Chris wobbled in beside Bitsy and gratefully sank into a club chair in the privacy of the small warming room. The magazine lay at her feet. She took the wet towel Bitsy offered and plastered it to her face. There must be some mistake. It couldn’t be Ken Callahan. Ken Callahan was a simple sweet man. He cooked potholders and ate macaroni and cheese. She trusted Ken Callahan-he wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t. She took a deep breath and struggled to gain some composure, to control the panic and confusion in her mind. When she was breathing normally, she took another look at the cover. It was Ken Callahan.

A chill spread throughout her body. She shivered and hugged her arms to get warm. “Why? Why did he lie to me? I thought he was some kind of construction worker. I thought he didn’t have any money. Didn’t have any job. Didn’t have a home. I trusted him, Bitsy. I fell in love with him. Why am I always such a fool when it comes to men?”

She took a dripping fresh towel from Bitsy.

“Arggggh,” she groaned. “My head.”

“Would you like an aspirin?”

“No. I’d like a gun. I’d shoot myself in the foot to take my mind off my head…my heart.”

Bitsy thunked herself in the forehead with her fist. “I shouldn’t have told you today. Here you are with the world’s worst hangover, and I have to drop this bomb on you.”

“No. You did the right thing.”

“It’s a nice picture of him,” Bitsy said, looking at the magazine on the floor.

Chris took the book in her hand. The man on the cover was not Ken Callahan. The man on the cover had a ruthless set to his mouth that sent chills creeping down her spine. His eyes were blue-black and compelling, but they were without humor. “I’ve never seen him in a suit,” Chris said dully.

“That’s not what you were thinking.”

“I was thinking that I don’t know this man on the cover.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I didn’t know Steven, either. I rushed into marriage and found out I didn’t know him at all.”

“Double uh-oh.”

“Why does this happen to me? What is it about me that makes men lie to me?”

“You’re not going to make a big deal out of this, are you?”

“Of course I’m going to make a big deal out of this. Peas and carrots, Bitsy, he didn’t even tell me his right name.”

Bitsy giggled and wrinkled her nose at Chris. “Peas and carrots?”

Chris slapped the towel back over her face. “It’s Aunt Edna. She doesn’t allow any cussing in the house. She says that since Ken moved in she’s been hearing words she doesn’t like. Now she makes us say things like ‘peas and carrots’ and ‘holy cabbage.’”

“I kind of like ‘holy cabbage.’”

“What am I going to do? I’m so in love with the creep.”

“Why don’t you just ask him why he lied to you?”

“Because I’m afraid he’ll just feed me some slick answer.”

Bitsy shook her head. “Boy, I’m really impressed with the amount of trust going on in this relationship.”

“It’s so weird, Bitsy. Yesterday, I would have trusted him with my life…my soul. And now, I just don’t know. I don’t feel very competent when it comes to judging men. I don’t want to make another mistake.”

Bitsy sighed and looked at her watch. “I have to get back out on the ice. I have a lesson in three minutes.”

Chris nodded. “Me too. I’m working with Patti.”

Chris felt him before she saw him. There was a warm rush of pleasure that inexplicably poured from her heart to the tips of her fingers. She turned and found him standing at the guardrail with a wicker picnic basket slung over his arm but the pleasure was immediately replaced by clammy dread. This was Kenneth Knight, construction mogul. What the bell pepper would she say to him? She waved and indicated ten minutes-then willed herself to forget his presence and concentrate on her student. Thank goodness for all those years of skating, she thought. If it had taught her anything, it was how to focus on the task at hand.

When her lesson was finished, she skated toward Ken and decided to follow her earlier tactic: focus on the task at hand. She didn’t feel capable of making an intelligent decision about their relationship, so she would simply procrastinate. She would put her priorities in order, and first priority would be to prepare Patti for Easterns. It would buy her some time-and maybe give Ken a chance to straighten things out by himself.

“It’s the day after Thanksgiving. What are all these kids doing here?”

“They have the day off from school-this is a good chance to pick up some extra ice time. At two o’clock public session begins, and they’ll be done for the day.”

“And how about you? Are you done then, too?”

“Afraid not. I’m spending some time on off-ice conditioning with Patti and Alex and two of my Novice men. We have a small dance studio here with a springboard floor and mirrors. We’ll work on air jumps and do some choreography.”

“Air jumps?”

“Jumps from the floor. Sometimes it’s easier to correct rotation on a trampoline or from the floor.” Chris pointed to the food basket. “Let me guess. Turkey sandwiches?”

“For the next seven months, at least.”

They placed the basket on a bench in the lobby and sat on either side of it. Ken selected a sandwich and looked at it with interest. “There’s something purple in here.”

“Cranberries. Aunt Edna can cram a whole meal between two slices of bread. One time she gave me egg salad with cooked carrots and mashed potatoes.” Chris chose a packet of fresh vegetables and munched on a celery stick. “Do you remember when I explained to you about competitions? How the kids work themselves up the ladder toward Nationals?”

“Mmmm.”

Chris kept her voice low to control her confused emotions. She wanted to keep this conversation natural and friendly. “In a week and a half Bitsy and I will be going to Boston for Easterns. I’m going to be really busy between now and then.”

Ken looked up. He searched her face for some understanding of her statement. “Keep going.”

“That’s all. I’m just going to be busy.” She winced when her voice cracked on the word busy.

“I understand what you said. It’s the way your knuckles are turning white while you hang on to the food basket that has me confused. What’s going on?”

Oh crud, Chris thought, I’m really crummy at this. Good thing I never had any aspirations toward acting. She looked at him in dismay. “I’m sick,” she lied. “My head hurts.”

“Hangover. You’re not much of a drinker.”

Chris felt weak with relief at having succeeded with her fib. She averted her eyes and pawed through the basket. “What else is in here? I don’t think I can manage a turkey sandwich.”

“I suspected. I told Edna to pack a thermos of tea, and I think there’s a package of crackers in there, too.”

Chris found the thermos of tea and poured a cup out for herself. She focused her gaze on the steaming liquid. “I really will be busy for a couple weeks. There are several students qualified for Easterns. They’ll be busy needing extra attention.”

“How long will you have to be in Boston?”

“I’ll be there for seven days. Only three of those days are actual competition days for my kids…Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. At the beginning of the week they get practice time at the rink.” Chris nibbled at a cracker. “All ice surfaces aren’t the same, and skaters always need a little time to orient themselves in a new arena.”

“Is this open to the public? Are you going to invite me along?”

“Yes, it’s open to the public. And…I don’t know if I’m going to invite you along.” She sipped at her tea and wondered why she felt so guilty about all this. He was the one who had lied. He was the impostor. Why did she feel like such a rat? “My schedule will be even worse than it is now”-her eyes met his defiantly-“and I make sure I set a good example when I travel with my students.”