CHAPTER SEVEN

“SO, DID YOU LIKE this guy you had dinner with last night?” Jeff asked, keeping his eyes on his bowl of cold cereal.

“He was nice,” Robin answered, pouring herself a cup of coffee and joining him at the table. They’d slept late and were spending a lazy Sunday morning enjoying their breakfast before heading for the eleven o’clock service at church.

Jeff hesitated, his spoon poised above the bowl. “Is he nicer than Cole?”

“Cole’s…nicer,” Robin admitted reluctantly. “Nice” and “nicer” weren’t terms she would have used to describe the differences between Frank and Cole, but in her son’s ten-year-old mind they made perfect sense.

A smile quivered at the edges of Jeff’s mouth. “I saw you two smooching last night,” he said, grinning broadly.

“When?” Robin demanded—a ridiculous question. It could only have been when Cole had come over to talk to her. He’d admitted how jealous he’d been of Frank and how he’d struggled with the emotion and felt like a fool. Robin had been convinced she was the one who’d behaved like a dolt. Before either of them could prevent it, they were in each other’s arms, seeking and granting reassurance.

“You thought I was asleep, but I heard Cole talking and I wanted to ask him what he was going to do about you dating this other guy; so I came downstairs and saw you two with your faces stuck together.”

The boy certainly had a way with words.

“You didn’t look like you minded, either. Cole and me talked about girls once and he said they aren’t much when they’re ten or so, but they get a whole lot more interesting later on. He said girls are like green apples. At first they’re all sour and make your lips pucker, but a little while later they’re real good.”

“I see,” Robin muttered, not at all certain she liked being compared to an apple.

“But when I got down the stairs I didn’t say anything,” Jeff said, “because, well, you know.”

Robin nodded and sipped her coffee in an effort to disguise her discomfort.

Jeff picked up his cereal bowl and drank the remainder of the milk in loud gulps. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips. “I suppose this means you’re going to have a baby now.”

Robin was too horrified to speak. The swallow of coffee caught halfway down her throat and she started choking. In an effort to help her breathe, Jeff started pounding her back with his fist, which only added to her misery.

By the time she caught her breath, the tears were streaking down her face.

“You all right, Mom?” Jeff asked, his eyes wide with concern. He rushed into the bathroom and returned with a wad of tissue.

“Thanks,” she whispered, wiping her face. It took her a moment or two to regain her composure. This was a talk she’d planned on having with her son a few years down the road. “Jeff, listen…kissing doesn’t make babies.”

“It doesn’t? But I thought…I’d hoped…You mean you won’t be having a baby?”

“I…Not from kissing,” she whispered, taking in deep breaths to stabilise her pulse.

“I suppose the next thing you’re going to tell me is that we’ll have to save up for a baby the way we did for the house and now the fence before we get me a dog.”

This conversation was growing more complicated by the moment. “No, we wouldn’t have to save for a baby.”

“Then what’s the holdup?” her son demanded. “I like the idea of being a big brother. I didn’t think much about it until we moved here. Then when we were having dinner at the Chinese restaurant I heard this grandma and grandpa couple in the booth next to us talking, and they were saying neat things about us being a family. That was when I started thinking real serious about babies and stuff.”

“Jeff,” Robin said, rubbing her hands together as she gathered her thoughts. “It isn’t as simple as that. Before there’s a baby, there should be a husband.”

“Well, of course,” Jeff returned, looking at her as if she’d insulted his intelligence. “You’d have to marry Cole first, but that would be all right with me. You like him, don’t you? You must, otherwise you wouldn’t be kissing him that way.”

Robin sighed. Of course she liked Cole, but it wasn’t that simple. Unfortunately she wasn’t sure she could explain it in terms a ten-year-old could understand. “I—”

“I can’t remember ever seeing you kiss a guy like that. You looked real serious. And when I was sneaking back up the stairs I heard him ask you to have dinner alone with him tonight and that seemed like a real good sign, if you know what I mean.”

The next time Cole kissed her, Robin thought wryly, they’d have to scurry to a cupboard out of Jeff’s view. The things that child came up with…

“You are going to dinner with him, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then what’s the problem? I’ll ask him to marry you if you want.”

