Chris and Ken followed the little girl in and closed the gate behind them. Chris sat cross-legged and looked around. The cap was fiber-glass, lined with walnut paneling. Snowflakes scudded past the large windows. A small battery-powered lamp bathed the interior in soft light. Lucy’s favorite books were scattered in a corner, keeping company with her dolls, Fanny and Snuffy. Chris watched her daughter. This was the most fun she’d ever had with a cold, she thought. She must have spent all morning snuggled in this camper.

Ken opened the lid on a large wicker hamper. He spread a red checkered tablecloth over the quilts. “Aunt Edna packed a feast,” he exclaimed. “Fried chicken, fresh-baked biscuits, coleslaw, and apple crisp for dessert.”

When they were done eating, they lay back and took turns reading story books until it was time for Chris to go back to work. She gave Lucy a hug and a kiss and buckled her into the front seat.

“How about me?” Ken asked. “Do I get a hug and a kiss, too?”

Lucy’s eyes grew large and round. “Mommy, are you going to kiss Ken?”

“You bet!” She laughed, throwing her arms around him as he stood by the passenger side door. “This was the nicest surprise I’ve ever had.” She gave him a big smackeroo-type kiss that sent Lucy off into gales of giggles. Ken’s eyes met hers, and they exchanged looks of tender affection. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ken deposited a friendly kiss on the tip of her nose and pushed her toward the rink. “See you later.”

Bitsy was waiting for her. “I know him,” she groaned. “It’s driving me nuts. I can’t figure out how I know him.”

“Maybe he just looks like someone you know. Some other incredibly handsome man.”

“No. It’s his eyes. They’re so dark-midnight blue. And those thick black lashes. I’d kill for those lashes.”

“Yeah. He’d be great in mascara ads.”

Chris switched off the light on her night table and gave herself a mental hug. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and it would be the best Thanksgiving ever. All week she’d come home to a household that was in full preparation for a holiday. On Monday, Edna had proudly informed her that Ken now knew how to make pumpkin pie. Ken had good-naturedly appraised his flour-smudged shirt and suggested that he knew how to scrub pie bowls and clean flour-dusted countertops, but he doubted if he could make a pie. Tuesday evening, he sported a blood-stained, bandaged thumb and declared that if he lived to be a hundred he didn’t ever want to slice up another head of cabbage. Today, he’d spent the afternoon with Lucy, coloring page after page of Pilgrims and turkeys in her Thanksgiving coloring book. He had a definite flair with a box of crayons. She smiled. He made purple turkeys and green Pilgrims and showed a decided preference for orange sky.

There had been no more mention of marriage, but Chris knew Edna and Ken had a plan. They got along in noisy harmony interlaced with friendly teasing and obvious affection. Meanwhile, Ken had maintained his distance, ending each night with a loving but brief kiss at the foot of the stairs.

It was growing tedious. Chris felt her mood changing from one of contented happiness to heated exasperation. She thrashed from side to side, ending in a tangle of sheets and blankets. Dammit, there hadn’t been a man in her life for seven years, and now all of a sudden she was in a dither because she had to sleep alone for a week. Darn that Ken Callahan, anyway. See what a bother men are? She got up and straightened the bed, then she threw herself back into it with a “Hrmmph.” And why is he in such perfect control? Why isn’t he frothing at the mouth, like me? She punched her pillow and snarled. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, she thought rebelliously, it was a man with morals.

The floor creaked just outside her door. She lay dead still and listened. Had she awakened Lucy with her rumblings? Chris blinked as the door cracked open and a sliver of light spilled across the dark carpet.

“Chris?” Ken whispered.

Chris propped herself up on her elbows and debated attacking him before he got away.

“What are you doing here?” If it had anything to do with tomorrow’s turkey…she’d kill him.

He closed the door carefully behind him and crept to the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Hmmmmm,” she purred at his bare chest and revealing jeans.

His eyes glittered feverishly as he took in the rumpled sheets and wild orange hair. “You couldn’t sleep, either?”

Chris thought the heat had become unbearable. If she didn’t get her nightgown off soon she would surely slither from the bed in a pool of lust and sweat. She swallowed and pressed her knees together and tried to sound casual. “I always get excited before a holiday.”

“Me, too.” He sat on the edge of the bed and unbuttoned the top button of her nightgown. “I’m so excited I’m in pain.”

“They say pain builds character.”

Two more buttons popped open. “I certainly hope so, because if Edna catches me in here I’m going to be in a lot of pain.”

“Maybe you should leave,” Chris teased.

“Not on your life.” He eased her nightgown over her shoulders. His lips trailed lingering kisses along the curve of her neck as he spoke. “I wanted to give you some time to get to know me. And I didn’t want to create an awkward situation between you and Edna and Lucy.” His mouth moved just inches from hers. “Honey, I’m so lonely for you. I’ve taken so many cold showers…the inside of my cast is starting to mold.” His lips left a trail of fire down her neck as he headed to softer, more intimate places.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Chris shut her eyes tight in a rush of overwhelming love. She had felt oddly married to him at the kitchen key exchange, and now something else had been exchanged. Something very sacred and forever binding. She fell asleep, happily wrapped in his arms.

At four-thirty A.M. Chris’ bedside alarm rang out with enough fervor to awaken even the most intrepid sleeper.

Ken opened one eye and uttered a brief but effective expletive.

Chris slammed her fist down on the off button.

“Why is your alarm set for four-thirty on Thanksgiving morning?”

“Force of habit. I must have done it automatically.”

Slippered feet padded past the bedroom door en route to the bathroom down the hall. “You’d think a body could sleep on Thanksgiving morning,” Edna mumbled. “You’d think people would know enough to shut their alarms off when a holiday comes around. You’d think-” Her words were cut short by the closing of the bathroom door.

Ken turned to Chris with a look of utter horror. “I’m a dead man.”

“It’s okay.” Chris snuggled closer. “When she’s done in the bathroom she’ll go back to her room to get dressed, and you can sneak downstairs.”

“I thought this only happened on daytime television.”

“Daytime television doesn’t have anything comparable to Aunt Edna.”

Edna sagged in her seat, her eyes slightly glazed, her mouth hanging slack in her round pleasant face. “I can’t eat another bite. I shouldn’t have had that last piece of pie.”

Ken smiled with gluttonous satisfaction. “It was delicious. All of it.”

Chris looked at the turkey carcass with morose skepticism. “We’ll never finish it. Not in a million years.”

“It was a nice big bird,” Edna sighed.

“It’s as big as an ostrich,” Chris said.

Lucy wriggled in her seat. “Mommy, we’ve been sitting at this table forever.”

Ken stood and stretched. “Do you know how to play checkers?” he asked Lucy.

“Yup.”

“I bet if we get really involved in a good game of checkers we could get out of cleaning up this messy table.”

Lucy giggled and ran to get the checkerboard.

After an afternoon of games and a light supper, Lucy fell asleep in front of the tele vision set.