While Cal was playing golf in Texas, Jane took long walks up the mountain and daydreamed about the future. She considered places they might live and ways she could rearrange her schedule so she could occasionally go on road trips with him. On Sunday afternoon she pulled the ugly rose metallic wallpaper from the walls of the breakfast nook and made a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup.
When she awakened on Monday morning to the sound of the shower, she realized Cal had returned some time after she’d fallen asleep last night and was disappointed that he hadn’t slipped into bed with her. In the past few weeks she’d gotten into the habit of keeping him company while he shaved, but the bathroom door remained firmly shut, and it wasn’t until she made her way to the kitchen for breakfast that she finally met up with him.
“Welcome home.” She spoke softly and waited for that moment he would take her in his arms. Instead, he muttered something unintelligible.
“How was your golf game?” she asked.
“Crap.”
That explained his bad mood.
He carried his cereal bowl over to the sink and splashed it full of water. As he turned, he stabbed one finger toward the bare walls of the breakfast nook where she’d stripped off the wallpaper. “I don’t like coming home and finding my house torn apart.”
“You can’t have liked those awful roses.”
“It doesn’t matter whether I liked them or not. You should have talked to me before you took it on yourself to start redecorating my house.”
The tender lover she’d spent the weekend daydreaming about had disappeared, and uneasiness crept through her. She’d begun to think of this awful place as her house, too, but obviously he didn’t regard it the same way. She drew a deep breath and repressed her hurt as she struggled to speak reasonably. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Well, I do.”
“All right. We can pick out some new paper. I’ll be happy to put it up for you.”
A look of abject horror crossed his face. “I don’t pick out wallpaper, Professor! Not ever! And neither do you, so just leave it alone.” He snatched up his car keys from the counter.
“You want to leave the wall like that?”
“You bet I do.”
She debated whether she was going to tell him to go to hell or cut him some slack. Despite her hurt, she decided on the later. She could always tell him to go to hell later. “I made some homemade chicken noodle soup. Will you be back in time for dinner?”
“I don’t know. You’ll see me when you see me. Don’t try to tie me down, Professor. I won’t have it.” With that, he disappeared into the garage.
She sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and told herself not to overdramatize what had just happened. He was jet-lagged, upset about performing badly in the golf tournament in front of his friends, and that had made him surly. There was no reason to believe his withdrawal had anything to do with what had happened between them the day he’d left. Despite this morning’s churlish display, Cal was a decent man. He wasn’t going to turn against her just because she’d taken off her clothes in broad daylight and told him she loved him.
She made herself eat half a piece of toast while memories of all the reasons she’d been reluctant to let him see her naked came back to her. What if her fears had proved correct? What if she’d stopped being a challenge to him, and he was no longer interested in having her in his life? Two days ago, she’d been so certain he loved her, but now she wasn’t sure. About anything.
She realized she was brooding and got up, but instead of going to work, she found herself wandering through the house. The telephone rang, two quick tones that indicated a call was coming in on Cal’s business line, which she never answered.
As she passed the door of his study, the machine clicked on, and she heard a voice she remembered all too well. “Cal, it’s Brian. Look, I have to talk to you right away. While I was on vacation, I figured out how we can do this. Nothing like a white sand beach to unlock the brain cells; I’m just sorry it took so long. Anyway, I met with someone over the weekend to make sure it was possible, and it looks like we have a winner. But if we’re going to act on it, we should do it now.” He paused and his voice dropped. “I didn’t want to use your fax for obvious reasons, so I sent a report to you express mail on Saturday that explains everything. You should get it this morning. Call me as soon as you read it.” He chuckled. “Happy anniversary.”
She remembered Cal’s attorney, Brian Delgado, all too well: greedy eyes, arrogant carriage, disdainful manner. Something about the call disturbed her, probably that gloating note she’d heard in his voice. What an unpleasant man.