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‘You mean Eloise?’ Katie set the tray down on the bedside table, straightened out the sheets, then balanced the tray across the elderly woman’s knees.

‘She’s downstairs in the living room, waiting for me to make her some breakfast.’

Aunt Grace must have caught the touch of sarcasm in her voice. ‘And how long will she have to wait?’

‘Until it gets so cold that. . . well, until it gets as cold as that. I hope you like scrambled eggs. Can you hold a spoon? My grandmother has arthritis too, and she has trouble with spoons.’

‘You are a dear, well-mannered child,’ the older woman said. ‘But there’s nothing wrong with me.’ She demonstrated by picking up the fork and demolishing a large segment of the eggs. ‘My, am I hungry.’

‘But there’s nothing wrong? I thought that Mr King said you were in poor condition. That’s why I was worried!’

‘He was wrong, Katie. I may call you that, may I? I lied to him. I just could not bring myself to be in this house with that horrible woman here. She means to marry him, you know. What a terrible thing to happen! These eggs are nice. What is the extra little flavour you added?’

‘A pinch of grated cheese, ma’am, with just a flavouring from the bacon, and one diced tomato. I hope you like it?’

‘I like it exceptionally well. And I must tell you how happy I am to see you here. You appear to be just the type of girl that Harry needs. Sit down here on the bed and tell me about Katie Russel.’ The directions were accompanied by a pat on the blankets to indicate where she should sit. Katie complied. ‘Now, you will call me Aunt Grace. Tell me all about yourself.’

‘I—I don’t quite know what to say,’ Katie stammered. This lady had all the attitudes and inflections of Grandmother Russel. A most sweet and loving woman, who could get information out of anyone—man, woman, or child—as simply as if she were peeling an artichoke. And before Katie realised, she had displayed her life from her first birthday party until the day before yesterday.

‘And so you see,’ she ended, ‘I got lost in the mountain, and my engine stopped dead before I got to your gate and I knocked on the door and they thought I was the home-help come to take care of the baby, and things have been so rushed that I haven’t had a chance yet to tell Harry—Mr King.’ At which point in the recital she ran out of breath and came to a full stop.

Aunt Grace raised one eyebrow reflectively. Then she picked up a crisp of bacon and nibbled at it, deep in thought.

‘And isn’t that nice,’ she finally concluded. ‘We have no need to tell Harry. We mustn’t overburden the poor boy with too much information. How very nice. Stand up and twirl around.’

Never thinking to question, Katie complied, then enquired by a look and got no answer. ‘I haven’t had a chance to change,’ she apologised. ‘I left Carolina in the rain, and I put on my oldest jeans and shirt, and I—’

‘You’re just a shade too thin for your height, my dear. How tall are you?’

‘Five foot ten in my stocking feet, ma’am. I haven’t been eating too regularly lately, I suppose.’

‘Lovely face, my dear. Such smooth skin, so nicely rounded. And I like your hair. Russet natural curls?’ She didn't wait for an answer. ‘And those lovely green eyes. Harry’s exactly six feet four, did you know that? Yes, you’ll do very well. Tiny waist, fine rounded hips—’ Katie began to get the feeling that she was standing on the auction block, being checked out as a brood mare. And she wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

‘But somewhat—lacking, perhaps, above?’

Katie smiled, and looked down to where her tiny breasts were having no difficulty at all concealing themselves from public view. ‘Well, it saves a lot of money,’ she said wryly. ‘I never have to buy bras. What did you mean, I’ll do? As soon as I get my car repaired, I’m off to Ohio.’

‘Ah. Of course. Of course. But it might take longer than you think to get your car repaired. And in the meantime, you will have to remain here as—Oh, there you are, Harry. Did you bring coffee for Katie, too?’

‘For who?’

‘For Katie. I was just telling her that she must consider herself our guest until you can get her car repaired. Don’t you think?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand, Aunt Grace. Katherine was hired—’ He stopped talking to watch his aunt slowly swing her head from side to side. ‘Well, okay. You can explain it to me later. Here’s your coffee. And I brought up my own, and I thought I would—’

‘Would immediately go back downstairs and bring up another cup for Katie. Do you take cream and sugar, my dear?’

‘No—I drink coffee black,’ Katie protested. ‘And I can go down and get my own. And have some breakfast, too, if I may. Who’s with the baby?’

