for the financial welfare of a lot of people and couldn’t afford stupid oversights. Though she wanted to be outraged on her husband’s behalf, the businesswoman in her knew it had been Paul’s responsibility to double-check issues like this one. It’s why he was paid the big bucks. Unfortunately, in his preoccupation, he’d made one or two other minor errors that the prosecution had painted as signs of impending corruption.
It had all come to light because of a quiet federal investigation of the company Paul had left before Kate met him. Apparently his previous employer had been releasing exaggerated financial reports, inflating their worth and cheating stockholders. Reasoning that Paul likely knew about this fraud before quitting, investigators had widened the scope of their inquiry to Paul himself.
No one cared that he’d walked away from a high-paying job because he’d started to have unproven suspicions about executive ethics. No one cared that, after losing his first wife when he’d expected their marriage to last another thirty or forty years, remarrying had given him a lot to think about besides dotting every i according to increasingly complicated corporate regulations. When you were a chief executive officer, “oops” was not a satisfactory defense.
Kate sighed, and when the sound fell too heavily in the empty room, she reached for the silver remote in the top drawer of her nightstand. With a press of her finger, a black-and-white movie came to life on the television. How was it she so desperately needed background voices when she’d had her own place most of her adult life? It was as illogical as her constantly craving sleep, then being unable to rest once her head hit the pillow. Last night she’d tossed and turned until after two in the morning.
Whereas Paul probably couldn’t wait for each day to end—bringing him closer to the completion of his six-month sentence and a normal life again—Kate was unsettled by the recent passage of days. They’ll be home soon.
For the past couple of years PJ and Neve had stayed for a few weeks of the summer with their maternal grandparents in Tampa. This year’s “few weeks” had stretched into two months. Kate and Paul felt the kids would have a better time at the beach and visiting Epcot than sticking around for their father’s trial. Still, with the new school year starting the last week of August, Neve and PJ would be returning a week from Monday. Was she ready for them? For their questions? Their wariness?
Neither of the kids had ever been overtly hostile to Kate, but she didn’t get hugs and Mother’s Day cards from them, either. She’d always expected Paul to be the glue that held them together as a family unit. And she’d anticipated half of that unit would keep attending school up the coast.
What if they hate me? What if I suck at this?
No. Swinging her feet to the carpet, Kate gave herself a mental pinch. She rarely allowed herself to suck at anything. And negativity was a self-fulfilling prophecy.
The kids weren’t troublemakers and they’d be in school most of the time, leaving her free to do her job as long as she found reliable help for a few hours each afternoon. She didn’t expect mothering to be easy, but millions of women worldwide managed it, and she’d always been very capable. Plus, she still had a week to prepare. Seeing Paul tomorrow should go a long way toward reassuring her—they already had one month of his sentence behind him. Less than five to go. She could definitely handle single-parenting for under five months.
She padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth, her confidence restored. Kate St. James was a survivor. Nothing life or SEC regulations threw at her could reduce her to being Katherine Brewster again.
Ash, beech and poplar trees wouldn’t change colors and hit their peak foliage until mid-October, but beneath the eighty-degree sunshine in the parking lot blew an incongruent breeze that predicted fall’s arrival next month. Kate smoothed her hair and held her head high, this short walk suddenly more daunting than the entire drive over state lines.
At the sentencing Paul had squeezed her hand and tried to joke there were worse things that could happen over the summer than being sent to camp. Thank God no one on the prosecuting side had heard the remark. Public opinion already held that big-business crooks showed a distinct lack of remorse—hence increasingly stiff penalties for comparatively small infractions. But Paul had never set out to be a crook. His flippant remark had been only an attempt to reassure his new wife.
He wouldn’t quite make it home for their first anniversary, but he would be back by Valentine’s Day. Frankly she’d be willing to skip that holiday for the rest of their lives. Her bigger concern was Christmas. As much as she’d disliked Lorna growing up, Kate would have been startled to lose her. And everyone had adored the much-missed Heather. Had Neve and PJ acclimated yet to holidays without their mother? This year they wouldn’t have their father either.
Only me.
A cheery thought to take with her as she walked from her locked car to the interior gated perimeter. She’d already passed through one arm of security to drive onto the grounds. She’d also had to fill out legal paperwork weeks ago simply to apply for the chance to spend a few minutes with her husband. The list of rules and regulations, including clothing restrictions, had made her laugh drily. Did they think she wanted to come in here flashing midriff and extreme cleavage? Classy.
Khaki was also forbidden. Anything that looked too similar to what the prisoners themselves wore was forbidden. But if prison administrators were worried about her blending in, shouldn’t her being female help them pick her out of a crowd?
The internal sarcasm threatened to erupt into actual dialogue when a guard patted her down before allowing her to enter. Adolescent modeling auditions that had bordered on exploitative and a few grope-happy dates in her twenties had left her with a distaste for strange men touching her. Even knowing that the young man with the carefully blank expression was just doing his job, Kate flinched, hating him a little for that.
Realizing Paul must suffer the same indignities and worse, she forced a smile for her husband’s benefit. In a moment he would be joining her, and she didn’t want him to see her discomfort. She stood in the lounge area where they would spend their visit and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Lounge seemed a glorified term for the collection of tables and padded chairs. It somehow resembled a library with no books and a grim color scheme.
“Kate!” Escorted by a guard, Paul crossed through the security doorway, beaming and still handsome despite the circles under his familiar eyes.
Her own smile wobbled before blossoming into something more genuine. Lord, she’d missed him. The brutal realization of how much was actually a relief. Her emotions had been on mute since the trial, as if the feelings were there somewhere in closed-captioning, but she’d been too numb to truly experience them.
When Paul’s arms went around her, she hugged him tightly, trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation of being watched. The guard sitting in the corner made no effort to downplay his scrutiny of the mostly empty room. Visible security cameras recorded every action.
Paul let go but held her gaze as he said a gruff hello.
They sat a few tables from another inmate and, judging by the two men’s similar facial features, his brother. Both men sent Kate appreciative glances. Her stomach flipped queasily, but she squared her shoulders, lifting her chin a notch.
“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” Paul’s words drew both her attention and guilt.
Finally here. She should have come sooner. “I’m sorry. Things at work… I need to make sure that my job continues to—not that it’s more important than you.”
“Katie.” Despite
