"Tell me about your boss," I asked as I sat next to her desk.
She bit her lip, as if afraid to say the wrong thing. "He's smart as a whip, generous to a fault and more than willing to delegate. That makes working for him a dream. He loves his kids unconditionally and by the sound of it, you as well." She smiled. "You'll have to find out on your own what kind of a husband that makes him."
I returned her smile, pleased beyond measure. "What are his bad points?" I asked.
After looking around, she answered. "He's a tad naive, but all men are. He's a very private person. I'm sure you know the life he's led. There are everyday things you and I wouldn't give a thought about but he doesn't have a clue; some servant was there to do it. Raising his kids may be one of those chores." She added, just above a whisper, "His wife was a bitch, even before she became ill but in my opinion, he had a bad case of tunnel vision where she was concerned. Everyone wondered why he didn't dump her. I'm sorry she died, but in some ways it was for the better but I think Karen, poor kid, is carrying a lot of baggage over it." She looked down at her desk. "God, this is so unlike me! Really, I'm not a gossip. I worship the guy and want the best for all of you."
More questions begged to be answered but I felt guilty pressing my luck. I was pleased for the answers I'd received. Our official house closing took place the next day, with both our names on the deed.
If I harbored misgivings about the children's ability to adapt to a more regular life style, they were quickly dispelled. Timmy was thrilled to sleep on the floor of his new home and offered no protest to assigned chores as I cooked our first meal together. Karen expressed a desire to learn to cook.
"Mrs. Waterman wouldn't let us into the kitchen. She said that was her domain."
I set a tent up in my bedroom, three corners held down by books and the fourth by the recently delivered love chair, our first piece of furniture. Karen and Timmy shared the tent, trying out their new sleeping bags. While Karen feigned indifference to the primitive sleeping arrangements, I could see she was fascinated. Ever modest, she zippered the tent up against her brother before changing into her pajamas and allowing him entrance. We chatted, sang songs that I taught them and discussed a "real" camping in the woods I promised for later in the summer.