Lucky

“I’m not going back to being a lawyer.” Jake didn’t have to swear it.

Barney nodded. “Of course not. Why would you go back to making a hundred, a hundred grand and a half every year, for a job that pays a little more than minimum wage? And have to give up a boss like me besides?”

“If I were only gay, we could be lovers,” Jake assured him, which—thank God—was enough to send Barney cackling back to his office.

Still Jake lingered, knowing how much his dad wanted to attend this dinner, not wanting to be late…but really not wanting to go anywhere near the Crandalls.

Kasey was the problem. Jake had no intention of going near her, not in any personal way. Once he’d identified her as forbidden, that issue became easy. He’d shoot himself before going near a married woman—so that solved that.

But four days ago he’d come across another medical lawsuit stemming from the obstetrics department in Randolph Hospital. The hospital where she’d had her baby. Just weeks ago.

“Kasey, where are you?”

Hearing Graham’s exasperated call, Kasey quickly patted the sleeping baby’s rump one last time, checked that the baby monitor was on, and then closed the door to the nursery. In the master bedroom, Graham was fighting with his favorite burgundy-and-blue striped tie. The tie was winning. It always did. With a chuckle, she stepped under her husband’s chin and took over.

“It’s almost eight. Company’s almost due. And then the tie got mean.”

“I can see that,” Kasey said. “Damn tie.”

“That’s what I said,” Graham said, still sounding aggrieved, yet out of nowhere he suddenly handed her a small narrow box.

“What’s this?”

“Just a little present. Finally, our lives are going back to normal as of tonight.”

Kasey saw the familiar gleam of desire in Graham’s eyes, and felt her heart sink. Graham knew she’d had her six-week checkup and the doctor had okayed sex again—and she’d always loved her husband’s ardent lovemaking. It was just…she was so beat. Between the doctor appointment and the visit with her mom and night feedings, she was drooping on the inside, and the dinner party hadn’t even started.

“Come on, love. Open the box.”

She did—and found a heavy chain of diamonds. “Good heavens, Graham!”

“You like it?” Obviously pleased at her shocked expression, he stepped behind her and hooked the chain. In the bureau mirror she could see herself—wearing a black dress, to please him. Her fingers touched the stones at her neck. Truthfully, the setting was huge and heavy and didn’t suit her—but how ungrateful could a woman be? They were diamonds.

“What an incredible surprise! I’m overwhelmed!”

“Good.” He dropped a kiss on her neck, clearly approving the dress, her swept-up hair, his choice of jewels. “It’s because you never ask, Kasey, that I love giving you things. And finally, tonight, I’ve got my wife back.”

God knew, she hoped he’d feel that way. It was increasingly troubling to her that Graham still hadn’t bonded with the baby and seemed to resent every minute Kasey spent with Tess. Tonight, though, she really hoped to turn that around.

When the doorbell rang, she went downstairs to greet the first guest. The Bartholomews arrived first, then the Fields and Mauriers. Although Kasey knew the neighborhood crowd now, her throat initially dried up as if she’d swallowed a cup of sand. There wasn’t an ugly woman in the group—or anyone who had less than a bachelor’s degree. Kasey always had the sensation that she didn’t belong here, never had, never would. No matter how wonderful the women had been to her, they just weren’t her brand of normal. They never got zits. Nobody’s hair ever had a dark root or a split end. She couldn’t imagine them suffering from gas, or a tampon leak, or even throwing up in an embarrassing situation.

Yet that first terrorizing reaction faded after a few minutes, as it often did.

She liked them. Really liked them. Kay and Mary Ellen ran their own businesses; Willa taught at U of D. Binky was too fast-lane for Kasey and always would be, but Karen—Bud Maurier’s wife—had been a mentor and friend from the day she’d moved into the neighborhood. Besides. They all knew by now that she had hopeless taste in clothes, and she’d been frank about her blue-collar background. When she first married Graham, she’d just presumed that the Grosse Pointe neighborhood would be a nest of snobs, and she couldn’t have been more wrong. Naturally there were a few elitists, but not many. From the beginning, they’d taken her in as if she were a fellow sister.

They did tonight, too. And she felt a little easier because she was dressed the way she was supposed to be—thanks to Graham. Bud Maurier gave her a kiss and made her laugh. She was flying around pretty high, still greeting guests. Only right after Jim and Chloe Cranston came the gentle, frail Joe McGraw—accompanied by his son, Jake.

