Fanta C

Chapter 2

"Gee, Mom, your eyes look weird."

Matt's piping voice dispelled Elizabeth's momentary trance. Nervously, she flattened her hand against the base of her throat where her heart was beating wildly. "I, uh, I guess climbing the tree was scarier than I thought it would be. How's Baby?"

"Much better," Megan said. The kitten was curled against the girl's narrow chest. "She's purring."

Elizabeth knew the feeling. She was purring too. Humming. Churning. Whatever. She hadn't felt like this since… It had been so long since she'd felt this giddy, she couldn't even remember it. But then it had been a long time since she'd been touched by a man.

She avoided looking at her neighbor again until she had no choice but to lift her gaze back to Thad Randolph's. Through the thick twilight, his eyes shone piercingly blue beneath dense eyebrows which had remained dark in spite of his graying hair.

Elizabeth swallowed with difficulty. "Thank you for helping me out of the tree, Mr Randolph."

He smiled. He had very nice teeth, she noticed. Straight and white. "You're welcome. Please call me Thad, though."

Again she saw herself mirrored in his eyes. Her hair was disheveled, framing her face with fine, pale tendrils. Her blouse was hopelessly dirty and there was a smudge of grime on her chin. She looked frightful and had made a complete fool out of herself. No doubt he would enjoy telling all his buddies the story of the nutty widow who lived in the house behind his. When he got to the part about her petticoat and what Matt had said, he'd smile lecherously, intimating that the tale only got better from there, but discretion prevented him from telling all.

"Come along, children," she said as briskly as an English nanny rounding up her charges. "It's getting dark. Time we went inside. Matt, please put the ladder back in the garage."

"Why do I have to?" he whined. "I got the ladder out. Make Megan put it up."

"I'm taking care of Baby," Megan protested. "It's my turn to take care of Baby. You think she's your kitten, but she's not."

"I asked if we could have her."

"Yeah, but she's mine too."

"Mostly mine."

"Uh-huh! She belongs to both of us, doesn't she, Mom?"

Elizabeth had come to expect this kind of squabbling, and usually tuned it out. Tonight, however, it clipped the tenuous threads of her patience.

"Will you both stop bickering and do as I say?" As if getting herself caught in a tree weren't enough, her children chose now to behave their worst in front of the neighbor.

"Before you go inside, I'd like to show you something."

All three turned at the sound of Thad Randolph's peacemaking voice. "In my garage." He smiled at Elizabeth. "Something the kids will enjoy seeing."

"The puppies?" Megan asked in a hushed voice. "Did they get borned?"

"Last night. Four of them."

"Oh, Mom, can we go see them?"

Elizabeth was helplessly trapped. While she appreciated Thad's conciliatory gesture, she also resented his interference in a family squabble. But for her to refuse to let her children see the litter would be unthinkable. Not even moms could be that cruel. "You can see them as soon as you take the ladder back into the garage." There. She hadn't surrendered unconditionally.

Matt dashed off, ladder in tow. Unbelievably Megan went with him and held the door open.

"You don't mind, do you?"

Elizabeth turned toward Thad. "Of course not. They've been telling me that your setter was about to have her puppies." Until now she had never realized how tall he was. The top of her head didn't quite reach his chin. "I just hope they don't upset the new mother."

"Penny is the most docile dog I've ever had. And she adores your children."

Elizabeth clasped her hands at her waist, an unconscious nervous gesture. "They don't disturb you, do they? It seems as if they're always in your yard. I've told them to stay out of it, but — "

"They don't bother me at all. In fact, I get a kick out of watching them play."

A thousand questions flocked to her mind — did he have any children of his own? If not, why not? If he did, were they living with his ex-wife? Was there an ex-wife? Or was he, like herself, widowed?

Even if she'd had the opportunity to satisfy her curiosity and ask such personal questions, she wouldn't have. But she didn't have the opportunity. Matt and Megan came racing back, breathless, eyes alight, their cheeks ruddy with excitement.

"I put Baby in the house in case she did something to scare the puppies," Megan said.

"Let's go."

