LITMIR.BIZ

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Kaycee ventured. She didn’t want to make a judgment until she understood the situation.

      Jon frowned and set his water glass down. “It is hard, damn near impossible sometimes. So what? Life’s hard. I’m supposed to give up my children because of that? Alison would turn over in her grave if I let somebody take those babies away from me. Never going to happen.” He leaned forward in his chair toward her, his jaw set. “And if you’re thinking they might be better off with their rich grandparents, living in the city, you’re wrong. They might be better dressed, they might have fancier food, they might be kept squeaky clean all the time—”

      “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

      “Let me tell you what they wouldn’t have,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “They wouldn’t get the love that I give them. They wouldn’t have one another to depend on for support and attention because their grandparents are firm believers in boarding schools and au pairs. Alison would tell you horror stories of her life growing up…” Jon clenched the water glass with both hands and looked away, blinking.

      Kaycee’s appetite gone, she laid the unfinished sandwich on her plate.

      In the uneasy silence, he cleared his throat. “I won’t sentence my own children to that fate. She wouldn’t have wanted it and I won’t allow it. It’s as simple as that.”

      But Kaycee knew better. “It’s not, is it? You’re still worried.”

      He shoved his plate aside and leaned back in his chair. “The Arants are too wealthy for their own good. After their lawsuit failed, anytime I let the kids talk to them, they tried to use their money to lure them away from me. So I cut off communication.”

      Only Kaycee’s paternal grandmother had survived long enough to be part of her life and she was dead now. Kaycee still missed her terribly. How empty her life would have been without Granny. No doubt Jon’s children were feeling a similar loss.

      “Do you mean they can’t see their grandparents?”

      “Can’t see them, can’t talk to them. Phone’s off limits to San Francisco.”

      “Jon, that’s severe. How do the kids feel about it?”

      Jon shrugged slightly. “I’m sure they miss Hal and Marjorie. As far as the kids are concerned, their grandparents are wonderful. But it doesn’t change what they tried to do to my family.”

      “The children might not understand—”

      “Daddy,” Michele said from the doorway, “we’re finished eating and the twins want to go out to play.”

      Kaycee wondered how long she’d been standing there listening.

      “Did you clean up,” Jon asked.

      “Yes, sir, but the trash can is full.”

      “I’ll take care of it. You and Wendy watch the boys for a few minutes.”

      When Michele was gone, Jon nodded toward Kaycee’s plate. “You didn’t finish your sandwich.”

      “I’m not very hungry.” She hesitated before asking, “Jon, don’t you think you could find some common ground? For the sake of the kids?”

      “Not anymore.” He wiped his hands on his napkin then stood abruptly and picked up his plate. “Finished?” he asked, reaching for Kaycee’s.

      “Yes, thanks. I’ve got it.” She took her glass and plate and followed him into the kitchen. “So what now?”

      “I’m sure Hal turned in this complaint, and now I have my very own personal social worker. I wonder if he’s got a private eye watching me and knew the housekeeper quit or just lucked out on his timing?”

      Jon put her half-eaten sandwich on a paper towel then forced their plates into the stuffed trash can under the sink.

      “I called my lawyer earlier,” he said, transferring the trash to a large black garbage bag and tying the top. “Frank said he would try to get this case closed as unfounded. He strongly advised me to hold my temper next time, that Hawthorn could snatch the kids in a heartbeat, if she wanted to…and it could take months to get them back. That scares the hell out of me.”

      “I wanted to tell you the same thing—about the temper,” Kaycee said, running hot water to wash the dishes. The girls had cleared the center island, but left the glasses and utensils in the sink. “My granny always said you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

      Jon arched an eyebrow. “Well, I’ll try to remember that sage advice next time I see Mrs. Hawthorn. Be right back.”

      He took the garbage and her uneaten sandwich outside, and Kaycee heard him whistle. Through the open back door she watched him divide the food between the two dogs. He came back and washed his hands.

      “You don’t have to do the dishes,” he said. “I’ll put the girls to work later.”

      “There are only a few left. Did you tell the lawyer we’re engaged now?”

      He chuckled softly and snapped his fingers, then shot her a playful grin as he picked up a dishtowel and began to dry the glasses. “Darn, I forgot to mention that.”

      “Come on, Jon, be serious. Maybe you should come clean and beg Mrs. Hawthorn’s forgiveness.”

      “I haven’t done anything to be forgiven of—well, maybe dragging you into this. But that’s for you to forgive, not her.”

      Kaycee shook her head doubtfully. “I don’t know. I don’t want to be party to you losing custody of your children when she catches us lying.”

      “Why does it have to be a lie?”

      She jerked her head toward him in surprise. “I’m sorry…come again?”

      “I mean, if we agree we’re engaged, it’s not for her to say we’re not. And if we decide to break it off later, that’s our business, too. Another one of those bad breaks in life that happen all the time.”

      All the time, Kaycee thought, rinsing the last fork and drying her hands. Through the window above the sink, she stared at the distant mountains, the snow-blanketed peaks sparkling like a glittering postcard. She didn’t want to be reminded of those bad breaks—those reversals of fortune, as her ex-fiancé Brett had called them. The bastard. She hoped he and his new bride were happy. She sure didn’t want to go through that again, not here, when she’d just begun to feel at home. Not even make-believe.

      “I don’t think it’s the best idea,” Kaycee said, her gut churning. “If news of this so-called engagement gets around town and you break it off as soon as you find a new housekeeper, I’ll be in an awkward position.”

      Jon considered that for a moment. “Don’t worry about it. When the time comes, you can jilt me in Little Lobo, in the middle of Main Street at high noon. That way there’ll be no doubt who dumped whom.”

      Kaycee still didn’t like the deceit. And a public breakup would be embarrassing for both of them.

      “I really hate that I got caught off guard and let this happen,” he continued, drying the utensils as he talked. “But, will you just go along until I can call off my in-laws? I know it’s an imposition, but you don’t have to do anything physical.” Jon fumbled for an explanation. “I mean…”

      Kaycee cocked her head, waiting for him to extricate himself. He wouldn’t look her way.

      “I mean like coming out here or anything. We’ll manage fine.” He cleared his throat self-consciously. Still avoiding her gaze, he began to drop the forks and knives into the drawer beside the sink. “I don’t think it will get around Little Lobo anyway and we can let it die a natural death, this lie. I’ll tell the kids not to say anything. I’m sorry to put you in this position.” He gave her a quick, frustrated look. “I wouldn’t want you to…to…”

      Kaycee

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