Her heart oddly tripped when she shook Jake’s hand and welcomed him. “I’m so glad you came,” she said, as if he were any other guest, yet she found her hand clasping his for a second longer, her gaze oddly captivated by his.

He wasn’t any other guest. She remembered him, from the night at the hospital, and he’d stopped to help her. Since then she’d heard more gossip about him from the neighborhood women, who’d slung stories about his wild years and drinking. It wasn’t as if he’d dwelled in her mind—there’d been nothing in her mind for a month but her baby. But now, those deep, old, sexy eyes seemed to touch her. The tip of his smile. The way he was alone, even as he was helping his father join the gathering.

Of course, that odd moment passed, and then she was running nonstop. The pressure was on. She was determined to show Graham that she could easily put on a dinner the way she used to—that the baby wasn’t going to inhibit them from resuming the social life he valued so much. She could have hired a baby-sitter for Tess and extra household help, but she’d always coped alone before.

Dinner was served at nine. The problem with making everything look effortless was that it took so much effort. Graham did like things just-so. The housekeeper, Gladys, had helped clean, but Kasey polished the sterling icers and water goblets herself, created centerpieces with cranberry candles and fresh flowers. She’d done the new baby potatoes in a clay pot, marinated the London broil with her own original sauce, made a twelve-egg sponge cake from scratch. Now she brought dishes, kissed guests, served the fresh shrimp, scooped the quiet ones into conversations, until finally, everyone was sitting down and digging in.

“Kasey, this is the most fabulous London broil I’ve ever had.”

“Thanks.” Trust Bud to relax her with a compliment, and Karen to add to it.

“You’re going to give me the recipe for the sauce?”

She chuckled. “I’ve never had a recipe. I just made it up years ago, and then somehow it keeps evolving on its own.”

“But it’s always better,” Graham said from across the table. “The way Kasey cooks, it’s a miracle I’m not three hundred pounds.”

“How’s your daughter? Doing all right at school?” someone asked him.

“Laura’s just fine—supposed to come home next weekend.”

“Has she seen the baby yet?”

“No. She was just getting settled in at U of M, starting classes….”

Kasey kept checking the guests, making sure no one needed something. Yet every time she glanced at Jake, his gaze already seemed to be waiting for her, already studying her in a way that made her pulse rush. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Just a little unnerving. Suddenly she was conscious of her flyaway hair and the pretentious black dress and how flushed her cheeks were from running.

“I can’t imagine how you managed all this with a new baby,” Karen said.

“Oh, Tess is no trouble, is she, Graham?” But when Kasey looked at her husband, he’d clearly been sucked into a conversation with Peter Felding. Cripes. Not Peter. The two men were friends, but Graham would definitely turn cranky if the two started arguing politics. She pushed back her chair. “If you’ll all just relax a few minutes, I’ll bring in dessert.”

“Let me help, Kasey,” Karen insisted.

“No, no, honest, it’s no trouble. Everyone just put your feet up.”

With a smile, Kasey pushed the swinging door into the kitchen. Please let it keep going so well went the mantra in her head.

And it was going good, she thought. If her head weren’t pounding, the night would be almost perfect. And she did have to keep hustling. Fresh coffee had to be made—and not ordinary coffee, but fresh ground beans, with a pinch of salt and egg shells added to the ground for richness. Then the foot-tall sponge cake with the marshmallow frosting needed fresh cherries for a garnish. And then dessert dishes—where had she put the German china ones that were Graham’s grandmother’s?

She was just carving the sponge cake when a piece slid. It was right there. Sitting politely on the spatula, waiting to be transferred to the heirloom plate when, blast it, the slice of cake took off. Went flying through the air. Instinctively she grabbed for it. And caught it. Which meant that the marshmallow frosting and sponge cake were suddenly squished all over her hands—what didn’t gush all over her black dress and the floor.

At that precise moment, the kitchen door opened.

“Uh-oh.”

The masculine voice was filled with humor…Jake McGraw, she saw, the instant she looked up with frantic eyes. “I couldn’t imagine how you could do it all alone. Bring in coffee and dessert both. I was going to volunteer to help, but man, now that I’ve seen that cake…personally, I wouldn’t be wasting anything that looks that terrific on company.”