Thad turned in the direction of his detached garage. All the houses on the block had been built in the thirties. It had become fashionable about ten years before for young families to buy these houses and renovate them, as John and Elizabeth Burke had done. The two children ran ahead, chasing between the shade trees in the large connecting lots.

"Be careful not to touch the puppies," Elizabeth called after them. "And come right back."

"Aren't you coming?" Thad stopped and turned around.

"I — uh — was I supposed to?" she stammered. "I mean, did you want me to?"

"Sure. Come on. Who could resist looking at a litter of puppies?"

And what woman could resist his eyes, Elizabeth asked herself.

He extended his hand, but she didn't take it. She did, however, fall into step beside him, surreptitiously tucking fugitive strands of hair back into the slipping knot on the back of her head.

This whole scene had become bizarre. She hadn't put her shoes back on and was still in her stockings. The grass felt damp and cold against the soles of her feet. They'd had the first frost last week and leaves had begun to fall. Occasionally she'd step on one and it would crunch beneath her instep. The sun had slid quickly beneath the horizon. The adjoining backyards were deep in violet shadows. She felt compelled to make conversation, but it was difficult to find a topic they had in common. At last she hit on one.

"I like the color you painted the trim on your house."

"Thanks. It took me long enough to paint it all."

"You've got a lot of trim."

"And I hate to paint."

"Luckily the house had been redone when you bought it." He'd been living there six months or so. She couldn't remember exactly when he'd moved in.

"I wouldn't have bought it otherwise."

They had reached the back door of his garage. He opened it and stood aside to let her go first. Self-consciously, she squeezed past him through the door. The hem of her skirt brushed against his legs. Cloth dragged against cloth, like a wave reluctant to recede from the shore.

It was dark inside the garage because the large door facing the street and driveway was closed. Only one dim electric bulb burned over the bed Thad had made for his Irish setter and her litter. It smelled musty and musky inside. Inexplicably, Elizabeth was reminded of her stable fantasy.

Despite her instructions for them not to touch the puppies for fear the dam wouldn't like it, her children were crawling over the pile of old blankets, petting the new mother and her babies. Elizabeth was afraid that in their excitement Megan and Matt would crush one of the puppies. Again she cautioned them to be careful.

"They're all right," Thad said. He nudged her elbow with his hand, urging her forward.

"Can we hold one, Mom? Pleeeeze," Megan begged.

"I don't know," she replied uncertainly. The setter looked benign enough, but new mothers could be fiercely protective.

"I don't think Penny will mind. If you're very careful," Thad said.

Gently each child held one of the tiny pups. They oohed and aahed over them. Elizabeth found herself doing the same. Thad had been right. Who could resist a new puppy?

"Oh, they are darling, aren't they?" she whispered, kneeling down to get a closer look. The Irish setter, Penny, was basking in their attention and didn't seem to be at all nettled by the children.

"Want to hold one?"

Elizabeth looked at Thad from across the pile of old blankets where the new family lay. He was kneeling on one knee, the other was raised and bent. The single light bulb cast one side of his face into shadow and lit individual strands of his hair, particularly the silver ones. He had a well-lived-in face, but it was handsome and strong. His face said that he was a man of high integrity and steadfast conviction. He wouldn't provoke a fight, but he would find it untenable to turn the other cheek.

There were traces of pain in his features. And sensitivity. And sensuality. Especially around his beautifully fashioned mouth. It was saved from being pretty by the vertical grooves parenthesizing it. The rest of him was uncompromisingly male.

Elizabeth's chest grew full and heavy. Her mouth went dry. In answer to his question, she nodded. Very gently, he scooped one of the puppies in his large hand and lifted it away from its mother's teat. The puppy protested with a querulous squeak that caused them all to laugh. Thad laid the soft, warm ball into the bowl of Elizabeth's waiting hands.

She raised the puppy to her cheek and rubbed it against her skin. "He is — It is a he, isn't it?"

Chuckling, Thad nodded. "I think so. Three males, one female."

"You can tell by looking at their bellies," Matt said, puffed up with his superior knowledge on the subject. "The boys have penises."

"Oh, gross!" Megan shivered. She lifted the puppy she was holding over her head and glanced at its underside. Satisfied that she was holding the female, she continued to hug it gently.

