"Like what?"
He sounded as if he really expected an answer, and Paige thought better of the accusation. Did she honestly want him to think that she had nothing better to do than dwell on ancient history? "Nothing new, that's sure," she said and bent her head over her notebook once more. "And no, I haven't always been this touchy - not till you taught me I'd better watch out for myself or be trampled on. "
"Don't tell me you're still furious with me for taking that job offer in Philadelphia instead of giving it up and staying here because your mother was ill."
"Oh, no." Paige kept her voice airy. "It's obvious you were right about it being your big chance. I'd have hated for you to miss that - no matter what else you had to give up."
"I did invite you to go with me."
"And no doubt you breathed a big sigh of relief when I refused." She looked up from her notebook. "Tell me, Austin, did you already know that woman when you left Denver?"
"If you mean Jennifer's mother - yes, I already knew her."
"There, you see. It was much better the way it turned out - for both of us."
"No doubt you're right," he said. "You seem to be much happier as a wife in image only. This way you can concentrate on the busywork and the details - you can pretend you're living a normal, everyday married life, and yet you can still avoid any emotional involvement or long-term commitment."
Paige slammed her notebook against the rail. "That's quite the accusation, coming from you!"
"But it's true, isn't it? You couldn't go the distance, Paige. When it came time for a choice - "
"How dare you talk to me about choices, and long-term commitment, and going the distance when you had another woman already waiting in the wings?"
Austin looked down at her for a long moment. “Thank you for the reminder," he said softly. "About another woman waiting for me, I mean. I told my daughter I'd pick her up after school, and I don't want to be late on her first day. So if you'll excuse me..."
Paige tried not to look after him, but her gaze strayed, following him across the wide atrium to the front doors before - with determination - she turned her back on him and leaned against the railing, two fingers pressed to the pounding vein in her temple.
What was it, she asked herself helplessly, that made her self-destruct whenever Austin came on the scene? Why couldn't she have simply agreed that there was no need for him to apologize and left it at that?
She closed her notebook with a snap, knowing she needed a little cooling-off time before she could think any more about parties, and started down the stairs.
It didn't even occur to her that Austin might not yet be safely out of range until she'd retrieved her heavy coat from the rack at one side of the atrium - it would have to be moved on the day of the party, she noted - and was almost at the main doors.
But he hadn't gone out into the cold wind; he was standing just inside, talking to a petite redhead. Paige didn't see him till it was too late to veer off, so she kept to her course, intending to nod at him and say hello to her partner, but not even pause for more.
Austin didn't give her the opportunity to snub him. Paige was still twenty feet off when he murmured something to the redhead, wrapped his cashmere muffler close about his throat, and went out. The redhead, unbuttoning her coat as she moved, came toward Paige. "I'm glad I caught you," Cassie said. "Sabrina wanted me to ask you to do her a favor."
Foreboding tingled through Paige's veins. Sabrina generally had no trouble asking for whatever she wanted; she was probably the most direct and the most verbal of the three of them. So when Sabrina resorted to sending a message instead of candidly asking for what she wanted... "I don't think I want to hear this," she said frankly.
"Oh, it's not so bad. She's having a little dinner party on Saturday night - "
"Isn't that the last thing she needs to be doing, with the wedding just a couple of weeks away?"
"I couldn't agree with you more, but you know Sabrina. She said Austin only starts work here once, and she can't possibly put off welcoming him till after the wedding, so she's invited just a few people..." Cassie shrugged. "Anyway, she wanted me to ask you."
So much for Sabrina's declaration last night that she would never again try to arrange a date for Paige. Her excuse would no doubt be that a dinner party thrown for business reasons was scarcely a date, but the intent was clear enough to Paige. For one thing, Sabrina's "few people" would be mostly couples. Paige and Austin might even be the only singles in the group.
