“I know.” But he may not be laughing after I give him this news.
He wondered what had drawn Warren to the sun room at this hour. It wasn’t at its best in the afternoon. It was a room for mornings, when sunshine spilled through the long windows and emphasized the brilliant colors of flowers and birds in the gardens.
Of course, it was a fittingly ironic place for this talk, Luke thought, for it was to the sun room that he’d taken Molly the day of his mother’s funeral for the chat that had been intended as apology but ended as lecture, instead
Warren was sitting in a wicker chair so large that it made him look even more frail, his back to the windows, a book open on his lap and the dog sprawled at his feet.
Luke stopped in the doorway. “May I have a minute, Dad?”
Warren put his finger between the pages to mark his place and closed the book. “Of course. Minnesota history’s been around a long time. It can wait for me a bit longer.”
Luke settled on the arm of a sofa. “I have something to tell you that I’m afraid may come as a shock.”
Warren looked at him, his expression politely inquiring.
As gently as he could, Luke said, “Little Bailey... Well, she can’t be my stepsister. Because she’s my daughter.”
Warren didn’t even blink.
The silence stretched painfully. Didn’t he understand? “Did you hear me, Dad?”
“I’m not deaf, Lucas.” Warren sounded testy. “But you said I might be shocked. I was waiting for you to get to the shocking part.”
Luke’s head was reeling. “That... that was it”
“Well, I hate to question your judgment, but if you truly expected me to be surprised, I’m very disappointed in you. Hadn’t you noticed how much Bailey looks like your mother? It’s mostly the shape of her face, I think—and perhaps the eyes, as well. I caught it the first time I saw her.”
Luke hit the heel of his hand against his temple. “Let me get this straight.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Do you go around checking out every kid you see in case there might be a resemblance?”
“Oh, no. Under the circumstances, I was looking for it.”
Luke felt as if he’d regrouped from the first sucker punch just in time to be hit with another. Why would his father have considered the possibility when Luke himself hadn’t even been suspicious?
“That day I interviewed Molly,” Warren went on, sounding pleased with himself, “she was very nervous when you showed up. And she didn’t answer the question when I asked if you and she had been friends. I just... wondered.” His voice picked up a tart edge. “Of course as time’s gone on, I wondered even more whether anyone was going to admit it.”
“I didn’t know, Dad. Believe me. If I had—”
If I had known, what would I have done? He’d have shouldered his responsibility for his child, of course. But beyond that...
It was easy to look back through rose-colored glasses and create some happy-ever-after scenario. But the fact was they’d been a couple of careless kids caught in a passionate moment. Molly had been suffering from a massive infatuation. Luke had never before seen her as anything but the kid who tagged along and too often had to be rescued. It was hardly a blueprint for any kind of long-term relationship.
How long would it have been before her infatuation burned itself out in day-to-day contact and left her bitterly blaming him? How long would it have been before he grew to resent that she’d had to be rescued once more?
Not that any of those things mattered, of course. Trying to figure out what might have happened in the past if things had been different was pure fiction. It was the present that had to be dealt with.
Luke said, softly, “I don’t know what to do, Dad.”
Nothing interrupted the silence except the scrape of a stray branch against the glass.
Finally Warren leaned forward and patted Luke’s arm. “I’m not worried about that,” he said. “You’ll do the right thing, I’m certain.” He smiled reassuringly and pushed himself up from his chair, and left Luke sitting there alone.
Even with the fits and starts of the last few days, the book was progressing nicely. Warren was obviously pleased with the project. He read the new section Molly had finished that morning and set it aside with a contented sigh. “I can’t think of a single way to improve it,” he said. “We seem to be on exactly the same wavelength, Molly.”
Hardly, Molly thought. Because if you knew what I was thinking...
She’d had to force herself to walk into Oakwood that afternoon for her first encounter with Warren since Luke had talked to him. He’d been waiting for her in the dining room. She sent Bailey straight to the kitchen, squared her shoulders and went in to face him. But Warren’s demeanor hadn’t changed at all. Over lunch he told her about the volume of history he’d been reading with the same gentle, self-deprecating humor he’d shown so many times before.
She’d been seriously off balance until she realized that he wouldn’t mention such a sensitive subject where some of the staff might overhear. He’d wait till they were alone.
But even when they’d gone up to the sitting room where no one could intrude, he said nothing.
Luke lost his nerve, Molly thought, and told herself it was stupid to feel disappointed—for wasn’t that exactly what she wanted?
She pushed the question aside. She’d have the rest of her life to sort out the answer. “Now that we’ve got an overview of all of Meditronics’ history,” she said, “I think we should start playing with the video idea. What do we want it to look like?”
Warren’s brow wrinkled. “I thought it would just follow along the same path as the book.”
“It could. That way it would be something like a fast-paced slide show. Or we could present it as—”
She was interrupted by a soft knock, and a moment later Bailey’s face appeared around the edge of the door. She clutched a basket piled high with aromatic golden-brown scones, and two steps behind her was Mrs. Ekberg with a tea tray.
