Mary Kate, I’m so glad!” was the surprising reply. “I’ve been praying all month that this would happen.”
Mary stared at the receiver. “You have?”
“Yes. And your father too.
Is Kit there?”
“Yes.”
“Put him on. I want to talk to him.”
“Okay.” Mary held out the phone to him. “She wants to talk to you.”
Kit looked a little warily at the receiver. He took the phone in a distinctly apprehensive manner and she smiled to herself. He had always been a little nervous around her mother. “It isn’t that I don’t like her,” he had once said to Mary. “I do. It’s just that she’s so proper. Every time she looks at me, I’m sure I’m eating with the wrong fork or something.” He said now into the phone, “Hello Julia, how are you?”
Mary couldn’t hear her mother’s response, but from the expression on Kit’s face she gathered that it was satisfactory. “I wasn’t sure how you would feel about it,” he said. There was silence as he listened to the voice on the other end and then he grinned. “Yes, well I’ve been chasing her mercilessly for three weeks and she’s finally given in.” Silence. “I feel the same way,” he said. “Okay, fine, I’d love to talk to him.” Pause. “Hi Bob. Yes. Well, I’m happy about it too.
Oh, the play went well. Looks like we’ll be going to Broadway.” Long long pause. “Thank you very much,” said Kit quietly. Then, “I’ll put your daughter on.”
She took the receiver. “Hi, Daddy.”
“I’m so happy for you, Mary Kate.”
“Me too.” She laughed a little. “I don’t think I realized how unhappy I’ve been all these years.”
“Well, your mother and I did, honey, and that’s why we’re so pleased you and Kit have decided to try it again. I always thought you had something special.”
“We did. We do.”
“Great. When can we expect to see you?”
“Hold on a minute.” She put her hand over the phone and said to Kit, “Do you want to stop off and see my folks after you’ve finished here?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Daddy? Kit is tied up here until the end of August, but we’ll come for a weekend after that. Yes, the play was terrific. Kit was fantastic. The rave reviews should start on the TV news tonight. Okay. That would be lovely. How about next weekend? Good. We’ll see you then. Bye now.”
She hung up the phone. “They’re coming up to see the play next weekend.”
“Great. Better book them into the Stafford Inn.”
“Yes. What time did you say the press conference started?”
“Three o’clock.” He looked at his watch. “Half an hour from now. God, where did the day go?”
“If you can’t remember,” she said dryly, “I’ll be very insulted.”
“You’ll have to remind me,” he murmured. “Tonight.”
“You’re insatiable.” She stood up and brushed donut crumbs off her lap. He leered.
“And
a donut thief,” she added. “What does one wear to a press conference anyway?”
“I’m wearing exactly what
I’ve got on,” he replied equably.
She looked at him critically. “You might shave.”
“I might do that,” he conceded.
She looked down at her jeans and bare feet. “I have to change, that’s for sure.” He didn’t move; “Well, come on,” she urged, “don’t just sit there staring at me! Do you have your razor here?”
“No.”
“Well then go and get it.
Or better still, shave over there. I could use the bathroom.” And she shoved him out the door.
* * * *
The rec room was crowded with people, television cameras, and still-photographers when Mary and Kit walked in together. George was talking with a network television critic when he looked up and saw them.
It seemed the whole room made the discovery at the same time, for suddenly cameras began to flash and TV equipment to roll. Mary looked startled and George watched as Kit put a protective arm around her shoulders. He felt a deep pain around the region of his heart as he looked at the pair in front of the fireplace.
They made a striking couple, both tall and slim and black-haired. Kit’s bronzed masculinity a foil for the magnolia creaminess of his wife. Mary had regained her poise and was smiling a little. She looked cool and composed, as if she had done this sort of thing every day of her life. Kit had dropped his arm but the impression of unity they gave off was very strong.
So she had gone back to him, George thought dully. He really wasn’t all that surprised. How could he—or any man—hope to compete with Chris Douglas? The hell of it was, thought George as he moved closer to the fireplace, he liked Chris. He would like him much better, however, if he wasn’t married to Mary.
“Yes,” he heard Chris saying in response to a question, “I’d accept an offer to go to Broadway. But only if my coworkers—including Mr. Moore and Miss Nash—are invited as well.”
George looked quickly across the room to where Carolyn and Frank were standing together. The expressions on their faces brought a reluctant grin to his own. Yes, it was very difficult to dislike Chris Douglas.
Mary was talking now. “I’m not quite sure what my future teaching plans will be,” she answered a woman reporter’s question. “So much depends on my husband’s schedule.” She sounded sweet and demure and George saw Kit give her a quick, amused look.
There was another question and then Kit was signaling to George to come and join them. As he came slowly forward Mary turned the blue of her eye on his face. He smiled a little crookedly at what he saw there. A reporter asked him a question and he turned to answer it.
At four-fifteen Kit called a halt. He and Mary made a gracious but determined exit, and as they were walking back up through the pines she heaved a sigh of relief.
“I know,” he said. “But I do that sort of thing very seldom.”
“Why did you do it today?” she asked curiously.
“I thought it would help George and the festival.”
She leaned her head against his arm for a minute. “I have to get moving to church.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
She stopped and stared at him. The only time he had ever gone to church with her was the day they were married. “You don’t have to,” she said faintly.
“I’d like to. I’ve done a lot of thinking in the last four years and that was one of the things I thought about.”
“Oh, darling.” Her face was radiant. “It would make me so happy.”
He took her hand and began to walk again up the hill. “Well, that’s what I want to do,” he said. “Make you happy.”
She raised their linked hands and kissed his fingers. “You do. You do.”
Copyright © 1983 by Joan Wolf
Originally published by New American Library/Rapture Romance (ISBN 0451122348)
Electronically published in 2009 by Belgrave House/Regency
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