Читать книгу Sunshine - Pat Warren, Pat Warren - Страница 8

EMPTY. She felt empty inside, lost and bewildered. And alone, despite all the people she’d left sleeping back at her house. The big, two-story house she and Kurt had lived in together for all but two years of their twenty-three-year marriage. The house that she would now occupy alone.

Janice Ingalls Eber gathered the collar of her winter coat closer about her throat and stared out at the icy center of Lake Waukoni. She’d awakened early and driven out here to one of the peaceful places she and Kurt had visited often. Only half an hour’s drive from Tyler, the small lake wasn’t nearly as popular as Wisconsin’s Lake Winnebago, which was one reason they’d liked coming here to fish, to picnic, to lie on the thick grass in the summertime.

In her mind’s eye, Janice could picture Kurt rowing away from shore, his strong, tan arms moving rhythmically, his dark eyes laughing at her because she’d insisted they wear life jackets. She’d always been the cautious, careful one, while Kurt had loved the excitement of challenges, physical and otherwise. As a young man, he’d raced cars, learned to fly single-engine planes and skied every chance he had. He’d had a restless energy that seemed to drive him to swim regularly, even late into the season, to jog daily and to compete fiercely in tennis matches with friends.

At forty-six, slim and wiry with not an ounce of spare flesh, Kurt Eber took care of himself and was the picture of health. Or so Janice had thought until five days ago when she’d received the call. Kurt had died of a massive coronary while playing handball.

The rising sun shimmered on the surface of the lake and would probably melt much of the accumulated snow on this unseasonably warm January day. The day she would be burying her husband. Despite the mild morning, Janice shivered and thrust her hands deep into her coat pockets.

Fragmented thoughts drifted through her dazed mind. The frantic phone call from Kurt’s office manager and handball opponent, Tom Sikes, urging her to rush to the hospital. Her best friend, Anna Kelsey, offering to drive, her solid presence keeping Janice from falling to pieces. Dr. George Phelps, an old friend and their family physician, holding her hands as he gravely told her that Kurt had been dead almost before he’d hit the floor. She should cling to that, George had said—that Kurt hadn’t suffered more than a moment’s swift pain.

Janice had wanted to lash out at him, to shriek a denial that surely he had to be wrong. Kurt couldn’t be gone so quickly, so unfairly. He wouldn’t leave her like that. He’d always been there for her. Always, since they’d met at the University of Wisconsin so long ago. Just after she’d finished her sophomore year, Kurt, newly graduated, had persuaded her to quit college and elope with him, to leave her father’s house and become his bride. Surely this had to be some cruel joke.

But it hadn’t been.

Hunching her slender shoulders against a sudden gust of wind that swirled powdery snow at her, Janice turned and walked slowly back to her station wagon. She’d best return, for her children would be wondering about her absence. She’d left a brief note on the kitchen counter explaining that she’d gone for a short drive, but they’d worry anyhow.

Kurt, Jr.—K.J. as he’d been affectionately labeled as a youngster—a junior at his father’s alma mater, undoubtedly would be pacing the kitchen and drinking black coffee as Kurt so often had. His sister, Stefanie, only two years older and believing herself to be much more mature, would be calmly making breakfast for everyone. In her disoriented state, Janice had insisted that her father as well as her sister and brother-in-law, Irene and Everett, stay at the house, and now she regretted the impulsive invitation. She dreaded being alone, yet she craved it, an odd dichotomy of emotions. Perhaps they would sense her mood and leave right after today’s funeral service.

Janice got behind the wheel and turned the key. After a few rumbles, the engine caught. She and Kurt had talked about going shopping next month for a new car for her. With a trembling sigh, she wondered if she would be able to make such a large purchase on her own. She’d never picked out furniture or anything major without him. Swallowing back a fresh rush of tears, Janice headed for home.

* * *

SHE WAS SHAKY, but holding up well, Anna Kelsey thought as she stood studying Janice Eber across the funeral bier. Her long auburn hair was coiled under a black felt hat and her wide gray eyes were hidden behind huge sunglasses. Anna’s heart went out to the slim, fragile woman who’d been her close friend for more than twenty years. It was difficult enough burying the very elderly; to bury a husband in the prime of life was a travesty, Anna believed.

