She knew what she had to do, even if it broke her heart.
Chapter Twelve
Even though Allie was worried sick about the conversation she would have with Mike that night, she knew exactly how to entertain Brian today. The question was how to get there. Consulting a transportation map, she walked him to the closest subway station and peered down into it.
Stairs. Tons of stairs. She looked doubtfully at Brian’s stroller and decided his first subway experience would have to wait until he was walking.
“But I can walk,” she told Brian, and they did, thirty blocks north to the Museum of Natural History.
Brian was enthralled by the dinosaurs, the huge whale model suspended from the ceiling entranced him, and the grizzly bear made him say, “Ohhh.” At first, Allie gave him her complete attention, but at some point, she felt her thoughts drifting. It wasn’t the way a nanny should behave, but in the cool dimness of one of the display rooms, she felt all her concerns descend on her as heavily as if the whale had dropped from the ceiling right on top of her. Just yesterday, she’d felt her load had lightened.
It was mid October, which left her ten weeks to worry about whether she was doing the right thing, to change her mind if she wanted to. The look on Mike’s face this morning—what did it mean? Was he hoping she’d stay? Or go, leaving him to concentrate on Brian and the restaurant, in that order.
But at that moment, she was a nanny, not a woman struggling to choose between love and a career. She peered around the stroller at Brian. “Hey, Brian, is this enough natural history for you today?” His head had lolled to one side and his eyes were droopy. Feeling very tired, she left the museum and hailed a cab.
In the luxurious suite, she fed and changed Brian, looked without interest at the room-service menu, then ordered the closest thing to a grilled cheese sandwich she could find.
While Brian slept, she finished the book she’d been reading, a study of various mental conditions, wondering again if she was doing the right thing or ruining her life forever.
MIKE TRIED HARD to listen to what Richard Stein and his colleagues were saying. “Six franchises to start with,” blah, blah, blah, “…not economically viable to have a different special each night, so we were thinking about a blue plate special for each night of the week,” yada, yada, yada.
He could hear the words, he was aware that although the plan made economic sense, he didn’t like it much, but his mind was on Allie.
She’d thrown him a curve this morning, made him wonder what she really wanted to do. When she suggested she didn’t have to go back to school immediately, he should have leapt at the chance she was handing him on a velvet pillow—and handed back that same pillow with an engagement ring on it.
Still, he’d heard the uncertainty in her voice. She didn’t want to be, and he didn’t want her to be, one of those people who’d grown up in the valley and couldn’t imagine going beyond it. It was different for him. The valley was his resting place from the fights he’d had with the world outside the valley.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a way for each of them to…
“How does this sound so far?” Stein asked him.
“Like something that will take a lot of thought,” Mike said, knowing he wasn’t talking about franchising, but about Allie.
After the meeting ended, he walked back to the hotel. He couldn’t wait to talk to her about the information he’d gleaned. He was so conflicted about what he wanted to do with the diner that only Allie could straighten him out.
Was he using her, or was it just that he depended on her? Too much, maybe. He and Brian both did. But franchising was an important issue, wasn’t it? He’d kiss her, hug her, snuggle her against him, and after…well, after, she’d be happy to help him weigh the pros against the cons.
It occurred to him that he could return the favor, help her sort out the pros and cons of going back to school, like when and how to…
How to. Yes! He walked faster. There were ways for Allie to go back to school and still be a part of his and Brian’s life. Ideas hummed through his head. With every step his heart felt lighter. He’d tell her all about it, even before they talked about his day at Abernathy.
He stepped into the suite intending to do just that, but instead of finding Allie alone, he found her holding Brian.
“He’s teething,” she said, looking down affectionately at the fussy boy grinding his fists into his mouth. “We had some medicine delivered, and I was about to rub it on his gums.”
The conversation would have to boil inside him until the right moment presented itself. He took off his suit jacket, sat beside her, and took Brian onto his lap. She squeezed a small amount of the medicine onto her fingertip and approached Brian’s mouth with it.
He wailed, turned away from her and buried his head under Mike’s arm. As Mike was about to offer Brian’s mouth for medication whether he liked it or not, she said, “Look, Brian, look at Allie.”
Brian quieted down and took a peek. Allie rubbed her fingertip over her own gums. “Ooh, that feels so good,” she crooned. “It’s cool, it tastes pretty good…you know, I think I’ll just rub in some more since you’re not interested.”
Brian sat up and stared at her, pressing down hard on another one of those teething biscuits. “Yum, yum,” she said in a singsong voice. “I might have to use all of it, Brian, because it’s so nice.”
It wasn’t long before Brian reached out for the tube. Allie said, “I guess I could let you have some, too, if you really want it. Open your mouth and close your eyes and you will get a big surprise.”
Of course Brian didn’t understand the directions, but he let her take the cookie away from him and open his mouth just enough to rub the gel on his gums, ever so gently, ever so lightly. Talking to him softly, she massaged and massaged until Mike felt the baby begin to droop in his lap.
“HE’S ALMOST asleep,” she whispered, gazing at Brian’s closed eyes, at Mike holding Brian with such assurance, feeling her heart expand with love for both of them.
