GINA WILKINS - Husband for a Weekend

He winked at her, pleased that he’d been able to boost her bruised confidence. “Anytime.”

Kim had just tucked Daryn into her travel crib upstairs when everyone was called to dinner. Betsy sat at one end of the dining room table, with Bob at the other end, Julian and Stuart on one side and Kim and Tate on the other. A portable baby monitor sat beside Kim’s plate, though not a peep had issued from it.

Betsy served a simple fare of steaks, grilled corn on the cob, baked potatoes and a side salad. Bob had grilled the meat and corn, though Betsy hinted that she was exhausted from baking potatoes and making the salads and a cake for dessert. Tate made a few more silent observations about Kim’s background as everyone filled their plates.

His own family was by no means perfect. He and his sister did their share of squabbling, though they’d grown closer since moving out on their own. His dad was a workaholic whose time had been stretched thin, but he loved his wife and kids and they’d known he would always be there if they needed him. His mother was a bit of a hypochondriac who tended to fret about her children’s well-being, but she’d relaxed a little during the past few years, finally accepting—for the most part—that they were old enough to take care of themselves.

An average family, with average strengths and weaknesses. He loved them, drew strength from them. Knew they loved him, too.

Before dinner was half finished that evening, he could see that Kim’s family had almost nothing in common with his own. She had very few bonds with her half brothers, perhaps because they had each been raised so differently. She barely knew her latest stepfather, though she seemed to like him well enough, considering this was only the second time she’d met him. As for her relationship with her mother—well, no wonder that was so strained. Frankly, Betsy was a nut.

Tate hadn’t yet decided if there was a streak of malice beneath that beaming, scheming face. Betsy was undoubtedly self-centered, unapologetically deceitful, deliberately tactless—but was she aware that her thoughtlessness caused her daughter pain, or was she simply oblivious to consequences? He’d been amused by her until he’d become aware of her little digs at Kim. He hadn’t found those in the least funny.

“Does anyone need more iced tea?” Betsy asked, filling a somewhat awkward silence that had fallen over the table once the standard compliments for the food had been exchanged. “Bob, sweetie, why don’t you bring the pitcher and top off the glasses?”

Nodding congenially, Bob jumped up to fetch the tea pitcher. Not for the first time, Tate thought that even after three years of marriage, Bob seemed perfectly happy being ordered around by his wife. Tate wondered how much longer that satisfaction would last.

Betsy turned toward Kim with a slight frown. “Did I hear a fuss from Daryn?” she asked, cocking her head toward the baby monitor.

“No, Mom, she’s sound asleep.”

“You’re sure you shouldn’t go check on her? How do you know that thing is working?”

“It’s working.”

Unlike Bob, Kim was visibly losing patience with Betsy. Tate didn’t blame her, but she really should learn to let her mother’s little barbs deflect off her. Betsy didn’t seem to dig at her sons in quite the same way. Was it a mother/daughter dynamic thing—or did Betsy know it was harder to push emotional buttons with Julian and Stuart?

Trying to take the attention off Kim, he spoke to her brothers. “We haven’t had much chance to get to know each other yet. I understand you’re recently out of the service, Julian. What do you do now?”

“Bob got me a job at his accounting firm,” Julian answered without a great deal of enthusiasm. “I’m taking night classes toward getting a CPA.”

Before Tate could respond, Stuart frowned. “Kim hasn’t even told you what Julian does?”

Realizing his mistake, Tate suppressed a wince, but Kim rescued him that time.

“Tate’s simply trying to make conversation, Stuart,” she said evenly. “Besides which, I couldn’t tell him much about either of you because I haven’t heard what you’ve been up to lately.”

Betsy cleared her throat. “Perhaps if you called more often …”

Tate spoke again quickly to her brothers. “Kim has talked about both of you, of course, but I thought we could get to know each other in person now.”

He was going to have to do better than this if he didn’t want to blow the whole marriage charade before the reunion even began tomorrow. “Tell me about yourself, Stuart. What have you been up to this summer?”

Stuart shrugged, but a look from his mother made him answer politely enough—for a teenager. “Just been hanging out. I have a part-time job at a video game store at the mall.”

“Stuart starts college a week from Monday,” Bob added as he refilled Tate’s tea glass.

“Yeah? Where will you be going, Stuart?”

The teen muttered the name of a well-respected liberal arts college in Springfield.

“He’s going to live here at home and commute,” Betsy said. “I wasn’t quite ready to send my baby away. That will come soon enough, won’t it, Bob? We’ll have to get used to an empty nest eventually.”

When Bob merely smiled and nodded, and no one else responded, Tate tried to keep the conversation moving. “I’ve heard that’s a very good school. Have you chosen a major yet?”

Stuart shrugged again. “I’m interested in mathematics and computer sciences.”

“Good choices.”

Stuart chomped down on his ear of corn to discourage further conversation.

“Tell Tate more about your new job, Julian,” Betsy urged, picking delicately at the baked potato and salad in front of her. She’d passed on the steak and corn, saying that she was watching her weight. She’d looked archly at Kim’s plate as she’d made the comment, but for once using a modicum of tact, hadn’t remarked aloud about Kim’s choice to have a reasonable serving of everything.

“I work in accounting, Mom,” Julian replied curtly. “Hardly anything more to tell.”

“What about your real love?” Bob asked Julian with a look that might have been sympathetic. “Restoring old cars?”

Julian slanted a look at his mother that was almost defensive. “It’s a hobby, that’s all.”

“An obsession, you mean,” Stuart mumbled. “At least, that’s what your ex called it.”

Julian scowled. “Yeah, well, she’s a—”

“Julian,” his mother interrupted quickly, with a pointed look at Tate, as if to remind her son they had company among them. “Tate, don’t get the wrong impression. Julian isn’t a mechanic, he’s an up-and-coming financial advisor. He enjoyed tinkering with cars as a teenager, but he doesn’t have nearly as much time for that now, isn’t that right, Julian?”

“No,” Julian said, and if he tried to hide the regret, he wasn’t entirely successful. “I don’t.”

“What types of cars have you restored?” Tate asked, doggedly trying to keep the conversation moving.

“Couple of classic Mustangs. I’m working on a ‘69 Mach 1 now. It’s in pretty bad shape, haven’t had much time to work on it, but it’s got great potential.”

“Sixty-nine, huh? Nice. Which engine?”

For the first time since they’d been introduced, Tate saw a spark of enthusiasm in Julian’s eyes. “Three fifty-one V8.”

“Windsor or Cleveland?”

Beneath the table, Kim lightly tapped his leg, then gave a thumbs-up sign when he glanced down.

The spark in Julian’s blue eyes flared into a flame of passion. “Windsor—not quite as easy to find the parts, but she’s going to purr like a tiger when I’ve got her up and running.”