“How is she?” She continued patting Greg’s back as she moved around the room, stopping to look at the architect’s rendering of the facade of the building where it was taped to the wall between the big front windows.
“Pretty spaced out on painkillers. She was worried about Greg. I told her we were staying with you. I promised to give her your phone number. I hope that’s okay.” It still felt strange to him to be in her home, even though the place was so big he never saw her unless she came into the kitchen while he was getting ready to feed Greg.
“Of course it’s okay. There used to be a separate line running into the maid’s room. We can have it turned back on. I’ll call the phone company today.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’ll be sure to send you the bill.” She smiled. He didn’t like being in her debt, and she knew it.
“Thank you.” He didn’t smile back. He couldn’t. He never knew what to do, how to react to her teasing. Jessie had never teased him. But then their marriage had been based on her needs and his promise to his dying buddy to take care of his wayward sister. Love hadn’t been part of the equation.
“How did it go with the electrical inspector today?” she asked as she wandered over to look out the window at the street below. It was a humid and rainy afternoon. Business was probably slow. Maybe that’s why she had brought Greg upstairs in the middle of the afternoon.
“About like I expected. This place is a mess. A lot of the wiring up here is original. Scary as hell when you look at it.”
She turned, alarm on her face. “But downstairs—”
“It was rewired about ten years ago. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told.” He didn’t want to worry her, but there were some areas on the ground floor that had been missed or skipped to save money. That wiring would have to be replaced, too. Another twenty thousand dollars he hadn’t been counting on.
“We have trouble with the computers sometimes when the air-conditioning is going full blast.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“Thanks.”
She didn’t make any move to leave or to hand over Greg. Dylan weighed the prospect of asking her out to dinner. He owed her a lot for bailing him out of a tight spot. But it would have to be someplace quick and casual. There was no one else to leave the baby with, unless he got the salesgirl—what was her name, Brittany?—to baby-sit. His mom would have a fit at that. He barely knew the girl.
But if Lana didn’t think her employee was competent enough to watch his son, she’d say so. He’d learned that much about her already. She spoke her mind and was confident in her opinions.
She stood there rocking, humming snatches of a lullaby under her breath. Her eyes were closed, her lashes dark against her cheeks. She looked tired. That made up his mind. Taking care of his son on top of running her business and overseeing that big house with only a once-a-week cleaning service and part-time gardener must be taking their toll. Besides, he liked the idea of sitting down to a meal with her, not bringing home take-out to wolf down at the kitchen island with only Greg in his carrier beside him for company.
“Lana.”
“Yes.” She opened her eyes. They were hazel, he’d noticed more than once. Sometimes more green than gold, sometimes darkening almost to brown. When she was angry or upset they got that way. Lightning in river water, he thought. Like now. She was frowning, too.
“I’d like to buy you something to eat tonight. A little thank-you for all you’ve done for us this week.”
“I can’t.” Her frown deepened. She must have tightened her hold on Greg, because he began to fuss a little. She shushed him, settling him more comfortably on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so abrupt. It’s—”
“No apology necessary.” The words sounded perfunctory, and he regretted not being able to keep his chagrin hidden. Fine. She didn’t want to go out with him. That was all there was to it. She probably had a date and was trying to figure out how to tell the date she had Dylan and Greg living in her house. He’d never thought of that when he’d taken her up on the offer. On top of everything else he was complicating the hell out of her love life. “Look, if you need to be alone tonight, I’ll take Greg to the mall or something.”
“No. It isn’t that. I mean, if you’re asking me do I have a date, the answer is no. But I do have plans.” Dylan braced himself and didn’t know why. Possibly because he could see the agitation swirling in the depths of those green and gold eyes. Something had upset her. She brushed her lips across Greg’s hair, then took a little breath as though she wanted to get it all out in one string of words. “I’m meeting my sister and brothers at my aunt Megan’s. We were left on the doorstep at Maitland Maternity twenty-five years ago. Abandoned by a mother we never knew. We haven’t heard a word from her since then.” She shook her head as though she couldn’t quite come to terms with what she was about to say. “Until today.”
CHAPTER FOUR
FOR THE FIRST TIME in her life Lana was uncomfortable in Megan’s house. It felt alien to her, not the gracious, elegant home-away-from-home it had been for as long as she could remember. She had spent as much time growing up here as she had in her parents’ house. She had played with Ellie and Beth, Megan’s twin daughters, shared secrets with them, called boys on the phone with them. They had all swum in the pool and played in the yard, a tribe of healthy youngsters watched over by doting parents. Her memories of this place were all good ones.
But tonight it felt different because she was different. She was no longer Lana Megan Lord, beloved daughter of Terrence and Sheila. She was nobody. Alone and un-loved. It was as if memories of heartache and loss she’d never known she had suddenly forced themselves into the forefront of her mind. She clutched the little pink sweater Megan had given her tightly between her hands, staring at her name embroidered in crooked letters with darker pink floss. Embroidered by a ghost from the past, a woman of whom she had no conscious memory at all. Her mother.
She looked up. Shelby sat across from her on a matching sofa. They were in Megan’s private study, the place they always gathered when they were visiting her. It was a big, cozy room, filled with soft leather furniture and shelves of books and family photos, and almost always friends and members of Megan’s large family. But tonight the five of them were alone.
“She says this was the only fancywork she ever had time to do.” Shelby quoted from the note Megan had read them as she distributed the gifts. It had been handwritten, short and unsigned. “That sounds so sad.”
“I can’t imagine ever being this small.” Michael had placed the tiny blue sweater bearing his name on a table, as though distancing himself from the woman who had given it to him, embroidered it so lovingly and then walked out of his life. “At least we know now the names pinned to our shirts really were the ones she gave us.”
When they were small, the triplets had sometimes climbed into the branches of the live oak tree in the back yard and wondered aloud who they might be. Garrett, older by two years, had scoffed at them. He remembered their names, he’d insisted when they picked others they liked better. He’d told Megan so from the very first day.
But one day when the three of them were ten and Garrett was twelve, they’d quit
