“You okay?” The tall figure appeared in the doorway, her silhouette invisible against the darkness of the night.


“I um…I…would you mind spending one more night with me?”


“Is everything all right?” Ronnie crossed the room and put her knee on the edge of the bed.


“I just…I had a bad dream and can’t get back to sleep,” she fibbed. There was silence for a moment before Rose felt the blanket being pulled back and the soft warmth of Ronnie’s body nestling up against hers.


“Better?” the throaty voice asked.


“Mmm,” Rose snuggled closer, resting the back of her head against the soft crook of the offered shoulder. “You comfortable?”


“Very,” came the sleepy murmur. “Night, Rose.”


“Night, Ronnie.” She closed her eyes and smiled as the older woman’s breathing became deep and even. “Everything will be fine. Rest well,” she whispered before allowing sleep to claim her as well.



* * *

“Miss Cartwright, may I speak with you for a minute?” Laura asked, poking her head around the door.


“Sure, come in.” Ronnie set her pen down and looked up, noting the smile on the young secretary’s face.


“I wanted to tell you the good news myself before everyone in the office hears it.”


“You’re pregnant,” the executive guessed. The young woman nodded happily. “Congratulations. I know you and Mike were trying. How far along?”


“Thanks, I’m three months now. I have a feeling Mike’s made himself that quarterback he always wanted. I’m certainly gaining enough weight.” She looked at the couch, then at her employer.


“Please, take a seat. So you’re going to be going out on maternity leave just in time for summer.”


“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Mike doesn’t want me to work once the baby’s born. He just got a promotion and he thinks we can make it on one income.”


“So you’re going to resign when it gets close to the time?”


“Actually…Mike doesn’t want me to wait that long. He doesn’t want me to have any undue stress.” Laura rubbed her belly absently. “I’m going to leave just before my third trimester starts.”


Ronnie did the quick math and realized that only gave her three months to find a new secretary. The idea of wading through the endless resumes and interviews threatened to give her a headache. “Well…I appreciate you’re staying on for a while. It would be nice to have a smooth transition between you and your replacement.”


“I’ll put a notice in the paper and notify the employment agencies,” Laura offered. “I’ll make sure to be clear on your requirements.” She stood up. “Well, I’d better get out there. I’ll bet the phone is ringing off the hook and besides it’s almost two.”


“Is it?” Ronnie looked at her watch, startled by the amount of time that had gone by. “Okay, Laura. Have a draft of the ad prepared for me by morning, will you? I’d like to get someone in here and settled before you leave.”


Once alone, the executive picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number. Two rings later the sweetest voice she’d ever heard answered. “Cartwright Residence.”


“Why do you always answer the phone like that? You know it’s me,” she teased.


“Just habit, I guess,” Rose answered. “How’s it going?”


“Actually today is flying. I might come home early. What’s for dinner?” She leaned back, kicking her shoes off and sticking her feet up on the edge of her desk.


“I’m not sure. She usually doesn’t start dinner until around four or so.”


“Why don’t you tell her not to bother tonight? I’ll pick up some Chinese for us.”


“Oh, that sounds nice.”


“Is there something good on TV tonight or do you want me to stop and pick up a movie?”


“There’s not much on except the news magazines.”


“We always watch those. How about a movie tonight?”


“Sure, sounds good. Hey, my speed is up to fifty words a minute now.”


“Oh yeah? Great.” A tiny thought formed in the back of her mind. “Have you been studying those business letters and forms?”


“Of course. I even retyped some old letters you had lying on the desk just to get the practice.”


“Good.” Ronnie smiled broadly at the extra effort on Rose’s part. “Hey, Laura told me today that she’s pregnant.”


“Oh yeah? That’s great.”


“Great for her, lousy for me. Now I have to find another secretary. I hate looking for a secretary. I’m worse than Murphy Brown when it comes to that.”


“Oh please,” Rose laughed. “I’ve been watching that in the mornings. She had one that talked to the devil.”


