A Will and a Way

immediately. L. J. KEYSER.
    Michael stared at the telegram for nearly a minute. It wasn’t possible; his mother was never ill. She considered it something of a social flaw. He felt a moment’s disbelief, a moment’s shock. He was reaching for the phone before either had worn off.
    When Pandora walked by his room fifteen minutes later, she saw him tossing clothes into a bag. She lifted a brow, leaned against the jamb and cleared her throat. “Going somewhere?”
    “Palm Springs.” He tossed in his shaving kit.
    “Really?” Now she folded her arms. “Looking for a sunnier climate?”
    “It’s my mother. Her husband sent me a telegram.”
    Instantly she dropped her cool, sarcastic pose and came into the room. “Is she ill?”
    “The telegram didn’t say much, but it doesn’t sound good.”
    “Oh, Michael, I’m sorry. Can I do anything? Call the airport?”
    “I’ve already done it. I’ve got a flight in a couple of hours. They’re routing me through half a dozen cities, but it was the best I could do.”
    Feeling helpless, she watched him zip up his bag. “I’ll drive you to the airport if you like.”
    “No, thanks anyway.” He dragged a hand through his hair as he turned to face her. The concern was there, though he realized she’d only met his mother once, ten, perhaps fifteen years before. The concern was for him and unexpectedly solid. “Pandora, it’s going to take me half the night to get to the coast. And then I don’t know—” He broke off, not able to imagine his mother seriously ill. “I might not be able to make it back in time—not in forty-eight hours.”
    She shook her head. “I don’t want you to think about it. I’ll call Fitzhugh and explain. Maybe he’ll be able to do something. After all, it’s an emergency. If he can’t, he can’t.”
    He was taking a step that could pull millions of dollars out from under her. Millions of dollars and the home she loved. Torn, Michael went to her and rested his hands on her shoulders. She was so slender. He’d forgotten just how fragile a strong woman could be. “I’m sorry, Pandora. If there was any other way…”
    “Michael, I told you I didn’t want the money. I meant it.”
    He studied her a moment. Yes, the strength was there, the stubbornness and the basic goodness he often overlooked. “I believe you did,” he murmured.
    “As for the rest, well, we’ll see. Now go ahead before youmiss your plane.” She waited until he’d grabbed his bag then walked with him to the hall. “Call me if you get the chance and let me know how your mother is.”
    He nodded, started for the stairs, then stopped. Setting his bag down, he came back and pulled her against him. The kiss was hard and long, with hints of a fire barely banked. He drew her away just as abruptly. “See you.”
    “Yeah.” Pandora swallowed. “See you.”
    She stood where she was until she heard the front door slam.
     
    She had a long time to think about the kiss, through a solitary dinner, during the hours when she tried to read by the cheery fire in the parlor. It seemed to Pandora that there’d been more passion concentrated in that brief contact than she’d experienced in any of her carefully structured relationships. Was it because she’d always been able to restrict passion to her temper, or her work?
    It might have been because she’d been sympathetic, and Michael had been distraught. Emotions had a way of feeding emotions. But for the second time she found herself alone in the house, and to her astonishment, lonely. It was foolish because the fire was bright, the book entertaining and the brandy she sipped warming.
    But lonely she was. After little more than a month, she’d come to depend on Michael’s company. Even to look forward to it, as strange as that may have been. She liked sitting across from him at meals, arguing with him. She especially liked watching the way he fought, exploding when she poked pins inhis work. Perverse? she wondered with a sigh. Perhaps she was, but life was so boring without a bit of friction. No one seemed to provide it more satisfactorily than Michael Donahue.
    She wondered when she’d see him again. And she wondered if now they’d have to forgo spending the winter together. If the terms of the will were broken, there would be no reason for them to stay on together. In fact, they’d have no right to stay at the Folley at all. They’d both go back to New York where, due to separate life-styles, they never