She hadn’t thought so.
IT MUST HAVE BEEN the wine.
There was no other explanation for the fact that she was sitting out by her pool with Kirk Chandler later that night. They’d had dinner—her treat, although she’d had to excuse herself, find their waiter and pay the check before Kirk figured out what she was doing. She’d thanked him for the miracle of Brian’s doctor’s appointment that week. Her son had gained ten pounds. And she’d admitted that his way of handling Brian’s problem had worked.
Then, somehow, they’d ended up with a bottle of wine and two glasses, relaxing on the upholstered lounge chairs on her landscaped patio.
“Did you ask the doctor about Blake’s stomachaches?” Kirk asked after they’d been sitting there, quietly enjoying the night, for several minutes.
She nodded, smiled again. It had really been a good week. “He said to give him a daily laxative for the next week or two. Who’d have thought the solution would be so simple?”
“Has it helped?”
God, it felt great to be here with him, sharing concern for her kids. “It’s too soon to tell.”
Christmas carols played softly in the background, piped outside through the sound system Thomas had had installed when they’d built the house.
“I can’t believe there are only two mo
re days of school before Christmas break,” Valerie said, thinking of all the shopping she had left to do. She still wrapped and hid Santa gifts for her sons, although she suspected the tradition was really more for her. Thomas had disillusioned the boys about Santa when they were seven. He hadn’t been willing to expend the effort to keep up the pretense.
At least she’d already sent off all the packages to her various family members.
“Did the boys tell you they’re supposed to drop off their clean uniforms at the gym tomorrow?” They’d lost the last game before the finals the previous afternoon.
“Yeah. They’re all ready to go.”
She sipped her wine, astonished by how different life could feel in such a short period of time. A week ago she hadn’t been sure how she was going to hang on. Tonight she thought she could take on the world. And win.
“Who did your fountain?” Kirk asked, gesturing to the rock waterfall and flowers by one end of the pool area.
“My husband.”
“Talented man.”
He’d had a lot of talents. Just not a lot of values. Something she hadn’t known until it was too late.
The antithesis of Kirk Chandler. She’d never met a man with his priorities so completely focused on the things that mattered in life.
Leaning her head against the cushion, she let the wine, the unusual freedom, take her away.
“So why aren’t you doing more with your talents?” she wondered aloud, finding herself in a state of drifting relaxation…and giving in to it.
One part of her recognized that if it hadn’t been for that state, she would never have asked the question.
“Which talents might those be?” Kirk’s voice sounded just as relaxed.
“Whichever ones allow you to afford a mint-condition 1965 Corvette.” Her boys had told her the year. And many more things about the car that she couldn’t remember.
“That would be merely the gift of receiving,” he said lazily. “The car belonged to my father.”
“How long have you been driving it?”
“Seventeen years.”
“And you’re what, thirty-five or six?”
“Thirty-four.” He glanced over at her. “How about you?”