For some crazy reason, she found herself relaxing for the first time all day. “It’s good,” she said. “But not quite so good when eaten off a black dress.”

“You got some on the fancy necklace, too.”

“Oh no, oh no—”

“Let’s see. Quit fussing. Nothing’s that bad.”

“They’ll all be waiting for dessert—”

“They’re all stuffed like pigs and having a good time shooting the breeze. Tip your head up.” He grabbed a napkin and rubbed it on the necklace. Dipped the napkin in sink water, then rubbed the necklace a second time. He was standing so close she could see the cleft in his chin, smell his brand of soap, see his thick brown hair under the kitchen light, so dark and walnut-rich with that hint of cinnamon. Then he stepped back to take a critical look. “Well, it may still be sticky, but it doesn’t look like a meringue necklace anymore. Turned back into diamonds.” His eyes met hers, sexy and mysterious and darker than whiskey. “That necklace looks heavier than lead.”

“It is. To be honest, I’ve never been much of the jewelry type.” She added hastily, “Not that I don’t love it. But the fear of losing it scares the wits out of me.”

“Well, having to cut your fancy cake would generally scare the wits out of me. But I’m here, so you might as well put me to work. Besides, then you can blame it on me if anything else spills.”

“I will, you know.”

“You will what?”

“Blame any and all spills on you.” How goofy was this? Teasing as if she’d known him for years. Yet he didn’t seem like a stranger. He seemed…different. The way she’d always felt different, not one to easily fit in.

Maybe he had alcoholism and major mistakes in his personal closet, but Kasey couldn’t see it to look at him. He was obviously a caring son—caring enough to chauffeur his dad to events that he didn’t necessarily want to attend himself. And she loved the intelligence, the experience, the depth in his eyes. Yeah, she could see a trace of bad boy in his posture, in his lazy, lanky way of moving, in the kindling way he looked at a woman…but there was nothing to scare her from liking him.

The kindling potential nagged at her a bit, but not much. She was too old to pretend it wasn’t there—too old to need to. She loved Graham. It was just nice to talk to someone who just seemed to like her…. someone where she didn’t feel as if she had to be ON all the time, striving to prove herself.

“Did you really come in here just to help me?” she asked Jake curiously.

“Yeah, basically. I kept thinking someone else was going to volunteer—because for damn sure, I’m not great shakes helping in a kitchen. But you’ve been running a hundred miles an hour alone, as far as I could see.”

“It isn’t really running. I like cooking—”

“Yeah. So your husband keeps saying. Anyway, I also thought you’d probably been warned against me. Right?”

Again, those shrewd dark eyes met hers, held hers. She had the sensation of a thirsty man taking a sip of a long, slow drink. “Right,” she admitted.

“So I thought I’d better let you know—probably everything you heard was true. If my being in the kitchen with you could be a problem, just say the word and I’ll leave.”

“Hey, you just offered to help and already you’re trying to get out of it? Fat chance.” But she had to add more quietly, “Just for the record, though, I don’t need anyone else’s opinion to figure out who I want as a friend.”

He started dealing pieces of cake to plates faster than a Las Vegas hustler, but he cocked his head toward the window. “Look out at the driveway.”

She did, and saw the obvious crowd of cars belonging to all the guests.

“See the Beemers and Lexi and Mercedes and so on? And then do you see the eight-year-old Honda Civic?”

“Sure.”

“Well, the Civic’s mine.”

“Ah. That’s what you did wrong, huh? Have an old car?”

He sighed. “Obviously you haven’t lived here long enough to understand the difference between the mortal sins and the venial ones. You can kill and cheat and steal and all, but if you live in Car Town, you care about your wheels or you’re nobody.”

“This is a revelation,” she assured him.

Another sneaky, crooked grin, but it didn’t last. “Yeah, well, I got another sin. A bigger one. I left Grosse Pointe a couple years ago after a nasty divorce—and I didn’t try to come back. You can sin all you want here. But once you’ve cleaned up your act, you’re supposed to come back to the lifestyle. Nobody’ll forgive you for not wanting to be a Grosse Pointer again.”

