Moments In Time Read Free

at least once a week,” he observed, “and certainly blows a hole in that magazine article I read a few days back.”
    “And what article was that?” she asked, nuzzling his chest, eyes closed.
    “The one expounding on the notion that women lose their inclination once they pass forty,” he grinned, anticipating her response. He felt her eyelashes flutter on his skin as her eyes flashed open.
    “And have you noticed a decline in inclination over the years?” she asked archly.
    “Absolutely none,” he assured her, his hand caressing the small of her back, “I was merely repeating the theory. I thought perhaps I’d write a rebuttal.”
    “Do so anonymously, please,” she yawned, “or the tabloids will have a field day.”
    He laughed and moved his arm to permit her to turn onto her stomach.
    “And what have you planned for today?” he inquired into the tangle of dark hair.
    “I thought I’d do some shopping,” she replied, “since school will be starting soon, and I’d like to buy some school clothes for the kids while we’re over here. Everything’s always so hectic by the time we get back to the States, And I want to get something very special for your mother’s birthday. She’ll be sixty-five this year, you know. Anything ending in a zero or a five is a big birthday.”
    They called room service and enjoyed the luxury of breakfast in bed, no small children bouncing on the mattress, no tiny faces begging for a bite of this or a sip of that. She dressed casually and by nine-thirty was ready to begin her errands.
    “And what will you be doing while I’m out spending the bulk of the proceeds from your last album?” she asked.
    “I will finish reading the paper and take a shower. Maybe pop down to the local bookstore and look over the selection. I’m in the mood for a good, challenging mystery. Come back in time to have tea with me downstairs,” he suggested, “and you can tell me what wonderful surprise you found for my mom.”
    She leaned down to kiss him and in doing so spilled coffee onto the tray that she’d knocked with her elbow. Frowning, she sopped up the dark liquid with several napkins, grumbling, “I’d say I’m getting off to a good start today.”
    He pulled her down to him and kissed her.
    “I’d say you got off to a very good start today,” he reminded her.
    She laughed and headed out the door.
    Once out onto the street, she stopped, debating whether to take a cab or to walk. It was a pleasant enough morning, she decided, and paused to get her bearings, considered her errands, and crossed the street. She strolled along for several blocks, enjoying her solitary excursion, though her normally brisk pace was impeded by the crowds that were rapidly filling the sidewalks. Following first one side street, then another, she stopped several times to peer into the shop windows at items that caught her eye.
    The city bustled, as it always seemed to do in summer. The first morning rush of cars and buses hurrying folks to work had eased, their places on the streets now taken by the red double-decker buses jammed with tourists. She stopped to give directions to a group of Japanese tourists seeking Buckingham Palace, reminding them the guard changed at eleven-thirty and encouraging them not to miss the gardens as she pointed out the way. As they moved on by, the storefront that had been obscured by the throng came into view. The small antique shop was just opening for the day, and a quick glance at the window revealed a diminutive writing desk tucked into the display.
    She leaned closer for a better look. It was perfect, she thought, for that short wall in the front hallway of the home they shared with J.D.’s mother during summers and vacations. They had expanded the old house several times over the past few years as their family had grown, the last time enlarging the entry as they added a library and a sunroom to the left of the main stairway. She went inside the antique shop and