Brain Child Page 0,5
Marsh better than she did herself. “Mustn’t let Doctor start feeling too important, must we?” she asked as she started toward her husband’s office.
He was at his desk, and when he glanced up, Ellen thought she saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes, but if it was there, he quickly banished it.
“Hi! What drags you down here? I thought you’d be up at the new place driving everyone crazy and spending the last of our money.” Though he was smiling broadly, Ellen felt the sting of criticism, then told herself she was imagining it.
“I’m meeting Cynthia Evans,” she replied, and immediately regretted her words. To Marsh, Cynthia and Bill Evans represented all the changes that had taken place in La Paloma. Of the fortunes that were being made, Bill’s was one of the largest. “Don’t worry,” she added. “I’m not buying, just looking.” She offered Marsh a kiss, and when it was not returned, went to perch uneasily on the sofa that sat against one wall. “Although we are going to have to do something about the tile in the patio,” she added. “Most of it’s broken, and it’s impossible to match what isn’t.”
Marsh shook his head. “Later,” he pronounced. “We agreed that for now, we’d only do what we have to to make the place livable.”
“I know,” Ellen sighed. “But every time Cynthia tells me what she’s doing with the hacienda, I get absolutely green with envy.”
Marsh set his pen down on the desk and faced her. “Then maybe you should have married a programming genius, not a country doctor,” he suggested in a tone Ellen couldn’t read.
While she tried to decide how to respond, her eyes surveyed the office. Despite Marsh’s objections, she’d insisted on decorating it with rosewood furniture. “This isn’t exactly what I’d call shabby,” she finally ventured, and was relieved to see Marsh’s smile return.
“No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “And even I have to admit that I kind of like it, even though I flinch every time I think of what it cost. Anyway, is that why you came down here? Just to terrify me with the idea of your shopping with Cynthia Evans?”
Ellen shook her head and tried to match his bantering tone. “Worse. I didn’t even come down to see you. I came down to pick up the corsage for Alex.” Marsh looked blank. “The prom,” she reminded him. “Our son? Sixteen years old? Junior prom? Remember?”
Marsh groaned. “I’m sorry. It’s just that there’s so damned much to keep track of around here.”
“Marsh,” Ellen began, “I just wish … Oh, never mind.”
“You wish I’d spend less time here and more at home,” Marsh finished. “I will,” he added. “Anyway, I’ll try.”
Their eyes met, and the office seemed suddenly to fill with the words that both of them had spoken so often they knew them by heart. The argument was old, and there was, both of them knew, no resolution for it. Besides, Marsh wasn’t that different from most of the husbands and fathers of La Paloma. They all worked too many hours a day, and all of them were more interested in their careers than in their families.
“I know you’ll try,” she said. Then she went on, her voice rueful in spite of her intentions. “And I know you’ll fail, and I keep telling myself that it doesn’t really matter and that everything will be all right.” Once again Ellen regretted her words, but this time, instead of looking irritated, Marsh got up and came to her, pulling her to her feet.
“It will be all right,” he told her. “We’re just caught up in a life we never expected, with more money than we ever thought we’d have, and more demands on my time than we ever planned for. But we love each other, and whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.” He kissed her. “Okay?”
Ellen nodded, as relief flowed through her. Over the last years, and particularly the last months, there had been so few moments like this, when she knew that she and Marsh did, despite the problems, still belong together. She returned his kiss, then drew away, smiling. “And now I’m going to get Alex his flowers.”
Marsh’s expression, soft a moment before, hardened slightly. “Alex can’t get them himself?”
“Times have changed,” Ellen replied, ignoring the look on her husband’s face and trying to keep her voice light. “And I don’t have time to listen to you recite the litany of the good old days. Let’s face it—when you were Alex’s