From the Heart

months.”
    “Good idea.” Kasey turned from the mirror and faced Alison directly. “Though I imagine we’d have run across each other in the shower before too long.”
    “If you have a preference for your bath time, Miss Wyatt, I would be happy to accommodate you.”
    Kasey moved to the bed to drop her nightgown. “I’m notfussy. I’ve shared bathrooms before.” She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and glanced up dubiously at the canopy. “I’ll try to stay out of your way in the mornings. You go to school, I imagine.”
    “Yes, I’m attending school this year. Last year I had a tutor. I’m very high-strung.”
    “Is that so?” Kasey lifted her brows and struggled with a smile. “I’m low-strung, myself.”
    Alison frowned at this. Unable to decide whether to advance or retreat, she hesitated on the threshold.
    Kasey noted the uncertainty, the trained manners, the hands that were neatly folded at the waist of the expensive dress. She remembered the child was only eleven. “Tell me, Alison, what do you do around here for fun?”
    “Fun?” Fascinated, Alison stepped into the room.
    “Yes, fun. You can’t go to school all the time.” She pushed a stray curl out of her eyes. “And I’m definitely not going to be working twenty-four hours a day.”
    “There’s a tennis court.” Alison came a bit closer. “And the pool, of course.”
    Kasey nodded. “I like to swim,” she went on before Alison could comment. “But I’m not too good at tennis. Do you play?”
    “Yes, I—”
    “Terrific. Maybe you can give me some lessons.” Her eyes swept the room again. “Tell me, is your room pink?”
    Alison stared a moment, trying to understand the change in topic. “No, it’s done in blues and greens.”
    “Hmmm, good choice.” Kasey made a face at the drapes. “I painted my room purple once when I was fifteen. I had nightmares for two months.” She caught Alison’s unblinking stare. “Something wrong?”
    “You don’t look like an anthropologist,” Alison blurted out, then caught her breath at her lack of manners.
    “No?” Kasey thought of Jordan and lifted her brows. “Why?”
    “You’re pretty.” A blush rushed into Alison’s cheeks.
    “You think so?” Kasey rose to peer at herself in the mirror. She narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes I think so, but mostly I think my nose is too small.”
    Alison was staring at Kasey’s reflection. As their eyes met in the glass, Kasey’s lit with a smile. It was slow, warm and all-encompassing. Alison’s lips, so much like her uncle’s, curved in unconscious response.
    “I have to go down to dinner now.” She backed out of the door, unwilling to lose sight of the smile. “Good night, Miss Wyatt.”
    “Good night, Alison.”
    Turning as the door shut, Kasey sighed. An interesting group, she decided. Her mind turned toward Jordan again. Very interesting.
    She walked over and picked up the nightgown again, then ran it idly through her hands. And where, she wondered, does Kasey Wyatt fit into all of this? With a sigh, she sat on the lounge chair. The conversation between Jordan and Dr. Rhodes which she had walked in on had been more amusing than annoying. But still . . . Kasey let Jordan’s description of her run through her mind again.
    Typical, she decided. A typical layman’s view of a scientist who happens to be a woman. Kasey was perfectly aware that she had unsettled Harry Rhodes. A smile tugged at her mouth. She thought she would like him. He was rather staid and pompous and, she reflected, probably very sweet. Beatrice Taylor was another matter. Kasey leaned back in the lounge chair and ordered herself to relax. There would be no common ground between herself and the older woman, but, Kasey thought, if they were lucky, there would be no animosity. As for the child . . .
    Kasey closed her eyes and began to unbutton her blouse as she lay there. Alison. Mature for her age—maybe too mature. Kasey knew what it was like to lose parents in childhood. There were feelings of confusion, betrayal, guilt. It was a lot for a young person to cope with. Who mothers her now? she wondered. Beatrice? Kasey shook her head. Somehow, she couldn’t picture the elegant matron mothering an eleven-year-old girl. She would see that Alison was well-dressed, well-fed and well-mannered. Kasey felt a second stir of pity.
    Then there’s Jordan. With another sigh, Kasey roused herself enough to pull off her blouse and slip off her shoes.He