"Ask me? You mean, to come?" Paige heard the nervous squeak in her voice and tried to clear her throat. The idea of attending Austin's welcoming party - especially a small and intimate gathering - was slightly less inviting than sitting in a dentist's chair for a root canal. But she couldn't possibly explain her real reasons to Cassie, and coming up with an acceptable excuse was going to be no picnic. She hated being less than truthful with her partners - and in any case, fibbing was not only distasteful but probably useless; Cassie was likely to see straight through any subterfuge she tried to pull off.
"It's really sweet of Sabrina to think of me," Paige began, "but just because we're partners doesn't mean she has to include me in everything she does. I'd much prefer it if she found someone who works at Tanner and who would actually appreciate the chance to meet the boss socially." She congratulated herself. She hadn't lied, she hadn't explained, she hadn't given herself away. Now all she had to do was stick to her guns while Cassie tried the standard persuasive techniques, and she'd be free and clear.... "Sabrina knows perfectly well I'd rather be in the kitchen than actually at the party, anyway."
Cassie smiled knowingly, and suddenly Paige found herself feeling even more uneasy. Something, she told herself, is way off track here.
"That's exactly what she thought you'd say," Cassie murmured. "So - since she doesn't need you in the kitchen this time - she told Austin he didn't have to worry about getting a sitter for Jennifer on Saturday night, because she knew someone who would be free."
Paige wanted to swear. She hadn't even suspected there was a trap till it had snapped shut on her. And now what could she say? "We don't provide baby-sitting service," she said feebly. "It's spelled out in Rent-A-Wife's rules. No baby-sitting, no window-washing, no - "
"But she's not a baby," Cassie pointed out. "This really isn't much different from picking her up after school and entertaining her at the orthodontist's office till her appointment, and we do that sort of thing all the time. Of course, if you'd rather not be responsible - "
Paige eagerly opened her mouth to seize on the excuse, and closed it again as soon as she realized how suspiciously innocent Cassie looked at the moment. "What's the alternative?" she asked warily.
Cassie shrugged. "I haven't had the opportunity to meet the young lady," she said. "So I told Sabrina I'd happily watch Jennifer for the evening. Of course, that would leave poor Sabrina short yet another guest at her dinner party - but if I'm taking your place, Paige, you surely can't object to standing in for me. Can you?"
Paige sighed. She might as well surrender; there was certainly no safe route to retreat. Between them, Sabrina and Cassie had seen to that.
"Yes," Cassie mused. "Sabrina said she knew she could count on you - one way or the other. So tell me, Paige - which would you rather do?''
CHAPTER FOUR
PAIGE could hear the doorbell chiming, as she stood outside Austin's apartment on Saturday evening. The sound was rich, sonorous and utterly boring, she thought. It was probably the same two notes as every other doorbell in Aspen Towers, installed when the building was constructed and chosen with no individuality or imagination in mind.
And you, she told herself, would be a lot easier to please if you were looking forward to this evening.
She still wasn't certain she'd made the right choice. She didn't regret for a moment missing Sabrina's party. In such a small and intimate gathering, it would be far too easy to slip up. Though Paige wasn't egotistical enough to think that every
eye in the place would be on her, the entire group would be watching Austin - the newcomer, the unknown quantity. His attitude toward any of the guests would be noticed. If he was cool toward Paige, people would wonder why. And if - heaven forbid - he wasn't cool...
Paige didn't even want to think about what Sabrina would be like if her matchmaking instincts went into overdrive.
On the other hand, Paige wasn't used to small children. She'd spent just as much time as her partners had in chauffeuring clients' kids to appointments and lessons and practices, of course, but that was different from spending the entire evening entertaining a five-year-old. Not that experience would be much help in this situation, she suspected; Jennifer Weaver struck her as anything but the average five-year-old.
Paige shifted the considerable weight of the leather tote bag which was slung over one shoulder and raised her finger to the button to ring the bell once more. Before she could press it, the door opened to reveal Austin, in a faultlessly tailored tuxedo. His eyebrows lifted slightly as he surveyed her.
Paige was irritated. "Didn't Sabrina tell you who your baby-sitter was?"
