“Not at all.” Morgan was surprised, however, and when she thought about it, pleased. Tessa had never invited a girlfriend for supper before. How nice that she and Luke’s daughter had hit it off.
“I’ve told you you’re welcome to ask your friends over whenever you like.” Morgan wondered if Luke might want to come, too. Would that be a good idea? She buttered her toast an date it, mulling over the idea.
She didn’t know where this thing with her and him was going, but she assumed they were friends. Which she figured meant becoming involved in each other’s lives, didn’t it? But did it include getting together over a makeshift meal with Tessa and Sophie?
Morgan had no idea. She’d have to talk it over with him. There was so much they didn’t know about each other. There were a zillion questions she wanted to ask him. The prospect pleased her.
“Hey, Earth to Morgan.” Tessa was grinning at her, and it was obvious she’d said something Morgan hadn’t even heard.
“Sony, Tess. I was someplace else.”
“I’ll say you were. I said, if you’re leaving now, think I could get a ride? I need to get to school early to work on my art project”
“Sure. Let’s go.”
Tessa grabbed her bag, and they were halfway out the back door when the front doorbell rang. Major started barking.
“I’ll get it. It’s pro’bly the mailman.” Tessa sprinted through the kitchen and down the hallway to the door. Through the noise of the dogs, Morgan heard Tessa greet whoever was there, telling the animals to shut up at regular intervals.
Tessa hollered, “Hey, Morgan? I think you better come out here.” There was a peculiar note in her voice.
Morgan glanced at her watch, muttered under her breath and hurried down the hall, coming to an abrupt halt when she rounded the comer and saw the elegant older woman poised in the entrance hall. Almost faint with shock, Morgan sagged against the wall.
“India?” Morgan was too dismayed to even be polite. “What the heck are you doing here? I...I thought you were in Florida.”
“Darling, what a way to greet your mother.”
India Merriweather, full length fur coat swinging open to reveal a bone slender figure set off by a smart rose shaded suit, swept across the space dividing them and bent regally to not quite touch her cheek to Morgan’s. Skippy yapped at her heels and the kitten came bounding out of the kitchen to see what was going on.
“I know it’s very naughty of me to just pop in on you this way, but I decided on the spur of the moment to come for a visit, so I just climbed on the first available plane and here I am.” India’s throaty, dramatic voice made the whole thing sound like a cozy little adventure. “Surely all these animals aren’t yours, Morgan? A cat? Oh, dear, cat hairs irritate my sinuses, you know.”
The doorbell rang, and again Tessa opened the door.
“Where d’ya want this luggage, ma’am?” A tiny man stood there, puffing hard. He carried three oversize matching suitcases and several hat boxes.
“Oh, just put them anywhere here. The hall is fine,” India instructed him with a careless wave of her beringed, manicured fingers. She lowered her voice to a stage whisper and turned again to Morgan. “Would you have change for this nice man, darling? I’m afraid I don’t have any Canadian currency at all, so silly of me. The fare’s $52.50 and, dear, please give him a generous tip. He was very helpful at the airport.” She gave the taxi driver a winning smile and added in a louder tone, “There are three more pieces, aren’t there?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get them right away.” He turned and went down the steps, and when he staggered back up again under the weight of what looked like small trunks, Morgan had found her handbag.
Thank goodness she’d been to the bank machine. She handed over the money, still too stunned to do more than simply react When the door closed behind the driver, she tried to take a deep breath and felt as if she were choking. The air was heavy with the familiar exotic scent India had always worn, and her physical presence, as always, made Morgan feel short, dumpy and unattractive. Inadequate.
Tessa had been standing to one side watching, wide eyed and silent, and now India turned to her, her frosted golden head tipped to one side. “And who exactly are you, dear?”
The condescension in her mother’s tone set Morgan’s teeth on edge. “This is Tessa Hargraves, my foster daughter. I’m sure I wrote you about her coming to live with me. This is my mother, Tessa. India Merriweather.”
