time to spare. Five minutes at least.”
“Not me. I have to toss the salad and check on the roast.”
“You know, honey, if the roast is large enough, you can serve it to Nancy and Paul tomorrow.”
Barbara fluffed her silky blond hair so that it framed her face just so, the loose curls accenting her high cheekbones. “Doug, you know I wouldn’t give your sister and brother-in-law leftovers.”
“Why not? They’d probably just as soon have a picnic in the park or chili dogs at some refreshment stand. Unless Nancy’s into sushi bars now. You know how bohemian they are.”
Barbara smiled. “A couple of hippies left over from the sixties. It still amazes me that you and your sisters were raised in the same family.”
Doug nodded. “I was the bookish one, Pam the socialite, and Nancy the flower child,” he said, a chuckle in his voice.
“I remember the last time Nancy and Paul came down from San Francisco. What was it…four years ago?”
“You know when it was, Barbie. Right after—”
Barbara cut him off before he said the words. “Of course I know. In my mind I can still see that sister of yours. Wearing her baby like a papoose wherever she went. Always had that baby strapped to her, front or back. Like a permanent appendage. She never thought to get a stroller like other mothers.”
“Nancy just has her own way of doing things,” said Doug. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“I didn’t say there was,” said Barbara, checking her makeup in the mirror one last time and blotting her vermilion-red lips with a tissue. “It’s just that she and Paul are such free spirits, you never know what to expect of them.”
“Good thing they’re coming tomorrow and not tonight,” said Doug. “I’m afraid they wouldn’t mix well with the Van Peebles.”
“Oh, Doug, I don’t even want to imagine such a thing,” Barbara replied as she headed out the bedroom door. She crossed the hallway to the spiral staircase, her three-inch heels sinking deep into the plush turquoise carpet. Halfway down the stairs, she heard the doorbell ring.
“Right on time,” said Doug, passing her on the stairs. “You go toss the salad, Barb. I’ll greet them.”
Barbara followed her husband across the marble entry to the carved oak doors. “I’m here now. I’ll say hello.”
With an expansive gesture, Doug swung open the double doors and said, “Welcome! Come right in—” But the words died in his throat as he and Barbara gaped at the trio in the doorway.
Nancy and Paul Myers, beaming smiles typical of a toothpaste commercial, stood arm in arm with their daughter, now a rosy-cheeked, curly-mopped five-year-old. “Hi, guys!” said Paul, looking like a cow-puncher in plaid shirt, leather vest, faded jeans and cowboy boots. “Surprise! Hope you don’t mind us showing up a day early.”
Nancy, in a floral peasant dress, her straight blond hair flowing down her back like a sun-washed waterfall, went immediately into Doug’s arms. He gave her a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. “Sis, I—I never expected you tonight,” he stammered.
Nancy went from Doug to Barbara for a hug, laughing as if they were all sharing an enormous joke. “You know me, big brother. Always doing the unexpected.”
“Keeps life interesting,” said Paul, raking back a wave of sandy brown hair. As his gaze swept over Barbara’s evening dress, his brow furrowed. “Hey, it looks like you folks are ready to go out on the town.”
“Oh, my, yes,” said Nancy with a little gasp. “Look at you two. Dressed to kill.”
“We’re not going out,” said Barbara. “We’re dining in with one of Doug’s clients.”
“Not client, exactly,” Doug corrected. “One of the hospital’s rather generous benefactors.”
“Oh, then we won’t intrude,” said Nancy, backing toward the door. “We’ll go to a hotel tonight.”
“Nonsense,” said Doug. “You’re here now. Come on in.”
The two hesitated only a moment, then in chorus replied, “All right. If you insist.”
Nancy turned to Barbara. “You won’t recognize Janee. She’s not a baby anymore.” She turned to where the child had stood, but there was no sign of the girl. “Paul, where did Janee go?”
He looked around. “She was here just a minute ago.”
Alarm rang in Nancy’s voice. “Well, she’s not here now!”
Both Paul and Nancy darted into the yard in different directions and began calling Janee’s name. Within moments Paul was steering the reluctant youngster up the sidewalk and onto the porch. Janee, a dimpled cherub with impish, sea-green eyes and a profusion of honey-brown curls, was clutching Barbara’s fat, furry Persian cat tightly in her arms.
“Oh, look,” said Nancy. “Janee found your cat. Tabby must have gotten out without you knowing.”
Barbara was about to explain that they had put the cat outside on purpose, but before she could get the words out, Janee set the cat down, and a terrified Tabby sprinted away into the house, taking all nine of her lives with her.
“Stop her!” cried Doug, lunging after the cat and catching nothing more than thin air.
It was too late. Tabby was gone, no doubt cowering under some sofa or table lest the little Shirley Temple look-alike in a sailor dress track her down and subject her to another breath-crushing hug.
A distraught Janee burst into tears. “I want the kitty!”
Barbara saw that the situation was deteriorating fast. “Come on in,” she prompted, ushering everyone inside. “Make them comfortable in the living room,” she told Doug. Before shutting the door, she took a quick glance outside to be sure the Van Peebles weren’t coming up the walk.
To her horror, there they were in the winding driveway, emerging from their sleek luxury automobile—the buxom Harriet Van Peebles in a full-length mink coat and the silver-haired Clive Van Peebles in a shiny black tuxedo.
Barbara stepped onto the porch and greeted them, her smile so brittle she feared her face would crack. “Mr. and Mrs. Van Peebles, welcome! So glad you could come.”
The women exchanged polite hugs, each mouthing a kiss near the other’s ear. “Are we late, dear?” enquired Harriet. “Is that why you’re waiting for us on the porch?”
“Oh, no, you’re right on time,” replied Barbara, flustered, warm-faced. “Please come in.”
Standing like a little sentry in the foyer was Janee, arms folded, tiny chin jutting out, her eyes focused on Mrs. Van Peebles’s coat.
Harriet bent down and smiled. “Whose little girl are you?”
“My mommy’s.”
“Doug’s sister’s child,” said Barbara. “They dropped in unexpectedly.”
“I see you looking at my coat, dear. Would you like to touch it?”
Janee ran her hand over the soft fur, then looked up wide-eyed and asked, “Did you kill a little animal?”
Mrs. Van Peebles drew back in repulsion. “Kill an animal? Good heavens, child, what are you saying?”
“Mommy says bad people kill little animals to make coats.”
Mrs. Van Peebles fanned herself with her hanky, her face draining of color except for the rouge on her cheeks. Barbara quickly helped her off with her fur. “I’ll hang this up for you, Mrs. Van Peebles. It’s an exquisite coat. Just lovely!”
Doug came striding into the foyer and greeted their guests, while Barbara hung