"Of course," he said. "I'm not surprised to see you, Paige. I just didn't expect you to come prepared for a long stay." He stepped back from the door.
Paige felt herself color. She swung the bulky leather bag off her shoulder; she felt like dropping it with a thud in the middle of the hall floor. "On the contrary," she said crisply. "I intend to eliminate the need for a second visit next week by installing Jennifer's hooks and closet rods tonight."
"How very efficient," Austin murmured.
"I thought you'd appreciate the idea." Paige dug through a side pocket of the bag and held out a brass key.
Austin made no move to take it. "What's this?"
"I forgot to return it to the super after I'd finished work the other day, and she wasn't in her office when I came in tonight. I thought perhaps you needed an extra, anyway."
"You'd better hang on to it this evening in case you need to go out."
"What for? I hardly think Jennifer will be in the mood for a stroll - it's freezing out there." She shrugged out of her coat and Austin hung it in the closet.
Small feet pounded down the hall, and a childishly excited voice cried, "Is she here?" Jennifer rounded the corner and skidded into her father. Austin caught her, set her upright, and put his hands on the child's shoulders to restrain her.
"Don't tell me I have a fan," Paige murmured. The whole idea made her feel self-conscious. What on earth had she done - besides not pat Jennifer on the head - to earn such an enthusiastic welcome?
"In that case, I won't," Austin said dryly.
Paige listened to his terse instructions about snacks and bedtime, but his voice seemed to come from a distance, for she was still thinking about the cynical note in his voice. Was he annoyed that his daughter had chosen her - of all people - to grow fond of? Maybe even suspicious that Paige might promote that attachment for her own ends?
Eventually Austin put on his wool overcoat and kissed Jennifer goodbye. After he was gone, the child stood quietly in the center of the hallway for a full minute, surveying Paige. Finally, she asked solemnly, "What do babysitters do?"
What kind of question was that? Was the child merely testing the waters to see what she might be able to get by with, or was she leading up to a specific outlandish escapade?
"I suppose it depends on the baby-sitter," Paige said. "And on the child, of course. Tonight, we're going to renovate closets, as you requested! - so if you'll unzip my tote bag and sort out the hooks, I'll start putting them up."
Jennifer plopped onto the floor and dragged the heavy bag into her lap. "I've never had a baby-sitter before," she confided. "Why are they called baby-sitters, anyway? I'm not a baby anymore."
Paige felt her jaw drop at the sheer impossibility of the statement. How could the child of a busy, sought-after corporate executive - and single parent - not know all about baby-sitters?
Of course, there was day care; perhaps Jennifer didn't see that as quite the same thing. And she'd probably been in preschool from the time she was out of diapers; that didn't count as baby-sitting, either. But there were still evenings and weekends to account for, and even if Austin wanted to spend every minute of that time with his daughter - a possibility Paige thought less than likely - there must be countless hours when he couldn't possibly have the child with him. What about business trips, late meetings, dinners out with clients? He hadn't gotten to the top of the corporate ladder by working eight-hour days.
You're forgetting her mother, Paige reminded herself. She might have been at home with her daughter; Jennifer had said merely that her mother was dead, and Paige had assumed from the casual tone of the statement that it had happened some time ago. But perhaps that was the reason Austin had wanted a change. If his wife had died just recently…
But that possibility still didn't entirely answer the original question, either. Surely Jennifer's mother would have accompanied him sometimes - and someone would have had to look after Jennifer. A baby-sitter, in other words.
Paige took her cordless drill from the tote bag and removed the few garments from the hall closet so she could see the back wall and judge where to best and most securely place the hooks.
Finally the answer dawned on her. How hopelessly middle class you are, Paige McDermott, she told herself, not to think of it first thing! "I'll bet you had a nanny. That's almost the same thing as a baby-sitter, only it's all the time."
"Oh." Jennifer sounded disappointed. "Is that all?"
Paige tried to suppress a smile at the disillusionment in the child's voice. "I'm afraid so. Why isn't your nanny here now?"
