Besides, those additional demands would only increase as time went on, especially as they started families. It simply wasn't possible to explain to a hungry baby that mealtime would be late because Mom had to run just one more errand.
Only Paige was still in the same circumstances as when they had originally set up the business. Only Paige was still on her own, with no one but Eileen...
Quit feeling sorry for yourself, she ordered. You're perfectly content. You're doing exactly what you want to do.
She glanced in the mirror at Jennifer, who was securely belted into the mini van's back seat, singing Christmas carols to herself. The child broke off in midphrase. "I read a story once about a snowman. Can we build one when we get home?"
Home, Paige thought. It was such a careless word, under these circumstances. Meaningless, really. To Jennifer it merely signified their immediate destination, not a permanent location.
"We're late," Paige temporized. "And your daddy will be calling."
"Eileen will answer the phone. She's not really a dragon, after all. So we can build a snowman."
"Maybe after dinner."
"But then it'll be dark!" Jennifer wailed.
As Paige swung the van into the bungalow's driveway, the tires started to slide on the packed-down snow at the precise moment she realized that a car was already parked in the space where the minivan usually sat. She fought the van to a halt just inches from the back bumper of a black Jaguar and sagged thankfully against the steering wheel.
Jennifer bounced madly in her seat till Paige opened the door, and then-snowman forgotten-she was off at full speed. Paige followed, wondering how long Austin had been there, waiting for them. Not long, surely, or Eileen would have phoned her. Unless she'd been too busy giving Austin a very large piece of her mind...
But the living room didn't resemble a bloody battlefield, as Paige had half expected, though the atmosphere was certainly tense. She could feel the strain as soon as she stepped into the room, even though there was no obvious reason for it. In fact, she thought ironically, it looked like a perfect domestic scene.
Jennifer was already in her father's arms, being swung high for a hug. Eileen was sitting in her favorite spot, next to the work table which held her sewing supplies, with a half-quilted throw across her lap and her needle poised for the next stitch. But her gaze wasn't quite focused on the fabric; she looked, Paige thought, as if she'd stuck a finger in an electrical socket. But then, that would be precisely the effect of unexpectedly finding her ex-son-in-law on her doorstep.
"I didn't think you'd be back till tomorrow," Paige said. "In fact, with the condition the streets are in, I'm surprised the airport's open."
"Barely," Austin said. "If Caleb hadn't chartered a jet we'd still be stuck in California."
Jennifer was struggling to get down. "I have to go feed my kitty," she announced. "And build a snowman. Come help, Daddy."
Paige intervened. "Honey, your daddy must be anxious to get home and have you all to himself."
"And Paige," Austin told the child, "must be anxious to have a little time without you so she can do whatever she wants."
Jennifer skewered Paige with a look. "You want me to go away?"
"Of course not," Paige said. "But-"
"I'm not in a hurry," Austin admitted.
Eileen tossed her quilting aside. "So go build a snowman already," she muttered. "It'll take a while to finish dinner, anyway. I'll call you in."
Jennifer let out a whoop and headed for the door, doing her best to drag Austin with her.
Paige, openmouthed, stood in the center of the living room and stared at her mother.
"Good thing it's not mosquito season," Eileen said irritably, "or you'd have swallowed a quart of them by now."
"Did I hear you invite Austin to dinner?"
"Not precisely. I figure since I've already started cooking, Jennifer might as well have a good meal before she goes home." Eileen spun her wheelchair toward the kitchen door, muttering under her breath. "Heaven knows what he'd feed her. Gone for days on end, there's probably nothing in the refrigerator-"
Paige rubbed her temples and followed. So much for the electrical shock her mother had gotten, she thought. Paige herself felt as if she'd been struck by lightning.
Jennifer was coming inside again with the margarine tub which had become the stray cat's designated dinner bowl. "Daddy's going to catch my kitty," she announced.
"The idiot will get himself scratched." Paige flung herself across the enclosed back porch and stopped dead just outside the door.
