"I'm not sure it takes talent, and I don't know when or if I'll have time to write any more." Shyly she said, "I have a date Saturday night."
"You're kidding!" Lilah squealed. "With who? The hunk with the chicken coop?"
"It wasn't a chicken coop. The pen was for a litter of Irish setters. His name is Thad Randolph, and, no, my date isn't with him." She hadn't told Lilah about last Saturday night and the Fall Festival because her sister would have jumped to the wrong conclusion. Lilah would have hypothesized that Thad had gone on her account and not to please the children. "Adam Cavanaugh invited me to have dinner with him."
"Really? Well, my dear sister, that should be fodder for another story. Remember every single, scintillating detail."
"Lilah, it's only dinner."
"Which, if you play your cards right, can last through breakfast." At Elizabeth's gasp of outrage, Lilah said, "Don't get all huffy. It's about time you started living some of your fantasies. Have fun, just don't fall in love with Cavanaugh."
Lilah hung up soon after winning Elizabeth's promise to think about writing more fantasies. Elizabeth was surprised to see that she'd kept the shop open five minutes past closing time and locked up quickly. Mrs Alder got upset if she was too late.
Because of the rain, traffic was a nightmare. Then, before she could even get out of the car at home, Megan and Matt closed in on her with a problem.
"Mom, something terrible has happened to Thad," Megan said theatrically.
Edging her children aside, Elizabeth got out of the car and shut the door. "What do you mean, something terrible has happened to Thad? Good-bye, Mrs Alder," she called to the departing baby-sitter. "Now, what's this about Thad?" Elizabeth asked her children who would have made a professional mourning duo look cheerful.
"We think he's dead or something."
Matt was so somber, Elizabeth covered a laugh with a cough. "What gave you that idea?"
"Because his car is there, but he doesn't answer his door when we knock."
"He could be out on his motorcycle."
"It's in the garage."
"Well, maybe he just doesn't want company." Or, more likely, he has company, Elizabeth thought. She hadn't seen him since he'd strolled out of Fantasy on Monday with the gift for his mistress swinging in the shopping bag in his large hand.
Megan was shaking her head. "We can see breakfast dishes on the kitchen table. He doesn't like messes. He told me that a long time ago."
"He probably just didn't feel like cleaning up today."
"Or maybe he's dead. Maybe somebody came in and stabbed him or something. Then it'll be our fault for not checking."
Where did Matt come up with these macabre ideas? Easy, she thought. He took after her.
"Come on, Mom. You've got to go see."
Each child had taken her by the hand and was pulling her across the yard. "I'm sure there's a logical explanation." She dug in her heels, but the children were genuinely worried. If she didn't relieve their concern, she'd never hear the end of it. They'd bug her about it until she relented. "Oh, all right."
The wisdom of her decision was again put to the test when she raised her hand to knock on his back door. She hesitated, but one glance down at Megan and Matt prompted her to knock firmly. She waited several seconds and, hearing no sound of approaching footsteps, knocked again.
"See, Mom, he doesn't answer."
"He's dead."
"He's not dead," she emphasized to her morbid son. "In fact, I'm sure there's nothing wrong." Cupping her hands around her eyes, she peered through the screen. As the children had said, the kitchen table, which she could see through the connecting doorway, was cluttered with what appeared to be the dishes of several meals.
"Go in and see. The door is unlocked."
"Megan, I can't just walk into a man's house!"
"How come?"
The inquiry in their eyes was so innocent and earnest that Elizabeth found herself groping for an answer. "It isn't polite, that's why." What she couldn't explain to her children was that Mr Randolph wouldn't want to be disturbed if he was frolicking in bed with a girlfriend or sleeping off a drinking binge or… Few other possibilities came immediately to mind. In spite of herself, she was mystified. What was he doing in there?
"What if Thad's sick and you don't help him?"
"Yeah, he might die and it'd be your fault. Your fault, Mom."
"All right!" she cried. Laying on a guilt trip worked every time and how well her kids knew it. She opened the screen door and then the wooden one, finding both, as Megan had told her, unlocked. She took one step inside. Both children followed close on her heels. "No, you two stay here." She didn't want her children to see their idol in a compromising position — or any kind of position — with a member of the opposite sex.
"We want to come too."
"No. Stay here. I'll find out if anything is wrong and then come right back."
As a safety precaution against disobedience, she latched the screen door behind her, then tiptoed across the enclosed porch. Before entering the kitchen, she called his name. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud. It echoed through the empty house. He was probably out with a friend and this was a gross violation of his privacy which she'd have to explain to him later.
But his being out with a friend didn't explain the dirty dishes that were scattered on the table and piled high in the sink. He wouldn't let his kitchen get this messy unless he had a very good reason.
Not knowing exactly how the rooms of the house were laid out, she followed her nose toward the front door and called his name again. The living room, she discovered, was tastefully decorated. Nothing fancy certainly, but contemporary and arranged with a sense of style. Several magazines were neatly stacked on the coffee table. Newsweek, Time, Esquire. Not a naked girl among them.
"He probably keeps those in the bedroom," she whispered to herself.
Encroaching dusk had made the dark day even darker. The rain she'd driven home in had caught up with her and was now beginning to patter against the windows. She hadn't turned on any lights. The large rooms were gloomy. This whole thing was getting spooky.
"Mr Randolph? Thad?" She paused to listen. Receiving no answer, she gladly turned and headed back toward the kitchen.
But she'd taken no more than a few steps when she heard the low moan. She froze, pausing to be sure she'd heard right. Yes, there it was again. Louder this time.
Her heart began bumping crazily. Was it a moan of pain or passion? Agony or ecstasy? Possibly both? Good Lord, she didn't want to know. But her children would never let it rest until she found out.
Reversing her direction, she started down the hallway. As she drew nearer an open door, she could hear the whisper of cloth against cloth. Bed linens to be sure, but two bodies or one? She took a deep breath and peeped around the door, jerking her head back quickly after registering what she had seen.
The room was unmistakably Thad's bedroom. Against the wall opposite the door was a king-size bed. He was lying on it. Thankfully alone. Though not restfully.
In the split second she had allowed herself to look into the room, it became apparent that he was ill. His arms and legs were moving restlessly and his head was thrashing from side to side on his pillow.
Elizabeth garnered her courage and entered the bachelor's bedroom with the trepidation of a young soldier going into battle for the first time. One did one's duty.
"Thad?"
She wasn't surprised that he didn't hear her. Her voice was quaking and hushed. His moaning, which had grown louder, easily drowned it out. He slung one arm out to his side and gave the sheet a vicious kick.
He was naked.
She was spared from seeing everything by one corner of the baby-blue sheet, which fortuitously was twisted around his hips. One bare foot and calf were poking over the edge of the bed. The other leg was covered, but clearly defined beneath the sheet, which was pulled taut. His chest was bare. His concave stomach was heaving up and down with labored breathing. His navel —