Trust Me

too.”
    “And maybe we can go to bed together afterward,” Stark suggested, feeling optimistic about life in general.
    “You have a one-track mind.”
    “I realize that I tend to be somewhat linear in my thinking, but I’m trying very hard not to be tacky.”
    Desdemona sipped daintily from her glass of fizzing water. Her eyes sparkled. “Luckily for you, you’re too sexy to be called tacky.”
    What with the responsibilities that came with being an older brother, as well as the demands of business and the ARCANE project, Stark found it extremely difficult to maintain political correctness in his thinking processes.
    It was hard, for example, not to think tacky thoughts about Desdemona.

    By Monday morning all he really wanted to focus on was how to be alone with her. It was a thorny problem, but he was more than willing to devote a great deal of energy to it. He was, after all, very goal-oriented.
    Maud Pitchcott looked up as he walked through the door of his office.
    “Good morning, Mr. Stark. A lovely day. Full of sunlight and fresh promise, isn’t it?”
    “It’s raining.”
    “April showers bring May flowers.”
    “It’s the middle of June.”
    “We wouldn’t appreciate the sunshine if we didn’t have to first experience the rain,” Maud said with ill-concealed triumph.
    “I give up. You win.” Stark started past her desk toward the door of the inner office.
    “Oh, Mr. Stark, I almost forgot. A package arrived for you.” Maud reached for a large box wrapped in brown paper that sat on the table behind her desk. She handed it to him. “See? A surprise to brighten a rainy day.”
    Stark took the package. He glanced at the return address. “It’s from my mother.”
    “How lovely.”
    “Probably a wedding gift. Looks like she didn’t get my note telling her the bride ran off.”
    Maud’s face fell for an instant, but she rallied quickly. “Never forget, Mr. Stark, nothing happens without a reason, even though in the darkest hours before the dawn that reason seems obscure. Every cloud has a silver lining. By the way, Mr. McCallum wants to see you as soon as you’re available.”
    “Send him in.”
    Stark went into his inner sanctum, put the package down on his desk, hooked his jacket on a coat rack, and sat down. The intercom chimed gently.
    “What is it, Maud?”
    “There’s a call for you on line two. A Mrs. Alison Stark.” Maud’s tone ended on a distinct question mark.
    “Damn.” Stark hesitated. He was not in a mood to talk to Alison, but he supposed there was no avoiding it. “I’ll take it. Tell McCallum to wait.” He punched line two. “This is Stark.”
    “Sam? This is Alison. I called to see how the boys are doing.”
    “They’re doing fine.” Stark studied the screen of his electronic calendar, mentally reviewing his schedule for the day. He wondered if Desdemona would be free for lunch.
    “You’re sure?”
    The odd note in her voice got his full attention. “Of course, I’m sure. I just sent them off with their babysitter.”
    “You’ve got a babysitter for them?” Alison sounded flabbergasted.
    “A friend of mine recommended him. He’s got them involved in a children’s theater project. They gave their first performance on Saturday, and it was a smash hit.”
    “Good grief. I had no idea Jason and Kyle were interested in theater.”
    “Is there a problem here, Alison? Because I’ve got a busy schedule today.” Stark found a pair of scissors in his desk drawer. He went to work on the box his mother had sent.
    “No, there’s no problem here,” Alison paused. “To be frank, I called because I thought that you’d be more than ready to pack Jason and Kyle up and ship them back to Portland by now.”
    “Like I said, they’re doing fine.”
    “No offense, but I’m amazed to hear that. Maybe their therapist was right.”
    “About what?”
    “Jason and Kyle may see you as a substitute for Hudson.” Her voice dropped to a confidential tone. “You know, I was at my wit’s end the night they ran off to Seattle.”
    “Forget it.” Stark got the tape undone. He lifted the top of the box.
    “I’ve been having intensive stress reduction sessions with my own therapist. I’m feeling much calmer now.”
    “That’s nice.” Stark picked up the card that was lying on top of the tissue paper. It read:
    Dear Sam,
    Sorry to miss your wedding. We’ll be in Europe by the time you get this. Things have been hectic around here. Richard graduated from