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Torie patted her belly and gave a cat-and-canary smile. “Yeah, well, your direct communication is pretty damn good.”
All of them laughed, and Kenny thought how lucky he was.
Not long after dinner ended, the Beaudines and Skeet arrived. Ted, who was now gainfully employed in the new company that had formed since the merger, had brought along his girlfriend, an enchanting and sublimely intelligent social worker nearly five years older than he was, which seemed about right.
Everyone insisted they were too full to eat more than a sliver of dessert, then proceeded to devour Patrick’s delicious assortment of pecan and pumpkin pies. Torie got out her newest camera and shot an entire roll of film just of Peter. Then they all sprawled around the fireplace, too stuffed to do anything more than enjoy each other’s company.
“Guess what the hot new rumor in town is,” Patrick said.
Everyone turned to look at him.
“Well . . .” He prolonged the suspense by readjusting a throw pillow. “According to Paulette Cot, who’s apparently been the head secretary at Wynette High School for years . . .”
“Since the early sixties,” Dallie said.
“Anyway . . .” Patrick fussed with the pillow fringe. “According to Ms. Cot, a certain Kenneth Traveler’s permanent record seems to have permanently disappeared.”
“No kidding?”
“How’d that happen?”
“Is she sure?”
“That’s weird.”
There was a long silence. And then every one of them turned toward Emma.
Kenny nearly laughed aloud as she made a great business out of adjusting her necklace. His own public defender. It was embarrassing . . . but wonderful, too.
“I don’t know why you’re all looking at me.” She actually managed to purse her lips, the very picture of offended dignity. “As if I’d do such a thing.”
“You’d do it, all right.” Torie laughed. “And I’ve got twenty bucks says you’ll figure out how to get your hands on Kenny’s checkered college records by this time next year.”
Not a single person at the table would take her bet.
Much later, when the guests had left and the house was once again theirs alone, they headed for bed, arms around each other. But they weren’t even halfway up the stairs when Kenny stopped to gaze down at his wife. “I want something from you, Lady E. No questions. No arguments.”
“Oh, dear . . . that sounds dangerous.”
“It’s definitely dangerous, but I want you to agree anyway.”
She regarded him warily.
He smiled. “I just want you to love me. Like you do right now. But for the rest of our lives.”
Her eyes shone. And he knew right then—straight to the bottom of his heart—that his bossy little head mistress would do exactly as he asked.