"She didn't come with us," Jennifer said vaguely. "Daddy said she was tired because I had her ever since my mother died."
Paige could understand that. She wondered if that meant the nanny was retired or simply on vacation.
"Her name was Marliss Howard," Jennifer went on.
"The nanny?"
"No. My mother."
"Oh, I see." Marliss, Paige thought. Marliss Howard. It didn't ring any bells in her mind; in the whole brief term of their marriage, she didn't recall Austin ever mentioning the name.
Of course, she reminded herself, in those last few confused weeks leading up to the day he'd left Denver - and her - Paige had been preoccupied with the sudden worsening of her mother's illness. He could probably have brought troops of dancing girls home with him and she wouldn't have noticed.
And even if she had known, what could she have done about Marliss Howard? Not much, by then. She couldn't have waved a magic wand and made Eileen whole again - and even if she had left her mother to go with Austin, she would have been preserving an empty shell, not a marriage. It couldn't have lasted long; he'd said almost as much himself when he'd admitted that when he'd left Paige he'd already known Marliss Howard.
Known her well enough that he'd taken her with him. Well enough that, within a year or so, she'd given birth to his child...
Paige tried, without much success, to swallow the bitter lump in her throat. All that was past, she told herself firmly, and she was only hurting herself by dwelling on it.
She turned her attention back to Jennifer. Wasn't it a bit odd that the child had recited her mother's maiden name, instead of calling her Marliss Weaver? Unless perhaps the woman had been an independent sort. Paige wondered, with a tinge of malice, exactly why Austin had sounded a little grim about the subject of married names. If on top of Paige demanding her own name back as a part of their divorce, his second wife had refused to change hers at all...
Knock off the speculation. It's getting you nowhere.
"That's a very pretty name," Paige said. "Hand me the little black box in the side pocket, will you?''
Jennifer dug into the bag. "You mean your phone?" She held it up as high as she could reach.
The cell phone was an older model, too big for the child's small hands. It slipped out of her grasp a
s smoothly as if it had been greased and hit the mosaic floor with a dull thud.
Paige started to swear, caught herself, and bit off the words. "I think I'm jinxed," she said.
Jennifer looked stricken. "I didn't mean to drop it." She scrambled after the phone.
"I know you didn't, honey. But the darn thing was just in for repairs a couple of weeks ago because I dropped it into a can of paint." Because you'd just heard the news that Austin Weaver might be coming back to Denver, she reflected. "If it has to be fixed again - "
"Paint? Did it get all gunky?" Jennifer pushed a button, and the phone cheeped and glowed. "It still works," she announced.
"That's a relief. Stick it back in the bag, will you? What I really need is the box of drill bits so I can make holes in the wall for the hooks. Maybe I put it in the pocket on the other side."
Jennifer found the box eventually, and Paige put the first hook into place. As she held out a hand for the second one, however, Jennifer asked, "Do we have to do hooks?"
"I thought you wanted them."
"I do. But right now I'd rather read stories." Her tone was uncompromising. "This is boring and my bottom's cold from sitting on this hard floor."
"Maybe you could get a cushion to sit on. We can read stories later, but right now I need to get this done."
"That," Jennifer announced, "is what my daddy always says."
Paige stopped dead with the drill balanced in one hand and the hook in the other. It didn't surprise her to hear that Austin's work was his top priority. Some things never change, she thought. But the sadness in the child's voice caught at her throat.
Just what, Paige asked herself, was so all-fired important about installing hooks and closet rods tonight? Yes, she was busy; until the holiday season was over, she'd have to use a shoehorn to fit a single extra job into her calendar, so it made sense to use her time as efficiently as possible. But was she simply determined to get the work done, or was her single-mindedness really hiding another motivation altogether?
Was she doing her best to stay busy so she could minimize the need to interact with Jennifer? Was she fulfilling her duty to the letter, but at the same time refusing to get any more involved than she absolutely had to?
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