CHAPTER SIX
Wendy picked up the dress again, not because she intended to buy it but so she had an excuse not to look at Mack. She had to blink hard to push the tears away. That was dumb, she told herself. The only thing she had accomplished by bringing up the subject again was to ruin the cheerful companionship they’d been sharing all afternoon.
Mack had sounded disillusioned, and discouraged, and almost frustrated. That probably meant he was wishing he’d left Wendy in Arizona, where she couldn’t nag him. Or was it possible that he was honestly thinking he should have left well enough alone, and not insisted on bringing Rory to Chicago at all?
Wendy knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up. Even if he was having second thoughts now, she knew perfectly well that her wishes were impossible to carry out; once the Burgesses had learned about the baby, there was no way to turn back the clock. They would never allow her to take Rory so far away. Unless...
“Your mother’s rheumatoid arthritis,” she said suddenly.
Mack took the dress out of her hands and added it to the pile he was carrying. “What about it?”
“Surely a warmer climate would be better for her. Hasn’t she ever considered it?”
“What do you have in mind? Phoenix?” He started to laugh. “I get it. All of you can live happily together in a little bungalow in the desert.”
“I’ve heard of sillier ideas.” She tugged the dress away from him and hung it back on the rack.
“Well, I haven’t. You were so desperate to get out of the house today you were practically pacing the hall with your coat on.”
“I wasn’t! I was in the drawing room because your mother was resting and Rory was having a nap.”
Mack shook his head. “The only other explanation I can see for your eagerness is that you were anxious to see me.”
That odd breathlessness rose up to taunt her again. Wendy tried to ignore it. “Well, I was, sort of,” she admitted. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“I knew it. That enthusiastic greeting was just for me, after all – despite everything you said about it being nothing personal.”
Her heart seemed to turn over, and then she realized that the twinkle had crept back into his eyes. He was teasing; he hadn’t even noticed her odd reaction. “Don’t let it go to your head, Mack,” she said crisply. “And if you’re angling to get me to admit that I couldn’t live with your parents, don’t bother. That wasn’t what I had in mind. But if they were in the same city, surely they’d at least consider letting me keep Rory, don’t you think?”
He gave a noncommittal grunt. “What’s the big deal about Phoenix, anyway? What have you got to go back to?” He set the stack of tiny clothes beside the cash register and pulled out his credit card.
That was a stopper. Wendy had forgotten for a moment that she no longer had a job. She had no way to support herself, much less Rory.
If she did present this proposition to Samuel and Elinor Burgess, she’d have to ask them for financial help as well, at least for the immediate future, until she could reestablish herself – and she had no trouble predicting how that notion would be received. She’d heard the ice in Mack’s voice during that first telephone call, when he thought she was asking for money. And though she was sure he now understood she wasn’t the sort of person who tried to benefit from a child’s helplessness, she had no illusions about what the rest of his family might think.
It had been a silly idea, anyway. She couldn’t quite picture herself suggesting that the Burgesses give up their house and their social network in order to move halfway across the country. The logistics alone would be a nightmare; moving the household staff would be like shifting a good-sized company from one city to another. To suggest they go to all that effort for the sake of a tiny baby who couldn’t care less where she lived…
“I’d look like a fool,” Wendy admitted.
“Now that you mention it, yes, you would.” Mack handed her a shopping bag and glanced at his wristwatch before he picked up the other two bags. “That’s everything on the list, isn’t it?”
“And then some, I’d say.” Wendy’s voice was dry. He’d been particularly hard to restrain in the toy store.
“Do you mind if I stop at my apartment for a minute? I have to pick up my gifts for the rest of the family.”
Wendy blinked in surprise. “I thought you lived with your parents.”
He smiled. “Not since I left for college. I know exactly how it feels to be desperate to get out of that house.”
“That’s crazy! Your parents are–”
Mack stopped in the middle of the mall, ignoring the shoppers who had to swerve to avoid him, and stared at her, eyebrows raised. “Yes, Wendy?”
