Chapter 1

As the job in Chicago was nearing completion, Margaret found she was expectant. The joy in her life lifted to supreme heights. The move from Boston to Chicago would now have to wait another year; by then, their new home would be totally complete if all went as planned. ‘All the better,’ Michael thought.

In due time, the baby was born. Margaret’s heart filled with that special joy and love only a mother could experience. Michael, of course, was a man filled with the pride of having a son, whom he decided would be named Michael Peter Smith. Margaret consented without any objection, feeling her husband’s wishes were also her wishes.

As the next few months passed, Michael grew impatient to show Margaret her new home. It was now completely finished and all sixty rooms were totally furnished. It was a present with which he desired so much to surprise her. Under some pretext, he convinced her to accompany him to Chicago. They stayed with some of Michael’s friends, Mr. and Mrs. John Bradbury, for a couple of days so Michael could sneak up to the mansion and preview it for himself before showing it to her.

Standing on the steps of his mansion with John, he remarked to him, “I want you to know how much I appreciate you and your wife overseeing the decorating of our home.”

“Think nothing of it,” John assured. “It was more of a pleasure than a toil.”

Michael spent the days rearranging the furniture to his liking and purchasing some last-minute decorations. Soon, he was ready to surprise his wife. Francine Bradbury and Margaret were sitting on the rug in the middle of the parlor watching the baby crawl around.

“Margaret, your son is a pure delight!”

“Oh Francine you’ve been the perfect hostess. You’ve not complained at Peter’s crying at all.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve held a baby in my arms and I tell you it has only brought back the fondest memories.” Francine’s eyes watered from the sorrow that time imposes. She cried, “What I wouldn’t give to have a baby.”

Margaret was confused. “But I thought… ”

“Oh, no. I never had any of my own. I did take care of my sister’s boy though. It’s not as if I can’t have any. It’s John you know. He felt a child would be too much of a burden.”

Margaret stared at her strangely. “Francine, it’s you who will have to take care of the child, not he.”

“Oh, it’s not the burden of care, so much as the noise. John values his serenity.” “Is that why he has stayed at the men’s club these past days?” “Well, he says he has business, but I believe it’s children; they make him nervous.”

Before the conversation could develop more, Michael’s carriage pulled to a stop at the front of the estate. “Oh, it’s Michael,” Margaret announced as she peeked out the window, “and he has flowers!”

As Michael entered, he handed the bouquet to Francine. “For me?” she questioned with surprise as she glimpsed at Margaret, then back at him. “Oh how beautiful!” and she took them, then rushed off to find a suitable vase.

“Bringing flowers to another man’s wife, in front of your own?” Margaret chided with a jest. “Looking for a divorce so soon?”

“Nothing so terrible,” he replied with a coy smile. “It’s just my gratitude to her for being such a wonderful hostess.”

“Well-l-l-l,” she relented, “since you put it that way.” Michael drew Margaret close to him and held her in his arms; at that moment Francine re-entered the room. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked.

“Yes,” Michael answered, “but I’ll forgive you if you’ll be a dear and watch Peter while Margaret and I go somewhere.” Francine immediately knew what Michael had in mind and was a barrelful of assurances.