Sweetest Desires (A Sweetest Day Romance) (3 page)

Sounds more planned than spontaneous to me,” Natalie purred as handsome young men in crisp white shirts, black moiré bowties, tight pants, and short black jackets raced in and out, carrying soup plates and fresh baked breads filled with the crème de
moules au safran that Katharine had selected as their first course. “But it sounds like a lot of fun.” She blushed as if they were married for eight days instead of eight years.

“Are you being flirtatious?”

“Maybe,” she grinned. She turned straightway and her eyes landed on Katharine, who was looking as dejected as if she’d received a pink slip after fifteen years of dedicated service.

“Well, Stevie, darling,” Natalie said softly through a fading grin, “our entree is being served, and I’ve got to go before it gets cold. See you in a little while. Love you so much.” She closed the phone without giving Stephen a chance to say good-bye.

Natalie swallowed deeply while watching her unhappy crony slowly scoop a spoonful of soup to her lips. “That was Steve. He says hello.” Reminded how Katharine wanted to be with Carson as much as she wanted to be with Stephen, her husband’s criticism kept her from smiling at Katharine.

Katharine lay her spoon on the saucer, staring into her bowl. “’Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for a friend’—or at least put her own life on hold for that friend.” Her heavyhearted eyes raised to Natalie’s face. She a
ttempted a smile, but it looked more like a strained grin.

A warm feeling came over Natalie at this unme
rited praise.

“Stephen’s upset because you’re here with me, isn’t he? I can’t blame him. Carson is making all our lives miserable.” Katharine lowered her eyes for a few seconds before raising them to meet Natalie’s again. “You and Steve have a wonderful marriage. What’s your secret? Maybe he can show Carson what to do.” She tried to suppress a sob.

Natalie considered a diversionary tactic, but on second thought, she remained silent. Sometimes even a soft voice is powerless against a broken heart. She pulled an embroidered handkerchief from her purse and handed it to Katharine.

Katharine received it and dabbed her eyes. “I won’t do this,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “I’m not going to spoil it for us. Let’s just enjoy the evening.” She scooted her chair closer to the table, taking a palm-sized mirror out of her black satin clutch purse and touching up the corners of her eyes and lips with her finger. “It took me hours to paint this mug,” she said, “and this is the second time today I’ve had to retouch it.” She snapped the mirrored compact shut and waved the hanky in the air. “I promise I’ll wash this and return it.”

Natalie stared at her friend with an expression of sadness.

“Quit looking at me all pitiful-like,” Katharine stated.

“Why don’t you talk to him about her? Bring it to his attention that you know about them.”

“I’m not ready. I think if I bring her name up, it’ll give him a chance to compare the two of us and she’ll win out over me.”

“Nah. I don’t think so. It’s not that serious.”

“MmHmm,” she nodded lightly. “If I tell him that I know about this Cindy-woman, I’m scared he’ll say something like, ‘I’m glad you found out about her. I’ve been meaning to tell you. I want a divorce from you so I can marry her,’ or something there about.”

“You’ve been watching that Lifetime Movie Network channel again?”

Katharine smiled some. “Oxygen.”

“Aha. I knew it was one of those so-called
man-bashing
networks.”

“Hey, those women can’t help it if their husbands turned out to be unfaithful jerks.”

“That’s not the Carson I know. He doesn’t fit into that category. He loves you and the kids.”

“That’s not the Carson I know either, but I wish someone would tell my aching heart.” With much effort, she held back a tear.

“I just did,” Natalie smiled softly, and they turned their attention to the smoked salmon with caviar, savoring the meal in silence. When the waiter had cleared their plates and returned with their dessert, cold Grand Marnier soufflés topped with raspberry coulis, and was pouring fresh coffee into porcelain cups, a mandolin player entered the room wearing a tuxedo and a melancholy expression. His olive skin was brightened with blush, and his fake mustache tilted slightly downward on the right side as he played a soft, romantic melody.