‘Eloise is minding the kid. She’s not entirely helpless, you know.’

‘That’s something you will have to prove to me,’ his aunt told him in glacial tones. ‘Maybe you had better go and have your breakfast, Katherine. Lovely name. My great-grandmother was named Katerine. Did you know that, Harry? A lovely woman. Presented her husband with six children. Where was I? Oh yes, you go ahead, Katie. I’ll have a talk with this nephew of mine, and join you later.’

Katie got up and almost ran to the door. Both of them were talking, neither listening, as she closed the door behind her. She stopped at the head of the stairs, one hand on the round pomegranate knob of the newell post. It seemed almost impossible to control her shaking nerves. What have I got myself into, she almost screamed at herself. They’re mad! Every one of them!

Well, it’s too late to turn back, and too soon to run. She drew herself up to her full height, controlled her breathing, and stilled the vibrations in her legs. Outside the window the fog bank glared at her, as if waiting for the glass to break so that it could get at her. She took more deep breaths, and forced her hands to unclench. There were little red marks in each of her palms, where her nails had almost pierced the skin. She held them up in front of her, giggling almost hysterically.

‘Welcome to Never-Never Land, Katie,’ she said, and started down the stairs.

It
was the sound of the baby crying that hurried Katie’s steps. She found him in the kitchen all alone, holding on to one of the table legs to keep himself upright. Eloise was gone. So was the entire platter of bacon and eggs. Kate could feel a surge of anger flush through her system. But the baby must come first. She held out her arms and made love-noises. Little Jon glanced at her, turned off his waterfall, and wobbled over for comfort.

‘Back to square one,’ she sighed as she ran her hand over the little man’s bottom. ‘Or square one-half, no less!’ She bundled him up on her hip again, chuckling as she recalled Aunt Grace’s comments, but thankful to have a place to rest the heavy child. And then back to the nursery. As she went by the living room door she could see Eloise daintily picking at the last of the bacon. ‘Don’t forget to clean up my room,’ the actress called after her as she thumped down the corridor. .

‘Don’t forget to clean up my room,’ Katie mimicked as she lay the boy down on the table to change his wet diaper. ‘Don’t forget—oh you poor little darling. You need a bath!’

She pinned the new diaper, grabbed a handful of clean clothes, swung the baby back on her hip, and went hunting for a bathroom. She found one on the second floor, three doors down the hall. It was tiny, but well- decorated. She started the water, and laughed as the baby, realising what was to come, gurgled in glee. There was an assortment of bottles on the glass shelf over the washbasin. She picked up a bottle of bubble bath at hazard and used it liberally in the tub. Jon began to bounce up and down in expectation. She tested the water temperature with her elbow and plunged the baby into the water. Pandemonium broke loose—in a small way.

‘You like this?’ She laughed at him as the baby began to beat at the tiny bubbles with the flat of his hand. She left him to his own devices, only occasionally getting in a lick with the flannel at strategic places where his antics had failed to splash him clean. She had tucked a towel under her chin and across her breasts, and was just about to lift the child out, when both doors to the bathroom opened almost simultaneously.

‘So this is where you’ve got to,’ Harry King announced from the hallway. ‘I looked all over the ground floor for you.’

‘Just what are you doing with that brat in my bathroom?’ Eloise grated from the other doorway. Behind her, Katie could see the outline of a lavishly decorated bedroom, like a rococo harem.

‘I—’ Katie started to say.

‘Get him out of here,’ Eloise demanded in a harsh voice. ‘How do you expect me to keep myself clean if I have to share a bathroom with that messy child?’

‘That’s enough, Eloise,’ Harry commanded. There was evidently something unusual in his tone that cut Eloise off without another word. Master of his world, Katie thought, as she watched the expression on his face. I’m glad he’s not talking to me.

‘We were just leaving,’ she told them both. She wrapped the towel around the baby, pulled out the plug, and started towards the door.

‘Well, aren’t you at least going to clean the tub?’ Eloise demanded. Katie had had about enough. Her all-night drive, followed by a hectic three hours in this strange house, were proving to be too much for her usually placid temper. She turned around, walked directly over to the other woman, and looked down at her.

‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Get your little pinkies dirty for a change. And the next time I go to all that work, don’t grab my breakfast. I did expect to eat something myself,
if
you must know.’

