The Only Solution(13)

Mack shot her a look of surprise, which annoyed Wendy. Did he honestly  think she would cling to the baby now? The sooner Rory became familiar  with these new surroundings, these new people, the easier it would be  for her.

"Well..." Samuel Burgess cleared his throat. "Yes, I suppose." Gingerly,  he lifted the baby out of Wendy's arms. He held her awkwardly, as if  he'd forgotten how. Wendy held her breath, but Rory seemed to understand  that he meant well, and she didn't make a fuss.

Within a few minutes he was chucking the baby under the chin and she was giggling at him.

The child looks like a born diplomat, Wendy thought. After all that fuss  on the trip, when conduct really counted she had come through like a  trouper.

She turned to Mack with a smile. He, too, would have seen the contrast, and he would appreciate the humor.

But he was looking at her strangely. His eyes were dark and steady and  there was not even a hint of humor in his face. The smile froze on  Wendy's lips, and an empty, yawning ache chewed at the pit of her  stomach. Why was he studying her like that?                       
       
           



       

Confused, she turned back to Samuel and Rory just as a knock sounded at  the door. Samuel called permission to enter, and a young woman came in.

Obviously the nurse, Wendy thought. She wasn't quite sure how she knew,  for the woman wore tailored slacks and a bright-colored blouse, not a  uniform. Then she realized it was the shoes which had tipped her off;  they were the kind chosen by women who spent lots of time on their feet.

The nurse spoke softly to Mack. "Mrs. Burgess asks if you'll come upstairs when you're free, sir."

But it was Samuel who answered her. "Of course," he said hastily and  handed Rory back to Wendy without hesitation. "Yes, my boy, take Aurora  up to see her grandmother."

At the foot of the massive carved staircase, Wendy hesitated and looked  up. It was an incredible distance to the upper floor; the stairs were  wide and shallow and there seemed to be a thousand of them.

Mack paused with one foot on the lowest step and looked down at her. "Well?"

"You don't need me for this." She held Rory out to him.

Parker came down the passage, silent-footed, and Mack called his name.  "I need a favor. We didn't stop for dinner, so perhaps you could warn  Mrs. Cardoza that we'll be raiding her kitchen a little later."

"I'll see what I can do, sir."

"You're a good man, Parker." Mack beamed at him and turned to Wendy. He  didn't reach for the baby. "Come on. You're only losing your nerve  because you're hungry."

She was, indeed, starving; perhaps the empty ache she'd been feeling a  few minutes ago had been caused as much by hunger as the beginnings of  loneliness. But she wouldn't bet on it.

She stood stubbornly at the foot of the stairs. "Surely your mother  would rather just have you and Rory. If she's not feeling well … "

"Maybe. But no matter what she wants, she's getting all of us." He held  out a hand and coaxed, "Don't you think it'll be easier to meet her  tonight, when her mind's on Rory? That way, by tomorrow you might be old  friends."

Wendy rolled her eyes at the idea, but she supposed he was right. When  she met Mrs. Burgess wouldn't make any real difference; Wendy Miller  wasn't important enough in the Burgesses' lives to make any kind of  splash. It would be better to get it over with right away. And at least  this way she'd have Mack to lean on.

What was wrong with her? She'd never needed a man for moral support before!

Mack led the way up the stairs and along a wide hallway which ran  through the main wing of the house, and turned onto a side corridor. The  passage here was only slightly narrower. It was dimly lit and lined  with oak carved in a linen-fold pattern. Wendy wanted to stop and run  her hand admiringly over the superb workmanship.

Mack tapped on a wide, arched door, and pushed it partway open. "Mother?"

"Come in, Mack."

The moment Wendy heard her speak, she knew where Mack had gotten his  rich, vibrant voice. He'd inherited it from his mother, and probably  learned at her knee how to use it to best effect.

Mrs. Burgess would be tall and slim and elegant, Wendy thought. Despite  whatever illness she was suffering, she'd be dressed in some sort of  flowing satin and lace thing, and she'd sweep around the room like a  model.