“Jeff!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “Absolutely not. That’s something between Cole and me, and neither of us would appreciate any assistance from you. Is that clearly understood?”

“All right,” he muttered, but he didn’t look too pleased. He reached for a piece of toast, shredding it into thirds. “But you’re going to marry him, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not? Cole’s the best thing that’s happened to us.”

Her son was staring at her intently, his baseball cap twisted around to the back of his head. Now that she had his full attention, Robin couldn’t find the words to explain. “There’s more to it than you realise, sweetie.” She made a show of glancing at the clock. “It’s time to change and get ready for church.”

Jeff nodded and rushed up the stairs. Robin followed at a much slower pace, grateful to put an end to this complicated and embarrassing subject.

The minute they were home from the service, Jeff reached for his baseball mitt. “Jimmy Wallach and I are going to the school yard to practice hitting balls. OK?”

“OK,” Robin said absently. “How long will you be gone?”

“An hour.”

“I’m going grocery shopping, so if I’m not home when you get back you know what to do?”

“Of course,” he muttered.

* * *

“YOU’RE ROBIN MASTERSON, aren’t you?” a tall middle-aged woman asked as she manipulated her grocery cart alongside of Robin’s.

“Yes,” Robin said expectantly. The other woman’s eyes were warm and her smile friendly.

“I thought you must be—I’ve seen you from a distance. I’m Joyce Wallach. Jimmy and Jeff are good friends. In fact they’re at the school yard now, hitting baseballs.”

“Of course,” Robin said, pleased to make the other woman’s acquaintance. They’d talked on the phone several times, and she’d met Joyce’s husband once, when Jimmy had spent the night. The boys had wanted to play on the same baseball team and were keenly disappointed when they’d been assigned to different teams. It had been Jimmy who’d told Jeff about the death of Cole’s son.

“I’ve been meaning to invite you to the house for coffee,” Joyce went on to say, “but I started working part-time and I can’t seem to get myself organised.”

“I know what you mean.” Working full-time, keeping up with Jeff and her home was about all Robin could manage herself. She didn’t know how other mothers were able to accomplish so much.

“There’s a place to sit down here,” Joyce said, and her eyes brightened with the idea. “Do you have time to chat now?”

Robin agreed, delighted. “Sure. I’ve been wanting to meet you, too.” The Wallachs lived two streets over, and Robin fully approved of Jimmy as a friend for Jeff. He and Kelly had become friends, too, but her ten-year-old son wasn’t as eager to admit being buddies with a girl. Kelly was still a green apple in Jeff’s eye, but the time would come when he’d appreciate having her next door.

“I understand Jeff’s quite the baseball player,” Joyce said at the self-service counter.

Robin nodded. She poured herself a plastic cup of iced tea and paid for it. “Jeff really loves baseball. He was disappointed he couldn’t play with Jimmy.”

“They separate the teams according to the year of birth. Jimmy’s birthday is in January so he’s with another group.” She frowned. “That doesn’t really make much sense, does it?” She chuckled, and Robin couldn’t help responding to the soft infectious sound of Joyce’s laughter. She found herself laughing, too.

They pulled out chairs at one of the small tables in the supermarket’s deli section.

“I feel like throwing my arms around you,” Joyce said, grinning broadly. “I happened to see Cole Camden the other day and I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was like seeing him ten years ago, the way he used to be. I thought I saw Jeff with him. Did the two of them happen to be at Balboa Park recently?”

“Cole came to Jeff’s first game.”

“Ah.” She nodded, as if that explained it. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but there’s been a marked difference in Cole lately. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see it. Cole’s gone through so much heartache.”

“Cole’s been wonderful for Jeff,” Robin said, then swallowed tightly. She felt a renewed stab of fear that Cole was more attracted to the idea of having a son than he was in a relationship with her.

“I have the feeling you’ve both been wonderful for him,” Joyce added.

Robin’s smile was losing its conviction. She lowered her gaze and studied the lemon slice floating on top of her tea.