“With all this crying and sniffling, I guess now the waiters and musician think we’re having a lovers’ quarrel,” Natalie joked.

For the first time that evening, Katharine laughed.

Chapter 3

Hearing a noise in the kitchen,
Katharine
picked up the small alarm clock and pulled it closer to her eyes. Four-thirty-two a.m., and Carson’s side of the bed had not been slept in. She was appalled he would slip home at this hour. The latest he’d ever stayed out was close to two a.m., and even then, he had sent a text message to update Katharine on his agenda. Although, she didn’t discover the message until later that same morning.

But when she went down to the kitchen to co
nfront her husband, she found CJ instead.

“What are you doing up so early?” Katharine charged. “You still have two hours before getting ready for school.”

CJ inserted the milk carton back into the refrigerator. At eight, he still wet the bed. A problem Katharine attributed to his drinking liquids late at night.

“I was thirsty, Mom.” His sweet smile was e
xactly like his father’s.

Katharine followed CJ up the stairs and waited for him to come out of the bathroom. After tucking him back into his bed, she peeped into Bethany’s be
droom. As usual, the pillows and blankets were strewn on the floor, and Bethany was curled up in fetal position.

Katharine was afraid of Bethany’s catching cold. She replaced the blankets snugly around her little girl’s shoulders, slightly lifting her head to slip the pillow under it.

Before returning to the kitchen to wash out the glass CJ had used, Katharine poked her head into the guest bedroom to see whether Carson had decided to sleep there for the night as he often did when he came home late or when he and Katharine had argued. The bed remained neatly intact. There was no sign of Carson.

Ordinarily he’d phone to say that he’d be home late because he had to meet a deadline. It was Ca
rson’s favorite and most predictable excuse, but today, he didn’t make it. He didn’t call, period. Not even a text message.

Katharine decided to check the den to see if he’d fallen asleep on the sofa watching television, as well as home office, the family room, and the basement. All the rooms were vacant. She called his cell phone, but his answering machine immediately picked up.

Maybe Natalie was right. Maybe he did go out to celebrate with his coworkers. Maybe one of them had had a little too much to drink, and Carson had been the designated driver and decided to check himself and his coworker into a motel. Yeah. A motel with what’s-her-name, perchance. Or maybe he’d been in a car accident. Could he be at a hospital or possibly the county morgue? The thought froze Katharine’s heart.

As she gazed out the bedroom window at the rising sun, her stomach in knots, Katharine was sta
rtled by the shrill buzzing coming from the alarm clock. She hurried to turn it off. Ignoring the Bible on the nightstand, she didn’t make time this morning for her daily study. Instead she used the time with thinking about Carson.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth before going upstairs to wake the children. The first stop was her daughter’s room. Bethany slept so soundly, it was nearly impossible to wake her. Every morning, Katharine resorted to squeezing a small amount of water on Bethany’s forehead to rouse her. “Time to get up.”

Bethany sat straight up in bed and whined for a few seconds before wiping away the water that had seeped into her eyes.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Katharine said, smiling at her now fully awakened daughter. “Go to your bathroom, brush your teeth, and wash yourself up.”

Scooting to the edge of her bed, Bethany bounced to the floor and dragged herself to her private bath.

Next, Katharine knocked on CJ’s door.

“Yeah,” CJ responded agitatedly.

Katharine invited herself inside. “Time to get up, CJ.” She pulled the covers away from him, and he yanked the pillow firmly over his head. “Just a few more minutes. Please, Mom,” CJ mumbled from u
nder the pillow.

“I don’t want you to miss your school bus, CJ. Time to get up now.”

“Please, Mom,” he pleaded.

Katharine felt a twinge of remorse for not yiel
ding to him, but she knew CJ would try to turn any extra minutes that she gave him into another hour. “Up, up, and at ’em,” Katharine sang, lifting CJ by his arms and pulling him out of bed. He stood reluctantly, head bowed and shoulders slouched.