“Cook made scones so Bailey could practice her measuring,” the housekeeper explained, “and we decided to share the wealth. I hope we’re not interrupting, but they’re best when they’re fresh and hot. And you two need a break now and then, anyway.”
Bailey set the basket squarely atop her mother’s papers and bounded across the room to fling herself at Warren. “I didn’t get to show you my ouch today,” she told him and held out her arm to display the bruised spot where the IV needle had been. But as soon as he’d sympathized, she slid off his lap and tugged at Mrs. Ekberg’s sleeve. “I’m ready to go. Come play tea with me.”
As the door closed behind them, Molly shook her head in wonder. “She made scones just so Bailey could measure the ingredients? Your staff is the limit, Warren. Furthermore, I’ll bet Bailey decided to use the silver tea service today, and that’s the only reason we got the Haviland one.”
Warren didn’t answer.
Molly glanced at him and was startled to see the brilliance of tears in his eyes.
He wiped them away and said, “Thank you, my dear. I’m so glad to have the chance to know my beautiful granddaughter.”
Molly felt as if she was being choked. “He told you, then,” she managed to say.
Warren nodded. “My only regret is how long it took.”
“I’m sorry,” Molly said. Conscience, shrieking that she must be fair, pushed her on. “That isn’t Luke’s fault. He didn’t know.” She bit her lip and added under her breath, “And now that he does, he’s plenty angry about it.”
Warren split a scone and spread jam across the steaming surface. “Lucas is generally pretty levelheaded. Give him a little time, and I expect he’ll come around.” He looked up and smiled. “Now, tell me what Miss B was like as a baby.”
The reminiscences, and Warren’s reaction to them, left Molly feeling almost buoyant when she came downstairs to collect Bailey an hour later. There was no doubt where to find her. The child was s
itting on the bottom step next to Luke, holding a new doll and surrounded by heaps of tiny, exquisite doll clothes—a wardrobe that made Molly’s look sparse.
Suddenly she wasn’t flying high any more. She felt like a week-old helium balloon. Yesterday it had been the badge. Today he’d escalated to a doll. At the rate he was going, Luke’s little princess was very quickly going to become a spoiled brat whining for a present every time she saw him.
Bailey looked blissful. “Look, Mommy, what Luke brought me.”
“I see,” Molly said. She stepped across the sea of doll clothes and faced Luke squarely. “I believe I need to talk to you.”
“And I have a few things to bring to your attention, too.” He stood up, and Molly thought of a rattlesnake uncoiling just enough to strike. “I’ve made arrangements with Mrs. Ekberg for Bailey to stay with her so we can go out for an early dinner.”
“I’d sooner eat grass.”
“We could stay here, of course. But this conversation is likely to take a while, and unless you’d enjoy having my father’s input into the discussion—”
Molly glared at him. “Obviously I don’t have a choice. So yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”
“That’s what I thought,” Luke murmured. “Mrs. Ekberg will put Bailey to bed here, and she can stay the night.”
Molly didn’t need a guidebook to see the logic behind that suggestion. He was starting to lay the foundations for his custody case. It would look good to a judge for Bailey to already be spending nights at Oakwood.
“Absolutely not,” Molly said. “She can put her to bed—if we’re gone that long, which I doubt will be the case. But I’ll take her home with me. I won’t leave her alone.”
“She won’t be alone. And we might as well start making the transition.”
She could hardly believe her ears. “What transition? If that’s what you want to talk to me about, don’t get the idea that a steak will change my mind.”
“I’m of the opinion,” he said gently, “that nothing short of a stick of dynamite would change your mind.”
And what exactly does that mean? Before Molly had a chance to dissect the statement, he’d picked Bailey up for a hug. “I’m taking your mother out on a dinner date, princess. Be good for Mrs. Ekberg, all right?”
Bailey’s lower lip crept out. “I want to go.”
“Do you? Maybe I’ll take you next time.” He held her while she leaned out of his arms to give her mother a kiss, then turned her over to Mrs. Ekberg.
“Don’t think I missed that,” Molly said acidly as he swept her out the front door to the Jaguar. “The little maneuver where you didn’t even let me hold her to kiss her goodbye.”
Luke raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment, just opened the passenger door for her.
Molly settled herself and folded her arms tightly. “You are not taking her away from me,” she said as Luke slid behind the wheel.
“Molly, sometimes you sound like a broken record.”
“And I’ll keep right on until you understand what I’m saying. Another thing, Luke—the incredible toys have to stop.”
“One doll,” he said. “This is hardly a crime.”
“It looked like Christmas in that hallway.”
He glanced at her. “Obviously you’ve never experienced an Oakwood Christmas.”
“Your family traditions are beside the point. If you try to buy her, you’ll destroy her, Luke.”
He didn’t comment, and in a few minutes the Jaguar stopped in front of one of the most elegant restaurants in the city.
Great, Molly thought. My one chance to come here, and not only does it have to be with Luke, but I didn’t even have a minute to freshen my lipstick.
Luke helped her out, a valet took charge of the car, and a uniformed doorman ushered them inside.
It was early, and the dining room, which looked over the deep blue water of Lake Superior, was almost empty. The maître d’ showed them to a table in an isolated corner and fussed over seating Molly so she had the best view of the lake.