“My husband and I knew Cole quite well before the divorce,” Joyce went on to explain. “Larry, that’s my husband, and Cole played golf every Saturday afternoon. Then Janice decided she wanted out of the marriage, left him and took Bobby. Cole really tried to save that marriage, but the relationship had been in trouble for a good long while. Cole doted on his son, though—he would have done anything to spare Bobby the trauma of a divorce. Janice, however—” Joyce halted abruptly, apparently realising how much she’d said. “I didn’t mean to launch into all this—it’s ancient history. I just wanted you to know how pleased I am to meet you at last.”

Since Cole had told her shockingly little of his past, Robin had to bite her tongue not to plead with Joyce to continue. Instead, she bowed her head and said, “I’m pleased to meet you, too.”

Then she looked up with a smile. “Jimmy’s finally got the friend he’s always wanted. There are so few boys his age around here. I swear my son was ready to set off firecrackers the day Jeff registered at the school and he learned you lived only two blocks away.”

“Jeff claimed he couldn’t live in a house that’s surrounded by girls.” Robin shook her head with a mock grimace. “If he hadn’t met Jimmy, I might have had a mutiny on my hands.”

Joyce’s face relaxed into a warm smile. She was energetic, animated and fun, gesturing freely with her hands as she spoke. Robin felt as if she’d known and liked Jimmy’s mother for years.

“There hasn’t been much turnover in this neighborhood over the years. We’re a close-knit group, as I’m sure you’ve discovered. Heather Lawrence is a real sweetie. I wish I had more time to get to know her. And Cole, well…I realise that huge house has been in his family for years, but I half expected him to move out after Janice and Bobby were killed.”

The silence that followed was punctuated by Robin’s soft involuntary gasp. “What did you just say?”

“That I couldn’t understand why Cole continued living in the house on Orchard Street. Is that what you mean?”

“No, after that—about Janice and Bobby.” It was difficult for Robin to speak. Her tongue was desert dry and each word felt as if it had been scraped from the roof of her mouth.

“I assumed you knew they’d both been killed,” Joyce said, her eyes full of concern. “I didn’t realise, I mean, I thought for sure that Cole had told you.”

“I knew about Bobby. Jimmy said something to Jeff, and Jeff told me, but I hadn’t any idea that Janice had died, too. Heather Lawrence told me about the divorce, but she didn’t say anything about Cole’s wife dying.”

“I don’t think Heather knows. She moved into the neighbourhood long after the divorce, and lord knows Cole’s close-mouthed enough about it.”

“When did all this happen?”

“Several years ago now. It was all terribly tragic,” Joyce said. “Just thinking about it makes my heart ache all over again. I don’t mean to be telling tales, but frankly if there’s any blame to be placed I’m afraid it would fall on Janice. She wasn’t the kind of woman who’s easy to know or like. I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, and I don’t mean to be catty, but Janice did Cole a favour when she left him. Naturally, he didn’t see it that way—he was in love with his wife and crazy about his son. Frankly, I think Cole turned a blind eye to his wife’s faults because of Bobby.”

“What happened?” Perhaps having a neighbour fill in the details of Cole’s life was the wrong thing to do; Robin no longer knew. Cole had never said a word to her about Janice or Bobby, and she didn’t know if he ever would.

“Janice was never satisfied with Cole’s position as a city attorney,” Joyce explained. “We’d have coffee together every now and then, and all she’d do was complain how Cole was wasting his talents and that he could be making big money and wasn’t. She had bigger plans for him. But Cole loved his job and felt an obligation to follow through with his commitments. Janice never understood that. She didn’t even try to sympathise with Cole’s point of view. She constantly wanted more, better, newer things. She didn’t work herself, you know.

“Janice was never happy, never satisfied. She hated the house and the neighbourhood, but she soon realised all the whining and manipulating in the world wasn’t going to do one bit of good. Cole fully intended to finish out his responsibilities to the city, so she played her ace. She left him, taking Bobby with her.”

“But didn’t Cole try to gain custody of Bobby?”

“Of course. He knew, and so did everyone else, that Janice was using their son as a pawn. She was never the motherly type, if you know what I mean. If you want the truth, Janice was an alcoholic. There were several times I dropped Bobby off at the house and suspected Janice had been drinking heavily. I was willing to testify on Cole’s behalf, and I told him so. He was grateful, but then the accident happened and it was too late.”

