The Bewildered Wife. Vivian Leiber

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СКАЧАТЬ the kind of businessman who remembered the birthdays of his clients’ secretaries and sent gifts to trusted employees at Christmas.

      He certainly was that way with the children.

      “Susan, I’ll have my secretary get Edward a T-shirt with a brachiosaurus,” Dean said. “Sort of a congratulations-on-learning-your-dinosaurs gift.”

      Susan nodded, although she didn’t like it when Dean counted on Mrs. Witherspoon to pick up things for the children. Maybe Dean should consider telling Baby Edward himself that he was proud—but it wasn’t her place to make suggestions.

      “Will that be all?” she asked.

      “No, one more thing,” Dean said, finishing up his hot dog. “I want that storytelling to stop.”

      Susan flushed. She had thought that might be coming. They had had this conversation before. She gulped, hating to have done something contrary.

      “I’m sorry. It’s just the kids were acting up tonight, didn’t want to go to bed,” she rationalized. “And they seem to like the story so much.”

      “I don’t want their heads filled with fantasy,” Dean said, his voice suddenly icily determined. Susan shivered under the personal power this man had—if he treated his business adversaries this way then he certainly deserved his reputation for always getting his way—without ever having to raise his voice.

      “I’m sorry, Mr. Radcliffe.”

      “They need to face reality. Not be distracted by fiction,” he added. “Besides, the Eastman Bear Company is ripe for my purchase precisely because of the muddled thinking promoted by such dreaming.”

      “But the children like it—hearing stories about the bears.”

      “I would suggest you reading to them about history or science or animals,” he replied curtly in a way that left no doubt this was no mere suggestion, it was an order.

      Susan bit back a retort.

      He was so close, so close to connecting to these children, Susan thought. But then he couldn’t do it. He wanted to love them, did love them, but couldn’t get close enough to them to see that they were wonderful children and having a few moments of whimsy at the end of the day wouldn’t turn them into wimps or daydreamers. He was so close to being a real father to them, but he couldn’t do it. She knew the death of his wife had hurt him greatly. She wondered what kind of man he had been before the tragedy.

      Because she loved him, she could forgive him the kind of man he was now.

      And wish that someday he would change.

      She stood up.

      “It won’t happen again,” she said.

      “Good. Oh, Susan, I nearly forgot,” he said, pulling a velvet box from under a pile of papers. “Your birthday.”

      She approached the desk, swallowing back a sadness mingled with anticipation. She wished she hadn’t wanted his present, wished she didn’t care. She only knew she did. She approached the desk and he smiled—the same charming smile that had gotten him everything in life.

      “Thank you,” she said.

      “You’re welcome,” he answered and turned his attention to some paperwork in front of him. “And happy birthday. By the way, what’s that perfume you’re wearing? It’s very beautiful.”

      He asked the question as if he were asking what time the trains ran, but still he asked it. Her breath caught. She looked into his emerald eyes as he waited for her answer. And for a moment, a scant moment, her heart soared as she knew he had noticed her, really noticed her.

      She felt a rising heat in her body, confusing as it was enticing.

      How could he do it? With just a look, just a word he could make her quiver.

      She was nuts—he didn’t give her a thought other than in her capacity as nanny.

      And yet he had just noticed her, had noticed her scent.

      He noticed her as a woman.

      Her heart soared and then fell flat with a thaddump! as her body heat made her scent blossom and even she could recognize its source.

      “Cake,” she said blandly. “I smell like cake.”

       Chapter Three

      “That was real close,” Chelsea said in a small voice.

      “Real close,” Henry blubbered.

      “Just pay attention to the story,” Susan urged. “Then you won’t notice the thunder. Now where was I? Oh, yes, the Continental Congress appointed five men to write a letter to the King explaining why the colonies should not be taxed under the Parliamentary—”

      “Can you tell us about Eastman Bears again?” Chelsea asked.

      “Sorry, honey, it’s not…not a good idea,” Susan said, thinking of their father’s new restrictions on what they should read. “Besides, I told you the whole story.”

      “No, you didn’t,” Henry pointed out.

      “Bears,” Baby Edward begged. He didn’t like the blue book about the American Revolution. Not even the pictures of Benjamin Franklin, the Liberty Bell or the midnight ride of Paul Revere.

      The nightstand lamp flickered on and off. Susan glanced only briefly at the window, determined to not let the children see that she was worried. The wind was fast and furious—the massive Radcliffe oaks creaked and groaned as their branches were yanked back and forth. Hail and rain slapped against the windowpanes and the sky was a sickly yellow and black. No wonder they called this part of northern Illinois “Tornado Alley.”

      “I wish Daddy was home,” Henry said dismally.

      “Me, too,” said Chelsea.

      “Me, thweeeeh,” Baby Edward added.

       Clap!

      Chelsea and Henry leapt into Susan’s arms at the crack of blazing light and thunder. Susan hugged all three children and watched the lamp flutter and die, plunging the bedroom into darkness.

      The book on the American Revolution slid from her lap to the floor.

      “I want my daddy!” Chelsea cried in great, convulsive gulps. “I’m scared!”

      Baby Edward howled.

      “All right, all right,” Susan soothed. “Now let’s try to be a little braver.”

      “I can’t,” Chelsea exclaimed.

      “I can’t, either,” Henry said.

      Susan looked around the room, blinking to СКАЧАТЬ