‘Well, I do—Harry? Aren’t you going to do something about this—this impertinence?’

‘No. At least I don’t think I am,’ he replied. He was turned so that only Katie could see the sparkle in his brilliant blue eyes. ‘No, I don’t think I want to say anything to her. I’ve just found out that she’s not the home-help we’ve been waiting for. She’s a professional photographer who got lost on her way home to Ohio.’

‘A photographer? My God, Harry, I have to work with them, but I don’t have to live with them. Why would you hire a—’

‘You’re not listening to me,’ he interrupted. ‘She’s got nothing to do with you, and I didn’t hire her. She just came. Or so Aunt Grace believes.’

He’s enjoying it all, Katie told herself. Look at the gleam in his eyes. He enjoys giving everybody the needle. Even his—his houseguest. ‘She’s a photographer—or so Aunt Grace believes.’ What could he mean by that? He thinks I’m a burglar in disguise? I can see that a few days in this man’s company will really drive me over the wall!

‘And now, if you’ll excuse me,’ Katie interjected, ‘I’ll take the baby back to wherever he’s supposed to sleep, and leave you two to wrestle about your bathroom. Here we go, little Jon.’

‘I think I’d better go with you,’ Harry said. ‘You haven’t been assigned a room yet, so we’ll get one for you now. Down the corridor to the right. I think we’ll put you right across the hall from Aunt Grace.’ He led the way, opening the door on a small suite of rooms, decorated in a pastel yellow. ‘You have a bedroom in here, a sitting room, and a separate bath. You did tell Aunt Grace you would stay for a few days?’

‘I guess I did,’ she responded glumly. ‘It was pretty hard not to. I couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise.’ She dumped the baby down on the bed, and began to dry him off. ‘And as for that—that lady friend of yours, you’d better tell her that all photographers are not like the ones she seems to know. Some of us eat politely, dress adequately, and hardly ever spit on the sidewalk!’

‘Hey—okay,’ he laughed. ‘I apologise. For both of us. I didn’t mean to step on your shadow. Eloise has probably been mixing with the wrong side of the business. I’ll speak to her.’

He stared at her for a moment, then, without a word, took her by the shoulders and manoeuvred her directly into the lamplight. ‘Why that really is red, isn’t it,’ he mused. ‘Dark, but red all the same. And those crazy curls—are they real too?’

She pushed away from him, and tried to brush his hands off her shoulders, without success. Her slender frame shook with her indignation, until he felt the warning tremors under his palms. Almost regretfully, he released her. ‘I was just curious,’ he said.

‘Well, I’m not for sale,’ she snapped at him, ‘so I don’t care to have you handle the goods. Yes, my hair is real, but not red. It’s more like bronze, or russet. Not bright, like yours.’ She could hardly keep the awe out of her voice. His hair was brilliantly red, flanked with gold, and set smoothly around his head in a close cropping, a little longer at the nape than one would expect, but not touching his collar. Amazing! What colour hair would our children have, she wondered, and then bit on her tongue to control her wild imagination. Change the subject, quickly, she commanded herself! ‘Where do you want the baby to sleep?’

‘If you don’t mind, perhaps in here with you? It would only be for a few days. I can’t believe that Amanda would need longer than that to bring her husband to heel.’

‘I don’t mind having the baby with me, but you have to understand that I can’t possibly stay too long. I have to go to a wedding. My sister Marion is getting married. The last one in the family—except for me, of course.

All the rest of them are married. Would you believe that? Three brothers and two sisters, and they’ll all be married. It never ceases to amaze me.’

‘Yes, me too,’ he said coldly. Katie gave him a sharp look. Something had turned off his smile, left his craggy face with a look of distant reproach. ‘So how come you’re the only Benedict in the crowd?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘How come you’re not married? I get the impression that all the rest of them are happily settled in Ohio, doing whatever, and here you are, a long way from home, and still not married. How come?’

‘I’m not sure that I want to tell you anything about myself,’ she said, in equally frigid tones. ‘After all, you’re just a stranger to me. I’m passing through, so to speak.’

‘Ah!’ The laughter was back, lurking behind the words, peeping out of those deep blue eyes. ‘But since you’ve already confessed everything to Aunt Grace, and you
are
going to be living in my home, surely you can tell me a little?’