Here I Stay by KATHY

smote her with shame. Was she that hard on him? She was trying not to be overprotective; she had known even before the doctor lectured her that Jim needed to feel capable and independent. But it wasn't easy to do what she knew she should do.
    "Before you start," she said, "I want that square pine table in the parlor carried up to the Lincoln room. Put it between the windows."
    Kevin refused her help—and Linnie's, eagerly offered—saying he could handle the table more easily alone. Andrea went up with him to make sure he placed it properly. Jim followed. Andrea was learning self-control; she didn't even turn her head as the crutches thumped from step to step.
    She went ahead to open the door for Kevin. Her shriek of fury made him jump. "Look. Look! How the bloody hell did he get in here?"
    Square in the middle of the bed, curled up on the crimson spread she had constructed with so much labor, was Satan. Meeting Andrea's eyes, he deliberately extended a massive black paw and poised his claws over the spread.
    "All right," Andrea shouted. "All right! You know and I know that you can shred that fabric before I can stop you. But if you do, you'll never get another bowl of cat food in this house!"
    Jim doubled up with laughter. "My sister, Dr. Doolittle...What did he say? Or would you rather not repeat it?"
    "It's not funny." Andrea swung around to confront the two grinning faces. "One of you must have left the door open."
    Kevin raised his hand in solemn protestation. "I haven't been in here since yesterday."
    "Me neither. Relax, Andy, he's not doing anything. In fact, he looks very classy—like a picture in one of those highbrow decorating magazines of yours."
    "Mr. Greenspan won't mind," Kevin said. "He's got a great sense of humor. And he likes cats. Remember the column he wrote about—"
    "Oh, shut up, both of you." Andrea glowered at Satan, who had sheathed his claws and tucked both paws under his chest. "I am decorative in the extreme," he seemed to be saying, "and only a boor would refuse to admit it."
    "Well, I can't remove him by force," she said. "He'd rip that spread to tatters. Leave the door open. Maybe he'll go of his own accord."
    Satan yawned.
    In view of the way the day had begun, Andrea fully expected Greenspan to arrive early, before she was ready for him. However, he was still not there when the mowers stopped for a late lunch; she had evicted Linnie, and matters were well in hand. "I may even have time to shower and put on some decent clothes," she said hopefully. "Just do me one favor, you guys—one more favor. Come in the back way so you don't leave grass all over the hall. And put on shirts, please? And shoes."
    She needn't have worried. Kevin went all out to impress the object of his admiration; his intellectual image was overpowering. He looked like a young Clark Kent without the muscles of Superman— bespectacled, solemn, and extremely uncomfortable in an ill-fitting shirt and bow tie.
    The bow tie moved Andrea to comment. "How about a hat with a press card in the band?" she suggested. "A card that says 'scoop' Wilson."
    Kevin looked hurt. "I thought you wanted us to make a good impression."
    She patted his arm. "I did, and you do. You look fine—both of you."
    "So do you," Jim said.
    "Thanks. Why don't you two go and—and—Oh, I don't care what you do, so long as it doesn't make a mess. He may not be here for hours, so there's no sense hanging around."
    They were sitting on the porch, Andrea in the swing and the boys on the steps. The picture was one of charming domesticity, but she didn't want Greenspan to think they had nothing better to do than wait anxiously for his arrival. However, her hint fell on deaf ears.
    "You don't get a chance to meet someone like Martin Greenspan every day," Kevin said seriously. "If I decide to go into journalism—"
    "Don't you dare ask him to read your book."
    Kevin grinned. "It's mostly in my head anyhow."
    "I guess we're not wanted around here, bro." Jim