“And you may call me India, Tara.”
“It’s Tessa, actually.”
Morgan caught the irritation in Tessa’s tone and applauded the girl’s spirit
“How long are you planning on staying, India?” With growing apprehension, Morgan eyed the small mountain of cases cluttering the entrance hall. Tessa was also staring at the pile. The dogs were circling it and sniffing.
India strolled into the living room and looked around, trailing a hand across the back of the sofa and studying the painting over the fireplace, her head tipped to one side. “Oh, a nice long visit, no set dates. That’s too boring, don’t you think? I’ll stay for Christmas, certainly.”
Christmas? Christmas? Morgan’s mouth dropped open. It wasn’t even Halloween, and India was talking about staying till Christmas? This was a nightmare! It couldn’t be happening.
“It’ll be such fun,” India went on, oblivious to Morgan’s reaction. “You and I together for the holidays. This house is simply huge! I had no idea. I’m so glad, dear, because this way we won’t all be under one another’s feet, will we? Tara, I wonder if you’d be a darling and take my cases up for me?”
Tessa narrowed her eyes and didn’t move. Morgan glared at her mother’s back, wishing she could be rebellious, too.
She wanted to just say no, she didn’t have room. No, India couldn’t stay. No, a nice long visit would be anything but fun. No, no, no.
But she’d never won an argument with India in her life, so instead of confrontation, she chose flight.
Chapter Eleven
“The bags are going to have to wait, India. I have to get to work and Tessa’s going to be late for school if we don’t leave right now.” Morgan herded Tessa ahead of her, talking steadily as she headed for the back door.
“Make yourself comfortable. There’s coffee in the pot, leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry and my office number’s by the phone. I’ll try to make it home early, but right now we’ve got to go.” She wrenched open the back door and called over her shoulder, “Bye.”
Morgan shut the door firmly behind her, aware that she was trembling as if she had palsy.
Tessa was silent as Morgan backed the Jeep out of the garage and swung into the street.
“So. So that’s your mother, huh?” The girl’s voice was carefully casual. “She sorta still looks like a movie star, even if she’s kinda old.”
“Yeah, she does.” Morgan shivered and turned the heater on, knowing the chill in her body had nothing to do with the weather.
“What kind of fur is her coat, d’ya think?”
Morgan shook her head, her mind in a turmoil. “I have no idea. I’ve never liked fur. I can’t tell one kind from another.”
Tessa was quiet again. They were nearing the school when she said in a worried tone, “I don’t think she liked me very much, Morgan.”
Morgan pulled the Jeep to a stop in a bus zone and reached over and gave Tessa a quick, hard hug.
“Well, I like you a lot, so don’t let that bother you, Tess. India’s just a little hard to get to know.”
The real truth was, her mother had never liked Morgan much, either, so there wasn’t a lot of hope for Tess, she thought dismally. She was going to nail India down on exactly how long this visit would last, so at least she and Tessa had something to look forward to.
“So, is it still okay to have Sophie come over tonight?”
“Absolutely.” Morgan tried to sound more confident than she felt. “Nothing’s going to be different just bec
ause India’s visiting. Our home is our home. We’ll make her welcome, but we won’t change our life. She’s the one who’s going to have to fit in. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Tessa was relieved, and she gave Morgan a smile and a thumbs up signal. “Oops, here comes a bus. He’s gonna kill you for parking here. I’m gone. See ya later.” She slid out of the Jeep.
Morgan pulled back into traffic, wishing she felt as optimistic about India as she’d pretended to Tessa.
She thought of Luke, of asking him to supper and the increased complications of having her mother staying with her for an indefinite amount of time. Her heart sank.
Why, oh why, did India have to turn up now? It was almost as though talking about her at dinner the other night had drawn her, like some evil genie, out of a bottle.
When she was certain Morgan and that girl were gone, India slid her arms out of her coat. The damned thing weighed a ton. She dug out one of the vials of pills from her handbag and, with trembling fingers, shoved several tablets under her tongue and waited for them to dissolve.
