After the Reunion Read Online Free

and Emily nodded and smiled back, and then they went their separate ways. “ ’Night, now,” Suzanne called after her.
    In the car, creeping along with the rush hour traffic, Emily thought: I’m famous. I’m Ken Buchman’s wife and Kit Barnett’s mother. My freshman advisor back at Radcliffe would be thrilled .
    The kitchen smelled delicious. “Doctor Buchman called,” Adeline greeted her. “He has to meet somebody and he says to start without him and save him something.”
    Emily’s heart sank. “Did you remind him the children are coming?”
    “He remembers.”
    The last several times Ken had had “meetings” they’d lasted until ten or eleven o’clock, and he’d come home surly and refusing to make conversation. She’d been so sure all that with his women was over, but now she wondered. What else could it be? Dermatologists didn’t have meetings, and they didn’t work until eleven o’clock at night. Maybe he was just having a drink with another man at the Polo Lounge, the way he sometimes did; but it was inconsiderate of him to do it when the children wanted to see him, too. They always ate at seven so Adeline could get home. A person could certainly have enough drinks by seven o’clock. Well, she wasn’t going to argue with him. She would do her best to make it a pleasant evening for everyone.
    “Hi, Mom! Hi, Adeline!” Peter, her tall, tanned, handsome son, smiling.
    Adeline put her palms together and bowed the way Ed McMahon did on the Johnny Carson show. “The Little Prince!” Adeline said, and bowed again. Peter laughed and hugged her. He let Emily hug him.
    “You’re looking beautiful, Mom,” he said. “What’s for dinner?”
    “Your favorite things and a surprise,” Adeline said before Emily could answer.
    “I saved you all the copies of The Wall Street Journal, ” Emily said.
    “I have my own subscription now,” Peter said cheerfully. “The Little Prince is going to be the little tycoon. Or big tycoon someday, I hope. Where’s Dad?”
    “He’s going to be late,” Emily said.
    “Something I said?” Kate asked, smiling, slipping into the room like a wraith. A head taller than Emily, but still fragile-looking, with a froth of dark hair and big gray eyes, she looked a lot like Emily did at her age, minus the fear. The shrill voice of her babyhood was gone—that piercing, demanding little voice that had driven Emily to distraction so many years ago—replaced by an interesting husky tone. That was one of the things that distinguished her from other young actresses, but even more importantly it was her eyes; something mysterious and withheld, a challenge; even though her manner was friendly. Emily was aware of this on the screen, as was everyone else, but she also saw it in her own home, and she knew it was Kate’s look; there was a place beyond which you could not go.
    Kate gave Adeline a quick hug, suffered her mother to hug her, and put her arm around her brother. “Let’s have some wine out by the pool,” Emily said. “It’s so pretty this time of the evening.”
    They marched out with a carafe of white wine, glasses, and a cooler, and arranged themselves in front of the sunset. Emily noticed for the first time that there was a bruise on the side of Kate’s face, as if someone had struck her. “What’s that?” she asked, alarmed.
    “What’s what?”
    “Your face. It looks as if you hurt yourself.”
    “Oh, I have no idea,” Kate said calmly. Her voice made it quite clear that she was not going to discuss it.
    “How’s work?” Emily asked quickly.
    “I’m up for something, but if I tell anybody I’ll jinx it,” Kate said.
    “Well, I have my fingers crossed. You tell me just as soon as you know.”
    “I will.”
    “I have a chance to sell my car to a girl at school,” Peter said. He took a sip of his wine. “What kind of wine is this?”
    “Just jug wine,” Emily said.
    “Oh. Anyway, I was thinking, then I could buy a used BMW and learn to fix