Someone started to applaud, and even Rory got the idea and began swinging her hands in a wild attempt at pat-a-cake. That broke the tension, and everyone was laughing as Parker came in with a tray full of champagne glasses.
Tessa gave Wendy a hug. "Well, Mrs. Burgess," she said, "welcome to a very exclusive club!"
Mrs. Burgess. The name felt strange to Wendy's ears.
The wedding dinner passed in a blur, and before long it was time to go. One of the nurses brought Rory down. The baby was already fed and ready for bed, and the nurse's eyes were damp. "It's not easy to let her go," she said. "Any time you need a break, miss... Oh, I'm sorry. Ma'am."
"I'd take her up on it," Mitch said. He was leaning back in his chair and contemplating the bubbles rising in his champagne glass. "Leave the baby and go have a honeymoon."
"Mind your own business," Mack suggested, "or people are apt to wonder if you're contemplating a honeymoon of your own. Ready, Wendy?"
The car was quiet; the motion sent Rory to sleep in moments, and there seemed to be nothing to talk about. Wendy was uncomfortably aware that it was going to be a very long ride across Chicago if they didn't find something to discuss. "It was a pretty ceremony," she said finally. "Despite Rory's intervention."
"I think a poll taken of the audience would find a good percentage who believe we have a spoiled little girl."
"It's impossible to spoil a baby that age. She's completely unaware of anything except her own needs." Wendy wished she could see his face more clearly. Did Mack think Rory was spoiled?
"I'll take your word for it," he said finally.
She tried to pay attention to the streets. If she wasn't going to be house-bound, she would have to learn her way around Chicago. She couldn't depend on Mack to be available every time she wanted to go out.
But instead of cutting across to the expressway which would take them toward the heart of the city, the car was cruising along twisting side streets, full of large houses set well back on lawns still crusted by Christmas snow. In the dark, Wendy couldn't even judge directions. At this rate, she thought, she'd never learn her way around.
A few minutes later, he turned the car into a wide driveway, and Wendy looked up, startled, at a Tudor-style house. It was far smaller than the Burgess mansion, but it was still an imposing sight – two full stories, with a few small windows marking a third floor which must nestle under the steep slate roof. The front door was huge, a gothic panel carved from dark wood. Rows of leaded windows poured light out across the snow-covered grass.
"Welcome home," Mack said.
Home?
The shock sent ice cubes tumbling through her veins as she realized, He didn't even ask me what I liked. So much for being partners!
"What do you think?"
He sounded very pleased with himself. And Wendy supposed, as the first shock settled into a numbing lump in her heart, that she was being unreasonable. Any sensible woman would be delighted; the house was gorgeous, and his apartment was too small for them to be comfortable, even for a short time. This was an extremely generous move on Mack's part.
But not particularly generous toward Wendy. He had made this decision with his own comfort in mind, and Rory's perhaps. But not Wendy's.
If he'd been thinking of me, Wendy told herself, he'd at least have asked me what I thought, before he struck the deal.
"It's... very pretty," she said stiffly, and pushed the car door open.
Mack came around to her door. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I said it was pretty." She opened the back door and started to unbuckle Rory's safety seat.
"This is no way to start, Wendy."
The chilly wind brought tears to her eyes. "All right, then," she said fiercely. "You said we'd be partners. Maybe I don't want a big hulking house!"
"You don't have one," Mack said coolly.
"Oh, fine, so it's in your name. I'm not surprised."
"It belongs to a friend of mine who's been transferred to Boston. I rented it for six months to give us a chance to look around, because I didn't think you needed the stress of house-hunting on top of everything else."
Wendy bit her lip. One tear slid down her cheek and disappeared into the fur of Rory's snowsuit.
His voice softened a little. "And I didn't ask you about it because it was a perfect deal to get us through a few difficult months. He even left the furniture, because he's not sure the job in Boston will last, and he didn't want to move everything just yet."
"I'm sorry, Mack," she managed.
He selected a brass key from his ring and unlocked the big front door. But before he pushed it open he leaned against the stone casing and looked down at her. "How about it, Wendy? Shall we start over?"
She nodded.
"Then... welcome home."
She tried to smile. "It's... a very pretty house."
Mack looked down at her for a long moment. Then, before Wendy had any idea what he was planning, he'd picked her up – Rory and all – and stepped over the threshold. She gave a little shriek and clutched at him, and he was laughing as he set her down on the polished marble floor of the entrance hall and closed the door.
Wendy turned a full circle and looked around. At one side of the hall, double doors led into a large drawing room. At the other, another pair of doors opened on a long hallway; she could spot bookcases through one door and the corner of a china cabinet in yet another room. A massive staircase climbed ponderously up to a landing, and an enormous chandelier cast warm light over the room. "This is pretty impressive," she said, almost to herself.
"Better than Mother and Dad's?"
"It's not so overwhelming," she said. "At least I can imagine living here. I can't imagine keeping it clean, but... How big is it, anyway?"
"Six bedrooms and eight baths."
"Good heavens."
"Tom left a lot of personal stuff in one of the bedrooms, so you don't need to worry about that one."
"What a relief," Wendy murmured.
Mack grinned. "First things first – let's get Rory settled."
He draped his coat over a carved Elizabethan bench by the front door and led the way upstairs. "Tom doesn't have kids, but Parker had the baby furniture moved while we were at dinner. So we only have to find it. Ah, here."
The room might have been designed as a nursery, but it obviously had been used as a guest room instead. The wallpaper was scrolled in shell pink and lavender, overpoweringly feminine shades that Wendy had never found particularly appealing. The bathroom was filled with ruffles and lace, and the wall of closets had mirrored doors.
"Oh, that's going to be fun if Rory starts to walk before we move," Wendy said. "I can see those doors now, full of fingerprints." She put the baby down on the changing table. Mack helped Wendy out of her coat and turned the lights down as she started to unzip Rory's snowsuit.
Intrigued by yet another new vista, Rory tried her best to keep her eyes open so she could look around. But the battle was too much for her, and she settled into her crib with a sleepy sigh.
Mack tucked a blanket around her. "I've been meaning to ask you why she does that. With the whole crib to choose from, why does she poke her head into one corner?"
"I don't know. I expect it makes her feel secure."
"I've never seen a baby do that before."
She looked at him curiously. "Mack, where did you learn about babies?"
He shrugged. "Here and there. Some of my friends have kids. Good friends – you'll like them, I think." He watched as she located both pieces of the intercom and hooked one on the end of the crib. "Where did you learn?"
Wendy clipped the other half of the intercom on her skirt band so wherever she went, she would hear if the baby made a noise. "From Rory, mostly – and reading the books. I was so scared at first that every time she hiccupped I went straight into panic."
"No wonder – being alone with her like that." He plugged in the night light and closed the door behind them.
Near the top of the stairs, he paused beside a bedroom door. "I thought you'd be most comfortable here."
She peeked inside. In the dim light from the hallway she could see only that the room was large and the wall covering was a tapestry print in a dark, rich shade. A big bed stood against the far wall, and a dainty dressing table was near the door.