Chapter 6
Six
K.O. had fun writing LaVonne’s Christmas letter. Compared to Bill Mulcahy’s, it was a breeze. Her friend was worried about
how other people, people from her long-ago past, would react to the fact that she’d never married and lacked male companionship.
K.O. took care of that.
Merry Christmas to my Friends, K.O. began for LaVonne. This has been an exciting year as I juggle my time between Tom, Phillip and Martin, the three guys in my life. No one told
me how demanding these relationships can be. Tom won my heart first and then I met Phillip and how could I refuse him? Yes,
there’s a bit of jealousy, but they manage to be civil to each other. I will admit that things heated up after I started seeing
Martin. I fell for him the minute we met.
I’m retired now, so I have plenty of time to devote to the demands of these relationships.
Some women discover love in their twenties.
But it took me until I was retired to fall into this kind of happiness.
I lavish attention and love on all three guys.
Those of you who are concerned that I’m taking on too much, let me assure you—I’m woman enough to handle them.
I love my new luxury condo on Blossom Street here in Seattle. And I’ve been continuing my education lately, enhancing my skills
and exploring new vistas.
K.O. giggled, then glanced at her watch. The afternoon had escaped her. She hurriedly finished with a few more details of
LaVonne’s year, including a wine-tasting trip to the Yakima Valley, and printed out a draft of the letter.
The meeting with Bill Mulcahy went well, and he paid her the balance of what he owed and thanked her profusely. “This is just
perfect,” he said, reading the Christmas letter. “I wouldn’t have believed it, if I wasn’t seeing it for myself. You took
the mess this year has been and turned it all around.”
K.O. was pleased her effort had met with his satisfaction.
LaVonne was waiting for her when she returned, the Christmas letter in hand. “Oh, Katherine, I don’t know how you do it. I
laughed until I had tears in my eyes. How can I ever thank you?”
“I had fun,” she assured her neighbor.
“I absolutely insist on paying you.”
“Are you kidding? No way.” After everything LaVonne had done for her, no thanks was necessary.
“I love it so much, I’ve already taken it down to the printer’s and had copies made on fancy Christmas paper. My cards are
going out this afternoon, thanks to you.”
K.O. shrugged off her praise. After all, her friend had paid for her dinner with Wynn at Chez Jerome and been a good friend
to her all these months. Writing a simple letter was the least she could do.
K.O. had been home only a short while when her doorbell chimed. Thinking it must be LaVonne, who frequently stopped by, she casually opened it, ready to greet her neighbor.
Instead Wynn Jeffries stood there.
K.O. wasn’t ready for their outing—or to see him again. She needed to steel herself against the attraction she felt toward
him.
“Hi.” She sounded breathless.
“Katherine.”
“Hi,” she said again unnecessarily.
“I realize I’m early,” he said. “I have a radio interview at 5:30. My assistant arranged it earlier in the week and I forgot
to enter it into my PDA.”
“Oh.” Here it was—the perfect excuse to avoid seeing him again. And yet she couldn’t help feeling disappointed.
He must’ve known, as she did, that any kind of relationship was a lost cause.
“That’s fine, I understand,” she told him, recovering quickly. “We can get together another time.” She offered this in a nonchalant
manner, shrugging her shoulders, deciding this really was for the best.
His gaze held hers. “Perhaps you could come with me,” he said.
“Come with you?” she repeated and instantly recognized this as a bad idea. In fact, as bad ideas went, it came close to the
top. She hadn’t been able to keep her mouth shut in the bookstore and had been banned for life. If she had to listen to him
spout off his views in person, K.O. didn’t know if she could restrain herself from grabbing the mike and pleading with people
everywhere to throw out his book or use it for kindling. Nope, attending the interview with him was definitely not a good plan.
When she didn’t immediately respond, he said, “After the interview, we could go on to the Figgy Pudding thing you mentioned.”
She knew she should refuse. And yet, before she could reconsider it, she found herself nodding.
“I understand the radio station is only a few blocks from West Lake Plaza.”
“Yes . . .” Her mouth felt dry and all at once she was nervous.
“We’ll need to leave right away,” he said, looking at his watch.
“I’ll get my coat.” She was wearing blue jeans and a long black sweater—no need to change.
Wynn entered her condo and as she turned away, he stopped her, placing one hand on her arm.