Needing a moment’s reassurance, Anna slipped her hand into her husband’s, and felt his strong fingers tighten in response. The death of a friend was a stark reminder of everyone’s mortality, she thought. Of course, Johnny and Kurt had not really been friends, not the way she and Janice were.

With his thriving insurance business and his near-obsession with competitive sports, Kurt was quite different from Anna’s husband. Johnny was a foreman at Ingalls Farm and Machinery and preferred quieter activities such as fishing, camping and a game of touch football with their grown children and expanding family. With Anna’s help, Johnny also operated Kelsey Boardinghouse, while Kurt had owned a large Victorian-style home, driven a Mercedes and worn five-hundred-dollar suits. Quite a difference.

A chill wind blew across the snow-covered hillside cemetery where the large gathering of mourners stood by the grave. Anna had known the townspeople would come in droves, for Tyler was a friendly place to live, a supportive community. Though Janice Eber had never worked outside her home, through the years she’d volunteered at her kids’ school, the library and the hospital, and she was well liked.

She was a sweet woman, Anna thought, a good wife, caring mother and wonderful homemaker. Anna had never heard Janice raise her voice nor give a dissenting opinion. She simply didn’t like to make waves, which often annoyed Anna, who felt Janice ought to speak out more, be a little more assertive.

Anna watched the solemn-faced minister move to the head of the casket and begin reading the Twenty-third Psalm. Shifting her gaze, she felt Janice’s face turn even paler as her son gripped her hand on one side and her daughter gripped the other. Kurt had been from Boston, an only child whose parents had died some years back, so there were no Ebers to mourn his passing. But the Ingalls clan was well represented, flanking Janice on both sides under the dark green canopy.

The Ingalls family had been involved in the early settling of Tyler. Inventive and industrious, they were still the wealthiest folks in town. Janice’s father, Herbert, ran the company lab in Milwaukee and seemed friendly and down-to-earth to Anna. His wife had died years ago and Herbert had raised both Janice and Irene. No two people could be less alike than Janice and her sister, Anna thought as she watched Irene clutch her full-length mink coat more tightly around her ample bosom.

Then there was Janice’s uncle, Judson Ingalls, Tyler’s patriarchal figure at nearly eighty. Tall and dignified, he stood next to his widowed daughter, Alyssa Baron, and her three children. In truth, they were no longer children. The oldest, Dr. Jeffrey Baron, was thirty and already being mentioned as the next chief of staff at Tyler General Hospital.

Next was Amanda, a couple of years younger, sweet and unaffected and a practicing lawyer in Tyler. And the youngest, Liza, a fun-loving, spirited young woman, a decorator who’d recently married a somewhat reclusive fellow named Cliff Forrester. A striking family, attractive and intelligent and, with the possible exception of Liza, dignified in their bearing.

Had the Ingalls family, with their wealth and style, made Kurt into the man he’d become—a restless super-achiever and self-made businessman who’d never quite felt accepted despite his best efforts? Anna asked herself that question as she heard the minister winding down. Kurt had married Janice when she was very young, obviously wanted to exceed her family’s achievements, to make her proud of him. Anna wondered if Kurt ever knew that Janice would have loved him just as much if he’d been a used-car salesman.

Stepping back with Johnny, Anna stood among her own children, watching the many citizens of Tyler file past to say goodbye to Kurt and offer a word of comfort to Janice. She saw her two married daughters, Laura and Glenna, walk over with their husbands to talk with their cousins.

Looking up at her husband, Anna squeezed Johnny’s hand. “I think you should phone the office for an appointment,” she said quietly. “You haven’t had a checkup in a long time.” As Dr. Phelps’s receptionist, she knew the health history of nearly everyone in town, yet she had trouble persuading this stubborn man to take care of himself.

“I will,” Johnny answered in the vague way he had when he didn’t want to argue the point. Obviously he had no intention of complying. “Are you going to Janice’s when this is over?”

“Yes, of course. You remember last night, all that baking I did? I had Patrick run it over to Janice’s earlier.”