Elizabeth cleared her throat loudly. She could feel Thad's laughing eyes on her. "He's so soft," she murmured, still allowing the puppy to root against her cheek.

"Do you like 'em, Mom?" Matt asked.

"Of course I do. They're beautiful."

"Can we have one?"

"Matthew!" Hadn't she taught her child better manners than that?

"Please?"

"Can we, Mom?" Megan chimed in.

"No."

"How come?"

"Because we just got Baby. No more pets."

"We'll take care of it, honest."

"I said no."

"But, Mom — "

"Whoa, Matt," Thad interrupted. "The litter is already spoken for."

"All of 'em?" the boy asked mournfully.

"Yep. Sorry, friend."

"That's okay," Matt mumbled, keeping his head down.

Thad placed his finger beneath the dejected chin and tilted it up. "Maybe by the time Penny has another litter, we'll have your mom talked into you having one, okay?"

The boy's face brightened. "Okay!" He returned the puppy he was holding to its mother. "I'm going to tell Tim that I got to see the puppies first and that the next time Penny has babies, I'm getting one. He couldn't wait to lord that over his best friend.

"Wait for me." Megan returned the female pup to its mother and they both ran for the door to the garage.

"Watch for cars when you cross the street," Elizabeth called. "And be home in five minutes. It's time for dinner."

"Okay, Mom." The door slammed shut behind them.

Elizabeth looked at Thad and smiled helplessly. "Where did I go wrong?"

He laughed at her chagrin. "You haven't gone wrong. They're great kids. Just energetic." Still smiling, he stroked Penny's head. The dog worshipfully licked the back of his hand.

The slamming door had had the impact of a thunderbolt, leaving a vibrating silence in its place. The garage suddenly seemed a private, intimate enclosure. The stillness made Elizabeth feel awkward. Except for a few words exchanged at a distance, she'd just met this man. Being alone with him was unsettling.

"I'd better get home and start dinner." Leaning forward, she laid the puppy close to its mother. He nuzzled and found an available place at which to nurse.

As Elizabeth withdrew her hands, Thad surprised her by reaching across the dam and her litter and grasping them. He turned her palms up toward the light. "What did you do to your hands?"

The shock of his touch almost cost her the power of speech. "The tree. I scraped them on the bark," she finally choked out.

"As soon as you get home, you'd better wash them in a disinfectant soap and put some ointment on them."

"Yes, I will."

His lips twisted into a lopsided grin of self-derision. "Who am I to give first-aid advice to a mother of two, huh?"

She smiled in return, but disengaged her hands, hopefully without appearing to be in a hurry to. But she was. She barely curbed the impulse to fold her arms across her chest and tuck her hands into her armpits, as though ashamed of them for committing some grievous transgression. They were tingling and it wasn't entirely from having been scraped on the tree.

He stood up when she did and together they walked toward the door. "I didn't know you had a motorcycle," she observed, grateful at a chance to break the silence. A motorcycle was parked in one half of the double garage.

"Yeah, I bought it when I got back from Nam. I don't have time to ride it much, mostly on weekends, but I enjoy it."

Nam? Had he been a soldier? "You don't seem the type for a motorcycle."

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "The type? You're not one of those ultraconservatives who thinks that anyone sitting astride a motorcycle is degenerate, are you?"

"Of course not."

"Good. Maybe you can go riding with me sometime. If you'd like to."

"Oh, I don't think so," she said quickly, looking dubiously at the cycle. "I don't think I'd like sitting astride. A motorcycle."

There was enough time and space between her two sentences to let inquisitiveness dawn and mature in his eyes. For a moment that blue gaze held hers. "Don't knock it till you've tried it."

Studying his face, she gauged his intention and decided that if his words carried a double meaning, she was better off ignoring it. "The children will be looking for me," she said uncomfortably.

He held open the door. She stepped through it into the evening air, which had become chilly. But she welcomed the bracing cold. It helped clear her head. She hugged herself for warmth, and also to prevent him from seeing her nipples. They were erect beneath her blouse. If he noticed that, he'd think —

"I like all that lacy junk you wear under your clothes."