“The accident?” A huge heaviness settled in her chest. Each breath pained her and brought with it the memories she longed to forget, memories of another accident—the one that had taken her husband from her.

“It was Janice’s fault—the accident, I mean. She’d been drinking and should never have been behind the wheel of a car. The day before, Cole had been in to see his attorneys, pleading with them to move quickly because he feared Janice was becoming more and more irresponsible. But it wasn’t until after Janice moved out that Cole realised how sick she’d become, how dependent she was on alcohol to make it through the day.”

“Dear lord,” Robin whispered. “Cole must have felt so guilty.”

“It was terrible,” Joyce returned, her voice quavering. “I didn’t know if Cole would survive that first year. He holed up inside the house and severed relationships with everyone in the neighbourhood. He was consumed by his grief. Later he seemed to come out of it a little, but he’s never been the same.

“The irony of all this is that eventually Janice would have got all she wanted, had she been more patient. A couple of years ago, Cole accepted a partnership in one of the most important law firms in the city. He’s made a real name for himself, but money and position don’t seem to mean much to him—they never have. I wouldn’t be surprised if he walked away from the whole thing someday.”

“I think you’re right. Cole told me not long ago that he has some property north of here that he inherited from his grandfather. He’s restoring the house, and he said something about moving there. It’s where he spends most of his weekends.”

“I wondered if it was something like that,” Joyce said, nodding. “There were rumours floating around the neighbourhood that he spent his weekends with a woman. Anyone who knew Cole would realise what a crock that is. Cole isn’t the type to have a secret affair.”

Robin felt ashamed, remembering how she’d been tempted to believe the rumour herself.

“For a long time,” Joyce went on, “I wondered if Cole was ever going to recover from Janice and Bobby’s deaths, but now I believe he has. I can’t help thinking you and Jeff have had a lot to do with that.”

“I…think he would have come out of his shell eventually.”

“Perhaps, but the changes in him lately have been the most encouraging things so far. I don’t know how you feel about Cole or if there’s anything between you, but you couldn’t find a better man.”

“I…I’m falling in love with him,” Robin whispered, voicing her feelings for the first time. The words hung in the air like a dark, heavy cloud.

“But I think that’s absolutely wonderful, I really do!” Joyce said enthusiastically.

“I don’t.” Now that the shock had worn off, Robin was forced to confront her anger. Cole had told her none of this. Not a single word. That hurt. Hurt more than she could have expected. But the ache she felt was nothing compared to the grief Cole must face each morning, the pain that weighed down his life.

“Oh, dear,” Joyce said. “I’ve really done it now, haven’t I? I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. You’re upset and it’s my fault.”

“Nonsense,” Robin whispered, making an effort to bring a smile to her dry lips and not succeeding. “I’m grateful we met, and more than grateful you told me about Janice, and about Cole’s son.” The knowledge produced a dull ache in Robin’s heart. She felt grief for Cole and a less worthy emotion, too—a sense of being slighted by his lack of trust in her.

She was so upset on the short drive home that she missed the turn on to Orchard Street and had to take a side street and double back.

As she neared the house, she saw that Cole was outside watering his lawn. He waved, but she pretended not to notice and pulled into the driveway. Desperate for some time alone before facing Cole, Robin did her best to ignore him as she climbed out of the car. She needed a few more minutes to gather her thoughts and tutor her emotions.

She was almost safe, almost at the house, when Cole stopped her.

“Robin,” he called, jogging toward her. “Hold on a minute, would you?”

She managed to compose herself, squaring her shoulders and drawing on her dignity.

His wonderful eyes were smiling as he hurried across over, fast approaching her. Obviously he hadn’t realised there was anything wrong. “Did Jeff happen to say anything to you about seeing us kiss last night?” he asked.

Her mouth was so dry that she had to swallow a couple of times before she could utter a single syllable. “Yes, but don’t worry, I think I’ve got him squared away.”

“Drat!” he teased, snapping his fingers. “I suppose this means I don’t have to go through with the shotgun wedding?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes lowered, fearing he would be able to read all the emotion churning inside her.

“You have nothing to fear but fear itself,” she said, forcing a lightness into her tone.

