she squealed, and flung her arms wide, inviting a hug.
“Hi, sweethearts,” Rena said, catching both her children in an exuberant hug.
“Mrs. Carson made us cookies,” Brandon said, his expression serious as always as he held up one, minus a bite, as proof.
Rena smiled fondly at the housekeeper who stood on the opposite side of the bar. “Spoiling them, I see.”
Tipping up her nose, Mrs. Carson folded her hands primly at her waist. “No more than I did you, when you still lived at home.”
Laughing because she knew what the housekeeper said was true, Rena plucked a chocolate chip cookie from the plate and took a bite before glancing down at the twins. “So what all did you two do this afternoon?”
“Went shopping with Nonnie.”
Rena’s smile slowly melted as she stared at Brittany. “Shopping? But didn’t Nonnie take you to see Daddy?”
“Uh-uh. She took us to the mall. I got a new dress and a necklace, and Brandon got a watch.”
“See?” Brandon said proudly, waving his arm in front of his mother’s face.
Rena caught his wrist and pushed his arm back in order to admire the new watch. “Yes, I see,” she said, forcing a smile for her son’s sake.
She glanced over at Mrs. Carson. “And where is Mother?” she asked pointedly.
Avoiding Rena’s gaze, the housekeeper set the plate of cookies on the counter in front of the twins and turned away. “Getting dressed for dinner,” she said, then cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder and added, “She’s invited a guest.”
“Who?” Rena asked, praying that her mother had fulfilled her promise by inviting Clayton to dinner.
“Uncle Bill,” Brittany supplied helpfully. “He’s nice. When we were at Pawpaw’s bank, he let me and Brandon play with his computer.”
Furious with her mother for not taking the children to see Clayton as she’d assured Rena she would, Rena reached for the phone. “Set another plate, Mrs. Carson. We’ll be having another guest for dinner.”
The call Clayton had waited on all afternoon finally came while he was at the boarding facility, feeding and exercising his horse. But the message Rena had left for him with the hotel’s switchboard operator, inviting him to join the Palmers for dinner, wasn’t the one he’d expected, nor was it how he’d have chosen to spend his evening, if he’d been given a choice.
But he would have dinner at his in-laws’ house, he told himself as he settled his hat over his head, if that’s what it took to get to see his wife and kids.
Yet, even knowing he had an evening with his family to look forward to, Clayton still found himself stopping at the foot of the circular drive that curved in front of his in-laws’ home and looking up at the stately mansion, feeling all the old inadequacies stealing over him.
Rena’s childhood home had always intimidated him, as did her parents. The house screamed money and permanence, two things that had been conspicuously missing from his own life, until a few short years ago. And though he was sure his current net worth didn’t come close to matching that of his wife’s parents, he’d come a long way in closing the gap that had once separated them.
He’d worked hard at rodeoing and had made quite a name for himself, winning four World Champion Calf Roper buckles, and missing out on two other buckles by fractions of a second. With success had come commercial offers for endorsements, though he still couldn’t get used to seeing his face plastered on billboards and staring back at him from glossy magazine ads.
And he’d thought he had created a sense of permanency, as well. The fifteen-hundred-acre ranch near Austin, Texas, was home to him…or at least it had been, before Rena had packed up the kids and left. Now the very thought of returning there alone made his stomach knot in dread.
He wouldn’t go home alone, he told himself, and forced himself to take that first step up the drive. Rena, Brittany and Brandon would be going home with him. He wouldn’t allow himself to even consider any other possibility.
Frowning, he punched the doorbell, then stepped back, listening to the muffled Westminster chime echo through the house’s expansive interior. From the opposite side of the door, he heard the impatient click of high heels on the marble entry and knew who would greet him at the door. Tensing, he braced himself for the confrontation as the door opened.
“Good evening, Clayton.” Mrs. Palmer offered him a stiff smile as she opened the door wider, inviting him in. “Everyone’s in the solarium, enjoying the sunset. Why don’t you join them while I check on dinner?”
Solarium? The word sounded as pompous and un-inviting to Clayton as the woman who’d uttered it. Left to find his way to the room alone, he pulled off his hat with a sigh of resignation and tossed it onto the heavily carved marble table centered beneath the entry hall’s dome-shaped ceiling, wishing he were most anywhere but there.
But then he heard the irresistible trill of Brittany’s excited chatter, and he headed for the solarium. He caught sight of his daughter immediately, leaning over the side of the fountain, her stomach pressed flat against the smooth stone. Her arm was stretched out as far as she could reach, as she tossed pennies toward the base of the mermaid who rose from the fountain as if breaking through the ocean’s surface.
“Whoa, shortcake,” he said, and caught her by the hem of her dress, saving her from pitching face first into the fountain’s pool. “You’re supposed to toss the pennies, not personally deliver them.”
Laughing, Brittany spun around and made a wild leap from the side of the fountain and straight into her daddy’s arms, taking him by surprise.
“Daddy!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging. “You came!”
Stunned by the unexpected exuberance in her welcome, Clayton had to swallow back emotion at the feel of the little arms wound tightly around his neck. “Course, I did, shortcake.” He gave her an awkward hug, then shifted her to his hip. “I was invited, wasn’t I?”
Brittany put a hand at the side of her mouth and leaned to whisper in his ear, “Yeah, but Nonnie said you wouldn’t come.”
Clayton turned to frown at the doorway just as his mother-in-law entered the solarium. “She did, did she?” he muttered, his frown deepening.
“Yeah. She said you didn’t have the graces to eat with us, but I told her you did.”
Clayton cocked his head to peer at his daughter in confusion. “Graces?” he repeated, frowning. Then slowly he realized what his mother-in-law must have said. “You mean social graces, don’t you, shortcake?” he asked wryly.
“Yeah,” she said, bobbing her head. “Social graces. Nonnie said you didn’t have any, but you do, don’t you, Daddy?”
Though he was tempted to leave right then and there, Clayton knew he wouldn’t. Not and let his in-laws think they could run him off that easily. “Do you know what social graces are?” he asked her.
She pushed her lips out into a pout. “No. I asked Mommy, but she just kept yellin’ at Nonnie