"What?" Stumbling in the damp grass, she spun around.

He was smiling disarmingly. "I don't think it's junk. I was only quoting Matt." He looked her up and down in the arrogant, possessive, masculine manner that Adam had first used in the Garden of Eden and that no amount of legislation was ever going to outlaw. "Unisex clothing they can keep. I enjoy looking at a woman who dresses like one."

"Thank you."

"Do you always wear soft things?" he asked, nodding down toward her blouse and the nipples that were tenting it.

She moistened her lips with her tongue. "I like wearing feminine clothes. Besides that, it's good for my business."

"That's right, you sell lingerie in your shop, don't you?" At her surprised expression, he explained, "One day when I was in the Cavanaugh, I saw you through the window of Fantasy."

"Oh."

Her first reaction was surprise that he knew about her business. The next was to wonder what had brought him to the Hotel Cavanaugh. The third was to chide herself for being so naive.

Scores of discreet affairs went on in the well-appointed rooms every day. Why else would a man as attractive as Thad Randolph be walking across the lobby of the Hotel Cavanaugh in the middle of the day? And it had to have been during the day because she wasn't open late. The hotel restaurants were good, but there were others in the city that were just as good and less expensive for lunch. Chances were that he'd gone to the hotel to satisfy another appetite.

"Before I knew the name of your shop, I'd always wondered what significance your license plate had."

"My sister's idea," Elizabeth told him absently.

Had the woman he'd met at the Cavanaugh been hired for the afternoon? Or was she a housewife hopelessly in love with the wrong man? Or a career woman looking for kicks to relieve the pressure of her job?

What difference did it make to her? Piqued at her own curiosity, she said, "The next time you're in the hotel, drop in and say hello."

"Thanks. I will. I might even buy something. Your merchandise looked… interesting."

Was it a trick of the wavering shadows or did his eyes move down to her breasts once more?

"Well, thanks again for helping me out of the tree."

"My pleasure."

Again, his words caused a warm tide to spill through her. For that very reason she gave him a verbal cold shoulder. "Good night, Mr Randolph."

"Good night, Elizabeth."

He had deliberately used her first name after she'd avoided using his. Nodding brusquely, she quickly crossed his yard into her own. At the sycamore, she retrieved her shoes but didn't even pause to put them on as she made her way toward her back door. Only when it was safely closed behind her did she breathe a sigh of relief. But the respite didn't last long. She heard her children coming through the front door.

"Mom?"

"In here." She dropped her shoes on the floor and padded toward the refrigerator. Thank goodness Mrs Alder had remembered to take a pound of ground chuck out of the freezer. It was thawed.

"What's for supper?" Megan asked as she came through the door connecting the kitchen to the rest of the house.

"Hamburgers."

"Can I light the grill this time?" Matt asked.

"No, I'm frying the meat tonight."

"Aw, Mom, they taste so much better when you cook them outside."

"Not tonight."

"How come?"

Brother! Did she ever get sick of that question. "Because I'm the mother and I said so. Now go wash up, then come back and set the table."

They slunk out, muttering about her unfairness. Elizabeth's mouth watered at the thought of meat cooked over charcoal, but she wasn't about to go back outside tonight. All summer, she had been uncomfortably aware of Thad Randolph sitting on his screened back porch watching TV until late every night. Each time she had to go outdoors, she debated with herself. Should she call out a greeting, as she did to all her other neighbors? Should she give him a tentative little wave? It was nerve-wracking, this never knowing what to do.

If he hadn't seen her, she didn't want him to think she was trying to attract his attention. And if he had seen her, she didn't want him to know that she knew he had. So it had always seemed prudent just to ignore him.

Her behavior was juvenile at best and rude at worst, but a widow couldn't be too careful with her reputation. At the risk of being unfriendly, Elizabeth had been unapproachable to the opposite sex since her husband's death two years earlier.

She had waved John good-bye on his way out the back door that morning, never suspecting it would be the last time she would see him alive. In fact, she'd been distracted by Megan, who had just remembered that she needed a spool of thread and a paper plate for an art project at school. Elizabeth hadn't even noticed what shirt and necktie he had on that day. She hadn't realized that he needed a haircut until she'd gone to the morgue to identify his body, which had been pulled from the wreckage of the freeway pileup. It took her days to recall their last private conversation. Their last kiss. The last time they'd made love.