Crouched at the base of the steps, Austin was holding out one hand. And Jennifer's very wild, very stray, very scrawny cat was sniffing his fingers.
"That answers one question for certain," Paige muttered. "Jen's instinct was right-that creature is a female."
Austin looked up with a smile which lighted his face and made Paige feel as if the step under her feet had suddenly turned into a merry-go-round.
Jennifer squeezed past her and stood wide-eyed.
"Come down slowly, Jen," Austin said softly.
Within a couple of minutes, the cat was sampling the contents of the dish while with one finger Jennifer stroked the animal's back.
"Now I can take her home with me," the child breathed.
Austin winced.
Paige bit her lip in a futile effort to keep from smiling. "Oh, great animal tamer," she said under her breath. "How are you going to get yourself out of this one?"
"Touching her is one thing," Austin said. "Picking her up and stuffing her in your backpack is something else altogether. I don't think she'd like it at all."
"To say nothing of having to fumigate the backpack afterward to get rid of the vermin who would no doubt come along for the ride," Paige added. She brushed snow off the bottom step and sat down.
"But if I go home without my kitty, who will feed her?" Realization had obviously hit Jennifer like a hammer; her tone was tragic.
Paige smothered a sigh. Of course, she'd known from the first bowl of milk that she was doomed to end up with a cat; she just hadn't wanted to admit it. "I will. And you can come and visit her anytime-" An instant too late, she saw the speculative tilt of Austin's head. Was he wondering about her reasons for that invitation? "Anytime your father says you can," she added lamely.
The cat slurped up the last bite of food, leaving the dish as spotless as if it had just come out of the dishwasher, and retreated under the porch. Jennifer said, "Daddy, make her come back."
Austin rose from his crouched position. "I can't. Why don't you build a snow cat, instead of a snowman? Maybe she'll come out to look at that." He sat down on the opposite end of the step from Paige.
She didn't look at him but at Jennifer, already plunging through a snow bank. "She'll soon forget all about the cat, I'm sure. And there are all kinds of reasons why she can't come to visit, so-"
"Including that you'd rather not be bothered?"
His voice was so matter of fact that it took a moment for his meaning to sink in, and when it did, Paige was stunned. "Of course that's not what I meant! I've enjoyed having her here."
"Then what did you mean?"
She stretched one foot out and drew lines in the snow with the toe of her boot. "I'd prefer you didn't get the idea that I want you to bring her," she said slowly.
"I see. It's me you'd rather not be bothered with."
"I can't imagine that wounding your self-esteem, Austin."
"Can't you? You requested that I make peace with your mother, and I think I've made considerable progress."
"I'm flabbergasted," Paige said frankly.
"So what about you, Paige? You're the one who said you didn't want to be caught in a war."
"I don't. But there's a considerable difference between calling a truce and forming an alliance."
Austin's dark eyebrows rose. "Are you suggesting that we form an alliance?"
Paige could have bitten her tongue off. "Of course not," she s
aid crossly. "This is why I don't want to talk to you, Austin. You're always twisting what I say."
"Maybe I just need practice."
"No, you're already plenty good at it."
"Now who's twisting words?" he said mildly. "I'd like to take you to dinner, Paige."
She shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea. Jennifer will want to spend your first evening at home with you. And you'd sacrifice all the ground you won with Mother, too. After she's actually invited you..."
"I didn't mean tonight. Eight o'clock tomorrow?"
Paige chewed her lower lip. "You mean this as a way to thank me for taking care of Jennifer, of course."
Austin shrugged. "If that's what you want to call it." He let the silence stretch. "If your mother can bend, Paige, why won't you give it a try?"
"Why are you doing this?"
"Unfinished business," he said. "You're right, you know, that we're going to run into each other, but surely there's no need for us to be uncomfortable about it. Obviously we can't just ignore the past, though. We've been trying to do that and it isn't working very well. So we need to deal with it. Mend the fences and move on."
"And you think having dinner together will do that."
