I went to Mrs. Austin and asked to talk. I tried to breach the subjectthe delicately, but I was shot down. She spoke down to me in a sternmanner. She ...old me I had to know my place, had no right to criticize herparenting and should never bring it up with her again. That was all shewould say on the matter.When Mr. Austin came home that evening, I approached him about it. He wasmore willing to talk about it.Mr. Austin explained that he was trying to toughen up his son. I tried totell him there. We shared a glass of wine and relaxed on an over-stuffed couch, sitting close, talking, laughing and sharing stories of our daily lives. She looked up and found me looking at her intently. That spark of interest fired a stroke of warmth in the pit of her stomach and a tingle of awareness.I reached across and touched her face with my fingers and gently caressed her cheek. She shook as though she had a chill. I asked if she was cold. She shook her head slightly as I guided it to mine for a soft. More

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