Rachel Goddard 01 - The Heat of the Moon

where I was, although I wanted to rush forward and shield Luke.
    “Relax, for heaven’s sake,” Michelle said with a laugh.
    When Mother opened the front door the honeyed scent of spirea wafted in on the warm evening breeze.
    “Dr. Campbell.” She extended a hand as Luke stepped in. “I’m Judith Goddard. I’m glad to meet you at last.”
    She was warm and gracious, and I couldn’t help thinking of Kevin, who’d walked through that door not long ago believing she welcomed him into our lives.
    Luke was an ill-at-ease boy in a charcoal gray suit, white shirt and plain navy blue tie. He shook Mother’s hand, exchanged pleasantries, asked her to call him Luke. He looked beyond her, searching for me, and only when he found me did he smile.
    They stepped into the living room, Mother with a hand on Luke’s elbow like an adult urging a child forward. He came to my side quickly, and I was afraid he’d kiss me or take my hand, but he just grinned and murmured, “You’re gorgeous,” so low that only I could hear.
    Michelle was full of winsome charm, soft-voiced and big-eyed. A tiny spot of worry faded when I saw that Luke, while he was friendly to her, didn’t seem bowled over by her pretty face and feminine manner.
    “Rachel’s been keeping you a deep, dark secret,” Michelle said, almost impish.
    He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised, amusement on his lips. He looked incredibly handsome.
    Mother said, “Sit down, Luke, please. Let me get you something to drink. We have a bottle of white wine chilled.” A second’s pause. “Or would you rather have bourbon or scotch?”
    “Scotch, please.” I hadn’t seen him drink before, but he looked as if he could use a stiff shot of something. He sat on the sofa, leaning forward with elbows on his knees and hands clasped. “Just a little.”
    Mother went to the cabinet where the sweating wine bottle sat on a silver tray with four stemmed glasses. She opened the cabinet door and placed one of the glasses inside, then brought out a tumbler and a never-opened bottle of scotch. Her slight smile didn’t alter, but I realized with a sinking feeling that Luke had already disappointed her, failed a test he didn’t know he was taking. She would have expected him to accept what she mentioned first, probably expected him to notice the tray with the wine and glasses.
    The conversation began pleasantly enough, with questions about where Luke was living and how he liked working in McLean. We talked about plans for redevelopment of McLean’s Central Business District and decided the changes would have no impact on either the clinic or Mother’s office building. I watched Luke relax and heard his voice settle into its usual easy rhythm. So far, so good. But the evening stretched ahead like a minefield.
    My eyes strayed to my watch and the mantel clock a dozen times before Mother rose at last and suggested we go in to dinner.
    Our best gold-rimmed china, seldom used, a crisp new linen tablecloth, a low centerpiece of mixed flowers: it was all perfect, and much more formal than I’d wanted. Silver candlesticks flanked the floral arrangement, but the candles were unlit and unneeded because the room was suffused with the soft golden light of the waning sun. 
    Michelle appointed herself server for the evening, and she carried dishes in from the kitchen and set them on the table with a flourish. Rosario had prepared boned chicken breasts fragrant with wine and herbs. The sights and aromas of the meal didn’t arouse even a trace of appetite in my clenched stomach and dry mouth.
    When we’d finished the business of filling plates and wine glasses and passing the bread basket, Mother asked Luke how he came to buy the clinic. They faced each other down the table; Michelle and I sat on either side.
    “I had a place over in Maryland, kind of out in the country,” he said. “I wanted something bigger and easier for people to get to. And I liked the idea of my specialty practice being part of a full-service clinic. Lucky for me Dr. McCutcheon decided to retire when he did.” He grinned at me, on his right. “Lucky in a lot of ways.”
    I ducked my head, ridiculously self-conscious.
    “It must be a relief to the staff,” Mother said, “that you haven’t let anybody go or made any major changes yet. After the panic the sale caused.”
    I almost dropped my knife. I fumbled to keep the heavy silver from clanking against the rim of my plate. For God’s sake, why did she say