Rebecca Winters: Another Man's Wife

“I’ll do it,” she offered as they hurried through the house to the stairs. Since her arrival, one of her self-appointed jobs besides chief cook on the days Julie went to work was to do the wash and fold clothes. She knew exactly where to find everything the boys would want.

It didn’t take long for the three of them to get ready.

When Laurel walked through the back door to the garage with Julie, Brent was putting their skis on the rack. He glanced up, then whistled.

“Hey, people are going to be jealous when they see me with two beautiful raven-haired women.”

Laurel burst into laughter. “Thanks for making this ten-ton-Tessie feel so good. I was just telling your wife how terrific she looks in the red sweater you bought her for Christmas.”

“I appreciate it,” Julie said, “but my husband’s right. In that black sweater coat, you look wonderful.”

“Thanks, Julie.”

Laurel was still smiling as he packed their overnight bags and snow gear in the trunk. Soon he’d reversed the car out of the garage and they were off.

Laurel hadn’t left the house all day. It felt liberating—exciting—to be going on a brief vacation. She was looking forward to the drive and to seeing the boys. At eight and ten years of age, they were still delightful. Laurel adored her nephews.

Two hours later, she had to ask Brent to pull in to the nearest gas station at Copper Mountain. “Sorry, guys. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to make a rest room stop, but I’m afraid we do.”

“No problem.”

After a few minutes, they were on the road again. Within another half hour they’d reached the Rustler Lodge in Breckenridge. Brent drove up to the waiting area in front of the entrance, then turned to his wife.

“Tell you what. I’ll grab a couple of bags and take Laurel inside so she can stretch. Then I’ll come back and we’ll find the boys over at the lift. We’ve timed this just right. It ought to be closing in about ten minutes.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Let’s go register.” Brent got out of the car and collected some of the luggage, then walked her into the lodge.

Before long, one of the people at the desk had checked them in. Brent handed Laurel a key card and kept the other for himself. They strolled down the hall to the elevator.

They had to hurry to reach the next one going up; there was just enough room for the two of them to slip inside before the door closed. At the dinner hour, it was filled with people wearing everything from ski outfits to formal evening dress.

“It’s all settled, Brent. The kids will sleep with me tonight. The girl in reception said there was a sofa with a hide-a-bed in my room.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Brent sounded so thrilled at the thought of being alone with his wife, she couldn’t wait to tell her sister.

“How can you even ask me that?” She kissed his chin rather than his cheek because it was as far as she could reach with her baby protruding. He gave her an affectionate hug before the door opened to the third floor.

“This is where we get off. After you.”

DURING THE SHORT RIDE to the third floor, Nate’s eyes had been drawn to the chin-length, wavy black hair on the woman dressed in the black sweater. She was standing at the front of the crowded elevator.

He had to cock his head to the side, the better to examine its glistening quality brought out by the ceiling light. In Europe he’d only seen hair with that high a gloss on a few Italian and Spanish women.

When she turned to kiss her companion, Nate caught sight of her attractive profile, the contrast of sooty black lashes against ivory skin. In that moment he had the strongest impression he’d seen her before.

As the man put his arm around her and ushered her into the hall, Nate saw that she was pregnant. Then she was gone.

The elevator continued on to the dining room atop the Rustler Lodge. The door opened and everyone exited. Everyone except Nate…

He was supposed to be joining the private wedding party of twenty for dinner. A live band was playing, and all the elements were in place to make it a festive occasion.

After driving the newlyweds from the little white chapel a few streets over, he’d parked the car while Rick accompanied their father and the second Mrs. Hawkins into the lodge.

Though he and his brother had tried their hardest to be accepting of their father’s marriage, they were simply going through the motions.

But for the moment all thoughts of the day’s events left his mind because he suddenly remembered where he’d seen that lovely face before.

Though he’d only met Spade’s wife once, back when she was at Nellis years ago, a man didn’t forget a beautiful woman like that.

Her hair had been long then. With her pictures plastered on the wall of their barracks—along with other family photos—every guy in their first squadron was envious of Spade’s luck. Only two of the fourteen were married at the time.

Nate closed his eyes.

Spade…the hotshot of the group who’d been noticed by the brass right away and was transferred too soon to suit Nate. Spade…whose career had escalated too fast, who’d died in the prime of life…

The expectant mother in the elevator couldn’t possibly have been his widow. When he’d crashed and died six months ago, Nate knew his friend’s only regret was that he and his wife had never been able to have children.

The news of his death didn’t reach Nate until after he’d flown back to Edwards Air Force base following his mother’s funeral. By then it had been too late to attend the services for him in Philadelphia.

Nate had tried to reach his wife by phone, but a family member explained that she wasn’t up to talking yet. Nate understood; she would have been inconsolable. There was no greater guy than Spade.

Needing to communicate that sentiment to her, Nate had expressed his feelings in a letter, which he mailed to her family’s address.

As for anything else, all he’d been able to do was send money to Duce, another buddy, who’d arranged for flowers on behalf of all the guys in their old squadron.

A month later, Nate received a printed thank-you card. At the bottom was a handwritten postscript telling him she would always cherish his tribute to her husband.

Seeing the woman in the elevator who bore such an uncanny resemblance to her reminded Nate that he still had unfinished business. Tomorrow he’d phone Spade’s widow in Philadelphia and see how she was doing.

He imagined she was still going through hell. Theirs had been a love affair that had begun in high school and would have lasted a lifetime. Spade had been crazy about her.

After graduating from the Air Force Academy, pilots earned the right to have their names and call signs painted on their first F-l6s. Their group gave Spade a hard time with his. 016 Laurel, my first and only love.

“Excuse me.”

Nate had been so preoccupied with his memories, he didn’t realize the elevator had descended to the foyer once more, and he was blocking the exit.

“Sorry,” he murmured and stepped out into the hall to make room. But when he would have moved back inside, something stopped him.

As long as he was on the ground floor, it wouldn’t hurt to go over to the front desk and make a simple inquiry.

The pert redhead in reception flashed him a warm smile. “What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to ring Mrs. Scott Pierce on the house phone, but I don’t know her extension.”

“Pierce?” She scanned the screen of her computer. “No.”

She checked it several different ways. “Sorry. There’s no one registered under that name. Is there anything else I can do?”