Feeling weak and faint, she sank into an armchair and dabbed at the moisture on her forehead and neck with a tissue. Her heart was thundering erratically in her chest and the ever present fear swelled inside of her like an overfilled balloon ready to burst. Would death come like this, when she was alone and afraid?
Congestive cardiomyopathy. Very musical. At least it sounded suitably elegant and extraordinary. And if she had to die, she’d rather it wasn’t cancer. Cancer was too common, really. Everyone in Hollywood was doing cancer or AIDS.
The diseases had something in common, though. There wasn’t any real cure for any of them. Rest, sleep, avoid stress, the young cardiologist had said. And pills, of course. India made a face. She had an entire makeup case filled with pills, for all the good they did.
Perhaps another year if you take very good care of yourself, he’d said when India insisted, but his eyes had said otherwise. Of course doctors always exaggerated how much time you had left; they didn’t want to take away hope.
Just not right now, please, in this strange house, with Morgan not here.
With a supreme effort of will, India forced herself to do the breathing exercises she’d used as an actress when stage fright threatened to get the better of her.
In, out, deep into the diaphragm, even though it hurt, oh, God it hurt. In...out.
In slow increments, the panic and pain subsided.
“Get away. Go away! I don’t like cats.” The kitten was winding itself around her ankle, and India shoved at it with her toe. She realized it had only one eye and shuddered.
Irritation took the place of fear as India looked around the room. It was pleasant enough. Morgan had some quite nice pieces.
The two dogs were lying on the rug, staring at her with their tails wagging. One of them had something wrong with its leg. The other was making a peculiar sound, somewhere between a bark and a whine. Heaven only knew what it had wrong with it.
Why Morgan would clutter up a perfectly lovely old house with crippled and blind animals was beyond her comprehension. And that cheap looking girl with the purple spikes for hair! What was Morgan thinking of? She was a doctor. Didn’t she realize she had a position to uphold in the community?
My daughter, the doctor. It always sent a thrill of pride through her, although it was unfortunate her daughter hadn’t inherited her own looks and height. It was difficult to remember Morgan’s father clearly, so much water under the bridge since then. But she thought he’d had auburn hair, not brick red, and India was fairly certain he’d been tall. All her husbands were, so where Morgan had inherited that tiny stature was beyond her. At least the girl had gotten her brains, she concluded with smug complacence.
She decided she felt well enough to get up and climb very slowly up the stairs to find out what her room was going to be like. One of the dogs, the small black poodle, followed her in spite of what she said to it.
Upstairs she assessed the situation and concluded that Morgan had selfishly claimed the best and largest bedroom. And the second best room was obviously that girl’s, with posters of half naked rock stars and sullen young men on motorcycles all over the walls.
The third room she inspected was for a baby. It had a rocking chair and a wooden crib and a small white wardrobe.
India stood in the doorway and frowned. Had Morgan gone totally broody and decided to adopt a baby? Or, God forbid, have one of her own? A lot of women were doing that now, particularly in Hollywood, heaven only knew why. One pregnancy had been quite enough for her, thank you.
That left one last bedroom. It was small and the bed was ridiculous, far too narrow, but at the moment it would have to do. She thought longingly of the queen size bed in the trailer she’d sold in Florida, but what was done was done. She’d lived her life without indulging in regrets, and she wouldn’t start now. The money had paid her medical expenses and her plane fare.
Surely Morgan would see the sense of putting that girl in here and letting India have the larger room, she decided as she found sheets and a comforter in the hall cupboard and made up the bed, stopping several times to sit and rest.
Even so, she was exhausted and breathless by the time she finished. The cheapest flight from Florida had involved flying all night, and she had no reserves of energy to draw on.
She fumbled her way out of her clothing, forcing herself to hang it all up carefully in the closet before allowing herself to sink down on the bed.