“Sheesh, no one ever mentioned these rules before. Wait a sec—”

She wagged a finger at him, then hustled a tray with the fresh coffee and demitasses into the dining room, telling the group that dessert was on its way. “Okay now,” she said on returning. “You refused to come back to the lifestyle. Which means…?”

“Which means that I used to be a high-paid corporate lawyer. Not anymore. I took a job with a newspaper—not because I knew anything about newspaper work—but because that was the only place that would hire me at the time. Truthfully, the paper didn’t want me either, but they had a hole in their staff—they needed somebody who could wade through legal jargon and convert it to something human beings could understand. That’s what I started out doing—for which they were paying me pigeon feed.”

“Yet you’ve stuck with it?”

“Yeah, in spite of the pigeon-feed wages.” Jake shook his head. “I’m not sure why. In the beginning, I was just happy to be holding a job. I needed to prove myself. Prove that I could stay sober. That I wouldn’t fold. For a long time, that’s all I was looking for—something to do that didn’t stress any seams.”

Kasey couldn’t fathom why he was sharing all this personal history, but she sensed he was determined to be honest—determined not to put himself in a good light, for that matter. Whatever his motivation, she was interested. “It’d seem to me that you’ve proven your share if you’ve stuck it out for two years.”

“Yeah. I didn’t expect to like it. But I also thought the job was going to be no challenge, no risk…and somewhere along the way, it started to get interesting. The newspaper’s owned by a character named Barney Mendenhall. He’s an overbearing bully and a real tyrant.”

“Something in your voice tells me he’s a good friend.”

“That’s the problem. He is. He took a chance on me when everyone else was fed up, which is a real hard thing to forgive him for. And then the damn man kept telling me that writing stories would get in my blood, that one of these days I’d find a story I’d need to write, and then he’d own me, heart and soul.”

Fascinated now, she started to ask another question. Only, damn, Jake had finished loading up another tray of desserts, so she had to quit talking and ferry it into the dining room. “Sponge cake,” she announced to the group. “But in case anyone isn’t fond of that, I’m bringing in a fruit bowl next.”

She raced back into the kitchen. “So? Was your boss right? Have you found a story you can’t let go of?”

He’d been working like hired help, putting stuff on plates and wiping up. But now he looked at her in a way that made her pulse still. A quiet look. The way a man looked at a woman when he was through with the bullshit. “Yeah, I have. I’ve been looking into some malpractice cases affecting some of the local hospitals. Kasey, I have to ask you something…”

“Sure. Shoot.”

“Just tell me straight. Is your baby okay?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your baby. She’s totally okay, right?”

Kasey felt as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of her lungs. There was nothing in Jake’s quiet, gentle eyes to cause such panic, yet it was there, slamming in her heartbeat, drying up her throat. It was as if he’d known how secretly she’d been worried about the baby. “Tess? Tess couldn’t be more perfect. She’s beautiful and healthy and the whole world keeps telling me how lucky I am. And, God, I couldn’t love her more than my life. Why on earth are you asking? What made you—?”

When Jake first asked the question, she’d just opened the door to the dining room, carrying a tray with the fruit bowl and small bowls—but now she heard the baby’s faint wail from upstairs.

She forgot Jake, forgot the question, forgot everything. The baby monitor was right next to Graham. It should have gone off if the baby had made any sound—but right then, the monitor wasn’t the issue, simply Tess. The baby never cried unless there was something wrong. Kasey plunked the tray on the dining room table, gracelessly enough to make a clatter. She saw Graham shoot her a dark frown, but he probably hadn’t heard the baby’s cry. “Everyone help yourself to the desserts, okay? Don’t wait—I just heard the princess, so I’m going to run upstairs and make sure she’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

The instant she was out of sight, she shot upstairs to the baby’s room. The jeweled nightlight illuminated the crib. Her heart didn’t stop slamming until she scooped up the baby and snuggled her close. “Are you hungry, sweetheart? Wet?”

Yet the answer to Tess’s distress was much simpler than that. A burp erupted from the rosebud lips, and that was it, the end of the fretful tears. Still, Kasey patted and rubbed and cuddled, unwilling to put the baby down, unwilling to leave her. She’d felt better after talking to her mother, but now Jake had aroused her worry level again. It was dumb. Just new-mother jitters. Anyone with a brain could see Tess was the most beautiful baby in the universe. There wasn’t a single sign of illness.