She wrinkled her nose and said honestly, “Your parents would be difficult to live with.”
“Bingo.” He extended an elbow and Wendy automatically laid her free hand on the soft wool of his coat sleeve. “But now that I can go back to my own place whenever I want, I spend holidays and weekends with them quite cheerfully. As a matter of fact, they probably see more of me than if I were living there all the time and thinking up ways to escape.”
His apartment was in one of the landmark towers on the shore of Lake Michigan. In the fast-gathering darkness, the building’s polished steel and sleek glass reflected the sparkle of street lamps and headlights. A uniformed valet came running to park the car as they pulled up, but Mack shook his head. “We’ll just be a few minutes. Keep an eye on the car, will you?”
“I could wait here,” Wendy offered.
“And freeze? Don’t be silly. Come along, I’ll give you a drink.”
The elevator whisked them upward at an ear-popping pace and opened silently on a large and luxurious lobby. Mack unlocked a door and stooped to gather up the mail which had collected under the slot. He flipped through it, then tossed the pile onto a marble-topped table in the tiny foyer and led the way into a living room which looked east to the lake. The room was small but tidy, and it was definitely a man’s domain. The furniture was sparse and large in scale – no dainty chairs or fragile tables, but solid wood and thick-padded upholstery which invited a visitor to kick off her shoes and curl up in comfort.
Wendy remembered the maid’s comment this morning about Mack’s female friends, and wondered just how many of them had accepted that unspoken invitation.
“Some sherry? A glass of wine?”
She shivered a little.
Mack smiled. “I can take a hint. How about cappuccino?”
“If it doesn’t take too long.”
“It’s instant. Sorry to disillusion you, but even if I had the inclination to be a gourmet cook, I don’t have the space.” He opened a louvered door which led to a tiny gallery kitchen. “Or did you mean you’re anxious to get back to the house?”
Wendy ignored the smile in his voice. She followed him into the kitchen and watched as he spooned cappuccino mix into two mugs and added hot water from a special tap at the edge of the kitchen sink. Steam rose from the mixture as he stirred it.
“Your mother did say something about going to church,” she said, “since it’s Christmas Eve.”
He handed her a mug and glanced at his watch. “I suppose we’d better hurry or the rest of the family will be there by the time we get back. It’s a family tradition – the Christmas Eve services, followed by a late supper.” He waved a hand at an answering machine which blinked steadily beside the kitchen telephone. “Mind if I listen to my messages?”
“Of course not. I’ll wait in the living room.”
“You needn’t. I’m not expecting anything embarrassing.”
Wendy gave him an ironic look over her shoulder as she let the louvered door swing shut behind her. She moved to the windows which overlooked the lake. Darkness had settled over the city in the past few minutes, and reflections of the building’s lights shifted and shattered on the water as waves lapped against the shoreline.
She wasn’t purposely listening, but e
ven from that distance no one could have ignored the sultry feminine voice which came from the answering machine. “Hello, darling. Happy Christmas! I will see you on the holiday, won’t I? I’ve got the most wonderful gift for you.”
Mack laughed.
If the woman had dipped herself in molasses, Wendy thought, she couldn’t have sounded any sweeter. Though of course it was none of her business if Mack’s taste ran to that sort of thing.
There were a lot of messages; Wendy had almost finished her cappuccino by the time the machine shut off. When Mack emerged from the kitchen, he was tucking a slip of paper into his pocket. Wendy couldn’t help wondering which calls he was planning to return. She’d bet on the molasses-voiced sweetheart, for one.
“Sorry,” he said. “That took longer than I expected.”
While he stacked gaily-wrapped packages in a large box, Wendy quietly rinsed the mugs and put them in the dishwasher. She was buttoning her coat by the time he finished.
“Mack,” she said finally, “do you think your brother and his wife might take Rory?”
He paused as if considering the idea. “Why do you ask?”
“Something your mother told me this morning. She said Tessa – is that her name?”
Mack nodded.
