wrinkled his brow as he glanced over at his daughter. “Damn shame about Kurt. A quick heart attack like that—easy on the victim, hell of a thing for the family to handle.”
“Janice looks pretty shaken up.”
“She is, for now,” Herbert went on. “She’s stronger than she looks, though. I’ve been telling her for years to get out of that man’s shadow. Not healthy. Janice has this stubborn streak. But now she’s got no choice.”
David’s gaze took in the crowds of people filling the downstairs. “It looks as if she’s got a lot of supportive friends and relatives.”
Herbert’s shrewd eyes moved to study David. “Always room for one more, son.” He clapped David on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”
“You, too, Mr. Ingalls.” David watched Janice’s father wander over to a small cluster of people by the door. Was he reading too much into their brief conversation or did Herbert seem less than grief-stricken over his son-in-law’s death? Perhaps the family’s early disapproval of Kurt had lingered through the years. How, he wondered, had Janice coped with all that?
Reaching for his cup, David strolled to the dining room for more coffee. As he poured, someone spoke from behind him.
“Excuse me, sir. Are you David Markus?”
David turned and looked into the dark brown eyes of the young man he recognized as Kurt’s son. He was taller than Kurt had been, his shoulders broad in a dark sport jacket. “Yes, I am. You’re K.J., right? Your father mentioned you to me often. He was very proud of your excellent grades.”
The young man flushed with pride. “Thank you. I’ve wanted to meet you. You’re kind of a legend around school. They’ve never had a running back as big or as fast as you.”
It had been the only sport, the only diversion from work and his studies, that he’d allowed himself. The young man before him seemed as intense as he’d been in those days. “I used to love the game.”
K.J. jammed his hands into his pants pockets. “I sure wish I could have made the team. Dad wanted me to in the worst way. I’m big enough, but I don’t have the feel for it, I guess.”
“Not every guy’s meant to play football.” David sipped his coffee. “What do you like to do?”
His expression became animated. “I’m interested in art. I like to draw. Cartoons, mostly. Political satire, that sort of thing. I’ve had a couple published in the university press. Dad said drawing was okay as a hobby, but that I’d never make a lot of money at it.”
David leaned back against the buffet. “Is that what you want to do—make a lot of money?”
“Well, yeah, that’s important, isn’t it? But I just wish I could make a good living doing what I like to do best.”
“Maybe you can. Are you majoring in art now?”
“No, business administration. Dad thought that would be best. But I take as many extra art courses as I can squeeze in.”
“Well, K.J., I’m not sure I’m the right one to advise you, but it’s been my experience that the most successful men are those who work at doing what they like best. Your dad was a success because he honestly loved business—making deals, beating the competition. However, that may not be for you.”
“I think he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. You know, take over when he was ready to retire and all that.”
David nodded. “My dad owned a butcher shop and loved what he did, cutting the meat, joking with customers. I worked there after school for a lot of years and hated every minute. We’re all different. Maybe you should talk this over with your mother. She might be in favor of a change.”
K.J. cast a hesitant glance through the archway at his mother. “I don’t know. She always went along with my dad.”
David laid a hand on the boy’s arm. “She’s going to have to make several important decisions without him from now on.”
Swallowing, K.J. nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Anyhow, it was good meeting you finally. Dad talked about you a lot, told me he saw you often in Chicago on his business trips. How come you never came to Tyler before?”
David shrugged. “I have a client in Whitewater, and whenever I’m in this vicinity, I usually end up there rather than Tyler.”
“You know my mom, too, don’t you?”
“I did, years ago.” David hoped he didn’t sound as nostalgic as he suddenly felt. Gazing into the eyes of Kurt’s son, he also felt a pang of regret for opportunities lost and things that could never be. “Good luck, whatever you choose to do.”
K.J. smiled at him. “Thanks.”
As the boy walked away, David searched the room, his eyes drawn to Janice, deep in conversation with the buxom woman who’d been introduced as her sister. He vaguely remembered Irene from their college days, though her hair color was different now and she was carrying an extra thirty pounds. Wishing he could take Janice aside for a talk, even a short talk, he carried his coffee over to the window seat and sat down.
* * *
TRAILING A CLOUD of expensive perfume, Irene Ingalls Bryant came up to Janice and hugged her. “I really hate to leave you, but it’s a long drive home and Everett has to stop in at his office.”
Stepping back to rub at a spot above her left eye, Janice nodded. “I understand.”
Not satisfied with the natural reddish highlights in her hair, Irene had gone on to cosmetically enhance them, winding up with a brassy look. She patted the lacquered curls and frowned. “You really should get some rest. You’ve had a terrible shock.”
Janice wanted everyone to leave, everyone. But that would be rude of her and ungrateful. She put on a small smile. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for coming.”
“What is family for?” Irene asked rhetorically. “Hayley wanted to make the trip with us, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Her baby’s due any day. She sends her best.” Irene and Everett’s only daughter was expecting her first child.
Janice nodded again. She’d been nodding all day, it seemed.
“Maybe, after you rest awhile, you should come to Milwaukee for a nice long visit. We can catch up.”
It occurred to Janice that people said a whole lot of things at awkward times like this. She and Irene had never been close and had rarely exchanged long visits, but she supposed her sister’s invitation was heartfelt. Fortunately, she was saved from answering as Everett joined them, already wearing his topcoat and carrying Irene’s mink. Everett was a successful stockbroker in Milwaukee, a big man who liked sailboats, silk ties and smelly cigars.
“You ready to go, Mama?” he asked in the clipped tones of a man with a cigar clamped between his teeth.
Janice could recall few instances when she’d seen Everett without one of his imported cigars. She’d once remarked to Kurt that she wondered if Everett showered with his cigar, slept with it, made love with it in his mouth. They’d
