Interior Designs (12 page)

"I love Amanda, don't get me wrong," Cathryn replied patiently. "Not everyone is cut out to be a mother, though. Watching Judy, who's so good at it, has made me see that parenting is the hardest job in the world. At the advanced age of thirty-three, I've become a little less keen on the idea of having a child. Not to mention the fact that I'm one of those old-fashioned women who thinks one should have a husband first." She said this dispassionately. The fact that motherhood had passed her by—or more to the point, that she had so far chosen to pass
it
by—lost its importance long ago in the face of her success.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that you can't know what fulfillment is until you have a family to love. And to love you." Ron spoke earnestly, but Cathryn found herself wishing for a quick change of subject.

She'd never made a conscious decision to remain child-free. It had just happened. All this talk about marriage and children made her nervous. She and Drew had never touched on the subject, and it certainly seemed out of place to be discussing it now.

Anyway, what did Ron know about the fulfillment of a home perfectly designed to suit its inhabitants, or the surge of satisfaction when she opened bank statements and saw that big dollar sign on the bottom line, knowing that she alone was responsible for it? There was fulfillment and there was fulfillment, and she had found hers.

She stood up abruptly. The speedboat had towed its skier to shore, and Drew was handing the water skis over to the next in line.

"Hey, I haven't made you angry, have I?" Ron asked.

She forgave him. Ron had only been voicing his concern for her, and she was grateful that he cared enough to speak out.

"Not angry. Just impatient," she said with an understanding smile.

Ron looked relieved. "I don't know, I guess it's just the occasion of my tenth wedding anniversary. I want everyone to be as happy as Judy and I are." He treated her to an unabashed grin.

She patted him on the shoulder. "I'm glad you're happy. Just remember that happiness is different things for different people. There are Judys, and there are Susannahs. And there are Cathryns. And speaking of folks, I want one of them to try Judy's potato salad, and he's coming out of the water right now. I'll see you later." She headed for Drew, who by this time was toweling himself dry and looking about as though he expected to see her.

"Here I am," she said, surprising him by approaching from behind and sliding her arms around his damp chest. "Want me to dry your back?" Her chin rested on his shoulder, and she nuzzled his neck with her chin.

"You have the best ideas," he said, handing her the towel. She blotted him carefully, working in a few massages of the shoulder muscles as she did so.

"That feels good," he said. "Don't stop."

"Sorry, but we'd better close in on the buffet table now if we want to get any of Judy's potato salad."

They walked hand in hand up the slope of the lawn, carefully avoiding the area where people were slinging horseshoes.

"Nice party," Drew said, looking around. He liked Cathryn's friends and easily felt part of this convivial group.

"Ron and Judy always have great parties. One thing I like about this one is that they've invited whole families, from grandparents to kids. It makes an interesting mix."

"Speaking of kids, I want to meet Amanda," Drew said. They loaded their plates at the buffet table and sat on a pair of lawn chairs. A group of youngsters playing tag barely missed running over their toes as they raced across the lawn.

"That's Amanda in the blue shirt, leading the pack," Cathryn told him. "The one with the short reddish curls like Judy's."

"Cute kid." Drew dug into the potato salad, and Cathryn finished hers, leaning back in the comfortable chair and letting the sun warm her face.

This day had been fun, almost idyllic. As a matter of fact, the past few weeks had been wonderful. She and Drew had learned so much about each other that was exciting and new. The more she learned about him, the more she loved him. Oh, yes, she loved him. She'd finally admitted it to herself. There wasn't any doubt in her mind.

Drew—the sweet serendipity of discovering Drew. She'd learned the feel and shape of him, the softness of his earlobes, the suppleness of his fingers, the rectangular shape of his feet. She had partaken of his gentle, lingering kisses until she felt replete with love, and then, to her surprise, she had wanted more kisses, and more.

Cathryn had learned to become uniquely selfless in their lovemaking. With Drew, she was able to give more of herself than she ever knew existed. She and Drew had discovered and shared their qualities. Together they were loving, giving, uncritical, and reassuring.

The longer she knew him, the more confident she became that when the reality that inevitably intrudes on all lovers finally intruded on them, it would be something that they could handle. Her career, for instance. Cathryn's financial success didn't seem to threaten Drew. He was proud of her. And because she spent so much of her time immersed in her work, she didn't question it when he had to work late at his office. She understood the importance of the work ethic in his life.

Drew seldom dumped his problems on her or used her to shore up his ego. His ego didn't need shoring up. He accepted himself as he was and made Cathryn feel accepted as well. Cathryn considered them equals, and they both reveled in their wonderful companionship.

But marriage? They hadn't talked about it, and Cathryn didn't want to.

A pair of sticky hands slid around her neck from behind, and a pair of small arms hugged her.

"Cathryn!" said Amanda. "I've hardly seen you all day!"

Cathryn grasped one of Amanda's hands and pulled her around so that she could see her. "I know. I've been wondering where my favorite goddaughter was." Noticing Amanda's curious scrutiny of Drew, she said, "Amanda, this is Drew Sedgwick. Drew, this is Amanda."

The two of them grinned at each other.

"Why don't you get some food and eat with us?" suggested Cathryn.

"Okay. But I'm going to water-ski in a little while."

"There'll be plenty of time to ski before the sun goes down," Cathryn assured her.