“Robin?” He made her name a question and a caress. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, shifting the bag of groceries from one arm to the other. “Of course not,” she said with the same feigned cheerfulness.

Cole lifted the bag from her arms. Robin knew she should have resisted, but she couldn’t; she felt drained of strength. She headed for the house, knowing Cole would follow her inside.

“What’s wrong?” he asked a second time, setting the groceries on the kitchen counter.

It was still difficult to speak and even more difficult, more exhausting, to find the words that would explain what she’d learned.

“Nothing. It’s just that I’ve got a lot to do if we’re going out for dinner tonight.”

“Wear something fancy. I’m taking you to a four-star restaurant.”

“Something fancy?” Mentally she reviewed the contents of her cupboard, which was rather lacking in fancy.

“I’m not about to be outclassed by Frank,” Cole teased. “I’m going to wine and dine you and turn your head with sweet nothings.”

He didn’t need to do any of those things to turn her head. She was already dangerously close to being in love with him, so close that she’d blurted it out to a woman she’d known for a grand total of twelve minutes.

Abruptly switching her attention to the bag of groceries, Robin set several packages on the counter. When Cole’s hands settled over her shoulders, her eyes drifted shut. “It isn’t necessary,” she found herself admitting.

Cole turned her around to face him. “What isn’t?”

“The dinner, the wine, the sweet nothings.”

Their gazes held. As if choreographed, they moved into each other’s arms. With a groan that came deep from in his throat, Cole kissed her. His hands tangled in the auburn thickness of her hair. His lips closed over hers with fierce protectiveness.

Robin curled her arms tightly around his neck as her own world started to dip and spin and whirl. She was standing on her tiptoes, her heart in her throat, when she heard the front door open.

Moaning, she dragged her mouth from Cole’s and broke away just as Jeff strolled into the kitchen.

The ten-year-old stopped, his brow furrowed, when he saw the two of them in what must surely look like suspicious circumstances.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Cole.” He strolled casually to the refrigerator and yanked open the door. “Is there anything decent to drink around this place?”

“Water?” Robin suggested.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Funny, Mom, real funny.”

“There are a few more sacks of groceries in the car. Would you get them for me?” He tossed her a look that suggested the child-labour laws needed reviewing, until Robin added, “You’ll find a six-pack of soda in there.”

“OK.” He raced out of the house and returned a minute later, carrying one sack and sorting through its contents as he walked slowly into the kitchen.

“I’ll lend you a hand, sport,” Cole said, placing his hand on Jeff’s shoulder. He glanced at Robin and his eyes told her they’d continue their discussion at a more opportune moment.

Robin started emptying the sacks, hardly paying attention as Jeff and Cole brought in the last couple of bags. Cole told her he’d pick her up at six, then left.

“Can I play with Blackie for a while?” Jeff asked, a can of cold soda clenched in his hand.

“All right,” Robin answered, grateful to have a few minutes alone.

Robin cleared the countertops and made Jeff a sandwich for his lunch. He must have become involved in his game with Cole’s dog because he didn’t rush in announcing he was hungry.

She went outside to stand on the small front porch and smiled as she watched Jeff and Blackie. Her son really had a way with animals—like his father. Every time Robin saw him play with Cole’s Labrador, she marveled at how attuned to each other they were.

She smiled when she realised Cole was outside, too; he’d just finished watering his lawn.

“Jeff, I made a sandwich for you,” she called.

“In a minute. Hey, Mom, watch,” he yelled as he tossed a ball across the lawn. Blackie chased after it, skidding to a stop as he caught the bright red ball in his mouth.

“Come on, Blackie,” Jeff urged. “Throw me the ball.”

“He can’t do that,” Robin said in astonishment.

“Sure, he can. Just watch.”

And just as Jeff had claimed, Blackie leapt into the air on all fours, tossed his head and sent the ball shooting into the street.

“I’ll get it,” Jeff hollered.

It was Cole’s reaction that Robin noticed first. A horrified look came over his face and he threw down the hose. He was shouting even as he ran.

Like her son, Robin had been so caught up in Blackie’s antics that she hadn’t noticed the car barrelling down the street, directly in Jeff’s path.