As long as she got enough rest, she could probably postpone telling Morgan about her heart, for a while at least. India hated the idea of anyone feeling sorry for her. And as for the rest of it, the fact that she planned to live here with Morgan for what remained of her life. Well, she’d break that news when she felt like it.
The little black dog jumped up on the bed. It paid no attention when she ordered it off. It settled near her pillow and watched her. She scowled at it, drew the comforter up to her chin, closed her eyes and was instantly asleep.
The day was frantic, and by three that afternoon Morgan still hadn’t managed to break for lunch. She finished with one patient and was checking the next chart when Luke tapped on the door.
“You busy?”
“Oh, no, I’m just sitting here filing my nails. Want me to do yours?” She grinned at him, and he came in and closed the door. She’d tried to call him earlier, but he’d been delivering a baby at St. Joe’s. “How’d your case go?”
“Really well. A fine boy. The mother has three girls at home, so he was a welcome change.” He smiled and her heart skipped a beat “There’s a play in the west end I’ve heard is good. I know it’s short notice, but if I can get tickets for tonight, would you like to go?”
“Gosh, I’d like nothing better, but I can’t, Luke. My mother arrived with no warning just as I was leaving for work, and I have to go home and get her settled.”
She debated about whether or not to ask, and now she made up her mind. “Actually, I wondered if you’d like to come over for supper tonight. It seems Tessa invited your daughter. They met at that meeting last night and hit it off. The meal won’t be anything fancy, but I just thought maybe? Or maybe not.” Her voice trailed away.
He was looking at her, his expression unreadable, and she felt suddenly embarrassed and annoyed with herself for asking him in the first place. “Look, it’s a terrible idea. Forget I said anything.”
He shook his head. “It’s not. It’s very kind of you. You caught me off guard. Sophie didn’t say anything this morning about meeting Tessa.” He hesitated and then added, “It might be awkward, me coming along, because as I told you, Sophie and I don’t get on well these days. I haven’t mentioned to her that I’m seeing you socially. And there’s a chance she’ll feel I’m intruding.”
“Well, think it over. But India and I don’t get on well, either, so at least you and I could talk to each other when the parental thing turns nasty. If you want to come, that is.”
H
e hesitated again and then nodded. “I do. I’d like to meet your mother, Morgan. From what you’ve told me, she’s an interesting woman.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “See if you can hold that thought after you’ve been around her a couple of hours. We’ll eat about seven if that’s okay with you.”
The intercom on her desk sounded, and Rachel’s dictatorial voice said, “Mrs. Parsons is waiting in Room 3, Doctor. She says to remind you that she’s been there for twenty minutes now.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Gotta go. Rachel’s on the warpath, not to mention Mrs. Parsons.”
“Not so fast.” He moved closer and drew her to him for a quick, hard kiss. “I’m working on our problem. I’ll have it solved in a day or two.”
“Our problem? Oh, that problem.” Morgan could feel herself flush when she realized he was talking about a place where they could be alone together. Make love together.
“Good,” she managed to answer, and for the rest of the afternoon, she could think of little else except what Luke had in mind.
India dressed for dinner in a soft peach colored turtleneck sweater, wide legged black silk trousers and ridiculously high-heeled black sandals. She had more impressive looking jewelry draped on her ears, neck, wrists and fingers than Morgan and Tessa owned jointly.
They’d had no time to wash their faces, let alone change.
India looked at them both and sniffed. “Leggings?”
She was even more horrified when she learned they’d be eating at the kitchen table. Morgan explained that she hadn’t gotten around to buying a dining room table yet, feeling the familiar sense of inadequacy India always inspired.
Then there were the hors d’oeuvres, a bag of tortilla chips dumped unceremoniously into a bowl, served with a dish of salsa, the hot type Tess and Morgan preferred.
India was scandalized.
This, Morgan thought, from a woman whose idea of dinner had been to have her small daughter open a can of soup. Morgan had learned to cook in self-defense.
The Baby Doctor Page 11
