In Confidence. Karen Young

stairs. He reached for his partner’s arm, but Walter shook him off. “We can talk in the sunroom.”

      “You’re not denying it?” he bellowed.

      Rachel put her finger to her lips. “Please, Walter. The kids. I don’t want—”

      Still breathing fire, he gave Ted a ferocious glare before muttering a gruff apology to Rachel and sending a quick glance to the stairs, still mercifully sans the children. Lowering his tone somewhat, he said to her, “Do you know what this son of a bitch has been doing with Francine behind our backs?”

      She sighed, urging him along toward the sunroom. “I do.”

      He frowned darkly. “You know they’ve been screwing around and you didn’t say anything?”

      “I only found out yesterday, Walter.” They entered the sunroom, she still keeping a cautionary hand on Walter’s arm, Ted following warily. “Let me get you a cup of coffee and we’ll try to straighten all this out.”

      “I don’t want any coffee. Make it bourbon instead.”

      “I’ll get it,” Ted said, moving hastily to the small portable bar they kept stocked in the sunroom. He found the bottle of Jack Daniel’s and took a glass from a hanging rack, then tipped to pour it with a shaky hand. Warning him with a look, Rachel took the drink from Ted and handed it to Walter, who knocked almost all of it back in a single swallow. His eyes locked with Ted’s as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You better have a good story, partner. Otherwise, life as you once knew it is over.”

      “Let’s all sit down,” Rachel said, telling Ted with a look to find a seat across the room. Then, patting the place beside her on the settee, she managed a smile at Walter. “This is going to be difficult for all of us. And I think you’re right, Walter. Our lives are changed.”

      Walter ignored the invitation to sit and instead looked hard at Ted. “It’s true, then? You’ve been screwing my wife?”

      “We didn’t plan it, Walt,” Ted said. Sweat now glistened on his forehead and his face was pale. “Sometimes these things just happen.”

      “Tell me, Ted, just how long have you been screwing her?” Walter’s tone was soft with menace.

      Ted stood up. “I think you should discuss those details with Francine. She—”

      Walter slammed his glass on the bar, took three steps across the room and grabbed the front of Ted’s shirt. “If I ask you for details, you bastard, then you be man enough to answer,” he said between clenched teeth. Although he was three inches shorter than Ted, he outweighed him by a good forty pounds. Tightening his grip, he gave a twist to the shirt and Ted suddenly couldn’t breathe. Feet scrabbling, he made a strangled sound, trying to keep his balance and loosen Walter’s hold at the same time.

      “Walter!” Rachel pulled frantically at his elbow, but it was like trying to move a stone statue. “Please, Walter, stop! Don’t, please, don’t!” But Walter was past hearing…or caring. He drew his fist back and let fly a hard right at Ted’s face.

      “Oh, my God!” Rachel watched helplessly as the two men crashed over the coffee table. The glass top shattered. Books, photos, a potted orchid and mementos went flying. Blood spurted from Ted’s nose. Both men rolled about, grunting and gouging and kicking, each trying to find an opening to strike a blow.

      “Dad! Mom! Jeez, what’s going on?”

      Rachel turned to find Nick in the doorway, staring in amazement. “Nick, oh, thank God, help me stop them!”

      The boy hesitated only a second before dashing into action. “You take Dad and I’ll take Dr. Walt.” Wading into the fray, he got a good grip on the back of Walt’s collar and pulled tight, momentarily choking off the older man’s breath. Rachel didn’t need to do more than grab at Ted’s arm. Once he had a chance, he scrambled out of Walter’s reach and got hastily to his feet, swiping at his bloody nose with the sleeve of his expensive shirt. He stood heaving and trying to catch his breath, watching warily as Nick kept a firm hold on Walter.

      “I’m okay,” Walter said to Nick, shaking free of the boy’s grip. “Sorry about that, Rachel. Nick.” Then he turned back to Ted. “No apology to you, you prick. And don’t think I’m done with you yet. Francine may be determined to leave me, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before she ever belongs to you.” Giving his shoulders a quick hunch, he straightened the collar of his golf shirt and began tucking in the tails. That done, he looked briefly at Rachel and Nick, standing stunned and silent before turning back to Ted. “What the hell’s the matter with you, you dickhead? You’ve got everything a man could want right here in Rachel and your kids and still you go poaching my territory. What, you think the grass is greener on the other side? My side,” he emphasized, jabbing his thumb toward his chest. Then, shaking his head, he crossed the room to leave, but at the door, he turned back for one final shot. “You’re a goddamn fool, Ted.”

      Four

      “Dad, Mom, what was that all about?” Nick demanded in bewilderment. “I heard the commotion and when I get downstairs I find my dad and his partner at fist city! Jeez.”

      “It’s nothing,” Ted said curtly, tearing a paper towel from a roll behind the bar. “Go on back upstairs.”

      He dampened the towel and pressed it to his nose, unaware of a cut near his eye, which Rachel could see beginning to swell. Walter’s first blow got him square on his nose, but he must have landed a blow that glanced high off the cheekbone. He’d have a shiner soon that wouldn’t fade before Monday, when he’d have to show his face at the practice. She wondered how he’d explain it to the staff.

      “Go upstairs?” Hands propped on his hips, Nick stared at his father. “You’re kidding, right? You were in a fight, Dad. A real knock-down, drag-out with Dr. Walt. Jeez, he’s supposed to be your best friend.”

      “Nick—” Rachel began, but he wasn’t finished.

      “The coffee table is smashed,” the boy said, waving an arm at the desecration in the room, “you’ve got a busted nose and a shiner, and you say it’s nothing? I don’t think so.”

      “It’s personal,” Ted said, talking through the towel. “I’ll explain later.”

      Nick made a disgusted sound and turned to his mother. “What did Dr. Walt mean, that Francine would never belong to Dad?”

      “Nick—” She put out a hand and felt something twist near her heart. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I don’t think—”

      “Is Dad having an affair with Francine?” Nick’s face was pale, but his eyes burned.

      Rachel looked at Ted. “Now is not the time for this discussion,” Ted said, grimacing at the bloodstains on the towel. “I can’t believe this! I’ve probably got a broken nose.”

      “That’s it, isn’t it, Mom?” Nick persisted. “He’s screwing Francine.”

      “Nick, please…” Rachel caught his hand and tried to guide him over to the settee. “You know we don’t allow that language. Sit down and I’ll try to explain.” But Nick stayed stiffly on his feet, glaring at his father. No one noticed Kendall standing in the doorway until she spoke.

      “I want to hear, too.”

      All eyes went to the little girl looking sweetly innocent in a nightie sprinkled with a pattern of tiny red hearts. Bunny faces on her bedroom slippers peeked from beneath the ruffle at the bottom and her camera hung by a cord around her neck. Gingerly avoiding the glass on the floor, she went to her mother. “I heard someone banging on the door and I wanted my camera, but it took a minute to find it. Then Dr. Walt started yelling, all mad and everything. I almost didn’t remember to take pictures when him and Daddy started to fight, but then I did. Why were they fighting?”

      “You