"It can't be worse than we're doing now, can it?"
Paige couldn't argue with that. And she could hardly refuse.
It was, after all, such a reasonable thing to ask. How could she possibly turn down such a practical, sensible, nice request? If she did, she'd look as if she was scared to death of him.
Which, of course, she was. But truth was no help right now.
"All right," she said. "Eight o'clock tomorrow." Because, after all-what else could she say?
CHAPTER EIGHT
FOR the life of her, Paige couldn't think of anything sensible to say to break the silence. She looked out across the lawn to where Jennifer was bent almost double as she tried in vain to lift the giant snowball she'd rolled, and went to assist her.
Just as she leaned over to help the child, Jennifer stood up and the top of her head cracked against Paige's chin, catching her lower lip between her teeth. The pain brought hot tears to Paige's eyes, and when she tentatively touched her Up, her finger came away red.
Jennifer's eyes were wide. "I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'll go get you a bandage."
Austin's long strides brought him across the snow-covered lawn to Paige, and he gently tugged her hand away so he could check the damage. "A bandage wouldn't do any good, Jen," he said. He bent to scoop up a handful of snow, pressing it against the wounded lip.
Paige winced at the cold. "You'll freeze your hand," she said, trying not to move her lips.
"Don't try to talk," Austin ordered. "You're not a very good ventriloquist anyway. I can't understand you."
"It will, too, help," Jennifer announced. "I always feel better with a bandage." She darted off toward the house.
"The answer to all childhood woes," Austin said. His voice took on the singsong note of a carnival barker. "Scraped knee? Chicken pox? Compound fracture of the leg? Just slap an adhesive bandage on it - preferably a sparkly orange one - and it'll feel better instantly."
Paige started to smile as she looked up at him, but she stopped when she saw the glow in his eyes, just inches above her face. She swallowed convulsively.
Austin sobered. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't try to make you laugh. Stretching your lip will hurt and make it start to bleed again."
A drip of melted snow rolled down Paige's throat, drawing an icy line across the tender skin, through the gap where she had neglected to button her coat collar, and straight down into her cleavage. She gasped and tried to pull away, clutching at the errant water drop.
Austin held the snow pack even more firmly against her mouth, and with his other hand he scooped up the next wandering droplet before it could reach the base of her throat. Paige supposed she should be grateful for his quick action, but in fact where his fingertips had brushed, her skin burned even worse than her injured lip did.
Austin lifted the packed snow away to inspect the cut. "I think it's stopped now." He gently touched the spot with the tip of his finger.
Despite the numbing cold, his touch was like a hot rivet holding Paige in place. She stared up at him and watched as his eyes narrowed and went dark. Ever so slowly his hand slipped from her mouth to her throat to the back of her neck, his fingers spreading over the soft skin to hold her, and he lowered his head.
Just as his lips brushed hers, the slam of the back door jolted Paige out of her paralysis. By the time Jennifer skidded to a stop in the snow next to them, they were standing two feet apart. Austin was still holding the reddened, icy clump of snow, but he looked as if he'd forgotten it entirely.
"I brought you a bandage, Paige," Jennifer said breathlessly. "Was Daddy kissing your hurt lip to make it all better?"
Austin gave a gasp of laughter.
From the back door, Eileen called them to dinner. Paige wondered how much she'd seen, and what she'd have to say about it.
"I don't want dinner," Jennifer called back. "I'm not hungry, and my snow cat's not done."
"No dinner," Paige said, "means no hot chocolate afterward."
Jennifer eyed her for a moment. "Can I have it in one of the special cups?"
Paige nodded, and the child spun toward the house and took off at a dead run.
More slowly, Austin and Paige waded back to the edge of the driveway. As she carefully watched her step in the icy spots where the minivan's tires had packed down the snow, Paige caught a glimpse of Austin's elegant wingtips. "Thanks for the first aid," she said. "But your shoes are soaked from standing in the snow."