“She told me Tessa couldn’t wait to meet Rory. I don’t know, it just sounded as if…” Her voice trailed off.
Mack picked up her scarf and wrapped it warmly around her throat. “Anything’s possible. I wouldn’t like to bet on what John and Tessa might do. If Tessa was to take a notion she’d like to have a baby, a ready-made one just might be to her taste.”
He didn’t sound surprised, Wendy thought. So he’d obviously at least considered the idea and thought it was a possibility.
She chewed on her lower lip. Mack’s assessment didn’t make John and Tessa sound much like the warm and loving caretakers Rory needed. But it was hardly fair to form an opinion of these people before she’d ever met them. Maybe she’d jumped to conclusions. Perhaps they weren’t interested in raising Rory, just in meeting the newest member of the family. And even if they did want her…
Just because Tessa Burgess isn’t you doesn’t mean she couldn’t be a good mother to Rory, Wendy reminded herself.
And in any case, whatever happened to Rory, the decision wasn’t hers to make. It wasn’t even Mack’s – but no matter how careless he had sounded just then, she was certain he wouldn’t stand by while Rory was turned over to just anyone. She would simply have to trust him.
It wasn’t until they were at the gates of the Burgess house that Wendy remembered the moment of confusion this morning about how long she’d be staying in Chicago. “About my return ticket, Mack.”
He frowned a little. “What about it?”
Wendy was a bit annoyed; surely she shouldn’t have to explain to him why she was asking. “I’d like to know how long I’ve been invited to stay, before there’s an embarrassing question about it. I wouldn’t like to be the last to know when my welcome wears out.”
The car slid to a halt in front of the house, and Mack got out and came around to open her door.
“Just the date on the ticket is all I need to know. The details can wait.”
He helped her out and leaned into the back of the car to gather up shopping bags. “I didn’t buy one.”
“I beg your pardon?” The phrase came automatically to her lips, but Wendy had heard him quite clearly – she just didn’t comprehend the answer. “Mack–”
One of the housemen came down the steps. “I’ll take care of that, sir.”
Wendy threw up her hands and turned toward the house. It was her own fault that she’d waited too long to ask the question; one didn’t discuss things like that in front of the staff. She’d learned that much already, in less than a day spent in this house. In any case, it was too cold to stand out here and argue about it. But once she got him alone…
Why on earth wouldn’t Mack have bought her a round-trip ticket? Because he expected her to pay for her flight home herself? But that didn’t make sense; he knew perfectly well she couldn’t afford it just now. And he wouldn’t want her hanging around Chicago for want of funds to get back to Arizona.
The hallway was full of light and soft holiday music and the warm scents of pine and vanilla, and a young woman wearing soft periwinkle blue appeared in the drawing room door. Her blonde hair was caught up in an old-fashioned twist which echoed the antique flavor of her dress, and in one hand she held a champagne glass. “You’re Wendy, of course,” she said. “Do come in, darling, you must be frozen stiff. I’m Tessa.”
Wendy thought the woman looked a little like mother earth, in her delicate, lacy dress – not at all the sleek sophisticated sort she had expected from what Mack had said. And Tessa sounded down to earth and homey, her voice as warm and inviting as cinnamon toast.
Surely a woman like this couldn’t help falling in love with a baby as delightful as Rory. The problem is, Wendy thought, I don’t want to like her. And I don’t want her to be perfect for Rory.
Was she really as selfish as that?
The butler took Wendy’s coat, and Tessa urged her into the drawing room. “I should go and change,” Wendy said feebly.
“Nonsense, dear,” Elinor said. “You’re fine as you are for now.” She leaned forward a little in her wheelchair and beckoned Wendy toward her. Her black velvet skirt caught the glow of the firelight, and a cameo gleamed at the throat of her dainty old-fashioned blouse. “Come and meet our son John.”
Wendy sighed a little and went forward. Beside Elinor’s chair stood a young man whose face proclaimed his membership in the family; he was shorter than Mack, and he carried a bit of extra weight around his waistline. Perhaps that was a tribute to Tessa’s talents as a cook, Wendy thought. Or, despite Tessa’s down-home appearance, there might well be a Mrs. Cardoza in her kitchen, too.
