The Burning Point Read Free Page B

just not cut out for Victorian formality."
    Terrifyingly elegant but with an amused glint in her eyes, her mother murmured, "Why am I not surprised?" as she pulled a pair of gloves from her beaded handbag.
    Kate laughed. "For the same reason I'm not surprised that you came prepared."
    Donovan watched in fascination as she worked the white kidskin gloves over her hands and up to her elbows. They fit like a second skin. As her mother fastened several buttons at each wrist, Kate glanced at him, her expression saying, You and I know this is kind of silly, but I have to humor my parents. Then she glided into the building like a royal princess, her mother and father a step behind.
    As the next car in the line pulled up, he sent a last yearning glance after Kate, wanting to imprint that laughing image on his mind forever. Girls like her were not for guys like him, who parked cars and worked construction to earn college money.
    His imagination hadn't been good enough to guess the way the night would end.
    But that was then, and this was now. He turned away, hoping no one had noticed him staring at his former wife. The old Kate had been something special, opening her arms to embrace life with a blend of innocent trust and intelligence that had entranced him. Now she wore the same impenetrable calm that was so characteristic of Julia.
    Not that resembling Julia was bad--he loved his former mother-in-law. Despite her reserve, she had been a warm, supportive presence in his life. Not precisely like a mother--more of a wise aunt who accepted everything about him.
    But where Julia had reserve, Kate had wariness. And most of that was because of him. Oh, no doubt she'd experienced her share of ups and downs since their divorce, but he knew damned well that he was the one who'd destroyed that innocent openness. Over the years he'd done his best to fix his flaws, but nothing could change the past. Kate was a beautiful, excruciating reminder of the worst time of his life.
    Thank God she'd go back to San Francisco in a few days.
    ∗ ∗ ∗
    The rumor of snow had produced a general exodus. The last to leave was Kate's cousin Nick Corsi and his quiet, dark-eyed wife, Angie. Nick had worked for PDI for years until leaving recently to start his own demolition business. His face was somber. Kate suspected that like Donovan, he was wondering if it would have made a difference if he'd been at the fatal shoot. Death and guilt were natural partners.
    After giving her cousin a farewell hug, Kate closed the door against the piercing cold. With Sam dead and Nick out of the firm, Julia was the owner of PDI, and Donovan was the obvious choice to run it. He'd do as good a job as Sam. Maybe even better, because he was less volatile. Most of the time.
    She thought with a flash of bitterness that Donovan had done a lot better from their ill-fated marriage than she had. He'd acquired a second family and an exciting career, while she'd ended up three thousand miles away in a profession that hadn't been her first choice.
    It had taken death to bring her back to Maryland, and not only because she hadn't wanted to see Donovan. The greater reason was to avoid seeing how much she'd walked away from. Yet if she had to go through the dissolution of her marriage again, she'd probably make all the same decisions, so there was no point in self-pity.
    She returned to the living room, pausing in the doorway. Even with empty plates and cups littering every flat surface, she was soothed by the timeless elegance of her mother's lovingly polished antiques and the richly colored patterns of the Persian rugs. The design of the room was pure Julia, yet Sam had loved it, too, as a sign of how far he'd come from East Baltimore.
    Seeing Kate, Julia emerged from the temporary refuge of a wing chair. "Since Janet will be cleaning in here, Charles suggested we meet in the family room."
    Kate sighed. She'd forgotten that the lawyer wanted to talk to them. As she and her mother crossed