Mike nodded. “You did it. You made Brian think that salve was the next best thing to ice cream. Now that’s good psychology. It’s what you were meant to do.”
“I hope so.” Or was she meant to be Mike’s wife, Brian’s mother? Her heart pounded loudly in her chest. “Mike,” she said, “I want to hear all about your day.” She paused. “And talk about some other things, too.”
“I’ll put this boy to bed,” Mike said abruptly, “and then we can talk.”
Mike put Brian into his crib and hung around long enough to be sure he was still asleep. He’d been so excited by finding possible solutions to his and Allie’s situation, but when Allie said she wanted to talk to him, something about her tone gave him a bad feeling.
WHEN HE WENT back to the living room, Allie was curled on the couch, looking so desirable that he remembered at once that Brian had scotched the hugging and kissing part of his homecoming. He was about to reach out for her, about to spill out all his thoughts about their future together, when she said in an all-too-practical tone, “What happened today?”
He guessed he’d have to start with the business side of the conversation. He sat beside her, wishing her curled-up legs weren’t keeping him from sitting closer. “They want to make some big changes, and I’m not sure I like them. It’s a catch-22. The diner is unique, but what makes it unique makes it hard to franchise.”
Allie nodded. “You’ve put your own stamp on the diner. Without you right there in the kitchen or talking to the customers, it won’t be the same. But it could still be good.”
He sighed and leaned back against the cushions. “They’re offering me so much money. I’d be rich. My family would be rich.”
As he’d expected, Allie didn’t seem impressed by that. “If that would make you happy, you should consider the offer.”
He closed his eyes. “Happy to have done something for my brothers, but personally I might be miserable. Abernathy would like me to move to
New York and work for them to replicate our menu. Specials, yes, but more like Monday Pot Roast and Tuesday Lasagna. Everything we offer would be by formula—a hamburger would be six ounces of beef, an inch and a quarter thick, and so on. I’d like to have some influence on those decisions, but—” he leaned toward her “—I’m not moving to New York. Allie—”
“Mike,” she interrupted him, no longer looking or sounding practical, “If you want to move to New York, you should. Because I’ve made a difficult decision. You’ll never know how difficult.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Mike drew back a little. It took all his self-control to keep his voice steady. “Go on.”
“The first thing I have to tell you is…is that I love you.”
“I love you, too. With all my heart. And I was thinking—”
“No, wait. Let me finish.” Her gaze pleaded with him to understand. “I’ve realized love isn’t all passion and romance. It’s doing the best thing for the person you love.”
“Allie, the best thing—”
“The best thing—” and her voice broke “—is for you to be free to become a real father to Brian, to be free to make this deal with Abernathy without having me to think about. I’m getting out of your life, Mike, so we can both do what’s best for us.” A sob escaped her. “I don’t want it to be this way, but it has to. Please understand. I love Brian, too, so very much, and I think he loves me. But he needs permanence in his life. That’s you, Mike, unencumbered and showering all your love on him.” She paused, tears streaming down her face. “If you’re still there when I’ve finished what I have to do, I hope we can start all over again.”
Ice formed over his heart, filled his veins. “I don’t want it to be this way, either, but I know you’re right.” He gazed into her eyes. “As soon as we get back to LaRocque, I’ll find a new nanny.”
She seemed to crumple. Slowly she stood and walked away—to the bedroom next to Brian’s rather than the one they’d shared.
Mike stayed on the sofa, feeling as if his life had ended.
ALLIE MADE A tour of Mrs. Langston’s house, looking for anything she might have forgotten, then went back to the living room, where her mother waited to say goodbye.
“I’m proud of you, honey. I know it wasn’t an easy decision,” Elaine said. “But getting a doctorate in psychology is a good decision. An adult decision. You won’t regret it.”
Allie nodded absently. She was going to miss this house. A lot. Just like she was going to miss this town. And the people. And…
Mike and Brian.
“In Burlington, you won’t be as distracted as if you stayed here,” Elaine went on, “surrounded by memories. Being away will ease the hurt a little.”
Allie felt that nothing could ever dull the pain. “I just hope I can get into the doctoral program,” she said, feeling as dull as her voice. She closed her second suitcase and placed it near the doorway.
“I’m confident they’ll accept you.” Elaine’s voice was reassuring. “And you’re so lucky you can stay in Suzy’s apartment until you find your own place to settle into.”
Again, Allie nodded. Yes, she was lucky. Lucky Suzy was spending the fall semester doing some special coursework in Boston. Lucky that she would be able to talk to professors, department heads and campus counselors to get an even better idea of what she was getting into.
She was just overflowing with luck these days.
“Of course, I’ll miss you, but you’ll be back soon for the benefit.” Her mother folded an afghan and laid it over the back of Allie’s special wing chair.
The benefit. The details of the dinner were in perfect order, but could she bear to go to it? To see Mike so soon? “I’m not sure if I’ll come back, Mom. We’ll see.”
Her mother raised a cautionary hand. “You can’t miss it. I don’t know what exactly happened between you and Mike, but you still have to come to the benefit, Allie. You have a responsibility to see it through to the end.”