Johnny frowned. “What about the rest of the town? You have enough to do without—”

Anna stopped him, raising a hand to caress his cheek. “Lots of people are bringing food. It’s already done, so don’t fret. We wanted to do it this way. Alyssa dropped off several platters already and Marge Peterson sent two boxes of covered dishes from the diner. You should stop and have something to eat.”

“I can’t. We’ve got a lot of people out at the plant with this damn flu bug.” Johnny glanced up at the early-afternoon sun. “Freezing one day, then almost sixty the next. Half the town’s sick with it.”

“It’s still the middle of winter,” Anna commented as she frowned at her only son. “Patrick, why aren’t you wearing a topcoat?”

Patrick Kelsey smiled at his mother. “I’m married now, Mom,” he answered as he slipped his arm around his wife’s slim waist. “You can’t boss me around anymore.”

“As if I ever could,” Anna muttered. “Pam, you need to take a firmer hand with your husband.”

Pam Casals Kelsey looked up into her husband’s vivid blue eyes. “I try,” Pam answered. “I insisted Patrick bring his coat and he insisted we leave it in the car.”

“That’s because my son thinks he’s a macho man,” Anna responded with a smile. But then her gaze shifted back to Janice.

There was a weary slump to her friend’s shoulders and her hands fluttered nervously as she accepted the condolences of a well-dressed man Anna had never seen before. Obviously Janice was still struggling with the shock of Kurt’s sudden death. Maybe if they got her home now, she’d have time for a short rest before having to put up a brave front during the luncheon.

Quickly, Anna said goodbye to her own family and moved unobtrusively until she was next to Janice. Taking one of her cold hands, she smiled gently. “Why don’t we move along to the house now? You can talk with the rest of the people there.”

“Yes, yes, fine.” Janice sounded tired. Slowly she turned for a last look at the coffin that held her husband’s remains.

She hated to leave, yet she wasn’t certain how much longer her legs would hold her. She was so cold, cold clear through. Her feet, her hands... It should have rained today, Janice thought irrelevantly. You shouldn’t bury someone on a sunny, crisp day but rather on a gloomy, rain-filled one. Much more appropriate.

Her thoughts were rambling, disjointed and a little frightening. She needed to get out of here, to be home, to be safe and warm again. She would not cry here in this grim, desolate place. Moving woodenly, as if she were sleepwalking, Janice placed the rose she’d been holding on top of the casket, then closed her eyes a long moment, fighting the quick flash of pain. When she felt her son’s hand on her arm, she straightened and let herself be led to the waiting limousine.

* * *

SHE LOOKED TIRED, David Markus thought as he stood at the far end of the living room watching Janice and the seemingly endless stream of neighbors and friends who kept coming up to her. Women with reddish-brown hair usually looked good in black, but today, Janice’s pale skin was too stark a contrast. Yellow was her color, a preference he’d shared with her years ago.

Sipping his coffee, he studied her from his unobtrusive corner. The dress was somewhat shapeless and not terribly flattering to her willowy figure. She’d wound her thick hair into a haphazard upsweep that was nonetheless appealing. Her face was oval, with high cheekbones, a small nose and a generous mouth. By far her best features were her wide-set gray eyes. Without the sunglasses, they appeared huge and terribly vulnerable, fleetingly reflecting a myriad of emotions as they settled on first one person, then flitted to another. He doubted if she’d remember much of what was said today.

She’d changed, David decided as he settled himself on the arm of a nearby chair. But who hadn’t in the past twenty-plus years? Changed, and yet she was in many ways the same. A little hesitant, her voice still low and husky. He’d been enamored of that voice back when he and Kurt and Janice had all three been attending the University of Wisconsin at Madison.

David had just started his junior year when Janice had arrived as a bright-eyed yet shy freshman. In a bevy of sophisticates, she’d stood out as a guileless innocent. He’d gravitated to her and they’d started dating. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to have gone off the deep end over Janice, and he’d recognized that quickly. But he’d been nearly penniless then, financing his education with scholarships, and on what his mother managed to scrimp together. He’d had nothing to offer a girl from a moneyed background.

She’d come from a sheltered home and a watchful father. Finding herself suddenly on her own, she’d gradually moved out of her shell, and David knew she’d dated others besides him. After a while, he’d stopped asking her out, telling her he had too many obligations to allow much time for dating. She’d accepted his news calmly, though he’d thought she looked disappointed. Or had that been wishful thinking? The next thing he knew, she’d been all wrapped up in his roommate, Kurt Eber.