What she would always remember was his smile and his laugh, his kindness and caring, his sweet lovemaking and his dreams for their future. He had been a darling man who had given her two beautiful children and a great deal of happiness. His death had left a vacancy in her heart that would never be filled.

That gaping wound was bothering her more than usual tonight. That's why when she tucked in Megan and Matt, she drew them to her and hugged them so tight they became embarrassed by her emotion and squirmed free.

Her ardent hugs represented more than her love for her children. They indicated her desperate need for human contact, for intimacy of any kind. She missed being on the receiving end of someone's love and affection. A grownup's love and affection. A man's. Sometimes her body and soul were so hungry for it, she thought she'd die.

Once the lights were out in the rest of the house, she entered her own bedroom and switched on the floor lamp. It stood beside her bed on a brass pole and had a glass shade shaped like a lotus blossom. She'd redecorated the bedroom several months after John's death because it held too many poignant memories.

Now, it was arranged just the way she wanted it, but she could find no joy in it. A beautiful room should be shared. Her boudoir might just as well be a cloister. Lilah was right. Living a nun's life was no fun unless you were a nun. Going to bed alone every night was nothing to look forward to. She missed the comfort of having a warm body lying against hers while she slept.

But what could a decent widow with two children looking to her for moral guidance do about her celibacy? Nothing. Contrary to Lilah's advice, she couldn't rush out and net a man just to cool the fevers of her body. Would that one could take a pill to eliminate sexual urges the way aspirin staved off fever.

Thanks to Lilah's half-baked psychology, her mind had run amok today. She had behaved like a total idiot in front of Thad… Mr Randolph… this evening. He was probably over there now laughing at how flustered she'd become when he rescued her from the tree.

Impatient with herself for acting like such a simpering ninny over a nice pair of shoulders and blue eyes that would give Paul Newman's competition, she turned off the lamp and got into bed. But she couldn't resist the temptation to peep through the slats of her shutters to see if his lights were still on.

Yes. She could see him through the screened walls surrounding his porch. He was slumped in an easy chair, staring into the silver, flickering TV screen. He was alone too. And she wondered if his solitude was by choice, or if he hated loneliness as much as she did.

"And then what happened?"

"And then he had to reach up there and lift her down."

"Mr Randolph did?"

"Uh-huh. He put his hands… here."

"But that was after her petticoat got torn."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that."

"Her petticoat got torn? You skipped that part. Go back to that."

"Good morning."

Three heads turned at the sound of Elizabeth's sleepy-hoarse voice. Knotting the belt of her chenille robe, which was way past retirement age, she shot her sister a poisonous look and headed for the coffeepot.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" she asked, stirring Sweet'n Low into black coffee.

"Because it sounds as though you needed a good night's rest." Wearing a feline smile, Lilah bit into a piece of crisp bacon.

"I see you've already had breakfast." On the round kitchen table were three syrup-sticky plates.

"I fixed pancakes for the kids. Want some?"

"No," Elizabeth snapped ungraciously. Ordinarily she would have been grateful for Lilah's dropping by to cook breakfast for Megan and Matt so she could sleep late. On Saturdays she kept Fantasy open only from noon until five. It was her one morning a week to sleep past six-thirty. "Go do your chores," she told her children crossly. "Make your beds and put all your dirty clothes in the hamper."

"Then can I go out and play?"

"Yes." Breaking her first smile of the day, Elizabeth swatted Matt on the seat as he sped past her chair. Deferring to Megan's maturity, she gave her a brief hug.

"Cute kids," Lilah remarked when they were alone.

"And talkative. Especially when they've got a busybody pumping them for information."

"I didn't pump," Lilah said righteously. "I merely asked what was new and they told me." She propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Did the mysterious Mr Randolph really rescue you from the tree last night?"

There was no use denying it. "Yes, he did."

"Bingo!" Lilah chortled, clapping her hands together.

"It was no big deal. Not nearly as melodramatic as you're making it sound."

