Considering that her arms were still linked around her ex-husband's neck, that wasn't a difficult observation to make. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Vanessa cleared her throat and stepped back, putting a more respectable amount of distance between them.
"She does seem to like it," Marc replied.
"It's more than I ever could have hoped for," she told the two men. "Even after seeing the blueprints and design specs." She shook her head, sliding her hands into the pockets at the front of her white capris to keep from fidgeting. "I never imagined it would look this good."
"Glad you're happy. If there's anything else you need, or any changes you want done, let me know. We'll be here until about four putting on the finishing touches."
She couldn't imagine anything she would want changed, but while the two men talked business, she wandered around the drastically altered space. Admiring, touching, mentally filling the shelves and working behind the counters. She loved the sculpted molding and detail that precisely matched that of the bakery and marked it as hers.
Hers!
Well, hers and Aunt Helen's. And Marc's or the bank's, since she was sure there was going to be a hefty price to pay to someone at some point.
But even though she'd resisted being tied to her ex-husband in such a way, she couldn't deny that he had given her something no one else could-or would-have, and so quickly. She never would have been able to get things done in such short order with another investor or a loan directly from the bank.
Footsteps sounded behind her on the hardwood floor and she turned to see Marc coming toward her once again.
"They'll be cleaned up and out of here in a few more hours. And the computer equipment will be delivered tomorrow, so you can start setting up then, if you like."
Vanessa clasped her hands together, just barely resisting the urge to rub them together like some sort of devilish cartoon character. She was so excited, she almost couldn't contain herself.
They would need a website … and someone to design and maintain it, since she knew next to nothing about that sort of thing. They would also need packaging, and to set up an account with a reliable shipping company, and specialty shipping labels, and possibly even a catalog.
Goodness, there was so much to do. More, possibly, than she'd realistically considered.
Alarm began to claw at her insides and her chest became suddenly too tight to breathe. Oh, God, she couldn't do this. It was too much. She was only one person, for heaven's sake, and even if she counted on Aunt Helen's help, that made them only two people, one of whom had reached retirement age twenty years ago. Which basically put her back to being only one person, who could not handle this type of workload alone.
"I know you have a lot to do," Marc said, cutting into her panicked thoughts and allowing a small bit of oxygen to enter her lungs again, "but before you get too wrapped up in all of that, there's something I've been meaning to discuss with you."
She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. One day at a time, one step at a time. She'd come this far, she could make it the rest of the way … even if it took her months to accomplish what a rich and powerful Keller heir could do practically overnight.
"All right."
"There's some company business that I need to return home to deal with."
"Oh." Her eyes widened in surprise.
She'd gotten so used to Marc being around that the idea of him leaving caught her unaware. Ironic, given how badly she'd wanted him to go back to Pittsburgh when he'd first arrived. Now, though, it was hard to picture the bakery or her day-today life without him in it.
Shaking off that rather revealing but unwelcome train of thought, she nodded her acceptance. "Okay, that's fine. I understand you have important work back in the city, and you've certainly done more than enough while you've been here."
She stopped herself just short of thanking him, but only because she was afraid that would fall too close to … well, thanking him, when he wasn't really doing her any favors. Oh, he'd been wonderfully helpful, but not out of the goodness of his heart. Better to take what he'd so generously offered and get him out of town before he started calling in vouchers and demanding repayment in ways she was unwilling or unable to fulfill.
A slow smile started to spread across his features and her pulse jumped. That wasn't a happy smile, it was an I-know-something-you-don't-know, cat-who-swallowed-the-canary smile.
"What?" she asked, drawing back slightly in wariness.
"You think I'm going to just pick up and leave, don't you?"
She had. Or perhaps she'd simply been hoping.
"It's all right, I understand," she said again. Sweeping an arm out to encompass their surroundings, she added, "This is all amazing, a wonderful start. Aunt Helen and I can certainly take over from here."
That smile stretched further, flashing bright white teeth, and a feeling of dread washed over her.
"I'm sure you and Aunt Helen will do a great job in getting the ball rolling. But that will have to wait until after we get back."
Vanessa blinked, replaying his words in her head. The feeling of dread started to dissipate, which was good … except that it seemed to be transforming into more of an all-over numbness that kept her brain from functioning properly.
She cleared her throat. "We?"
Marc inclined his head. "I want you and Danny to return to Pittsburgh with me so I can introduce my family to my son."
Eleven
"No."
Spinning on her heel, Vanessa stalked away, leaving Marc in the rippling wake of that cold, perfunctory response. Granted, he hadn't expected her to jump with joy at the prospect of going back with him, but he'd thought she would at least be reasonable about it.
With a sigh of resignation, he followed her through the plastic-draped doorway and into the bakery side of the building. She was already out of sight, likely in the kitchen, which meant she'd been moving at a pretty good clip.
He lifted a hand to push through the swinging door only to have it push back toward him, nearly cracking him in the face. Aunt Helen's blue eyes widened in startlement when she saw him, but she didn't say a word, simply tipped up her chin and pranced off for the front counter.
No love lost there, he thought, stepping into the kitchen and finding Vanessa exactly where he expected-standing at one of the large central islands, seemingly busy and focused on more food preparation. Even if she hadn't just walked away from him in a huff, he'd have known she was agitated by her jerky movements and the ramrod stiffness of her spine.
"Vanessa," he began, letting the door swing closed behind him.
"No."
She spat the word, then punctuated it with the slam of her rolling pin on the countertop. Cookie trays, cooling racks and miscellaneous utensils clattered against the stainless steel surface.
"No, Marc. No," she repeated with equal fervor, turning on him, her white-knuckled fingers still clinging to one of the rolling pin handles. "I am not going back there with you. I am not walking into that museum you call a home and dealing with your mother, who will look down her aristocratic nose at me just like she always has. And how much more judgmental and condescending do you think she'll be when you tell her I had a child out of wedlock? The fact that Danny is yours will be irrelevant. She'll criticize me for not telling you the minute I found out I was pregnant. She'll accuse me of going through with the divorce even though I knew I was carrying your baby, depriving you of time with your child and her of time with her grandchild. Of depriving the world of knowing about the existence of another great and wonderful Keller descendant."
Since that was pretty much exactly what he'd accused her of when he'd first learned of Danny's existence, he wasn't quite sure how to respond. Especially knowing how haughty his mother could be at times.
Vanessa let out a breath, seeming to lose a bit of her steam. In a lower, more subdued tone, she said, "Either that, or she'll deny Danny altogether. Declare he's not really a Keller, because of course she's always accused me of being a tramp, anyway. Or decide not to claim him as a Keller heir because we weren't married at the time of his birth."