Katharine nudged him in the direction of his pr
ivate half bath.

Noticing a wet spot on CJ’s sheets, Katharine pulled them off his bed, along with the pillowcases.  She assumed he had used the bathroom before r
eturning to bed. Apparently, she was wrong. “CJ,” she called, knocking on his bathroom door.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled over the hum of his electric toothbrush.

“I want you to take a shower this morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Katharine was glad he didn’t bother to argue. She suspected he knew why he needed to take a shower. If the kids in school ever found out about his problem, it could mean big trouble for CJ.

Katharine toddled to Bethany’s bedroom, gat
hering the sheets from her bed and adding them to the pile. After carrying the soiled linens downstairs to the oversized laundry room, stuffing them into the washer, and adding detergent and fabric softener, she returned to the kitchen and washed her hands.

Toying with the idea of hiring a maid to help with the house and laundry, Katharine had finally decided against it. She didn’t like the fact of having a stranger knowing the details of her home, not to mention being nosey into her personal matters.

While the children were getting dressed, Katharine prepared their morning meal: salmon patties, scrambled eggs, cheese grits, toast and cranberry apple juice.

CJ sat down at the table, frowning at his plate. “I don’t like scrambled eggs.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Katharine snapped her fingers. She pulled a box of frozen hash browns from the freezer and placed it in the microwave.

“Oooh, yeah. I love those,” CJ cheered.

“I want some too,” Bethany said, pouting a little as she entered the kitchen.

“All right, sweetheart,” Katharine soothed, kis
sing Bethany on top of her head. ”Just take your seat.”

As she tried to kiss CJ, too, he grimaced and pulled his head away. “Boys don’t kiss their moms!”

“You weren’t kissing me, I was kissing you.” It was evidenced through her sparkling eyes.

“Still,” CJ said, grimacing.

She was grateful that, after a miscarriage and a stillborn child, God had blessed her with two beautiful, healthy children.
What a mighty God we serve
. She smiled at the thought.

Bethany glanced at Carson’s empty chair. “Is Daddy gone already?” she asked, stuffing a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth.

“Yes, Daddy’s already left, but he’s sorry he missed breakfast with you two,” Katharine forced herself to say. “Eat up now so I can comb your hair, Bethany. And I want you to brush your hair thoroughly, CJ.” Even though CJ wore his hair cut close to his scalp, the tight, knotted curls he’d inherited from Carson were growing rapidly. Luckily, Bethany, who was sent to the beauty salon every other week to have her hair washed, blow-dried, and unruffled with an electric flat iron, had inherited her mother’s silky hair.

After Katharine had divided Bethany’s hair into three long ponytails, the children gathered their bac
kpacks and jackets and raced to the car to see who got to sit in the front seat.

By the time Katharine had tossed on a sweat suit, CJ and Bethany were arguing beside the car.

“Mommy, CJ pushed me. He won’t let me sit in the front.”

“No I didn’t, Mom.” CJ retaliated. “She’s just mad ’cause I beat her to the car.”

“Both of you get in the backseat,” Katharine ordered.

“That’s not fair!” CJ shouted. “I was here first!”

“Young man, you’re about to get your fresh little jaw slapped,” Katharine scolded, giving him a stern stare. “You both know the front seat is off limits without permission.” It was useless trying to reason with children of six and eight, who hadn’t yet developed any talent for reasoning. Firmness and a warning look usually did the trick.

Seeing that look, which meant a harmless whack on the behind if they didn’t obey, CJ and Bethany followed their mother’s instructions.

As she drove the few blocks to the school bus stop, Katharine looked in every direction hoping to see Carson’s car headed toward home, but she saw no sign of him.

* * *

As soon as Katharine entered the house, she tossed her car keys on the bed and rushed to check the answering machine. The light was solid red. No one had called or left a message. Pacing back and forth between the bed and the sitting room didn’t help, so she sat down on the couch and turned on the TV.

