The Only Solution(7)

Mack had said his parents were old, and that the news would be a shock.  Maybe they'd have a family conference and decide to let her keep Rory  after all. Maybe Mack had even told them how happy the baby was with  Wendy.

She knew she was a fool, but when Monday, too, passed without a word  –   no phone call, and no handsome arrogant man invading her cubicle at work   –  she stopped trying to keep her hopes within bounds. Why dwell on the  bad possibilities? she asked herself. Everything might work out all  right yet.

She left the office a little early, picked up Rory, and took her to see  Santa at one of the downtown malls. It was silly, perhaps; the baby was  more curious than impressed, and she would never remember her first  visit with the jolly old man. But Wendy would always have the picture to  treasure  –  Rory with her knitted cap askew, her tiny forehead wrinkled  in puzzlement, and one hand tugging at a very realistic silver beard.

Back at home, she gave Rory her last bottle of the day and sang her to  sleep, and she was sitting on the floor in the living room, watching a  Christmas special and folding tiny clothes into neat stacks, when the  doorbell rang.

Her heart plunged to her toes. There was something about the urgent sound of it which told her who was standing there.

"You knew he'd be back," she reminded herself. "You always knew anything else was only a dream."

She waited a moment, trying to compose herself, practicing a smile. She  couldn't greet him with honest cheerfulness, but she could try to be  pleasant. And maybe she could keep herself from crying, when the moment  came to say goodbye. It looked as if her pride was all she was going to  have left, so at least she could try not to shred what little remained.

She opened the door. She'd forgotten how tall Mack was and how he seemed  to generate an electrical current just by standing still. Then she saw  the blazing anger in his eyes, and the plastic smile melted from her  face.

"Where the hell have you been?" he stormed.

Unwillingly, Wendy backed away from him, and he stepped across the threshold.

"What do you mean? I've been right here!"

"The neighbors said they hadn't seen you since yesterday."

"Then they weren't looking," Wendy snapped.

"Damn it, I told you not to go anywhere!"

She was stunned, and then a gurgle of almost hysterical laughter escaped  her. "Good heavens, you can't have meant it literally! You actually  expected Rory and me to stay inside these four walls till you showed up  again? I had to go to work, you know  –  and by the way, you could have  found me there all day."

"Haven't you considered that I might have other things to do myself?"

"So in the meantime, while you do your important things, I'm supposed to  sit and wait for you? What an incredible ego you have! Or was something  else bothering you instead?"

He frowned.

"You thought I'd run away, didn't you?" She put her hands on her hips  and stared up at him. "You said you trusted me with her," she reminded.  "What happened to that?"                       
       
           



       

"That was before I knew you were still telling lies."

Wendy was honestly astonished. "What?"

He pulled a newspaper from the pocket of his raincoat and thrust it at  her. "Read this," he ordered, "and tell me you're not still playing  games with the truth!"





CHAPTER THREE



Wendy hadn't even seen a newspaper that day. Usually she managed to  glance at the headlines, at least, but she couldn't remember the last  time she'd sat down and thoroughly read an entire edition. Certainly she  hadn't had time in the last few months.

She took the paper carefully, as if it might burn her hand, and froze as  she saw the story which spread across the bottom of the front page  –  an  in-depth survey of what the bankruptcy and closing of the company she  worked for would do to the local economy.

"Oh," she said lamely.

"You said you were doing just fine, and that you had no need to extort  money from anyone." Mack's voice was clipped, each word painfully  distinct.

"That was the truth. I never intended to ask for money!"

She turned away and her toe bumped a stack of Rory's stretchy sleepers,  sending them cascading into disorder again. Automatically she sat down  on the floor and started to fold them once more. It seemed very  important that they be neat.

He was standing over her, hands in the pockets of his raincoat.

Wendy didn't look up. "I called you after I lost my job because I  intended to give Rory up  –  no strings attached  –  because I thought it  would be best for her. Then when you were so almighty condescending, I  changed my mind. I thought it was better for her to be loved, no matter  how poor we were."

He said something under his breath.

Wendy didn't bother to listen. "Then when you showed up and said you  were going to take her no matter what, my circumstances didn't make a  difference any more. So I didn't tell you." She looked down at the tiny  playsuit in her lap. Her voice trembled just a little. "It's none of  your concern whether I have a job or not."

There was a long silence. Then Mack took his raincoat off and flung it  over a chair. "I'm sorry," he said. "I panicked. I thought something had  happened to both of you."

"You mean, you thought I'd kidnapped her."

He shook his head. "No."

She simply looked at him, unbelieving.

"May I go and peek at Rory?"

"Don't worry, I haven't spirited her away and substituted a rag doll."

"I said I'm sorry, Wendy." He walked quietly down the hall toward the baby's room.

By the time he came back, Wendy was a little calmer, but she still  couldn't look straight at him. "I only took her to see Santa Claus,  Mack. If I'd had any idea it would cause all this trouble..." Her voice  trailed off, but then she added firmly, "I'd have done it anyway,  because it was no big deal!"

He sat on the edge of a swivel chair. "All right, I should have called  you as soon as I got into town, but I was tied up in a business  conference. Can we just let go of it?"

She was angry, but not particularly surprised that the Burgess Group's  affairs would come before Rory. What else had she expected, after all?  "It's nice to know you're being so efficient," she said coolly, "and  combining business with... I was going to say pleasure, but Rory's more  like an obligation, isn't she? Damn it, why didn't I have the sense to  believe Marissa and leave you out of it?" She pounded her fist on the  stack of tiny sleepers.

He waited till she was quiet once more, her hands resting on the stack  of baby clothes and her head drooping. "I told my parents over the  weekend. They want Rory, of course."

Wendy bit her lip. It was strange, but now that the blow had actually  landed, it didn't hurt as badly as she had expected. Either she'd  prepared herself better than she'd thought, or she was just numb and the  ache would come later. "They're going to raise her themselves?"

"Any better suggestions?"

"I thought perhaps you..." She looked up. "I thought maybe you had a family."                       
       
           



       

He shook his head. "What made you assume that, I wonder?"

"Does it matter?" She straightened her shoulders and tried to keep her  voice level and matter-of-fact. "When are you going to take her?"

Some of the tension seemed to go out of him, as if he was relieved she  was taking it calmly after all. "My business will keep me tied up till  Wednesday. I'm planning to catch a flight that afternoon."

"That's the day before Christmas Eve." If she had stopped to think about  it, Wendy would have realized the Burgesses would want Rory by  Christmas. But the idea hadn't occurred to her, and the words were like a  stab straight to her heart. "But it's so close," she whispered. "And  it's her first Christmas!"

He nodded. "That's what they said, too."

She couldn't blame the Burgesses, of course. The first Christmas after  their daughter's death would be a difficult time at best. To suddenly  find that she was not completely gone after all, that she had left a  child, was a gift beyond price. Of course they wanted Rory to share the  holidays with her family.

But they would have all the Christmases of Rory's life, Wendy thought.  Was it asking too much for her to have one? Just one single memory...

Of course, she was being unrealistic. And the calendar didn't matter  anyway. Rory didn't know one day from another, so Wendy would simply  declare tomorrow to be Christmas  –  if Mack would agree to let her keep  the baby forty-eight more hours, till he went back to Chicago. She wet  her lips. "May I have her until you leave?"