What could her maternal instincts possibly be worth? She had no experience at all with newborns.

“You want to go back to sleep, dumpling? Or go join the party?”

The baby would have lain contentedly in the crib, but she also didn’t look remotely sleepy, so Kasey voted to carry her downstairs. When she ambled into the dining room, she had to chuckle for the chorus of “Oh, you brought the darling!” and “Let’s see her!”

Several minutes passed before she happened to glance up—and catch Graham looking rigid as stone and glaring at her.

“What’s wrong?” she mouthed silently.

But then she realized that others might have noticed his tight mood—in fact, Jake was looking directly at Graham. This was obviously not an appropriate time to try and talk to him.

An hour and a half later, the company was gone, the lights turned off, and the door closed on the disaster in the kitchen. Kasey checked on the sleeping baby one last time before walking into the master bedroom.

Graham was already there, standing at the window. At a glance, Kasey could see his shoes were already neatly lined in the closet, his cuff links and tie on the bureau, his shirt already sent down the laundry chute. Sometimes she teased him that he was so anal he’d line up Campbell’s soup cans by the label—but tonight that kind of joke didn’t seem wise.

“The dinner went pretty well, don’t you think?” she asked lightly. She slipped off her shoes and dress inside her walk-in closet.

“Fine.” His voice was shorter than a bite.

“I couldn’t love the necklace more, Graham. I thought Karen was going to rip it off my neck. Everyone noticed. It was so generous of you.”

He didn’t respond.

She scooped on a nightgown, shooting him worried looks in the mirror as she carefully undid the necklace. Her fingers were unsteady. She’d never seen Graham in a temper, but she knew when he was unhappy with her. She hated confrontations, never seemed to know what to do, what to say.

From under the nightgown she peeled off her panties. When she caught her reflection in the mirror—the still baby-pudgy tummy, the wreath-sized circles under her eyes, the wild hair—she moved away from the mirror. Her stomach was starting to churn.

“Graham,” she said carefully, “I know you’re annoyed with me, but honestly, I don’t know why—”

“I’ll tell you why! Can’t we have one night without the baby taking center stage!” His change clattered on the bureau. Then he stalked over to the bedside light and snapped it off.

In the darkness, Kasey frowned. This was about Tess? He was mad somehow about Tess? “I only brought her downstairs because she was crying—”

“And if you’d hired a nanny—the way I’ve urged you to, over and over—you wouldn’t have had to interrupt the dinner party. For that matter, if we just had an in-house nanny, you wouldn’t be so tired in the evenings, because of having to jump up every time the baby lets out the slightest cry.”

Silently she slipped under the covers—as if being quiet might help make her more invisible. “I don’t see how I was creating a problem or interrupting the dinner party. Everyone seemed delighted that I brought Tess down—”

“Well, of course they’d say that. It’s not the point. The point is that both of us deserve free time—time to be with other adults, children not included or always interrupting. I want my wife back, Kasey.”

“Oh, Graham. You have me.” She understood now. Hadn’t she warned herself about this a zillion times? He was jealous of the baby. The problem was in all the parenting books. Men wanted to be Number One in their mate’s eyes.

“I want our life back the way it was. I want time with you where your mind isn’t always on the baby.”

“Oh, Graham…”

In the darkness, he grabbed her, tugging her close. Her instinct was not just to respond, but to respond with extra warmth and giving. And any other time, his urgent forcefulness would have ignited her own passion.

But tonight…they hadn’t made love since the baby was born. And no matter what the doctor said, she remembered long painful hours of labor and was afraid that sex would hurt this first time. On top of that, she felt trembly and tense because of their argument. His mouth claimed hers roughly, possibly because he was still a little mad. It wasn’t as if she were afraid. That thought was crazy. But…

She couldn’t catch the mood.

His entry hurt. Really hurt. Exactly what she’d been afraid of. And although she knew Graham meant to come across as ardent and passionate, she couldn’t shake the distressing, achy feeling that he was oblivious to anything but what he wanted. The more he pushed, the more she burned, until she couldn’t help but cry out.

“That’s it, darling. Take me. All of me.”

She heard his words. And inside her head, she kept telling herself, all right, all right, this’ll be over in a minute, and everything’ll be different tomorrow. She understood better now, that he was having a difficult time relating to Tess and that their marriage needed more one-on-one time.