Flipping through the channels, Katharine listened for news of Carson. She slipped out of her sweats and took the cordless phone into the bathroom while she ran her shower, leaving the shower door halfway open so she could hear the phone ringing.

Instead of placing the hand-held blow dryer on high as she usually did, Katharine kept it on low taking an extra thirty minutes to dry her hair. Her eyes constantly shifted to the phone.

She swept her hair into a tight bun then dabbed on a small amount of makeup in her usual fashion. Searching through her closet, she chose a high-collar white blouse with a pleated calf-length skirt and solid jacket. Instead of the three- and four-inch heels that she’d worn ten years earlier, she slipped on a pair of two-inch heeled pumps.

Even though Katharine was behind in her usual time, she decided to phone Carson’s office at eight fifteen to see if he was there. She thanked God everyday that she was the boss at Berkley and had the privilege of creating her own schedule. She reported to a board of investors that met with her quarterly.

“USA Weekly. How may I direct your call?” the receptionist offered. The switchboard operator picks up all direct calls prior to nine a.m. and after five p.m.

“Carson O’Connor’s office,” Katharine responded.

“Certainly, I’ll connect you. One moment, please.”

The old buzzard
is
there! I’ll give him a piece of my mind! I’l
l


Katharine’s thoughts were interrupted by the same voice saying, “I’m sorry, ma’am. He’s not in yet.”

“Um, is Hank Polanski there?” Hank was senior associate sports writer and Carson’s colleague.

“I’ll check for you. One moment, please.”

After a third ring, she heard, “Hank Polanski.”

“Hank, good morning. This is Katharine O’Connor.”

“Kat!” His voice sounded much more friendly. “Good morning! How are you?”

“I’m doing great, Hank. And you?”

“Couldn’t be better, couldn’t be better,” he said. “How ’bout that husband of yours, huh?”

“Yeah, what a wonderful recognition,” Katharine answered, trying to sound cheerful.

“The best man won it this year. Maybe next year will be my turn. After being nominated three straight years and not winning, I’m starting to feel like Susan Lucci at the Emmy.”

Katharine’s brows shot up. “You know Erica Kane of All My Children?”

“My wife loves that soap. She’s always telling me about the bizarre happenings on the show.”

“How is Allison, by the way?”

“Doing great. She’s now serving on four committees, including her new appointment on the board of directors for MARTA.”

“Good for her. How does she handle it with the triplets and all? How old are they now?”

“Three going on thirty. They’re very bossy.”

“How was your Christmas holiday?”

“Great, and yours?”

“Just wonderful.” And it was. The O’Connors spent their Christmas at home this time with family and friends, enjoying it all.

Enough of the small talk. “So . . . did you join the rest of the office gang in the celebration festivities yesterday evening in Carson’s honor?”

“Huh?” Hank sounded puzzled. “We haven’t had a celebration yet. We’re planning something for Fr
iday—a little lunch-thing, but the actual black-tie affair will be in four months, in May.” He paused before adding, “Is something wrong, Kat?”

“Oh, I just thought maybe you guys might’ve taken him out for a quick toast, that’s all. I was act
ually very tired yesterday and, uh, went to bed early.”

Katharine heard Hank snap his fingers. “As a matter of fact, come to think of it, a few of the other guys might’ve, might’ve, uh, stopped off after, uh, work yesterday for a quick t-t-toast. I just c-couldn’t join them because I—I— had to, uh, pick up the kids from daycare.”

Hank’s stuttering was a dead giveaway he was lying.

“Oh, I see.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Well, it was nice talking with you, Hank. Give my love to your family.”

“Same here, Kat. Bye.” He hung up quickly.

Katharine held the phone earpiece to her cheek, staring into space as she imagined Carson and that Jezebel-woman spending the night together. The sound of a trash compactor outside snapped her out of a waking nightmare.