A Will and a Way

“I’ve never made love with a woman I didn’t care for and respect.” Before he cut loose and did more than shake her, he got up and walked to the door while she sat in the middle of the bed clutching sheets and looking furious.
    “It appears you give respect easily.”
    He turned back to study her. “No,” he said slowly. “But I don’t make people jump through hoops for it.”
     
    A cold war might not be as stimulating as an active battle, but with the right participants, it could be equally destructive. For days Pandora and Michael circled around each other. If one made a sarcastic comment, the other reached into the stockpile and used equal sarcasm. Neither drew out the red flag for full-scale attack, instead they picked and prodded at each other while the servants rolled their eyes and waited for bloodshed.
    “Foolishness,” Sweeney declared as she rolled out the crust for two apple pies. “Plain foolishness.” She was a sturdy, red-faced woman, as round as Charles was thin. In her pragmatic, no-nonsense way, she’d married and buried two husbands, then made her way in the world by cooking for others. Her kitchen was always neat and tidy, all the while smelling of the sinfully rich food she prepared. “Spoiled children,” she told Charles. “That’s what they are. Spoiled children need the back of the hand.”
    “They’ve over four months to go.” Charles sat gloomily at the kitchen table, hunched over a cup of tea. “They’ll never make it.”
    “Hah!” Sweeney slammed the rolling pin onto a fresh ball of dough. “They’ll make it. Too stubborn not to. But it’s not enough.”
    “The master wanted them to have the house. As long as they do, we won’t lose it.”
    “What’ll we be doing in this big empty house when both of them go back to the city? How often will either of them be visiting with the master gone?” Sweeney turned the crust into a pan and trimmed it expertly. “The master wanted them to have the house, true enough. And he wanted them to have each other. The house needs a family. It’s up to us to see it gets one.”
    “You didn’t hear them over breakfast.” Charles sipped his tea and watched Sweeney pour a moist apple mixture into the crust.
    “That has nothing to do with it. I’ve seen the way they look at each other when they think the other one’s not noticing. All they need’s a push.”
    With quick, economic movements, she filled the second crust. “We’re going to give ’em one.”
    Charles stretched out his legs. “We’re too old to push young people.”
    Sweeney gave a quick grunt as she turned. Her hands were thick, and she set them on her hips. “Being old’s the whole trick. You’ve been feeling poorly lately.”
    “No, to tell you the truth, I’ve been feeling much better this week.”
    “You’ve been feeling poorly,” Sweeney repeated, scowling at him. “Now here’s our Pandora coming in for lunch. Just follow my lead. Look a little peaked.”
    Snow had come during the night, big fat flakes that piled on the ground and hung in the pines. As she walked, Pandora kicked it up, pleased with herself. Her work couldn’t have been going better. The earrings she’d finally fashioned had been unique, so unique, she’d designed a necklace to complement them. It was chunky and oversize with geometric shapes of copper and gold. Not every woman could wear it, but the one who could wouldn’t go unnoticed.
    It was, to Pandora, a statement of the strong, disciplined woman. She was just as pleased with the shoulder-brushingearrings she was making with jet and silver beads. They had been painstakingly strung together and when finished would be elegantly flirtatious. Another aspect of woman. If her pace kept steady, she’d have a solid inventory to ship off to the boutique she supplied. In time for the Christmas rush, she reminded herself smugly.
    When she opened the kitchen door, she was ravenously hungry and in the best of moods.
    “…if you’re feeling better in a day or two,” Sweeney said briskly, then turned as if surprised to see Pandora inside. “Oh, time must’ve got away from me. Lunch already and I’m just finishing up the pies.”
    “Apple pies?” Grinning, Pandora moved closer. But Sweeney saw with satisfaction that Pandora was already studying Charles. “Any filling left?” she began, and started to dip her fingers into the bowl. Sweeney smacked them smartly.
    “You’ve been working with those hands. Wash them up