Her mother’s expression was stern, and she was using the same voice she’d used when Allie had been small and had tracked mud into the house.
But her mother didn’t understand. Right now, she couldn’t imagine being in a room with Mike without bursting into tears. A sobbing woman wouldn’t exactly help them raise money for the foster-care center.
Just as she realized the bitterness in her thoughts, her mother said, “Lemonade.”
Allie stared at her.
“Lemonade,” her mother said again. “You’ve been handed a bag of lemons, Allie. You have a choice. You can either let them turn you sour and bitter or—”
“I can make lemonade,” Allie said.
Her mother patted her cheek. “Yes, exactly. So go make lemonade.”
Chapter Thirteen
“We have to start sometime,” Mike told Brian. He stood at the head of the stairs with Brian on his hip, the diaper bag slung around his neck and the playpen dangling from his right hand.
He’d never fallen down the stairs, but if he ever did, it would be this morning. He couldn’t leave Brian alone while he took the playpen down, so he’d have to do it the other way around.
“Would you mind bringing the playpen down from the head of the stairs?” he asked an intern on morning duty.
The intern glanced at Brian, then looked nervously back at the roux he’d been stirring. “You have about thirty seconds before it burns,” Mike said, “so hurry.”
The intern darted away and darted right back with the playpen. Mike hauled it into his office and put Brian in it with a stacking toy and the stuffed rabbit.
Just looking at the rabbit Allie had bought for Brian made him sad.
He got to work, keeping the door to his office open so he had a clear view of Brian. Fifteen minutes of work, and Brian began to whimper. He didn’t need a diaper change, Mike discovered. He didn’t want conversation, either, because Mike tried and got smacked on the hand with the rabbit.
He knew what was wrong. Brian was bored. He didn’t want to spend his life playing in a playpen. By now, Allie would have been on the floor with him upstairs, joining him in his games. Then she’d dress him for their first walk of the day.
Mike ached when he thought about Allie, so he just wouldn’t think about her. “Hang on,” he told Brian. “If I can just make a little more progress here, we’ll do something fun.”
Brian scowled, but he busied himself with two wooden spoons Mike had given him.
With the benefit tomorrow night and somehow keeping the diner open, Mike was strapped for time. Since Allie had left, he’d felt as if he were plodding through molasses. No, he wasn’t going to think about Allie. He was going to think about—
His gaze moved in an arc when the wooden spoons flew past him and landed an amazing distance from the playpen. Brian screwed up his face and started to cry. Mike picked him up. “Hey,” he said, “don’t tell me you don’t want to be in the restaurant business.”
He bounced Brian up and down. He was afraid to take him close to the kitchen equipment, so he pointed. “See Barney?” he said. “See how much fun he’s having flipping those pancakes?”
Brian buried his face in Mike’s shirt and howled.
“Let me take him a minute,” Colleen said, putting down the breakfast order she was about to take out.
He handed Brian over and took the order out himself. In the background, he could hear Brian’s howls turning into screams, so he dashed back into the office.
“Maybe he’s sick,” he said, but Brian’s forehead was cool even though his face was hot and red from crying.
“He’s missing Allie,” Colleen said pointedly, and handed Brian back to Mike.
She didn’t have to tell him. He felt like howling, too.
At nine o’clock, when everybody in the kitchen and half the customers had held Brian for awhile, he gave up.
“Brian,” he said persuasively, “how about a walk?”
Brian stopped throwing the rabbit out of the playpen for B
ecky to put back in.
“Okay, let’s do it. Get as far with this as you can,” he told the intern who’d been prepping the dinner special. “I’ll be back in a while.”
The phone rang. Colleen answered it, and Mike was almost out the door when she rushed after him, the portable in her hand. “This sounds important.”
Impatiently, juggling Brian on his hip, he took the phone. “Earl Ritter here,” the voice said.
“Mr. Ritter. Hey, could I call you back? I have an unhappy boy here—”
“In a minute,” Ritter said. “I’m at Evan’s house going through his papers, as I was instructed to do, and found a letter to you. Perhaps he meant to include it with the will. I’ll send it to you.”
Just what he needed right now. A note from his father. What could the man do that he hadn’t already done?
He had to know, as soon as possible, get it over with. “Would you fax the letter to me?” Mike asked as Brian began to squirm and yell at the same time.
“Of course. If you don’t mind my opening it.”
“Open it. Fax it. Here’s the number.”
He handed the phone back to Colleen, then took a long, long look at Brian, his father’s child, his half-brother. His son. He couldn’t wait for the fax, although he wanted to. He needed to get Brian calmed down. He took the baby upstairs, changed him, dressed him for the outdoors and, motivated by Brian’s obvious distress, began to hurry.
With Brian in the stroller, he set off at a brisk pace. Peering down to see how the boy was doing, he saw that while he wasn’t crying, he didn’t look happy, either.
He was doing the best he could, Mike told himself. He was taking time away from his work to walk a fussy child, he was trying to entertain him, he hadn’t lost his temper, and he hadn’t cut himself the last time Brian began shrieking. He had a new burden on his shoulders—that note from Evan—and still he was doing what it took to make Brian happy. What more could anyone ask of him?
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