"We were just getting to the good part when you came in. What was that about the torn petticoat?"

"Nothing. My petticoat got caught on a twig."

"And he got it off?" Lilah's smile was downright lascivious.

"Yes, but it was a humiliating experience. I felt like a fool."

"What's he like? What'd he say?"

"Forget it, Lilah. He's… he's elderly."

"Elderly?"

"Well, you yourself noticed that he has gray hair. He's too old for me."

Lilah frowned. "How gray? How old?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask," she said peevishly.

"Hmm, well, it's a start. At least you attracted his attention."

"I didn't do it on purpose."

"The net result is the same.

"Get this through your conniving head, there is no net result."

"Stop shouting at me, Elizabeth. I'm interested for your sake."

"Well, don't be!"

Lilah sat back in her chair, sighing in exasperation. "Brother! You're as cranky as an old bear this morning. Know what I think? I think you'd be in a much better mood if he'd spent more time unsnagging your petticoat."

"Lilah," Elizabeth said warningly.

Lilah was unfazed. "Here, read this while I'm doing the dishes." She tossed a magazine toward Elizabeth before she began clearing the table. It was a popular monthly publication which had an enormous female reading audience. "Page ten."

Elizabeth thumbed forward to the specified page. Upon reading the headline of the advertisement, she glanced up at her sister, a glance Lilah pointedly disregarded.

By the time Elizabeth had read the lengthy ad, Lilah had rinsed and placed all the dishes in the dishwasher. She returned to the table. The two sisters stared at one another.

"Well?" Lilah said at last.

"Well?"

"What do you think of the idea?"

"You're not serious? You expect me to write out my fantasies for publication?"

"I do."

"You're sick."

"I'm normal. And so are you. And so are your fantasies. Only I'll bet they're much more detailed and romantic than most. What could be the harm in writing them down and submitting them for the book this publisher is putting together?"

"The harm?" Elizabeth cried. "The harm could be that I have two children."

"They won't be buying a copy, will they?"

"Don't be cute, Lilah. Your idea is absurd. I'd never feel comfortable about doing something like this. I'm a mother. A widow."

"But you're hardly Granny Grunt. You're a young, attractive woman whose husband happened to die prematurely. It says right here that they want stories from 'average' women. You qualify. The only thing that's not average about you is your love life, which is zilch. But," she added hastily when she saw that Elizabeth was about to take issue, "it can be a bonus. If you're deprived, then your fantasies should really sizzle."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes heavenward. "I can't do it. I don't know where you ever came up with the hare-brained notion I could."

"Look," Lilah said, flattening her hand on the table, "you write the fantasies, as many as you want. I'll do the rest. I'll submit them under a pen name. You'll remain anonymous. I'll do everything but cash the check the publisher sends you when your manuscripts are selected."

"Check?"

"Didn't you read that paragraph?"

"I didn't get that far."

"There." Lilah pointed to that part of the text. "They're paying two hundred and fifty dollars for each fantasy they select to go in the book no matter how long or short it is, historical or contemporary, first person or whatever."

In spite of herself, Elizabeth's interest was piqued. It had taken virtually all of John's life-insurance money and their savings for her to open Fantasy. From the beginning, the shop in the well-trafficked lobby of the Hotel Cavanaugh had made a profit, but a small one. She wasn't destitute, but she couldn't afford extravagances. As the children grew older they became more expensive. She'd often worried about how she would finance their college educations.

On the other hand, earning money by writing out her most secret fantasies seemed like a disreputable thing to do. "I'm not a writer."

"How do you know? Have you ever tried? You always made A's in English. Besides, from what I understand ninety-nine percent of writing is imagination. You've got gobs of that. Lizzie," Lilah said, warming to her subject. "This is something you've been preparing for all your life. No one daydreams more than you. It's time you converted that pastime into an enterprise."

"I couldn't."

"Why not? It will remain our little secret, just like the time we glued Grandma's house shoes to the closet floor."

"As I recall that was your bright idea too. And I got a spanking for going along."

"The hilarity was worth the spanking," Lilah said with a dismissive shrug.

