“Where did you put everything?”

“The curtains are in the attic. The small pieces are in the cupboard in the pantry. Don’t you think having the trestle table under Memory of Caroline is better? I always felt the pattern in the couch was distracting so near the painting.”

“Perhaps.”

She couldn’t be sure of his reaction. Nervously she tried to fill the silence with conversation. “And don’t you think with the light that way, we see more of the little boy-of you? Before this your face was rather shadowed.”

“That’s a bit fanciful. The child’s face was never meant to be defined. As a fine arts major who worked in a prominent gallery, you should realize that, Jenny.”

He laughed.

Was he intending to joke? Was it just that no matter what he said tonight, there seemed to be a sting in it? Jenny picked up her coffee cup and realized her hand was shaking. The cup slipped from her hand and the coffee splattered on the couch and Oriental rug.

“Jenny, darling. Why are you so nervous?” Erich’s face creased into worried lines. With his napkin he began to swab the stain.

“Don’t rub it in,” Jenny cautioned. Rushing into the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of club soda from the refrigerator.

With a sponge she dabbed furiously at the spots. “Thank God I hadn’t put cream in yet,” she murmured.

Erich said nothing. Would he consider the couch and carpet destroyed as he had the dining-room wallpaper?

But the club soda did the trick. “I think I’ve got it all.” She got up slowly. “I’m sorry, Erich.”

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about it. But can’t you tell me why you’re so upset? You are upset, Jen. That note for example. A few weeks ago you would have known I was teasing you. Darling, your sense of humor is one of the most delightful parts of your personality. Please don’t lose it.”

She knew he was right. “I’m sorry,” she said miserably. She was going to tell Erich about meeting Kevin. No matter what, she had to clear the air. “The reason I’m so…”

The phone rang.

“Answer it, please, Jenny.”

“It won’t be for me.”

It rang again.

“Don’t be so sure. Clyde tells me in the last week there have been a dozen disconnects where someone didn’t want to leave a taped message. That’s why I told him to let it ring through tonight.”

With a sense of fatality she preceded him into the kitchen. The phone rang a third time. She knew even before she picked it up that it was Kevin.

“Jenny, I can’t believe I finally got through to you. That damn answering machine! How are you?” Kevin’s voice was buoyant.

“I’m all right, Kev.” She felt Erich’s eyes on her face; he bent over the phone so he could hear the conversation. “What do you want?” Would Kevin talk about their meeting? If only she’d told Erich first.

“To share the good news. I’m officially in the repertory company at the Guthrie, Jen.”

“I’m glad for you,” she said stiffly. “But, Kevin, I don’t want you calling me. I forbid you to call me. Erich is right here and he’s very upset that you’re contacting me.”

“Listen, Jen, I’ll call all I want. You tell Krueger for me that he can tear up those adoption papers. I’m going to court to stop the adoption. You can have custody, Jen, and I’ll pay support, but those kids are MacPartlands and that’s the way it’s going to be. Who knows? Someday Tina and I might be doing a Tatum and Ryan O’Neal number. She’s a real little actress. Oh, Jen. Gotta run. They’re calling for me. I’ll get back to you. Bye.”

Slowly Jenny hung up the phone. “Can he stop the adoption?” she asked.

“He can try. He won’t succeed.” Erich’s eyes were cold, his tone icy.

“A Tatum and Ryan O’Neal number, my God,” Jenny said disbelievingly. “I’d almost admire him if I thought he wanted the children, really wanted them. But this!”

“Jenny, I predicted you were making a mistake letting him sponge off you,” Erich said. “If you’d been yanking him into court for support payments, you’d have been finished with him two years ago.”

As usual, Erich was right. Suddenly she felt infinitely weary and the faint nausea she’d experienced earlier was coming back. “I’m going to bed,” she said abruptly. “Are you staying here tonight, Erich?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I see.” She started down the foyer from the kitchen to the staircase. She had gone only a few feet when he caught up with her.

“Jenny.”

She turned. “What is it, Erich?”

His eyes were warm now, his face concerned and gentle. “I know it isn’t your fault that MacPartland is bothering you. I promise I know that. I shouldn’t get upset with you.”

“It makes it so much harder for me when you do.”

“We’ll work this out. Let me get through these next few days. I’ll feel better then. Try to understand. Maybe it’s because Mother promised me just before she died that she’d always be here on my birthday. Maybe that’s why I’m so depressed around this time. I feel her presence-and her loss-so much. Try to understand me; try to forgive me when I hurt you. I don’t mean it, Jenny. I love you.”

They were wrapped in each other’s arms. “Erich, please,” Jenny begged, “let this be the last year you react like this. Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years. Caroline would be fifty-seven years old. You still see her as a young woman whose death was a tragedy. It was, but it’s over. Let’s get on with life. It could be good for us. Let me share your life, really share it. Bring your friends in. Take me to see your studio. Get me a small car so I can go shopping or to an art gallery or take the kids to a movie when you’re painting.”

“You want to be able to meet Kevin, don’t you?”

“Oh, my God.” Jenny pulled away. “Let me go to bed, Erich. I really don’t feel well.”

He did not follow her up the stairs. She looked in on the girls. They were fast asleep. Tina stirred when she kissed her.

She went into the master bedroom. The faint scent of pine that always lingered in the room seemed heavier tonight. Was it because she felt queasy? Her eyes fell on the crystal bowl. Tomorrow she’d move that bowl to a guest bedroom. Oh, Erich, stay tonight, she pleaded silently. Don’t go away feeling like this. Suppose Kevin started pestering them with calls? Suppose he stopped the adoption? Suppose he had regular visitation rights? It would be unbearable for Erich. It would destroy their marriage.

She got into bed and determinedly opened her book. But it was impossible to concentrate. Her eyes were heavy and her body ached in unaccustomed places. Joe had warned her the riding would cause that. “You’ll hear from muscles you didn’t know you had,” he’d grinned.

Finally she turned off the light. A little later she heard footsteps in the hall. Erich? She pulled herself up on one elbow but the footsteps continued up the stairs to the attic. What was he doing there? A few minutes later she heard him coming down. He must be dragging something. There was a thudding sound every few steps. What was he doing?

She was about to get up and investigate when she heard sounds from downstairs, the sounds of furniture being moved.

Of course, she thought.

Erich had gone upstairs for the carton of curtains. Now he was rearranging the furniture, putting it back in its original places.

In the morning when Jenny went downstairs, the curtains were rehung; every table and chair and piece of bric-a-brac was in place and her plants were missing. Later she found them in the trash container behind the barn.