LITMIR.BIZ

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guests taking advantage of it. The warm water was easing knots in her back that Jennifer had been afraid would be there permanently. Jerry gently moved his hand up to rub the back of Jennifer’s neck where tense muscles were causing her a splitting headache. “I wish you would start taking more breaks, Jennifer. Get up and walk around the house if nothing else. These twelve-hour marathons of yours are deadly.”

      “Hmm.” She leaned forward to give him better access to her shoulders.

      “How did you manage to get us reservations on less than an hour’s notice?”

      “I made reservations three weeks ago.”

      Jennifer opened one eye. “You did?”

      He smiled. “I’m not the one who forgets our anniversary.”

      She groaned. “Guilty. I will make up for the meat loaf dinner. I just got tied up with the story.”

      Jerry smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I like your meat loaf.” He gently kissed her. His arms folded across her waist, supporting her.

      “We’re almost done with this book,” Jennifer said drowsily.

      “Another week,” Jerry agreed. He gently rubbed his hand across her midriff. “How’s our baby coming?”

      “She likes ice cream and chocolate and hates meat loaf,” Jennifer replied. “And she hates getting up in the morning.”

      Jerry chuckled. “Nausea still bad?”

      “No.” Jennifer gently kissed the side of his neck. “It’s hard to believe she’s six months old,” she said with a sigh.

      Jerry stole a kiss. “A perfect six months.”

      “Scott, excuse me. I’ll be right back,” Jennifer said, her face pale, hands suddenly trembling. She got quickly to her feet. “The ladies’ room is along the way we came in?”

      Scott’s hand steadied her. “Yes.” He had seen the emotions rapidly crossing her face. Whatever memory he’d triggered had been a powerful one. He watched as she hurried toward the door.

      The ladies’ room was actually three rooms, a lounge with beautiful couches and antiques, a powder room and rest rooms. The rooms were crowded with guests. Jennifer moved directly to the lavatory and wet a paper towel. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror, she knew how pale she must look. She returned to the lounge and found a place to sit down.

      The racing thoughts didn’t settle. She finally forced herself to take a deep breath and get to her feet. She didn’t know how long the intermission was, but it was probably no more than fifteen minutes. She had no idea what she was going to say to Scott.

      He was standing across the hall from the ladies’ room, waiting for her.

      He moved to her side when he saw her.

      “Sorry about that,” Jennifer said quietly, apologetically.

      He studied her face for a moment.

      “I brought you a drink. It looks like you could use it,” he said finally, handing her one of the glasses he carried.

      It looked like liquor. “Scott, I don’t drink. Except under extreme duress,” she qualified, remembering the anniversary of her husband’s death.

      “Neither do I, actually. It’s iced tea.”

      She blushed with embarrassment.

      “Quit that, Jen. If you hadn’t asked, I would have been upset.”

      Jennifer tilted her head to look at him. He was serious. She was never going to get used to this man. “Thank you.”

      She took a long drink of the iced tea.

      “Are you okay?”

      He wanted an honest answer. Jennifer didn’t know what to tell him. She looked down at the wedding ring she wore. “I remembered forgetting our wedding anniversary the last year Jerry was alive.” She forced back the tears, but her eyes were still shining with the moisture. “There are some memories that still wrench my heart, Scott. It’s not fair to you. I’m sorry.”

      Scott slid his hand gently under her hair around the nape of her neck. His blue eyes held her brown ones. “It’s okay, Jen,” he said softly. “He was your husband. You don’t have to forget him in order to go on with your life.”

      His hand slid down to grasp hers. “Finish your drink. Intermission is almost over.”

      Jennifer finished the iced tea. Scott took her glass and returned it to one of the waiters mingling through the crowd. He led them back to their seats.

      The lights dimmed.

      Scott reached over to calmly catch Jennifer’s hand, hold it firmly. She squeezed his hand in reply, not looking over at him.

      The final act was very moving. Jennifer was crying before the curtain dropped. Scott slipped her a handkerchief. Jennifer squeezed his hand in thanks.

      “That was very good, Scott,” Jennifer said when the play ended, drying her eyes. “Sad, but good.”

      “I’m glad you liked it.” He intertwined their fingers. “Want to get a nightcap? Some coffee?”

      “My place? I really need a couple of aspirins,” she admitted.

      “Sure.” Scott picked up her jacket and their two programs.

      “Scott, I thought that was you!” His hand stiffened. Jennifer looked up in surprise to see Scott looking back into the crowd.

      “Hello, Mrs. Richards,” he said politely as a lady in her late fifties stopped at the end of the row of seats, effectively blocking their exit.

      “Wasn’t it just a divine play? My Susan does such a great job. She has such a natural talent for the part, don’t you think?”

      Jennifer choked, remembering that Susan Richards had been one of the actresses. She’d played a waitress Jennifer recalled. A very attractive waitress. Scott squeezed Jennifer’s hand in response. “Yes, Netta, Susan is becoming a very good actress,” he agreed, easing them forward.

      “We are having an informal party to celebrate her success. Please do say you will come.”

      Jennifer saw a beautiful lady in her early twenties wearing a white dress step up beside the older lady. “Mother, that is not necessary.” She offered an apologetic smile. “Hi, Scott.”

      “Susan.” He smiled. “Good job, as always. Congratulations on getting the lead for Towers.”

      She smiled. “Thanks. Jim told you?”

      Scott nodded. “Excuse us, ladies, but we need to be going. Jennifer is not feeling well tonight.” Before Jennifer realized what was happening, Scott had maneuvered them out into the lobby.

      “Susan looks like a nice young woman.”

      “She is. She’s engaged to one of my hardware designers, or will be once Jim gets the nerve to face Netta.”

      Jennifer had no trouble putting together the full picture. “Oh.”

      Scott smiled. “Exactly.” He playfully squeezed her hand. “You’re pretty good at this.”

      “Lots of practice,” Jennifer replied, amused.

      “Scott.” It was a male voice calling his name this time.

      Scott glanced around. “Jen, can you manage a few more minutes? I would like you to meet someone,” he asked, looking at her carefully.

      “I’ll be fine,” she insisted.

      Scott, his arm around her waist, took them forward to meet the couple. An older gentleman in his late sixties, holding hands with the lady at his side.

      “Scott, thanks for the tickets. We enjoyed the show.”

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