The Surprise of His Life Read Online Free PDF

pieces."
    "Then
what about another roll?" Bunny asked, turning back the daintily
embroidered folds of the bread cover.
    "No.
Thanks. I'm fine."
    "Tea.
You need more tea," Bunny said as she pushed back her chair and started to
rise.
    "Stay
seated, Mom. I'll get it." Lindsey rose, walked to the cabinet and
returned to the table with a pitcher containing an amber-colored liquid. She
smiled at Walker as she refilled his glass.
    "Thanks,"
he said, noticing that for all she'd been through, both emotionally and
travelwise, she looked good.
    In
fact, she looked better than good. She looked downright pretty. As he took in
the billowy cloud of blond hair, the curvy hips encased in jeans, the high
heels that made her long legs seem even longer, he was once more struck by the
new maturity that she wore so becomingly. He was also aware of a subtle fragrance
that alluringly arrived seconds before she did. The fragrance reminded him of
sweetness, freshness, youth. Youth. For all of her newfound maturity, Lindsey
was still young, which was probably the reason she looked good after the taxing
week she'd had. On the other hand, he was tired, his knee hurt, and he was in
less than the greatest mood of his life knowing that he had to work the
following afternoon even if it was Sunday. Without a secretary, he'd gotten
behind.
    "We'll
have cake and coffee in the other room," Bunny said now that the meal was
in its final stages. All evening she'd chattered like a magpie and flitted
around like a hyperactive bee. She started to push back her chair again.
"I think I'll put on the coffee, so it'll be ready when we are."
    "Don't
make coffee for me," Walker said. "I'll be up half the night if I
drink caffeine this late. And I don't need any cake." He patted his
stomach, which was plain flat and mean lean. "I'll have to do forty laps
in the pool as it is to take off these three pieces of chicken."
    "I
don't want coffee, either, Mom," Lindsey said, placing the pitcher on the
table and sitting back down. She glanced over at Walker. "You still swim
regularly?"
    "Yeah.
At least I try to." He grinned. "The older I get, though, the more
laps I have to do and the less results I see."
    "Oh,
I don't know," Lindsey said, "it looks like you're holding your
own."
    It
was foolish, Walker knew, but her compliment—it was a compliment, wasn't
it?—pleased him. It was nice to know that, at forty-seven, he hadn't fallen
completely apart at the seams. Okay, so a few seams were unraveling, but that
wasn't the same thing as falling apart.
    "Are
you sure about the coffee?" Bunny asked, obviously itching to do
something. Anything.
    Both
Walker and Lindsey assured her that they were. They then talked about the oil
business, the weather, Galveston tourism—everything but what was really on
their minds. Once the meal was finished, Bunny had the perfect excuse to spring
back into action.
    "I'll
load the dishwasher," she said, shoving back her chair and starting to
scrape and stack the plates.
    "Let
me," Lindsey said. "You and Walker—"
    "No,
I can," Bunny protested, adding one plate to another as fast as her
unsteady hands would allow.
    She
then reached for one of the tall crystal glasses beaded with cool condensation.
No sooner had she picked it up than it slipped from her fingers and fell to the
floor. In one deafening crash, it shattered into two dozen pieces. The noise
reverberated about the room like a gunshot. Bunny just stared, as though she
couldn't believe what she was hearing, as though she couldn't believe what she
was seeing. Slowly, with a frightening detachment, she squatted and began to
silently gather up the pieces. One by one. With the greatest of care.
    "Let
me," Lindsey said, dropping to her mother's side.
    The
older woman disregarded her daughter—in truth, she didn't even seem to have
heard her—and continued to pick up the shards of glass. "We bought these
when we married," she said tonelessly. "They cost fifteen dollars
apiece. That was a lot of money