Free The Affair by Colette Freedman Page B

And flat shoes. Always flat shoes. She looked old, but then, she had always looked old, even as a child.
    Julia stood in the door, wrapping her coat tightly around her. “You’ll be coming over on Boxing Day.” Julia turned the question into a statement.
    “I haven’t mentioned it to Robert yet,” Kathy said truthfully. “But I’m sure we’ll be there.”
    “It means a lot to Ben. You know he loves to see the children.”
    “I know.” Kathy wanted to pour herself a large glass of wine; however, her sister had suddenly decided to get chatty.
    “Have you seen Sheila?”
    “Not recently.”
    “Is there a new boyfriend?”
    “I’ve no idea,” Kathy said, which was not entirely true. There was a new man in their younger sister’s life, someone Sheila was excited about, but was being equally secretive about at the moment. But there were always new men in Sheila’s life—each one more unsuitable than the last.
    “She needs to settle down,” Julia said and sniffed. “She’s getting a little too old for all this running around.”
    “She’s thirty-six. That’s hardly old.”
    “I was married with two children by that age. So were you,” Julia added. “Okay, I’d better go.” She turned to kiss her sister quickly on the cheek, the slightest brushing of her lips, then she rubbed her thumb under Kathy’s right eye. “You look exhausted. You’ve got bags under your eyes. I’ll bring you some under-eye cream the next time I’m over.” She let herself out of the door and hurried down the path, her footsteps crunching slightly on the frost.
    Kathy stood in the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around her chest, and waited while her sister slowly and carefully backed the big SUV out of the drive. Only when Julia straightened the car on the road and revved away, wheels spinning on icy patches, did she step back and shut the door. The hallway was so cold she could see her breath frosting in front of her face.
    Brendan and Theresa were in the family room, sprawled in that peculiarly loose-limbed way that only young children and teens can manage, watching TV. CBS was running a Big Brother Christmas Special.
    “Did you get your homework done?”
    They both grunted.
    “Any word from your father?”
    “He called earlier,” Brendan volunteered, “but said he’d try you on the cell.”
    “I spoke to him.”
    “I hope he gets home soon,” Theresa said. “There’ll be snow later.”
    “If it gets too bad out, he might stay in the city,” Kathy said, more to reassure her daughter than to repeat the lie he’d told her.
    Theresa nodded without looking up. “Good. That’d be better. Safer.”
    Kathy went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. Robert was a good father, she had to admit. The children wanted for nothing . . . except perhaps a father. Much of the rearing had been left to her. He had so rarely been home in the early years of their marriage; he’d often gone to work in the morning before the children awoke, and had returned late in the evening when they were in bed and asleep. They only really got to see him on weekends. And even then he was invariably working. Kathy put down her glass and began to clear up the take-out bags and foil containers. She gathered up the plates and opened the dishwasher. The children had a good relationship with him now though....
    She stopped and straightened. Did they? Did they have a good relationship? What constituted a good relationship? she wondered.
    He bought them everything they wanted. Christmas was no longer special, because he gave them presents out of season and often came home with pieces of jewelry for Theresa and video games for Brendan. They both idolized him; how were they going to react when . . . no, not when, just if. At the moment, it was still if.
    But how much time did he give them?
    She began to slot the plates into the dishwasher. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent time with them, when he’d simply taken them out