“I had two that believed Satan was going to swoop down and take over any minute. Needless to say they didn’t last long. I have terrible luck with them. Laura’s the best I’ve had and it took me six months of wading though the flotsam of the secretarial world to get her.” A buzz on the phone brought Ronnie’s attention to the flashing light of line two. “Hon, I’ve got to go. Tell Maria not to bother with dinner and I’ll be home in a little while.”


“Okay, Ronnie, I’ll see you soon.”


“Bye.”


“Bye.”


Ronnie gazed at her beloved mechanical pencil for a few seconds before reluctantly pressing the button on the phone. “This is Veronica Cartwright.”



* * *

“Prepare to meet the Crusher, arg arg arg,” Susan’s oldest son Ricky said. “He’s gonna pulverize you.”


“Worse than the Undertaker?” Rose queried.


“Oh, he’s nothing compared to Crusher.” He caught his aunt walking past. “Hey, Aunt Ronnie, come see me pulverize Rose.”


“Can’t you find something nicer to play? Whatever happened to Pac-Man?” she said as she entered the living room.


“Pac-Man?” The twelve year old laughed and pressed several buttons in rapid succession, throwing Rose’s man out of the ring and onto the mat. “I’ve seen that game in the arcades. Boring. You’ve got to get with the times, Aunt Ronnie. It’s Virtual Fighter and Super Wrestlemania now.” He lowered his voice so only Rose could hear him. “Next thing you know she’ll bring out those old records she has from the eighties.”


“Hey, I like the music from the eighties,” she protested.


“That’s ‘cause you’re old like Aunt Ronnie and Mom.”


“Old? I hate to tell you, Ricky, but twenty-six is not old.”


“Twenty-six? Oh man, that’s way old. Come on, get your man back into the ring before he gets counted out.”


“Why? Every time I get back in you throw him out again.”


“That’s the point,” the boy replied, moving his character into position. Rose looked at Ronnie and rolled her eyes, causing the older woman to laugh before leaving the room.


Ronnie found Susan out on the sun porch, monitoring the steaks and burgers cooking on the grill. The late January thaw had the temperature in the lower fifties, practically balmy for Albany. Susan’s other sons, Timmy and John, were enjoying the bright sunshine, riding bikes they had found in the garage. “Ricky sure enjoys those video games, doesn’t he?” the oldest Cartwright said as she walked over and sniffed the cooking meat.


“I can’t get him away from them,” Susan replied. “Do you think we should start frying up the mushrooms yet?”


“No, not for another ten minutes or so.” They were interrupted by six year old John riding up on the purple bike, tears streaming out of his eyes.


“What’s wrong, Honey? Did you fall?” Susan went into mother mode, lifting her son’s arms to look for any scrapes. He shook his head, still blubbering.


“Timmy won’t stop teasing me ‘cause I’m riding a girl’s bike,” he wailed, pointing at the flowered basket on the front.


“I’ll take care of this,” Ronnie said, holding her hand out to take the smaller one in her own.

“Come on, John. There’s some tools in the garage. We’ll take that basket off. Will that be better?” She received a shaky nod in reply. With her nephew in tow, Ronnie headed for the garage.


Satisfied that the meat would cook without supervision, Susan stepped inside to warm up for a little while and to check on her oldest son. She found him still playing the wrestling game with Rose, who only made token efforts to fight back as her character was beaten time and again.

“Having fun?”


“Oh yeah, Mom. Rose is more of a challenge than Aunt Ronnie,” he replied, his eyes never leaving the screen.


“Ricky, why don’t you go play pool with your father? I want to talk to Rose for a few minutes.”


“But I’m having fun,” he whined.


“Richard…” she said in that age old ‘mother’ tone. The game controller landed on the floor and a pouting boy headed for the game room. Rose set her controller on the couch next to her, nervousness setting in as it had when Susan ran into her at the Christmas party.


“Where’s Ronnie?” she asked.


“Out helping John with the bicycle,” the redhead said as she sat down on the cushion previously occupied by her son. “So your legs are getting better?”


“Doctor Barnes says my right leg is healing beautifully.” She looked down at the bright white of her new casts, the left leg still encased up to the hip but the other one stopping just below the knee.