Chapter 4

The sight that greeted Henry in his kitchen the next morning was so unfamiliar that he silently remained in the doorway, staring perplexly at the scene taking place. Three of his children were sitting on white barstools, a gigantic pile of pancakes they were hungrily wolfing down in front of them while talking to each other non-stop.
But the oddest thing was clearly his wife Catherine who stood in front of the stove, right in the middle of a mess of pans, bowls and ingredients, baking strangly deformed pancakes.
When Francis started pulling his younger brothers leg she turned to face her children and gave them a proud, almost happy smile.
In her custom-tailored costume and vertiginous high heels she looked oddly out of place even though the image of a mother preparing breakfast for her children was the most natural one in the world. Today, she had pinned up her long red-blonde hair except for a few strands that gently framed her beautiful, flour powdered face.

Normally Rosalie was in charge of preparing meals for the Valois-Medici family, as both Catherine and Henry lacked any culinarily skills.

But this memorable sight reminded him of a time when a very obviously pregnant Catherine had lovingly prepared malformed pancakes for her three children and her husband every day. These pancakes weren't smiling as intended but made terrible grimaces which led to general amusement. Scary-Cakes their kids had called them.

He hadn't thought about these carefree moments for a long time. They had been happy back then. Even without a multi-million dollar company and a luxury villa in the best neighborhood of Seattle. He only had to look into the faces of his children and his beloved wife to feel like the richest man in the world. A kiss from his Kitten had always been enough to give him new confidence and strength for another day of hard work.

But these times were long gone. Irretrievably obliterated this one fateful night in a dark parking garage that had not only broken his former Catherine but had also destroyed their marriage.

Henry cleared his throat in an attempt to shake off these haunting memories. He tried to put on a neutral expression and entered the kitchen with a cheerful "Good morning, family".
While the children did not seem to be bothered by his unusual presence at a family gathering, Catherine on the other side gave him a suspicious look.

With a wry smile on his face he stepped behind her to look over her slim shoulders at the pans, where golden-brown pancakes were waiting to be turned. So he reached over her and took care of the first pancake. That's when his arm brushed her hip. This touch made his wife jerk around to look up at him with those big, hazel eyes. The seductive scent of her expensive perfume mixed with the smell of sweet pancakes reached his nostrils. The urge to touch her was suddenly so overwhelming that Henry's fingers tightened around the spatula.

"How about I'll finish these so you can have breakfast now?" he whispered close to her ear. Meanwhile he reacted so violently to her nearness after his brief journey into the past that his body began to vibrate.
Suddenly unable to control himself, he slowly raised his hand and gently wiped the flour off her cheek. The expression on her face could only be interpreted as confused.

"Dad's right Mum, eat something", their eldest cut right through the strange spell between them, causing Henry to drop his hand once again. To regain control over his electrified body he took a step back. Henry cleared his throat, took a new plate out of the cupboard and arranged three pancakes on it for her.

"La voilà! Bon appétit", he said cheerfully while gently shoving his wife towards the high table and his kids.
Henry started to whistle while he gave the remaining dough into the pans and looked over at his family. A feeling of regret overcame him as he watched them.

What in the name of god had happened in the years that lay between his happy memories and this morning? How could their children have grown up so fast? He caught himself starring at Catherine.

She had changed and was no longer the young, carefree girl he had met over 20 years ago. She was still undeniably beautiful, the years had been kind to her and he mused that the maturity she had now accomplish in her early forties suited her extremely well. Likewise the soft female curves she could'n get rid of after giving birth to Claude. He knew that Catherine was mourning the slim figure she had before her four pregnancies but he loved every feminine curve of her.
She was still able to turn men's heads, perhaps now more than ever. This fact still didn't leave him cold, no matter how much they had abalienated over the years.

This morning, however, he felt that the emotional and physical distance that had gradually grown between them had decreased a bit. Or he became sentimental in his old age.
Absently he turned the last pancakes and took a seat at the table to have his own breakfast a short while later.

Francis who actually had his own apartment Downtown but had offered to drive Charlie to school today, shooed his brother out of the house a few minutes later. Claude left by and by so that apart from him only Catherine remained at home. That by itself was rather atypical for her. Usually her working day started at the crack of dawn. At least that's what he assumed as she normally was out of the house by the time he tumbled out of his bed.
"How come you're still around?" He couldn't resist asking although he tried to keep his tone light as to keep it from sounding like an attack.
"A late appointment," she just said and started to clean up the mess they had left on the counter.

Henry watched her in confusion while she put plates, bowls and cutlery in the dishwasher.
"An external appointment?" He probed, not knowing why he was suddenly so deeply interested in her daily routine.
Clearly annoyed by his interrogation, she stopped in her motion and gave him a skeptical look.
"A private one. What's up Henry? Since when do you show any interest in what your family is doing the whole blessed day?" Shaking her head, she put more crockery into the machine and then went over to him to grab his plate as well.
"There's no law against asking. Or wondering", he shot back at her and got up to hand her his emptied coffee mug. She put it in the dishwasher and raised her eyebrow questioning.

"Wondering? What about?"
"That a workaholic like you suddenly seems to have a private life."
"I have whatever I want to have, Henry. And it's a doctor's appointment!" She hissed at him angrily and closed the dishwasher more violently than necessary.
"A doctor's appointment? You don't look ill." Thousands of thoughts suddenly flashed through his mind and he let his observing eyes glide over her body one more time.
"My god Henry, we're talking about my biweekly therapy appointment," she snarled in annoyance and hurried up the stairs with clicking heels.

Whith a perplex expression on his face her husband stared after her. Catherine was still receiving therapeutic treatment on a regular basis? Even after so many years?

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