"Now if that isn't a sight," Tessa murmured. She jumped up. "Come upstairs, Wendy. I've got a dress I'd like you to see. It's a sample, because I can't make up my mind about putting it into production, but I think..."
What was it Mack had said earlier, about not trying to predict what Tessa might do? Obviously clothes were at the center of the woman's existence – and apparently for good reason – but shouldn't she at least have wanted to hold the baby? If Elinor had been right...
Can't you even make up your mind, Miller? Wendy asked herself irritably. Just a few minutes ago she'd been hoping Tessa didn't want Rory, but now, when the woman took no particular interest in the baby, Wendy was reacting as if she'd been personally insulted.
By the time she came downstairs again, wearing Tessa's creation – it really was a lovely thing, a softly styled shirt-dress in jade green, and Tessa had insisted on making it a Christmas gift – the family was gathered in the hallway, and the cars were at the door. Mack was zipping Rory into the pink snowsuit they'd bought this afternoon, and he had his hands full, as the baby had different ideas.
Tessa laughed at the picture, and then sobered. "You can't mean you're going to take her to church, Mack."
"Why not? It's a family tradition, and she's a member of the family. And this is the children's service, after all."
"But it's not intended for babies, surely. Why not let the nurses take care of her for a couple of hours? It's what they're trained for."
Mack looked at Wendy, and his eyebrows lifted a millimeter. "I think the answer to the question you asked this afternoon is no," he murmured.
Obviously he didn't think Tessa was a candidate to be Rory's mother; Wendy was so confused she didn't know what to think.
The church was an enormous one, but the service was warm and personal, with all the children sitting on the altar carpet while the pastor retold the simple story of another, very special child. Rory didn't grow impatient till the last quarter hour, but then she made no secret of her annoyance. After she'd been passed back and forth from Mack to Wendy a couple of times with no noticeable improvement in her mood, Mack leaned over to whisper, "Let's just bundle her up and walk home."
A long walk in the cold was very nearly the least inviting thing Wendy could think of, but with the holiday, it might be the only chance she had to talk to Mack. The way Tessa's eyebrows lifted as if to say, I told you not to bring her, was the final confirmation.
It had started to snow again while they were in church, and huge lacy flakes drifted lazily down from a quiet sky. "A real Christmas snow," Mack said as he arranged Rory over one shoulder and offered his other arm to Wendy.
The sidewalks were still clear, but the night sounds were muted. They might have been alone in a frozen world, but for an occasional distant voice calling "Merry Christmas," and the faint sound of bells from a faraway church tower. Rory put her head down against Mack's shoulder and was still.
Wendy tried to steel herself, but before she could do more than clear her throat a couple of times, Mack said, "You want to know why I didn't buy you a round-trip ticket."
"No. Well, yes, I do. But what I really want to know is what's going to happen to Rory." The heels of her shoes were beating out an agitated rhythm on the concrete. "I heard you tell your mother you were working on it – settling Rory's future, I suppose. But if Tessa isn't interested..."
"She's not exactly the maternal sort," he agreed. "Don't get me wrong, I like Tessa a great deal."
Wendy looked up at him with pain in her eyes. A huge snowflake had caught in his lashes; Wendy found herself wanting to brush it away. She clenched her hands together instead and bit her lip. She was in no position to issue orders, or to question his actions. If she kept this up, she was likely to find herself on the next plane to Phoenix, Christmas Eve or not.
But even if he became angry with her, Wendy couldn't just let it rest, not with Rory's future at stake. "Don't you see, Mack? If Tessa and John don't take her, we're back to square one with the same problem. What's going to happen to Rory?"
She thought for a long moment that he wasn't going to answer at all. Then he said, very quietly, "I'm going to keep her myself. I'll adopt her, and raise her as my own."
Wendy's eyes widened in momentary shock. The announcement made sense, of course; Mack was too attached to the baby not to have thought of it. And it wasn't in his nature to ignore a child in need; he couldn't turn his back on Rory. Still, as a solution to Rory's problems, it wasn't much of an improvement.
"That's charming," Wendy said. "But have you considered the practical problems of being a single parent? Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. What are you going to do when business takes you out of town? Pop the baby in your briefcase and carry her along? Or do you mean you'll just hire nurses, too?"
"I don't have to travel much anymore. At any rate, I don't intend to be a single parent."
Of course. That made perfect sense. If he was married, Rory would have the best of all worlds – a financial security, emotional stability, two parents to love and care for her.
Mack had found the ideal solution – the only solution – and Wendy told herself she ought to be adult enough to admit it and be happy for Rory.
But there was a knot in the bottom of her stomach, a just-short-of-sick feeling that made her head swim and her ears buzz. Who would that second parent be? Perhaps the woman with the syrupy voice who had left the message on his answering machine? Would she – could she – truly take Rory as her own child? No matter how much she cared about Mack, it would be a shock to find out at this stage that she was getting not only a husband but an instant family. And if she didn't love Rory …
The fact that Wendy had taken an instant dislike to her voice had nothing to do with it. The woman might be perfectly nice.
The knot in her stomach clenched tighter, but finally she forced herself to nod. "Rory needs to be part of a real family." She hardly recognized her own voice.
It was like tearing out a piece of her heart to finally relinquish the child she had cared for so deeply. And that was what she was doing; she wouldn't even ask for the right to visit Rory now.
It would have been different if the child was to stay on with the Burgesses, for then there could have been a spot in her life for Wendy as a kind of surrogate mother. But with Mack's solution, the child would have two parents and a stable family; it would be better to let her grow up unconfused by an extra person darting in and out of her life at random intervals.
Mack shifted the baby in his arms in order to unlock the gates. Rory whimpered sleepily and settled down once more as they strolled up the driveway.
The baby was perfectly content with him. She had been almost from the beginning, as if she had instinctively known she could trust this man to watch out for her. In a little time she would probably even forget Wendy, the funny lady with the silly cough.
"I ought to have thought of it myself," Wendy said. Her voice was high and a little shrill. "The idea of... marriage, I mean." Why should it be so difficult to say the word? Why should it hurt so badly? She had already begun the difficult process of giving Rory up.
"These are unusual circumstances," he agreed soberly. "In the normal course of things, I don't suppose you'd have given the idea of marrying me a moment's consideration. But as it is... Well, I'm glad to have it settled."
The pavement under Wendy's feet slowly began to sink and twist like quicksand pulling her down.
She hadn't heard the quiet purr of the long dark car which cruised up the driveway and idled to a stop right behind them. She didn't even realize the car was there until Elinor spoke from the open window. "I couldn't help hearing. It is settled, then?" she said sharply.
Wendy opened her mouth, but the only sound she could make was a feeble croak. Mack said nothing at all.
Elinor looked from one of them to the other, and whatever she saw in their faces seemed to satisfy her, for she turned to Wendy and held out both hands, heedless of their twisted shape and of the pain she would suffer in the embrace she invited. "Oh, my dear," she said. "How wonderful it will be to have you as my daughter!"