She didn’t know what to say, just as she was often overwhelmed after making love. It was the same feeling of being complete. Ultimate satisfaction. Gentle euphoria. He loved her. It was in his voice, in his eyes, in the way he touched her, in the way he teased her. No man had ever loved her like this, and she felt as if her whole body were smiling. “Thank you.” It sounded dopey, so she blushed.

He wanted to grab her and hug her and never let her go, but he took a deep breath instead. “You’re welcome. And you’re right. I have a cake to bake.”

Chapter 8

Kate’s parents arrived very promptly at four o’clock. Her mother was slim, dressed in an elegant navy suit with a pink silk shirt. Her brown hair was cut short, showing off chunky gold earrings and a face that was pretty despite her look of apprehension. Kate’s father was a brick of a man: sturdy Irish stock. He was square-faced with tightly curled red hair and Kate’s green eyes, although they’d faded somewhat with age. He was medium height and heavy-boned. And he shook Dave’s hand as if he were weighing a melon that was several ounces short of expectation.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Dave said.

“I understand my daughter’s living with you.”

Dave gauged the arm span on Michael Finn and took a precautionary step backward. “She broke her leg, and it was easier to care for her in my house.”

Kate swung in on her crutches. “You aren’t going to grill Dave, are you?”

Michael Finn smiled at his daughter. “Of course I’m going to grill Dave. Fathers are supposed to do things like that. Isn’t that why we were invited to dinner?”

Grace Finn walked into the living room. “Look, dear, Dave has furniture. And it’s nice. It’s not all black leather and chrome.” She bent to admire an earthenware jug of fresh-cut flowers. “These are lovely.”

There was another knock at the door, and Dave let Elsie in.

“Man,” Elsie said, “it’s gonna snow. It’s cold-er’n a witch’s… um, nose out there.”

Dave took Elsie’s coat, but she insisted on keeping her big black patent leather purse. “Never like to be too far from my purse,” she explained to Kate’s mother. “Never know when you’re gonna need a hanky.”

Kate looked at Dave. They both knew what was in the purse.

“Elsie,” Dave said, “I thought we’d agreed that you should leave your hanky at home today.”

She took a seat in the wing chair with her purse on her lap. “I thought about it, but when I picked up my pocketbook and slung it over my arm, it just didn’t feel right. Never know when you might need a hanky.”