She was supposed to work tomorrow; it was scheduled to be her last day on the job. But she'd find a way to get around that, if he would only agree. If she could have one last long, full day with Rory...
He stared at her for a long time, as if trying to read her intentions, and finally nodded.
Had he seen the haunted, begging look in her eyes and adjusted his plans for her sake? Or had he decided to take a chance because it was easier than arranging a couple of days of child care while he finished his business?
She told herself not to be cynical, but it didn't help much.
"Thank you." Her voice cracked a little. "It will take a while just to get her things packed up."
"Don't bother with anything that isn't portable," he said quickly. "It's easier to buy new than to pack everything up and move it."
That seemed to be the Burgess attitude about lots of things, Wendy thought, remembering the way the attorney had so lightly disposed of all Marissa's personal belongings. Not that Mack wasn't right, of course, at least where the furniture was concerned. It would probably cost more to crate and ship Rory's crib than it was worth – especially since Wendy hadn't been able to afford the kind she would have liked to buy.
"In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Marissa's own crib is still around somewhere," he mused. "I wonder if Mother's thought of that."
"I'm sure it's much nicer than this one." Wendy tried not to let bitterness creep into her voice, but she knew she failed.
He put a hand out as if in sympathy, and then drew it back without touching her. Slowly, he said, "This is going to be hard on Rory, you know. Leaving everything that's familiar, all at once."
Tears stung Wendy's eyes. "You think I don't already know that? She relies on me. I've been the center of her world since she was six weeks old." She broke off, her voice choked with tears.
"My parents have invited you to come for Christmas, to help her make the adjustment."
"How gracious of them. I suppose it's something like taking along her security blanket."
His mouth tightened. "As a matter of fact, I think it was gracious. You've kept their granddaughter away from them for months. They've got no reason to feel fond of you."
Wendy felt as if she'd been slapped. "No, thank you." She jumped up from the floor.
He was on his feet instantly. "Wendy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so clumsy. I know you're sensitive about losing her."
"You haven't any idea what I'm feeling, Mack Burgess! I doubt you're even capable of understanding what it means to love somebody so much that you'd die for her!" She clenched her fists till her nails cut her skin.
"Then surely, for Rory's sake, you'll come."
Was she so selfish that she wasn't willing to extend her own pain if it would make things easier for Rory? She had no illusions about the reception she was likely to get; the Burgesses might maintain the polite fiction that she was a guest, but her visit was apt to be stiff and unpleasant.
But what did that matter? Even if she had to suffer a few days of scorn, a few thinly-veiled insults, surely she could stand it if in the long run Rory would be better off. What other options did she have?
Would going to Chicago really do any good, though, or would her presence just increase the tension and make the baby unhappier still? She sat down on the edge of a chair and shook her head a little in confusion.
Mack took it as a refusal. "Is there somewhere else you need to be at Christmas? With your family, maybe?"
"No." There wasn't any family left, but he wouldn't be interested in that fact.
"A boyfriend, then?" His voice was crisp, as if he was about to accuse her of immoral conduct around the baby.
Wendy managed a half-smile. The mere thought of a romantic interest had its humorous side; since Rory came into her life, she'd almost forgotten what it was like to date. She hadn't even had time to notice men in general, much less get interested in any one of them. Mack was the first man she'd spent any time with, in all the months since Rory had become the center of her life. Maybe that explained why she'd felt such an overwhelming sensation a few minutes ago when she opened the door and saw him.
"Obviously," she said, "you don't understand how fast men vanish when there's a baby taking priority. No, it was just going to be Rory and me."
"Then why not come? For her sake." He dropped to one knee beside her chair. "You'd have a few more days with her. Maybe you'd even come to see that my parents aren't quite the ogres Marissa described."
She lifted her eyebrows doubtfully.
"Or is that what you're afraid of? Would you rather nurse your resentments instead of trying to overcome them?" His tone was cool. "Perhaps you're more like Marissa than I thought."
She glared at him. "If that's a challenge, I accept it."
"Good." He stood up. "I'll stop by tomorrow to see the baby, and I'll let you know then what time our flight will be."
*****
Like all babies, Rory could feel stress in the air no matter how much Wendy tried to hide it, and she reacted badly. On Wednesday, as Wendy was rushing around trying to pack her own clothes, Rory started to scream. Nothing comforted her – not a bottle, not a pacifier, not a lullaby – and she kept up the noise till she was hot and red-faced and trembling.
When Mack appeared at the door Wendy was actually glad to see him. The sensation took her by surprise for an instant; why should she be happy, when the man was wrenching her life apart?
She dismissed the feeling and thrust the baby at him. "Here," she said. "You deal with this. I'm busy."
The abrupt change of caretaker didn't make Rory any happier. Mack followed Wendy down the hall, the baby in his arms. "What's wrong with her?" he asked over the din.
"She seems to have antennae specially tuned to pick up stress."
"Oh. Well, in a minute we can all relax. The taxi's waiting."
"Maybe you can relax," Wendy muttered. She looked from him to the hopeless tangle of clothing on her bed, next to the suitcase. Her nerves were so frazzled she couldn't even begin to think about what she might need in Chicago. She'd put in sweaters and slacks and her new rust-colored suit, of course, but what else should she take?
She shot a look at Mack. He was more casually dressed than she'd seen him before, in chinos and a soft sweater over an open-necked shirt. The shoulder of his sweater was already spotted by Rory's tears, but Mack hadn't noticed yet, so she didn't point it out.
Wendy slammed the suitcase closed. What she had already packed would just have to do. It wasn't likely she'd be traveling in high society, anyway. Even if the Burgesses did, they weren't apt to want to show her off to their friends.
She took a lightweight trench coat out of her closet.
"You'll want something heavier than that," Mack warned. "It's winter in the Midwest."
"I've always lived in Arizona, Mack. I don't own anything heavier."
"I suppose that goes for Rory, too?"
"I looked yesterday," Wendy said briefly. "I didn't find a thing. Stores in Phoenix don't sell a lot of snowsuits, you know."
"Well, we'll just wrap her in a blanket, I guess. Do you have one in the carry-on?"
Wendy nodded. The baby had quieted in the security of Mack's arms, but she was still giving a hiccup-like sob once in a while, as if to remind everyone how very unhappy she was. But she started to cry in earnest once more when Wendy began to put her hooded sweater and mittens on.
Mack leaned over the changing table to tickle Rory's chin. "If you don't like your sweater, just wait till you get to Chicago, sprout," he warned. "You'll find out what 'bundled up' really means."
"She normally isn't like this," Wendy muttered. "She's a very good baby, really. She likes adventures and walks..."
"You amaze me, Wendy."
"Why?"
"I'd have thought you'd be telling me what a terrible child this is, so I'd have second thoughts about the trip."
"Would it make any difference?"
"Of course not."
"Then why waste my breath?" She settled the baby securely into her safety seat and took one last look around the room. It was obviously no longer a nursery; it looked forlorn, with all of Rory's toys and clothes and equipment packed up and ready to go. Despite what Mack had said, Wendy couldn't bring herself to leave Rory's belongings behind. Familiar toys and her own mobile hanging from a new crib might make a difference. Wendy hadn't even kept a stuffed animal as a memento, for anything which held memories for her was precious to Rory, too, and she couldn't bear to take something from the child.