—Excerpt from Finding Mr. Right-for-You by Dr. Kate

Kate searched for ways to stay occupied as she awaited Paul’s call. She filled the sink with soapy water and washed dishes. She wiped down the counters and table, praying all the while. When she was finished, she decided the linoleum needed a good scrubbing. Lucas worked on a design for an armoire while she cleaned.

Later, they had a quiet lunch of soup and sandwiches, then resumed working. The phone rang often, but the numbers were unfamiliar. She wished their number was unlisted. At least no one had shown up at the door today.

The storm raged on, rain tapping on the windows like a stranger with bad news. The sea oats bent in submission to the wind, and gulls floated high in the air, riding the gusts wherever it took them.

Lucas was stirring a pot of boiling pasta when the call came. Kate picked up.

“Kate,” Ronald said. “I just heard from Paul.”

“What did they decide?”

“They want you to avoid the press, kiddo. They’re afraid you’ll open yourself to all kinds of speculation. People will find out more than they already know, and from what they’ve heard, it’s not good.”

“They want me to do nothing?”

Lucas turned from the pot of spaghetti and studied her. As his eyebrows lifted, long lines formed across his forehead.

“Unfortunately, I agree, Kate. As much as I’d like to think this publicity will be advantageous, I think it’s going to cause damage. And the more details the media gets, the longer this is going to brew. The best we can hope is that it’ll blow over soon and be forgotten.” The thought of doing nothing was demoralizing. It wasn’t in Kate to sit back and let things happen. She was a planner, a doer. She wanted to work this out; she wanted to fix it. Of course, that was how she’d gotten into this mess to begin with.

“If you’re confronted by the press, Paul suggested you say, ‘No comment’ and keep moving. It would be prudent to tell your family and anyone who has details to avoid the press also.”

Thunder cracked in the distance, and the rain pummeled the roof over the kitchen. “Paul asked about Bryan. I didn’t see him quoted in any of the articles. They’re hoping that’s an indication he won’t submit to an interview. They want you to confirm that.”

“I’ll call him,” Kate said. Her voice sounded choked. The burden of her mistake weighted her. Her body felt heavy—too heavy for her trembling legs.

As she ended the phone call, her legs buckled, and she dropped on the wooden window ledge. “I have to call Bryan.” She wasn’t up for it, but that didn’t matter. She dialed his home phone. It rang four times before the voice mail kicked on.