K.O. turned back and was surprised to find him staring at her again. He seemed to be saying he wasn’t sure what was happening
between them, either. Wasn’t sure what he felt or why . . . Then, as if he needed to test those feelings, he lowered his mouth
to hers. Slowly, ever so slowly . . . K.O. could’ve moved away at any point. She didn’t. The biggest earthquake of the century
could’ve hit and she wouldn’t have noticed. Not even if the building had come tumbling down around her feet. Her eyes drifted
shut and she leaned into Wynn, ready—no, more than ready—eager to accept his kiss.
To her astonishment, it was even better than the night before. This couldn’t be happening and yet it was. Fortunately, Wynn’s hands were on her shoulders, since her balance had grown unsteady.
When he pulled away, it took her a long time to open her eyes. She glanced up at him and discovered he seemed as perplexed
as she was.
“I was afraid of that,” he said.
She blinked, understanding perfectly what he meant. “Me, too.”
“It was as good as last night.”
“Better,” she whispered.
He cleared his throat. “If we don’t leave now, I’ll be late for the interview.”
“Right.”
Still, neither of them moved. Apparently all they were capable of doing was staring at each other. Wynn didn’t seem any happier
about this than she was, and in some small way, that was a comfort.
K.O. forced herself to break the contact between them. She collected her coat and purse and was halfway to the door when she
dashed into the bathroom. “I forgot my toothbrush,” she informed him.
He gave her a puzzled look. “You brush after every meal?” he asked.
“No, before.” She smiled sheepishly. “I mean, I didn’t yesterday, which is why I have to do it today.”
He didn’t question her garbled explanation as she dropped her toothbrush carrier and toothpaste inside her purse.
Once outside the building, Wynn walked at a fast pace as if he already had second thoughts. For her part, K.O. tried not to
think at all. To protect everyone’s peace of mind, she’d decided to wait outside the building. It was safer that way.
By the time they arrived at the radio station, K.O. realized it was far too frigid to linger out in the cold. She’d wait in
the lobby.
Wynn pressed his hand to the small of her back and guided her through the impressive marble-floored lobby toward the elevators.
“I’ll wait here,” she suggested. But there wasn’t any seating or coffee shop. If she stayed there, it would mean standing around for the next thirty minutes or so.
“I’m sure they’ll have a waiting area up at the station,” Wynn suggested.
He was probably right.
They took the elevator together, standing as far away from each other as possible, as though they both recognized the risk
for potential disaster.
The interviewer, Big Mouth Bass, was a well-known Seattle disk jockey. K.O. had listened to him for years but this was the
first time she’d seen him in person. He didn’t look anything like his voice. For one thing, he was considerably shorter than
she’d pictured and considerably . . . rounder. If she had the opportunity, she’d share her toothbrush trick with him. It might
help.
“Want to sit in for the interview?” Big Mouth asked.
“Thank you, no,” she rushed to say. “Dr. Jeffries and I don’t necessarily agree and—”
“No way.” Wynn’s voice drowned hers out.
Big Mouth was no fool. K.O. might’ve imagined it, but she thought a gleam appeared in his eyes. He hosted a live interview
show, after all, and a little controversy would keep things lively.
“I insist,” Big Mouth said. He motioned toward the hallway that led to the control booth.
K.O. shook her head. “Thanks, anyway, but I’ll wait out here.”
“We’re ready for Dr. Jeffries,” a young woman informed the radio personality.
“I’ll wait here,” K.O. said again, and before anyone could argue, she practically threw herself into a chair and grabbed a magazine.
She opened it and pretended to read, sighing with relief as Big Mouth led Wynn out of the waiting area.
The radio in the room was tuned to the station, and a couple of minutes later, Big Mouth’s booming voice was introducing Wynn.
“I have with me Dr. Wynn Jeffries,” he began. “As many of you will recall, Dr. Jeffries’s book, The Free Child, advocates letting a child set his or her own boundaries. Explain yourself, Dr. Jeffries.”
“First, let me thank you for having me on your show,” Wynn said, and K.O. was surprised by how melodic he sounded, how confident
and sincere. “I believe,” Wynn continued, “that structure is stifling to a child.”
“Any structure?” Big Mouth challenged.
“Yes, in my opinion, such rigidity is detrimental to a child’s sense of creativity and his or her natural ability to develop
moral principles.” Wynn spoke eloquently, citing example after example showing how structure had a negative impact on a child’s
development.
“No boundaries,” Big Mouth repeated, sounding incredulous.
“As I said, a child will set his or her own.”
Just listening to Wynn from her chair in the waiting room, K.O. had to sit on her hands.
“You also claim a parent should ignore inappropriate talk.”