After the Loving. Gwynne Forster

the two of you are running for. Any adult who’s around you for ten minutes can slice the heat with a knife, it’s so thick.”

      “That’s not very consoling, Henry.”

      “I ain’t supposed to console you. That’s Russ’s job. I’m just watching the two of you postpone the inevitable. Soon as Tel and Alexis get back here and start showing you how nice it can be… You just watch. I ain’t saying no more.”

      After determining that Henry didn’t need anything from Baltimore, she started on her journey, shocked to have discovered that Russ had driven the car out of the garage and positioned it so that she wouldn’t have to back out.

      “I could love that guy,” she said to herself, and not for the first time. “He’s everything I need, but I don’t believe he’s even thinking about developing a relationship with me, to say nothing of marrying me.”

      In Baltimore, she made her first stop at a real estate company that specialized in small business needs. After settling with the agent as to what she wanted, she headed for Layne Bryant’s, intent on seeing how she would look in jeans.

      She didn’t like the jeans, stretch or otherwise, and settled on two pairs of pants, one oxford gray and the other dark tan. She looked around until she found a sweater, below-hip length and very loose with one side tucked and held up with a self bow. She liked the design and bought lavender and burnt-orange versions of it. Then, she gathered her courage and went into the dress department, trying not to notice the beautiful caftans as she passed them. She saw a navy blue silk-crepe dress that had three-quarter-length sleeves, a fitted silhouette and flared ruffles at the hem. She tried it on and, encouraged, found a burnt-orange replica and bought both of them.

      Maybe I’ll never wear them, she thought, unless Alexis says they look all right. But what did her svelte sister know about what did or didn’t look right on a short, overweight woman? She put her parcels in the trunk of the car, bought a bag of miniature Snickers to make herself feel better and headed back to Eagle Park, munching as she drove, diet forgotten.

      She arrived at Harrington House half an hour before seven, heard Tara practicing the piano and rushed to her room to shower and change. She expected comments from Henry and Tara, but she prayed that Russ at least would keep his opinions to himself.

      When she got downstairs, feeling self-conscious in her brown pants and burnt-orange sweater, Tara greeted her, “Aunt Velma, Mr. Russ came to my school today and talked to my teachers and he brought me home from school, so I didn’t have to ride the bus. Mr. Russ loves me.”

      She knelt before the little girl and wrapped her arms around her. “Of course he loves you, all of us love you.”

      “You look pretty, Aunt Velma. Is Mr. Drake coming home tonight?”

      “No, dear. He’s gone to Barbados for a few weeks.”

      “Oh. He likes to go there a lot.”

      Tara took her hand and walked with her to the breakfast room where Russ and Henry waited for them. As soon as they sat down, Russ said grace.

      “Mr. Russ says my grace takes too long,” Tara said, blessing them all with her smiles and giggles.

      “Henry, this food is first class,” Russ said of the medallions of pork, saffron rice, artichoke hearts in cream sauce and asparagus.

      “I made a brown Betty for dessert. Alexis left a slew of recipes, and I’m using ’em. I suppose you know how to cook, Velma.”

      At least he hadn’t mentioned her clothes. “Henry, I have two degrees in home economics, and I make a living catering galas and other affairs. And you ask me if I can cook.”

      “Well, you don’t have to do the cooking yourself. You can hire somebody.”

      She glanced at Russ, and found his gaze pinned on her. “If you want a sample, I’ll cook one day this weekend.”

      “I’d like a sample,” Russ said almost before the words left her mouth. “Make it Sunday. One of my college buddies is having supper with us. I was going to take him out to dinner because I don’t like adding to Henry’s burdens, but since you’re cooking—”

      “Ain’t no burden to add an extra plate. He ain’t on a special diet, is he?”

      Russ shook his head. “Tara, did you finish your homework?”

      “Yes, sir. I did my whole workbook.”

      “What about your reading?”

      “I read that yesterday. Can I go play the piano?”

      “After your Aunt Velma or I checks your homework, you may.”

      “And after Mr. Henry gives me some black-cherry ice cream,” she said, bringing a laugh from the adults.

      Once more, she left the table feeling as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She took the plates into the kitchen, rinsed them and opened the dishwasher. As she raised up to get the plates off the counter, she glimpsed Russ’s gray pinstriped pants.

      “You could at least make some noise when you walk. Scare the bejeebers out of a person.”

      His hands gripped her shoulders, his lips covered hers, and she tasted him. “Russ!” His fingers sent fiery ripples spiraling along her arms, and she pulled his tongue into her mouth, loving him, shaken by the terrible sweet hunger he stirred in her.

      When he released her, she gripped his arms for support. “Russ. Honey, would you please leave me down here on planet earth. I want to stay off this seesaw of yours.”

      “I like the way you look, and I wanted you to know it. Warm and sweet.” He kissed her nose. “Nice nose, too.”

      In the days that followed, she planned her time carefully and managed not to be alone with Russ except on the rare occasions when he surprised her, as he said, “Just so you’ll know I’m here and that I know what you’re doing.”

      She didn’t ask him what he meant, because she knew. She also knew that until he indicated that he wanted more from her than hot kisses, more than a casual relationship, she intended to stay out of his way.

      “If you’re going to let me cook tomorrow, Henry, I’d better run into Eagle Park and do some shopping.”

      “Guess you’d better. If you told Russ you’d do it, that settles it. He don’t break his word for nothing, and he expects the same of everybody else. Check the pantry before you make yer list.”

      She returned from shopping, made a large bowl of crème Courvoisier, put it in the deep freezer, made raspberry sauce for it, marinaded a pork roast and called Henry.

      “The kitchen’s yours till around one tomorrow,” she told him.

      “If you need from one to seven to get dinner together, you must think the president’s coming.”

      She winked. “What makes you think he isn’t?”

      Not to be outdone, Henry called to her as she walked down the hall, “If that’s the case, it’s high time you started acting like it. If a man’s head honcho, his woman lets him and everybody else know it.”

      Russ turned the corner with Tara holding his hand. “Who’s head honcho?”

      Henry didn’t look at him. “Humph. Since you don’t know, telling ya won’t do a bit of good.”

      She hurried up the stairs, went to her room and busied herself with plans for the gala she had contracted to service in New Orleans. The more she thought about it, the less attractive the venture appeared.

      Darkness had already set in that Sunday afternoon around five-thirty when she began setting the dining room table. She decorated it with a large crystal bowl of pink and white rose buds that she had bought in town the previous day, and pink candles in crystal candle holders. She used a white damask cloth and napkins, white porcelain that had a