Elizabeth sighed, knowing that Lilah never took no for an answer. "I don't have the time to write even if I wanted to."

"What else do you do at night?"

She had a point and Elizabeth conceded it. She left the table and moved to the coffeemaker on the counter. "I'd be embarrassed for anybody to read my fantasies."

"Good! That means they're hot and juicy. That's just what they want. See? "Explicit, but tasteful," she read from the magazine. "That means make them good and dirty, but not crude."

"I think that lost something in your translation."

"Well, are you going to do it or not?"

"I'm not. If you're so high on the idea, why don't you do it?"

"Because I don't have your creativity. When we played make-believe, you always made up the scenarios. I only acted out the parts."

She could feel herself weakening. It would be a catharsis of sorts, wouldn't it? A way of venting her sexual frustration. A challenge she needed. Something to do that was hers and hers alone. Not something she was doing for her children or for her business, but for herself, the woman. She had so few personal indulgences.

"I don't know, Lilah," she said, unready to capitulate entirely. "It seems so… so…"

Her voice trailed off as she spied something across her yard. Thad Randolph was nailing together lumber and wiring to form what looked like a pen. Probably for the puppies. Matt was assisting him by holding the nails. Megan, sitting in the old swing which a former owner of Thad's house had suspended from the branch of an oak, was giving advice. Baby was napping on Megan's lap.

But what captivated and held Elizabeth's attention was the man. His shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a sturdy chest and flat stomach. Patches of dark, curly hair grew in strategic places. The supple muscles of his arms and shoulders contracted and relaxed each time he moved. A lock of sweat-damp hair had fallen over his brow. He laughed at something Matt said. When he did, he threw back his head and revealed a strong, tanned throat. As he stood up and brushed sawdust off his jeans, Elizabeth couldn't help but notice how they clung to his thighs.

"What's the matter?" Lilah moved up behind her and peered through the window over the sink. Elizabeth heard her sister's gasp. For several moments, they stared at Thad Randolph until he heaved the contraption to his shoulder and carried it into his garage. Matt and Megan trooped after him.

Elizabeth turned her back to her sister and busied herself with pouring another cup of coffee.

"Elderly, huh?" Lilah said wryly.

"I told you I couldn't guess his age."

"Lizzie, men who look like that don't age, they ripen. Looking like that, what the hell difference does it make if he's fifty? A hundred and fifty?"

"It makes absolutely no difference to me. A vital point which seems to escape you.

"What color are his eyes?"

"Sort of blue." Sort of sparkling, shimmering, sapphire blue.

"What does he do for a living?"

"He, uh, owns a cement company, I think. That's what one of the neighbors told me when he moved in. His Jeep has the name stenciled on the side."

Lilah snapped her fingers. "Randolph Concrete. His trucks are on every construction site in town. He must make a bundle."

"Mother always taught us it was vulgar to discuss someone's finances."

Lilah had stopped worrying about what their mother considered vulgar years ago. She was unabashedly gazing out the window in hopes of catching sight of him again. "Did you see the way he handled his tool?"

Elizabeth's head snapped around and Lilah giggled. "Gotcha! I was thinking about his hammer. What were you thinking about?"

"What you're thinking is all wrong," Elizabeth said with asperity.

"And what's that?"

"That there's a romance brewing across our backyards. He's a nice man. He's patient with my children."

"A real tribute considering his advanced age," Lilah said sarcastically. "Don't they disturb him during his afternoon nap?"

Elizabeth glared at her. "Frankly I'm grateful for the time he spends with Matt particularly. He needs a man's influence. But it stops there, Lilah. I could never be attracted to a man like Mr Randolph."

"Have you checked your pulse lately? If he doesn't attract you, you're dead."

Elizabeth sighed. "He's not my type. He's too… physical. Too large…"

"Um-hum." Lilah smacked her lips. Elizabeth made a supreme effort to ignore that too. "I could never go for a hard-hat type."

Lilah grinned wickedly. "I'll bet his hat isn't all that's hard."

"Oh! Will you go wallow in the gutter? I'm sure your mind would enjoy the company." Lilah only laughed at her. "And you can forget about my writing down any fantasies for publication. I don't even have any fantasies!"