When he didn’t answer, she said, “I’m going to the New Year’s Eve party with the girls. They asked if I would help Debbie’s mother by acting as a chaperone. And I agreed. I’m here to pick up the girls. Are they ready?” Then her head tilted and she asked, “They didn’t tell you?”
Immediately upon hearing that Rachel would be attending the same party as he, the bizarre heaviness seemed to evaporate. What took its place was a curious lightness that wafted around him like sweet, candy-scented air. But he no more understood this sugary feeling than he did the other emotions that had reached up out of nowhere to grab at him.
What was wrong with his central nervous system? Was he coming down with a cold?
“No,” he told her, feeling preoccupied with the emotions churning inside him. “The girls never said a word.” He felt his brow furrow with uncertainty. Why hadn’t the girls let him know they had asked Rachel to go to the party?
Kids. Would they ever become responsible for their actions?
Now, Rachel looked as if she felt awkward.
“Y-you,” she stammered hesitantly, “look as if you have plans for the evening. Are you going out?”
Then he chuckled, nodding ironically. “I’m going to the party, too.”
The glow he had noticed seemed to fade and Rachel’s face suddenly took on an ashen shade.
“You are?”
“Uh-huh,” he told her softly. “I am. They asked me today. I guess the three of them somehow got their signals crossed.”
“But they were all together when…” Rachel’s thought seemed to peter out, and she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said.
A sudden thought struck him. “Look, since I’m going…there’s really no need for you to be troubled—”
“But, Dad!”
“We want Rachel to go—”
“She’s gotta go, Dad. Debbie’s mom is expecting her help.”
Sloan turned to see his daughters standing at the foot of the stairs.
The first things he noticed were their expressions. Surreptitious. Sly. Even sneaky wouldn’t have been too harsh a word to describe the looks in their eyes. What were they up to?
Before he could give the question the attention it deserved, he noticed their attire. His little girls were beautiful in their party dresses and fancy shoes. Looking all grown-up. Their long, dark hair glistening. His mouth opened, his breath leaving him in a rush.
His daughters were lovely. Lovely enough to make everything else slide into the background of his brain as his heart contracted with love.
Music blared at an earsplitting level. Sloan positioned himself at the very back of the large banquet room in order to save his hearing. He couldn’t believe how elaborate the party decorations were. Mrs. Fox, Debbie’s mother, had gone to great lengths to make her daughter’s New Year’s Eve bash a success.
Colorful helium balloons bobbed from ribbons anchored to every conceivable surface. Streamers were draped from the corners of the room, some of them dangling straight down from the ceiling, making a sort of obstacle course that the kids seemed to love. The tables were covered with cloths that had been sprinkled with shimmering confetti. One long table was weighed down with food and beverages. The dance floor was lit from above with rainbow lighting, and the tunes were being played by a professional disc jockey. A professional DJ for twelve-year-olds?
Yes, quite a bit of money had been paid out for this affair.
Sloan was surprised by the number of children milling around. One group of kids ambled by him, and not one of them even acknowledged him with a look, let alone a verbal greeting. Ah, well, he thought, they were off in their own world. A world that didn’t include chaperones. He chuckled to himself.
He was feeling so…odd. And he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
Lighthearted. Gleeful, even. The music was deafening, yes, and the pop tunes were definitely not his favorite style. But he’d found himself tapping his toes to the beat a time or two.
However, along with this peculiar breeziness, he also felt a sense of foreboding. He couldn’t help thinking that something was about to happen. Often he was struck by a feeling of premonition. And when he got that feeling, it usually wasn’t long before he received a call from his answering service with a message from a patient who needed him. He hated the idea of being called away from the triplets’ big night out. But if that were to happen, Rachel was here to save the day—or rather, the evening—for the girls.
Yes, something strange was in the air. That was certain. And he was struck by yet another odd sensation—that whatever it was had something to do with Rachel.
The thought of her had him scanning the room. It took no time at all to find her in the crowd. In fact, it was almost as if his subconscious had been keeping tabs on Rachel’s location—and the location of his daughters—ever since the five of them had arrived.
As usual, Rachel had pitched in right away, helping Mrs. Fox with various jobs. She’d laughed with the kids, who didn’t seem to ignore her the way they ignored him. She’d even dragged some of the girls and boys out onto the dance floor when no one had seemed willing to start the party rolling. Her shoulders had shimmied as she’d danced, her fanny swaying to the rhythm of the music. That sight had had him suppressing a smile, and reaching to loosen the collar of his shirt.
Even now, as he thought of it, his toe began to tap lightly, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. He could almost feel his blood pressure rising, although Rachel was no longer dancing, but filling up cups with punch for some thirsty adolescents.
Lord, she sure looked good—
“Dr. Radcliff—”
Sloan started, not realizing just how mesmerized he’d become by his surveillance of Rachel—by his surveillance of everyone, he silently and swiftly corrected the thought. It was his job to chaperone, wasn’t it?
“Mrs. Fox,” he said, greeting her with a nod.
“Please call me Virginia. Our daughters have been friends for too long for us to be so formal.”
He smiled. “All right, Virginia. And you can call me Sloan.”
“I’d love to.”
The unexpected sultry quality of her voice made him pause. Then he said, “Great party you’ve put on here. The kids are really enjoying themselves.”
“You think so?”
Anxiety tinged her blue eyes, clouding them a little. Again, he nodded his assurance.
“I came over—”
Her hand slid over his forearm as she spoke, and Sloan was engulfed by the urge to step away from the woman. Even though he didn’t back up an inch, she still moved closer to him, almost as if she sensed his impulse to retreat.
“—to
