The Only Solution(16)

Rory drew back a few inches and gave a tiny, dry cough. Then she smiled expectantly at Wendy.

"What was that?" Elinor Burgess demanded.

Wendy imitated the cough, and Rory giggled and coughed again. "She  laughs when I make silly noises, and she's discovered that I smile at  her when she does the same thing  –  so she starts coughing now and then  just to get the game going."                       
       
           



       

Elinor frowned. "Have you had her pediatrician check her over to be sure it's not something serious?"

"Of course I haven't. It's only a social cough. Lots of babies do that  sort of thing." Surely Elinor ought to know that, she thought. It had  scared Wendy to death at first  –  as had a thousand other things in  Rory's short life  –  until she'd found the explanation in the baby book.  It was no surprise Wendy hadn't known about social coughs; she was  learning about babies on the job, as it were. But surely at least one of  Elinor's four would have done the same thing. Why was she so startled  by the phenomenon? Or had Mack and Mitch and John spent their childhood  days with nurses, too?

She put Rory down on the blanket and knelt beside her to play  pat-a-cake. It was the first gentle exercise in the simple routine she  tried to do every day, to encourage the baby to stretch her muscles.

Elinor looked dubious, but she didn't push the matter. She watched them  thoughtfully for a few moments. "I have a favor to ask of you, Wendy."

Wendy's stomach did a flip. She didn't even look up from Rory's sunny  face as she said the only thing she could. "I'll be happy to oblige."

"Since I can't go to the stores myself, I'd like you to take care of  buying winter things for the baby," Elinor went on. "And I'm sure you'll  want some as well."

"Oh, I won't be staying long enough to need much," Wendy said hastily.  She wasn't going to admit that she couldn't afford a winter wardrobe,  and she wasn't going to put herself in debt to buy clothes she'd wear  for only a few days.

That reminded her that she had never asked Mack about her return ticket.  The invitation had been to spend Christmas with the Burgesses  –  but had  he ever been more specific than that? She couldn't remember. Was she  expected to leave as soon as the holiday was over, or stay on for a day  or two? She hadn't even seen her airline ticket; Mack had kept it with  his own.

It was dumb not to ask, she told herself. She just hoped Mack had been  polite enough to keep his mother informed. If Elinor asked Wendy how  long she intended to stay, she wouldn't even be able to answer. If she  tried to give a date for her departure, she was certain to be wrong, and  then she'd look like a fool.

But Elinor wouldn't ask that sort of tactless question. At least, Wendy  fervently hoped she wouldn't. She took hold of Rory's tiny feet and  began a gentle bicycling motion with the baby's legs.

"Of course you'll need things," Elinor said flatly. "You simply can't do  without proper clothing in Chicago in the winter. Mack asked me to give  you a message, by the way. He wants you to keep this afternoon free for  him."

Wendy blinked in surprise, wondering if Elinor realized how much her  choice of words made it sound as if she was arranging a date. Of course  not, Wendy told herself. The idea wouldn't have crossed Elinor's mind.  And why it had occurred to Wendy was beyond her understanding, too.

She pushed the question aside and began the next bit of Rory's stretching routine. "Is he around the house somewhere now?"

"No, he went to work for a few hours. He had some loose ends to tie up  before the holiday, he said. That's why he wanted to be sure you didn't  make plans for the afternoon, so he can take you shopping."

Now it made sense. Elinor might even have suggested the expedition.

Elinor picked up a sheet of paper from her desk. "I've made a list of  the stores I think you'll find useful, and the kinds of things Rory will  need for cold weather."

Wendy glanced at the list, neatly typed on Elinor's monogrammed  stationery. To her, it looked more like the inventory of a children's  store than a shopping list for one small baby. But she didn't comment;  it was none of her business any more. She folded the list and tucked it  in the pocket of her slacks.

Elinor's brow was furrowed a little. Wendy wondered what she was  thinking. Did she find Wendy a bit ridiculous, kneeling on the blanket  with the baby? Or was she looking for a polite way to dismiss her, now  that her purpose had been accomplished?                       
       
           



       

Elinor wouldn't have to think about that, Wendy concluded. She'd have the right words on the tip of her tongue.

But unless she was dismissed, she decided, she was going to stay right  where she was  –  with Rory. When Elinor said her name, Wendy looked up  reluctantly. The lines on Elinor's forehead had grown deeper, as if  they'd been chiseled.

"Mack said you'd told him Marissa didn't want you to bring the baby home to us."

Wendy felt slightly dizzy, as if she were wavering on the edge of a  chasm which hadn't been there a moment before. But there could be no  answer but the truth. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "But that's right."

Elinor sighed, and her face seemed to sag a little. "I wish I  understood." There was a note in her voice which clutched at Wendy's  heart, a tone somewhere between tenderness and pain. "She was such a  beautiful little girl. Willful, of course, and perhaps more spoiled than  the boys. Everyone felt sorry for her, I think, and felt she'd been  cheated, because I was... not well."

It was a deliberate understatement, Wendy thought, intended to avoid  creating sympathy. But as she watched the twisted hands move in Elinor's  lap, Wendy could picture just how ill the woman had been in those  years.

"Then  –  it seemed to happen overnight  –  she turned away from us.  Everything we said or did or believed in or stood for  –  she took the  opposite approach. And she left home the moment she could." Elinor  closed her eyes for a moment. "We must have seemed uncaring  –  not even  to try to stay in touch with her. But, you see, Wendy, we thought if we  could just give her the time and the distance she demanded, that when  she was ready she would come back to us. Only there wasn't enough time."  Elinor bit her lip, and said once more, "I wish I understood."

And I wish I had an explanation, Wendy thought. Or any words at all  which might bring her comfort. But she could think of nothing which  might ease this sort of pain.

In the moments when Wendy's attention was focused on Elinor, the baby  had managed to scoot off her blanket onto the hardwood floor. Rory gave a  little crow of surprised annoyance as her hands brushed the cool wood,  and Elinor looked down, laughing at the baby's expression while she  tried to discreetly brush a tear away.

"She's going to crawl early, I think," she said, and the moment of confidence was past.

They spent the rest of the morning almost companionably, chatting and  playing with the baby. When Elinor announced it was time for lunch,  Wendy couldn't believe the time had passed so quickly. Unable to find an  excuse to keep Rory with her any longer, she handed the baby over to  one of the nurses to be fed and put down for a nap, and obediently  followed Elinor's wheelchair down the hall to the elevator.

Lunch was an almost formal meal, served in the big dining room with both  Elinor and Samuel Burgess present. Mack did not appear, and neither did  Mitchell, and the conversation reverted to more formal topics  –  as if,  Wendy thought, Elinor was unwilling to risk letting the subject of  Marissa come up again.

After lunch Elinor retreated to her room for a rest, Samuel returned to  his library, and Wendy sat down by the fire in the drawing room, where  she could keep an eye on the front door, to flip through a magazine and  enjoy the sharp pine scent of the big tree in the bay window. By the  time Mack appeared, looking a bit windblown and carrying a big box, she  was at such loose ends that she jumped up from her chair and said,  "Gracious, I'm glad to see you!"

His eyebrows went up a bit. "Enthusiasm like that sends my pulse rate into orbit, Wendy."

The soft note of laughter in his voice did the same thing to her. The  reaction took Wendy by surprise, and she had to make a conscious effort  to give him a level look and say, "Don't get too excited. It's nothing  personal."

Mack grinned and flicked a fingertip across her cheek.

Instinctively, she wanted to draw away from the contact, but at the last  moment, she stayed still. The spot where his fingers brushed tingled as  if she'd gotten a jolt of static electricity.