Kurt’s parents had died, leaving him with a decent nest egg that he hoped to parlay into even more money. The Ingalls family didn’t seem to intimidate Kurt, though he’d mentioned to David that they appeared to disapprove of his brash confidence. David had wondered if Janice would succumb to Kurt’s heated pursuit of her, and indeed, she’d been overwhelmed by his charm. Over her family’s objections, she’d run off and married him. David had chosen not to go along to stand up as Kurt’s best man.

So much water under the bridge since then. Finishing his coffee, David stood and set the cup aside as Herbert Ingalls walked over to him, squinting through his bifocals.

“I know you from somewhere, don’t I?” Herbert asked, extending his hand.

“Yes, sir,” David said, shaking hands. “We met some time ago. David Markus.”

“Ah, yes. You were involved in a government program that my lab was working on about five or six years ago.” Herbert ran long fingers through his unkempt white hair.

He was a big man, tall and thick through the chest, even though he had to be in his mid- to late-seventies. Compared to his well-groomed older brother, Judson Ingalls, Herbert in his baggy tweed suit looked a little like an unmade bed, David thought.

“You still with the Feds?” Herbert asked.

David shook his head. “Twenty years was long enough. I’ve got my own firm now. Financial adviser.”

“Out of Milwaukee?”

“No, sir. Chicago.” He nodded toward Janice. “I went to college with your daughter. And Kurt, of course.” Janice had taken him to her family home once, but David was certain her father didn’t remember meeting him then.

“Football, right? You played college ball. Pretty good, as I recall.”

So he did remember. A sharp old man. “That was a long time ago.”

Herbert wrinkled his brow as he glanced over at his daughter. “Damn shame about Kurt. A quick heart attack like that—easy on the victim, hell of a thing for the family to handle.”

“Janice looks pretty shaken up.”

“She is, for now,” Herbert went on. “She’s stronger than she looks, though. I’ve been telling her for years to get out of that man’s shadow. Not healthy. Janice has this stubborn streak. But now she’s got no choice.”

David’s gaze took in the crowds of people filling the downstairs. “It looks as if she’s got a lot of supportive friends and relatives.”

Herbert’s shrewd eyes moved to study David. “Always room for one more, son.” He clapped David on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You, too, Mr. Ingalls.” David watched Janice’s father wander over to a small cluster of people by the door. Was he reading too much into their brief conversation or did Herbert seem less than grief-stricken over his son-in-law’s death? Perhaps the family’s early disapproval of Kurt had lingered through the years. How, he wondered, had Janice coped with all that?

Reaching for his cup, David strolled to the dining room for more coffee. As he poured, someone spoke from behind him.

“Excuse me, sir. Are you David Markus?”

David turned and looked into the dark brown eyes of the young man he recognized as Kurt’s son. He was taller than Kurt had been, his shoulders broad in a dark sport jacket. “Yes, I am. You’re K.J., right? Your father mentioned you to me often. He was very proud of your excellent grades.”

The young man flushed with pride. “Thank you. I’ve wanted to meet you. You’re kind of a legend around school. They’ve never had a running back as big or as fast as you.”

It had been the only sport, the only diversion from work and his studies, that he’d allowed himself. The young man before him seemed as intense as he’d been in those days. “I used to love the game.”

K.J. jammed his hands into his pants pockets. “I sure wish I could have made the team. Dad wanted me to in the worst way. I’m big enough, but I don’t have the feel for it, I guess.”

“Not every guy’s meant to play football.” David sipped his coffee. “What do you like to do?”

His expression became animated. “I’m interested in art. I like to draw. Cartoons, mostly. Political satire, that sort of thing. I’ve had a couple published in the university press. Dad said drawing was okay as a hobby, but that I’d never make a lot of money at it.”

David leaned back against the buffet. “Is that what you want to do—make a lot of money?”

“Well, yeah, that’s important, isn’t it? But I just wish I could make a good living doing what I like to do best.”

“Maybe you can. Are you majoring in art now?”

“No, business administration. Dad thought that would be best. But I take as many extra art courses as I can squeeze in.”