Mack pushed the door wide. "I've brought someone to see you."

Wendy blinked in surprise. She had expected a fashion plate. She saw a  small woman with carefully-styled white hair, wearing a blue velvet  bed-jacket and sitting in a wheelchair. Her body was twisted slightly;  one shoulder was higher than the other. Her hands, long-fingered and  still delicate, were folded in her lap, but Wendy could see that the  joints were horribly deformed.

"Mother, this is Wendy," Mack said.

The woman's eyes were like Marissa's  –  and like Rory's. No wonder Mack  had felt so little doubt when he saw the baby for the first time. But  Mrs. Burgess' eyes had a distant look, as if she had drawn away from the  things that hurt her.

Her gaze rested on Wendy for a long moment. "I'm Elinor," she said softly. "I'd shake hands, but I'm afraid I can't."                       
       
           



       

"I know," Wendy said quickly. She patted Elinor Burgess' wrist in a  feather-light touch. The woman's skin was like crepe, textured with soft  wrinkles.

Elinor's gaze slid to the baby in Wendy's arms as if Rory was a magnet. "So you've brought Aurora back to us."

"Can you hold her, Mother?" Mack asked.

Very carefully, Wendy set the baby onto Elinor's lap, but she kept one  hand on Rory's shoulder, trying to keep her from squirming. She wasn't  altogether successful, and she saw flickers of pain cross Elinor's face.

But the woman didn't give in easily. For several minutes she simply  looked at the baby, and Rory stared back at her, wide-eyed and  inquisitive.

Elinor said, without looking up, "Have you dined?"

"No," Mack said. "We didn't want to stop and take a chance of getting caught in the storm."

"Ring Parker and tell him to see to it immediately."

She didn't raise her voice, but the words were clearly an order. Wendy  was a bit confused  –  was she talking to Mack? Then she heard a soft step  in the next room, and the nurse said, "Yes, ma'am."

Mack bent over his mother and gently kissed her cheek. "We'll see you in the morning, then."

Wendy automatically shifted her grip in order to pick up the baby. "Don't," Elinor said sharply.

Wendy drew back as if she'd been slapped. It was apparent that all  authority has changed hands in the past few minutes, she thought. She  obviously no longer had any power at all over Rory.

"I'm sorry," Elinor said. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I only meant  that my nurse will take care of putting her to bed so you can eat in  peace, and relax. You must be exhausted from the trip."

Wendy swallowed hard and managed to say quite civilly, "Of course. That's very thoughtful of you."

And it was, as a matter of fact. She was tired, and hungry, and not  quite up to coping with getting Rory settled for the night. It was  perceptive of Elinor Burgess to have seen that. There wasn't any reason  for Wendy to feel shut out, or disgruntled, or anything but grateful.  And yet when she brushed her fingers across Rory's curls and said  goodnight, she felt in her heart as if she were saying goodbye as well.





CHAPTER FIVE



They did not raid the kitchen, despite Mack's threat. Instead, he led  the way to an airy breakfast room at the back of the house, where Parker  was laying two places at an octagonal table which matched the shape of  the room. Mack held Wendy's chair and seated himself next to her.

Parker lit the candles in the center of the table, poured two glasses of  wine, and began dishing up soup from a tureen on the sideboard. "Mrs.  Cardoza sends her apologies for giving you a makeshift meal, sir." He  set a dainty china soup plate in front of Wendy.

She inhaled the delicate bouquet of the soup  –  she thought she caught a  whiff of lobster, and the base was cream  –  and remembered the peanut  butter on toast she'd been eating the night Mack first came to her  apartment. Obviously Mrs. Cardoza didn't know the first thing about  truly makeshift meals.

Parker served Mack's soup. "By the way, sir, I had one of the men take the car around to the garage."

"Thanks. I'd forgotten all about it. Perhaps tomorrow they can wash it."  Mack shook out his napkin and picked up his spoon. "Until I see what it  looks like in daylight, I won't know if I want to keep it."