Perhaps his idea of going out for dinner hadn’t been so crazy after all, Molly thought. On a weeknight, in this quiet place, they were not likely to be disturbed. On the other hand, anything she tried to eat was apt to choke her. Luke seemed to understand that. He didn’t ask what she’d like for an appetizer, he simply ordered.
“I don’t intend to drown her in gifts,” Luke said, “just provide a few things—”
“A few things?”
“That will make her feel...comfortable at Oakwood.”
She knew he’d almost said at home but had thought better of it at the last moment.
Luke leaned forward His eyes were so dark and intense she couldn’t meet his gaze any longer. “Molly, I want to tell her I’m her father.”
She stared at her menu as if it was the most interesting piece of literature in the world. “I’m sure you don’t need my permission.”
“I’d like to have your help.”
She slapped the menu shut and flung it on the table. “You’re threatening to take my daughter away from me, and you want me to help you do it?”
“Not exactly.” Luke looked past Molly and nodded, and the wine steward approached the table.
By the time Luke had approved the wine, Molly had managed to regain her self-control.
“The wine’s very good,” he said. “Try some, it’ll help you relax.”
“I don’t want to relax. To answer your question, Luke—”
“She’s going to be told. Would you rather be there to answer her questions and help her adjust or not?”
Molly bit her lip. He knew perfectly well she couldn’t deliberately hurt Bailey. He’d neatly boxed her in. She had no real choice.
Obviously he knew it, but instead of closing in for the kill as she’d expected, Luke sat back in his chair. The only sign of nerves she could see was that he held his wineglass by the stem and was endlessly turning it, staring at the deep red liquid as it sloshed in rhythm with the movement of his fingers. “I talked to my attorney today.”
She hadn’t expected him to move quite so fast—or, having done so, to give her warning. “And?” she asked cautiously.
“He feels my chances of getting custody aren’t very good.”
His voice was very quiet, and it took Molly an instant to register the importance of the words. “But that’s—”
Before hope could rush over her, he snatched it away. “Except, of course, that I have far more resources than you do, and I can wear you down until you can’t afford to fight me any more, and I’ll win by default.”
She drew a long, slow, shaky breath, which burned her throat worse than raw alcohol would. “That’s not fair.”
The waiter set a tray between them. Luke picked up his wineglass and looked at her over the rim. “And you have been fair to me?”
Molly put her face into her cupped hands. She had made a very big mistake. He’d told her so. She suspected she was only beginning to understand how huge her miscalculation had been.
“Do try the pâté,” Luke murmured. “I think you’ll enjoy it. I’ve found it to be the best anywhere in the city.”
The only way she would enjoy the pate, Molly thought, was if she pushed his face into it. But surely she didn’t have to sit still for this torture. “I’m sure it’s lovely,” she said icily. “But I don’t seem to be hungry, after all. If you’ll excuse me—”
“Sit down.”
“Why?”
“Because we’ve only started. You’re quite right—bankrupting you wouldn’t be fair. More to the point, it would take longer than I care to wait.”
If he knew the state of her resources, Molly thought, he might change his mind about that. She sank into her chair.
Luke spread pâté on a toast point and held it out to her. “So I’m offering you a compromise.”
“I’m listening.” Absentmindedly, she took the tidbit.
“Joint custody”
; “Which means precisely what? Half her time with you, half with me? I’m not agreeing to that, you understand, just asking.”
“Some families handle it that way. It wouldn’t be my first choice. In legal terms, joint custody means we both retain full parental rights to the child. What it comes down to is that neither of us makes decisions about her without the approval of the other.”
“And judging by the way we’ve agreed on everything so far,” Molly said sweetly, “that ought to be positively enjoyable. Do you mean major decisions or any at all? If I’d have to consult you before I get her hair cut—”
“Major decisions.” He looked at her approvingly. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the pâté. Would you care for another?”
Molly hadn’t been aware that she’d eaten it, but her hand was empty.
He carefully created another tidbit and passed it to her. “For instance, you couldn’t move back to Chicago with her unless I agreed to it.”
Molly hadn’t even considered the idea. Suddenly it looked horribly attractive.
“In practical terms,” Luke went on, “it would mean Bailey will continue to live with you, at least for now—but I’d have unrestricted contact. None of this every-other-weekend-and-three-hours-on-Wednesdays sort of nonsense.”
“At least for now? And what precisely does that mean?”
“It means,” Luke said levelly, “when she’s a few years older, she can make up her own mind where she lives.”
“And you’ll no doubt make sure she has all the goodies in the meantime, so she’ll choose you.”
“I don’t happen to think she’s quite that easily manipulated, Molly, and I know I’m not that stupid. In any case, you aren’t going to be hard-pressed for cash yourself. My attorney also told me what I could expect a court to order in child support under a joint custody arrangement. So I’ll start writing you a check every month.” He held out another toast point.
“No.” She reached across the table and pushed his hand back. Her palm felt as if it had been scalded by the brief contact. “I will not live on your money.”
The Boss and the Baby Page 13