“Well, K.J., I’m not sure I’m the right one to advise you, but it’s been my experience that the most successful men are those who work at doing what they like best. Your dad was a success because he honestly loved business—making deals, beating the competition. However, that may not be for you.”

“I think he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. You know, take over when he was ready to retire and all that.”

David nodded. “My dad owned a butcher shop and loved what he did, cutting the meat, joking with customers. I worked there after school for a lot of years and hated every minute. We’re all different. Maybe you should talk this over with your mother. She might be in favor of a change.”

K.J. cast a hesitant glance through the archway at his mother. “I don’t know. She always went along with my dad.”

David laid a hand on the boy’s arm. “She’s going to have to make several important decisions without him from now on.”

Swallowing, K.J. nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Anyhow, it was good meeting you finally. Dad talked about you a lot, told me he saw you often in Chicago on his business trips. How come you never came to Tyler before?”

David shrugged. “I have a client in Whitewater, and whenever I’m in this vicinity, I usually end up there rather than Tyler.”

“You know my mom, too, don’t you?”

“I did, years ago.” David hoped he didn’t sound as nostalgic as he suddenly felt. Gazing into the eyes of Kurt’s son, he also felt a pang of regret for opportunities lost and things that could never be. “Good luck, whatever you choose to do.”

K.J. smiled at him. “Thanks.”

As the boy walked away, David searched the room, his eyes drawn to Janice, deep in conversation with the buxom woman who’d been introduced as her sister. He vaguely remembered Irene from their college days, though her hair color was different now and she was carrying an extra thirty pounds. Wishing he could take Janice aside for a talk, even a short talk, he carried his coffee over to the window seat and sat down.

* * *

TRAILING A CLOUD of expensive perfume, Irene Ingalls Bryant came up to Janice and hugged her. “I really hate to leave you, but it’s a long drive home and Everett has to stop in at his office.”

Stepping back to rub at a spot above her left eye, Janice nodded. “I understand.”

Not satisfied with the natural reddish highlights in her hair, Irene had gone on to cosmetically enhance them, winding up with a brassy look. She patted the lacquered curls and frowned. “You really should get some rest. You’ve had a terrible shock.”

Janice wanted everyone to leave, everyone. But that would be rude of her and ungrateful. She put on a small smile. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for coming.”

“What is family for?” Irene asked rhetorically. “Hayley wanted to make the trip with us, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Her baby’s due any day. She sends her best.” Irene and Everett’s only daughter was expecting her first child.

Janice nodded again. She’d been nodding all day, it seemed.

“Maybe, after you rest awhile, you should come to Milwaukee for a nice long visit. We can catch up.”

It occurred to Janice that people said a whole lot of things at awkward times like this. She and Irene had never been close and had rarely exchanged long visits, but she supposed her sister’s invitation was heartfelt. Fortunately, she was saved from answering as Everett joined them, already wearing his topcoat and carrying Irene’s mink. Everett was a successful stockbroker in Milwaukee, a big man who liked sailboats, silk ties and smelly cigars.

“You ready to go, Mama?” he asked in the clipped tones of a man with a cigar clamped between his teeth.

Janice could recall few instances when she’d seen Everett without one of his imported cigars. She’d once remarked to Kurt that she wondered if Everett showered with his cigar, slept with it, made love with it in his mouth. They’d laughed over the foolish thought. She swallowed past a lump.

“You’re looking pale, Lady Janice,” Everett went on as he helped his wife into her coat. “Got to take care of yourself better. Those two fine kids, they need you now more than ever.”

Janice ground her teeth and hoped he wouldn’t notice. Everett’s habit of giving everyone a pet name annoyed her suddenly. Had she lost her sense of humor and her level of tolerance, as well as her life partner? Everett was nice enough and she was being unfair. With his florid face and his excess fifty pounds, he seemed a more likely candidate for a heart attack than Kurt. Was she reacting so badly because Kurt was gone and Everett was very much alive?

In a rush of remorse for her thoughts, she placed an apologetic hand on Everett’s arm. “I’m sorry we didn’t have more time to talk today.” Her glance took in Irene. “Perhaps I will drive to Milwaukee soon.”