Amanda skipped away and returned with a plate filled with potato salad, baked beans, and pickles. She sat crosslegged at their feet. Drew watched in amazement as Amanda unconcernedly mixed her baked beans and potato salad together and placed the pickles on top.

"Won't that upset your stomach?" he said when he had recovered from the sight of it.

Amanda finished chewing a mouthful. "No, and anyway, the food will be all mixed up when it gets to my stomach, so I figure I might as well eat it just like this."

Cathryn stifled a laugh, but Drew couldn't. His laughter boomed out over the lawn, and Amanda looked self-consciously pleased.

When he was through laughing, Drew twinkled his eyes at Amanda and said, "Well,
my
little girl would have a colossal stomach ache if she ate her potato salad and beans and pickles that way, I'm sure of it!"

"You have a little girl?" He had captured Amanda's attention.

Drew's and Cathryn's eyes met over Amanda's head. All at once Cathryn was afraid that Drew would find it too painful to talk about Selby.

But to her relief Drew said easily, "I have a daughter named Selby who lives with her mother in New York. She's seven years old."

"Will I get to meet her sometime?"

Drew smiled at Amanda. "I hope so," he said.

He found himself sending Cathryn a reassuring look so that she wouldn't worry that Amanda was probing painful territory. Cathryn responded with a smile that told him he had communicated his reassurance. It was always like that. They didn't need words.

Amanda finished the last of her potato salad-baked bean-pickle mixture. "What does your daughter like to do?"

Drew gave this careful consideration, and Cathryn knew that he was thinking that, after so long, Selby might have changed and liked to do things other than what she did when he had seen her last. But Drew said, "We go to the beach a lot. She likes me to read to her, too."

"Oh, she likes to be read to? I love to read out loud. I could read to her if she comes to see you."

"She'd like that, and I would, too."

"Is she coming to see you soon?"

Drew was reluctant to answer that one, but he said, "I hope she'll be here this summer."

"Oh, good." Amanda stood up. "I have to go see how long it will be before my turn to ski. I'll bet it's
hours."
She skipped off toward the water's edge.

"She's a darling girl," Drew said, his eyes following her.

Amanda rushed back again for moment. "When Selby comes, will you take me to the beach with you sometime?"

"You bet I will," said Drew unhesitatingly, warmly, before she ran away again.

"You were wonderful with her," said Cathryn when they were alone again. The sun was sinking in the west, and people were beginning to quiet down, finding places on blankets in the grass or in lawn chairs.

"For a moment, it was like being with Selby," he said.

They sat quietly for a while, watching the swimmers in the pool inside the big screened porch. Someone had brought out a guitar and was singing plaintive folk songs. The music sounded wistful and sad. Suddenly and urgently, Cathryn knew that she didn't want to hang around.

"I have an idea," she said softly. "Let's go."

"Go? Where?" Drew looked down at her, surprised.

"Anywhere we can be alone."

Understanding, Drew's smile widened in pleasure and appreciation. He was pleased to know that she wanted to be with him and that their relationship took precedence over this gathering of friends. Cathryn was sensitive to his every thought, his every feeling, satisfying him as he knew he satisfied her. His heart swelled with love for her.

"You know what I love about you?" he whispered so that no one else could hear. "I think I mentioned it earlier today. You have the best ideas in the world."

Chapter 7

The next morning Drew awakened Cathryn gently by trailing soft breathy kisses from her shoulder to her throat. Sunlight filtered through the draperies of her bedroom, enveloping them in a rosy glow. She stirred and sighed, leaning into him, liking the way his body formed a warm nest for her. His toes wiggled against hers, a silent good-morning.

It began slowly, with none of the breathtaking passion that had marked their lovemaking of the night before. Now their love blossomed into a wonderful, slow eagerness, flowering quietly but surely, the way they knew to let it happen. His hand caressed the curve of her abdomen, his fingers brushing lightly over her stomach and tantalizing her breasts into rounded peaks.

She pressed her back into his downy torso, conscious of every part of him. They moved together, coupling, racing headlong together, until it all shattered in a ferocious joining, subsiding at last into sweet nothingness. They stayed linked together until their breathing returned to normal.

Afterward, he murmured to her, "If you offer to cook breakfast, I'll kill you. I hate breakfast."

"I know, but why?"

"Just the very thought of sending slimy eggs down to say good morning to my stomach—"

"Please. Since you put it that way, it doesn't sound too appetizing to me, either. How about leftover veal stew?"

"Would you go for a frozen chicken-and-noodle casserole, like we had the first night we ate dinner together?"

She laughed, remembering. She rolled over in his arms, settling her head on his shoulder. It just fit, as though it were molded to the exact shape of his bones. Her hair, loose, unfurled across his arm, gleaming in the ribbon of light that escaped the draperies.

"I think," she said, tracing ovals around his navel, "that we should get out and jog."

It was a continuing argument: the benefits of jogging versus swimming. So far, neither had given in. Drew still swam every morning, and she still jogged. Afterward, they met at the water's edge and sat and held hands until the sun appeared fully above them. They went their separate ways soon afterward, Cathryn to her studio, Drew to his office at Sedgwick's, sometimes taking time out from their busy days to meet for lunch, surreptitiously holding hands under the table and thinking they were fooling everyone even though the shining expressions on their faces gave them away. They saw each other almost every night for dinner.