A definite change that transcended appearance. That undercurrent of urgency to prove something, to constantly achieve something had dissipated. Marlene was a different person now.
Miracles, it seemed, still happened.
Suddenly too tired to make the trip from the kitchen to the living room, Nicole sank down in a chair beside the kitchen table and nursed her glass of juice.
If Marlene still seemed a little tense, she thought, it was because she was really trying hard to be the perfect mother as well as a successful businesswoman.
Nicole’s mouth curved, but there was only bitterness in her smile as the word mother echoed in her mind. It was small wonder if Marlene felt lost. Her sister had no example to follow. Neither of them did. There were no warm memories of a mother’s love to remember, no examples of selfless caring to emulate. They had no real-life experiences to serve as reference.
Nothing other than what Sally had provided as their housekeeper. Sally, who had staunchly remained with Marlene after James Bailey had died, was gruff and spoke plainly, but she had a soft spot in her heart for the motherless children they had been. It was Sally who had given them the only attention and affection she and Marlene had ever known. Still, Sally was no substitute for the real thing.
Nicole looked into her glass, tilting it and coating the sides as she thought. Though they never spoke about it, Nicole imagined that Marlene felt exactly the same way she did. That ever since Laura Bailey had abandoned them, there had been something missing from their lives.
Something very important, no matter how hard she tried to deny it.
Nicole felt her eyes misting again.
Damn, what was it with her today? Everything was making her cry. She hadn’t thought about her mother walking out on them in years.
Nicole exhaled loudly, bracing her shoulders which under the present circumstances wasn’t easy. She wasn’t going to allow memories of her mother, or lack of her mother, to prey on her mind now. As far as she was concerned, her mother was dead. Laura Bailey had died the day she had accepted her husband’s generous monetary settlement in exchange for leaving her children’s lives forever.
She set down her glass and sniffled. This weepiness had to stop. Being pregnant certainly had its downside. Wiping her eyes with her handkerchief, Nicole curved her other hand around her belly. Though she adored the baby she carried with every shred of the love that no one had ever bothered to tap into, Nicole absolutely hated being pregnant. Almost from the very beginning, it had felt as if she were dragging around an old-fashioned steamer trunk filled to capacity with rocks. Rocks that shifted and moved independently of her. Luckily, she had Marlene to lean on. Marlene had given birth in the beginning of December and knew what lay ahead.
Unlike Marlene who had anticipated the delivery with some trepidation, Nicole couldn’t wait to give birth and be done with it. She was passionately looking forward to shedding this elephantine weight she was struggling with. Naturally thin, she had never carried any excess weight until now. And as for her emotions, they had never been in such a state of constant flux as they had been these past months. Minor things taxed her patience and as for the major ones, it was almost beyond endurance. It was a struggle just to get through the day.
Rising, Nicole saw her reflection in the chrome trim on the stove. A pregnant woman was supposed to glow. If that was really true, then someone had failed to issue her the requisite mother-to-be glow kit. Par for the course. If her ship ever came in, she’d probably be standing in the airport at the time.
Damn, she had to shake this mood.
Nicole wandered back to the refrigerator and opened it again. There wasn’t anything in it that hadn’t been there that morning. It was filled with healthy food. Nothing tempted her. Marlene had asked her to stay for dinner but Nicole had taken a rain check because she wanted to be alone. Why, she hadn’t the faintest idea.
Or maybe she did.
Nicole dearly loved her sister, even though they had approached life from different paths, and there wasn’t anyone else’s company she enjoyed more. But Marlene seemed caught up in her child and even in Sullivan, the brother of the man who had donated his sperm to create Robby. Nicole felt as if she were intruding.
She felt, she thought now as she listlessly shifted food on the top shelf, like an A-number-one grouch right now.
Nicole let the refrigerator door slip from her fingers. It sighed shut, eliciting an echoing sigh from her. Maybe she’d just catch the news on TV and then go to bed, even though it was early. With any luck, she’d feel better tomorrow.
She’d just walked out of the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Automatically, she glanced at her watch. It was past six o’clock. She wasn’t in the mood for visitors. Lately, she mused, she wasn’t in the mood for very much. Except for fudge ripple ice cream, and she was all out of that.
The doorbell rang again. Resigned, she crossed to the door. Standing on her toes, Nicole looked through the peephole, prepared to send whoever was on the opposite side of the door on their way.
She sank back on her heels. It was Dennis Lincoln. Now what?
Nicole flipped the locks and opened the door. She left one hand guardedly on the jamb, unwilling to invite him in. “Hi. Is there anything wrong with the television set?”
She’d been crying again, he realized. Her eyes were red rimmed and slightly puffy. Against all regulations and safeguards, something protective stirred within Dennis. He did his best to ignore it.
Dennis shifted the paper bag he’d picked up at the Chinese restaurant. Filled with small cartons of different entrées, the heat radiated through the paper, warming his hands. Following Nicole over the course of the last week, he’d learned little except that she had a fondness for Chinese food.
“No, the set’s fine. Great, as a matter of fact.” He grinned like a kid with a new toy, which was just the way he figured he was supposed to look, if possessing an oversize TV set had mattered to him. “Maybe you’d like to come over this weekend and watch something—with your husband if he’s around.”
Every muscle seemed to instantly tighten in Nicole’s face. The profile he had on her said she and her late husband hadn’t been close in the past couple of years, but they’d obviously been close at least once in that time. He glanced at her stomach. Still, he could see that he had just pulled the scab off a raw wound.
There were times when the job left a bad taste in his mouth.
Nicole lowered her eyes. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
The stillness in her voice underlined the awkward moment. He didn’t want to amplify her pain. Dennis glossed over the moment. “I guess he’s not much of a TV buff. Well, then, perhaps you’d like to—”
He didn’t know, she thought. There was no reason for him to know, of course. It was just that Craig’s death had been such a part of her life in the last month and a half, she unconsciously assumed everyone knew.
She cleared her throat. “My husband’s dead, Mr. Lincoln.”
He let the appropriate concern register on his face. It wasn’t difficult. There was something about the pain in her eyes that drew it out of him naturally.
“Oh God, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” She was really devastated