Irene gave her a smile and another hug. “Take care of yourself and call me if you need anything. Anything.”

“I will.” Janice watched them leave, then paused a moment to catch her breath. The crowd was thinning out at long last. Her father had left some time ago, walking out with his brother, Judson, the two of them deep in conversation. Now if only the others would leave.

She turned to find her cousin Alyssa’s concerned eyes studying her.

“How are you holding up?” Alyssa asked softly, slipping her arm around Janice’s waist.

“All right.” Janice drew in a deep, steadying breath. “It’s odd but I never once pictured this scenario.” Alyssa’s husband had died about ten years ago, and though she’d not given it much thought before, Janice now found herself wondering about many things. “How on earth did you cope after Ronald’s death?”

Alyssa shrugged her slim shoulders, her expression unchanged, though there was a hint of sadness in her blue eyes. “You just do, somehow. One day at a time. You have your private moments, and the nights are very long, very lonely at first. It helps to stay busy.” She smiled then, trying for a lighter note. “I have loads of committees I can use your help on. In time, my dear.”

Charity work and volunteering. She’d done her fair share of all that, Janice thought. More of the same held little appeal. Yet what would she do when there was no one to cook a special meal for, or redecorate a room for, or plan an outing around? She would find something, but this wasn’t the day for decision making.

Janice indicated the dining room table, still laden with food. “The luncheon was lovely. You and Anna did a wonderful job.”

Alyssa shook her head. “You didn’t eat a thing, did you?”

“I’m not hungry, truly.” She squeezed Alyssa’s hand. “I need to say a word to Tom Sikes. Excuse me a moment, please.”

She found him in the dining room at the dessert bar. She’d known Tom, Kurt’s office manager, for years and found him to be earnest and honest, if a shade pedantic. He also seemed to feel a measure of guilt, since he’d invited Kurt to play handball with him at his apartment complex on the outskirts of Tyler on that fateful day, though she’d tried to reassure him that Kurt’s heart attack had been no one’s fault.

Janice touched his arm. “Tom, I’m sorry we haven’t had more time to talk.”

From behind thick, horn-rimmed glasses, he blinked at her. “I want to say again, Janice, how very sorry I am. I’ll really miss Kurt.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“And I want you to know that I’ll be at the office every day, at your disposal, when you’re ready. I know this isn’t the time or place, but...”

Janice frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean. At my disposal for what?”

Tom stroked his thinning blond hair. “To go over the books. Some decisions will need to be made about the business, about who will run things. What about the satellite office Kurt had set up in Chicago, the plans he had for expansion? We have several large policies coming up for renewal soon. We need to work up bids since...well, since Kurt’s gone, some of our clients may not automatically renew with us as they have in the past.”

Rubbing her forehead, Janice felt light-headed. She hadn’t given a thought the past few days to Kurt’s work. “I...we didn’t discuss the business much, Tom. I know very little about how the agency operates.”

Tom nodded understandingly. “It’s all right. I can update you when you’re ready. In the meantime, I hope you’ll trust me to keep things running smoothly.”

Tom had been with the firm almost from the day Kurt had opened Eber Insurance Agency. He and Kurt had also become jogging buddies and had gone skiing together often since Tom’s divorce. Looking at him now, Janice realized she hardly knew the man. But Kurt had trusted him and that was good enough for Janice. “Yes, I do trust you. And I’ll be in as soon as I...well, soon.”

“No hurry. Take your time.”

She watched Tom walk away and turned to get herself a cup of coffee. But when she picked up the cup, her hands were shaking so hard that the cup rattled in its saucer.

“Here, let me help you with that.” David Markus poured coffee for her, then led her to the window seat where he’d been sitting watching her.

Gratefully, Janice took a bracing sip, closing her eyes briefly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Up close, he saw a light sprinkling of freckles on her nose that he remembered from an earlier time. They gave her a youthful look that touched him. “Rough day. I know you’ll be glad when we all leave.”

She opened her eyes to look into his steady blue gaze. She saw empathy and concern and something else she couldn’t identify. Having David Markus appear at the cemetery after so many years had surprised and unnerved her. He was so big, his shoulders in his pin-striped dark suit so broad, his hand as he took it from her elbow large and tan.