She smiled at John Burgess and extended a hand. His grip was firm and his smile pleasant. There was at first glance nothing to dislike about him, any more than there had been about Tessa. Nevertheless, Wendy felt a lump rising in her throat.
Mack came in, without hurry, and bent to kiss his mother’s cheek before extending a hand to his brother. Wendy didn’t hear the pleasantries because her attention was seized by a stir at the door as one of the nurses brought Rory in.
“Ah, here’s the one we’ve been waiting for,” Elinor said with satisfaction. “Such a good girl, isn’t she, to have insisted on finishing her nap?”
They had dressed the baby in pink this time, in a velveteen dress trimmed with dainty lace and a big white satin heart appliqued on the front.
She looks so grown-up that way, Wendy thought. It hardly seemed possible that in a few hours the child could have changed so much, but Wendy would have to adjust herself to much greater changes in the future. When she saw Rory again – if she was allowed to see her again...
She must ask Mack about that. Surely no one would object to her seeing Rory now and then, but it made sense to get everything clear. Or perhaps it was John and Tessa whose permission she would need.
The nurse paused beside the enormous tree. Rory was staring wide-eyed at the glittering silver ornaments.
Wendy stole a look at Tessa. She was watching the baby intently, but she made no move to go closer.
“Wendy,” Elinor said softly. “Would you take the baby, please?”
Wendy gave her one incredulous look before she hurried across the room. Rory saw her coming and broke into a beatific smile, then practically flung herself out of the nurse’s arms and into Wendy’s.
Over the baby’s happy gurgles, Wendy didn’t hear what Elinor was saying; she only caught the murmur of the woman’s lovely voice. But as she turned back toward the little group by the fire with Rory in her arms, she saw Mack leaning toward his mother, and she heard his answer. “I know, Mother,” he said. “I’m working on it.”
The words sent a shiver straight to Wendy’s heart.
Te
ssa laughed. “How perfectly darling she is!”
Wendy took a deep breath and tried to will her voice to stay level and calm. “Do you want to hold her?”
Tessa shook her head. “Not just now, when she’s obviously so delighted at having you. I wouldn’t dream of interfering with your reunion.” She settled onto the edge of a chair and studied Rory thoughtfully. “You know, several of my clients have asked if I’d design clothes for their children. I’ve never been inspired by babies, so I’ve always turned them down – but I must admit the idea seems a bit more appealing all of a sudden.”
“Clothes?” Wendy asked.
“Didn’t Elinor tell you about my business? The blouse she’s wearing is one of my designs. And this dress, too – I nearly always wear things from my own collection. It’s good promotion.” Tessa’s voice was matter-of-fact. Her eyes had narrowed as if she was mentally taking Rory’s measurements.
Wendy glanced at the tiny pin-tucks which decorated Tessa’s dress. “And you must have designed the nightgown Mrs. Parker found for me last night.” Too late, she thought better of saying anything – Tessa might not approve of the housekeeper’s actions, and she’d hate to get Mrs. Parker in trouble.
But Tessa was interested, not annoyed. “The one with all the embroidery? I forgot I’d left it here. Was the fabric soft enough to be comfortable?”
“It was wonderful.”
Tessa’s eyes lit. “Oh, grand – I was worried about that. If you liked the nightie, I’ve got some other things I’d love to have you try.”
“Tessa,” Mack cut in. “Not the time for a sales pitch.”
“Of course not,” Tessa said impatiently. “I’m not selling, Mack, I’m doing research. This is a perfect opportunity for me to learn about people in the Southwest – the kinds of styles and fabrics they like. I’m going to be expanding that direction someday, you know. How long will you be staying, Wendy?”
Oddly enough, Wendy thought, Tessa wasn’t looking at her as she said it. She was surveying Mack from the corner of her eye.
The Only Solution Page 9