"They'll dry." As soon as he was inside the back door he kicked his shoes off. "You must have bought Jennifer's boots," he said. "Thanks, Paige. She didn't need them in Atlanta, and I haven't had time since we got here."
His voice was just a little husky, and it made Paige feel almost ticklish. She tried to defend herself from the sensation by saying lightly, "I'll make sure you get the bill."
Eileen's shepherd's pie sat steaming in the center of the kitchen table, and Jennifer was already in her customary place. She waited only till the adults were seated before she announced, "Daddy, I'm going to name my cat Fluffy."
Paige couldn't think of a less appropriate name for a scrawny cat whose coat was so patchy it was practically threadbare. She sent a sidelong glance at Austin; seeing his barely repressed grin made it even harder to hold in her own enjoyment. "Jennifer," she murmured, "you have a career in fiction waiting for you."
"Or marketing," Austin added. "No, I've got it. Public relations-that's your field, Jen. The fine art of making people who are looking at something believe wholeheartedly that it's something else altogether."
Jennifer looked from one to the other, eyes wide in puzzlement.
"Now that all of you are quite finished," Eileen said austerely, "let's link hands around the table and say grace, before dinner gets cold."
It's only for a moment, Paige told herself. It's not like holding hands to walk down the street. It wasn't at all the same thing they used to do. Nevertheless it was with trepidation that she laid her fingers against Austin's open palm.
His hand was as warm as if he'd never held a snowball, and his hold was casual. Paige closed her eyes and let the soft ritual words wash over her. But she didn't really hear them; her entire consciousness was focused on the feel of her hand against Austin's.
This, she thought, is how it should have been. Casually gathered together, shoes kicked off, for a family dinner following a romp in the snow. Three generations clasping hands and giving thanks, sharing and teasing and laughing... This was how it could have been. Jennifer could have been her daughter, and at the end of the day the three of them could have gone home together. They could have been a real family...
Eileen finished saying grace, but Austin didn't let Paige's hand slip from his. Instead, he looked from her fingertips to Jennifer's, clasped in his other
hand. "I see you two have the same manicurist."
Paige could feel herself flush as red as the smudged scarlet polish on her nails. “It was the only thing that kept Jennifer entertained this afternoon while we had a long wait."
He looked at her, Paige thought, a little oddly. But all he said was, "In that case, thank heaven I wasn't the one who had to wait with her."
He released her hand. And just as easily, Paige thought, he had dismissed her from his mind.
A real family. Except, Paige reminded herself harshly, that Austin hadn't wanted it to be that way. So he had walked out on Paige and married Marliss Howard instead, and given her his daughter.
And there was no point at all in feeling sentimental over the old days. All that had been nothing more than illusion.
Paige looked down at her plate and was mildly surprised to see it full of shepherd's pie and salad, for she couldn't remember spooning up her portions. With deliberate coolness she asked, "Austin, what will you do with Jennifer tomorrow while you go to work?"
Eileen said, "I forgot to tell you, didn't I? There's a message in your stack. The academy will be back in session tomorrow."
"You forgot to tell me?" Paige asked skeptically.
"Once I'd told Austin, I didn't think it was terribly important to inform you." Eileen's voice was tart.
Because Jennifer's schooling isn't my business, Paige thought. Admitting the fact was like scraping her fingernails across the surface of the pretty-and false-picture she'd so carefully constructed a few minutes ago.
"Do I have to go to school, Daddy?" Jennifer stirred her shepherd's pie. "I have fun with Paige."
Before Austin could answer, Eileen asked, "What did you do today?"
Jennifer bounced a little in her chair. “We took a dog to have his hair cut. And we went to a really neat store and I wanted to buy-"
"Everything she saw," Paige put in. "It was the Salvation Army thrift shop, and she said she'd never been anyplace like it before."
"I shouldn't think so," Austin muttered. "I suppose that's where the nail polish came from?"
"And then we went to the tire place and waited for a long time." Jennifer sighed at the memory. "But they had a television so it was all right. I watched cartoons and painted Paige's fingernails."
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