He’d changed from boyishly handsome in his college football days to a deeper, more mature attractiveness. She’d dated David as a freshman, but she’d quickly learned that he had goals, commitments and obligations, and he wasn’t about to let a woman sidetrack him. Yet he was looking at her now with a warmth that she couldn’t help responding to.

“It’s been a very long time, David,” she said.

“Yes, it has.” He indicated the house, the people. “Good years for you, I see.”

“They have been, until now.”

“Your daughter is lovely. She reminds me a great deal of you when we were in college.”

“Oh, she’s far prettier. Stefanie lives in Boston now and just became engaged to a Harvard law graduate. I still miss having her around.”

“I can imagine. I had a talk earlier with your son. Nice young man.”

“I think so.” She paused, trying to remember. “Your wife died some time ago, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, twelve years ago.”

Janice’s expressive eyes reflected sympathy. “An accident, I believe Kurt said.”

David nodded, angling his body on the window seat so he could look at her better. “She lost control of the car on an icy road.” He decided to change the subject, to probe a little, hoping he wasn’t getting too personal. “Will you be all right?” A man who spent his life in the insurance business probably had good coverage on himself. But as a financial adviser, David was well aware that many men had all the trappings of wealth, yet were mortgaged to the hilt. And, although Janice’s family had money, he didn’t know if she had an interest in their holdings.

Janice finished her coffee and set it aside, deciding that his politely worded inquiry was about her financial situation. “I’m embarrassed to tell you that I haven’t any idea. Since you were his friend, you’re probably aware that Kurt was the kind of man who liked to run the show, to take care of everything. And I let him.” She glanced over at Tom Sikes with a worried expression. “Now, I wish I’d at least asked more questions about the business. But I never dreamed...I mean, he was only forty-six.” Her voice ended on a ragged note.

David took her hand, threading his large fingers through her slim ones. “Life takes some funny turns, doesn’t it, Sunshine?”

For the first time in days, she felt a smile tug at her lips. Sunshine. She remembered going on a hayride with David back when she was a starry-eyed freshman thrilled to be asked out by a football hero. They’d all been singing, and one old song, “You Are My Sunshine,” had been given a particularly rousing rendition. After that, David had often called her Sunshine.

“That sure takes me back,” she told him.

“You remember then?”

“Of course. We had some good times together.”

“That we did.”

He was so solid, Janice thought, his presence so calming. For a fleeting moment, she wished she could lay her head on David’s broad chest, to let him comfort her and ease her fears.

Instead, Janice shifted her gaze out the window. The wind had picked up in late afternoon and the sky was gray, the clouds heavy with snow. She felt a chill skitter down her spine, reminding her of the reason they were all gathered together today. “It’s so very hard to accept that he’ll never come home again.” She spoke softly, almost to herself. “Kurt traveled a great deal, but I was seldom lonely because I knew he was coming back. Being alone and knowing there’ll be no one returning ever again is very different.”

David had lived alone most of his adult life, yet there were times he felt the same. “Fortunately, you have your children, family, friends.”

Yes, there were people, plenty of people. But would they be enough? Surprised to find her hand still in his, Janice pulled her fingers free and stood, suddenly uneasy. “I have to talk with a couple of others. David, it’s good seeing you again.”

He did something then that he’d been wanting to do since he’d stood watching her at the cemetery. Rising, he placed a hand at her back and drew her close to his body for the space of a long heartbeat, then pressed his lips to her forehead, finding it cool to the touch.

Her hands rose to his chest in surprise, then lingered a moment. She inhaled the clean scent of soap and smoke mingled with the outdoor smell of a wintry day, a decidedly male combination. Stepping back, she realized she was trembling.

David took a card from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “If you ever want to discuss a business matter, or if you just need to talk, my office and home numbers are on here. Call me.”

Janice nodded. “Thank you.”

Brushing a strand of hair back from her forehead, she watched him make his way to the door and find his overcoat. In moments, he was strolling down the snowy sidewalk toward a long, gray Lincoln.

David Markus had been widowed for years and seemed to be coping fine. She would, too, Janice thought as she slipped the card into the pocket of her black dress. Somehow.

With a weary sigh, she turned back to mingle with her remaining guests, wondering if this very long day would ever end.