After Hours

He didn’t know what impulse made him pick up the phone and dial Aunt Iris’s number.

The aging woman’s voice sounded weaker than it had the last time he’d talked to her—less than a week before. “How are you?” he asked, concern making his tone more brusque than usual.

Knowing him so well, his former foster mother wasn’t intimidated by that tone. “I’m doing just fine, dear. How are you?”“I’m okay.”

“You’re working too hard, you’re not eating right and you’re not getting enough rest,” she translated, a smile in her quavery voice.

His own smile was a tender one. “Something like that.”

“I got the check you sent me yesterday. You really must stop being so extravagant, Rhys. You know I have my social security. You work hard for your money. You should—”

“Spend it any way I dam—darned well please,” he amended quickly. “And it pleases me to send some of it to you. Tell Polly to get you those chocolates you like. And a pretty new bed jacket to wear for me when I visit you next month.”

“She’s already bought me the chocolates,” Aunt Iris admitted cheerfully. “I’ve been into them this morning. They’re better than ever.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying them. Polly’s taking good care of you, then?”

“Yes, she’s a lovely girl. And she should be taking good care of me with the generous salary you’re paying her. You’re too good to me, Rhys.”

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he replied gruffly. “I owe you a lot more than money. And, besides, I’ve got too much just for myself, any

way.”

“Then get yourself a family to spoil,” she returned instantly, the response a familiar one. Aunt Iris worried more than Graham about Rhys’s self-imposed isolation. It bothered Rhys that she worried about him. He didn’t want to be the cause of any distress for her.

Because he thought it would make her feel better—and maybe it had been the reason he’d called in the first place, if he was honest with himself—he said quietly, “I’ve—um—started seeing someone, Aunt Iris. You’d like her, I think.”

A new note of interest entered her voice. “Tell me about her.”

Rhys tried to put Angelique into words, describing her lovely appearance, her brisk competence at work, briefly touching on her unhappy recent past.

“She needs you,” Iris told him with satisfaction.

“She needs someone,” he corrected cautiously. “For now. That doesn’t mean she’ll be content to stay with me for long.”

“If she has any sense at all, she will. And from what you’ve told me, she’s a woman with a great deal of sense. I want to meet her.”

“Maybe I’ll bring her with me next month,” Rhys offered rashly. “If we’re still seeing each other then.”

“You will be. The young man I know so well won’t let the first woman he’s ever loved get away without a fight-Rhys was startled. “I didn’t say I was in love with her.”

“You didn’t have to,” she answered gently, amused. “It’s in your voice every time you say her name. Angelique. Such a beautiful name.”

“I don’t know much about this love thing, Aunt Iris. I haven’t had much experience with it,” Rhys confessed, finally verbalizing one of his concerns about his relationship with Angelique.

“Oh, my dear boy. You have more potential for loving than any man I’ve ever known. Look at the way you take such good care of me. I helped raise a lot of kids in my time as a foster mother, and though quite a few of them have stayed in touch over the years, you’re the only one who makes me feel as though I truly have a son of my own. You’ve got so much to offer a woman and some babies. So much love dammed up inside you, just waiting to be released. I love you, Rhys, and I want you to be happy.”

“I—uh—love you, too,” he muttered, hoping she could hear him. He hadn’t told her often enough over the years, but it was still so very hard for him to say. Was he in love with Angelique? And if so, would he ever be able to say those words to her?

“I know you do. I’m tired now, dear. It’s time for my nap.”

“All right. Take care of yourself. I’ll talk to you in a couple of days.”

“Don’t let her get away, Rhys.”

Murmuring something incoherent, Rhys gently disconnected the call. He wasn’t sure if his talk with Aunt Iris had made anything more clear to him or not. But it had felt awfully good to talk to her. If only it hadn’t left him with this nagging anxiety about her.

ANGIE HELD HER HEAD HIGH as she entered her office on Monday morning. It wasn’t easy. She had the most ridiculous urge to slink in and hope she wasn’t noticed.