Also, we can lend a car seat if they don’t have one.”
He didn’t want a volunteer to assist him. He wanted Gina. “Would you mind if Miss Kennedy was the one who escorted them?” Mason asked. “It would mean a lot to me.”
“What a lovely idea!” the administrator said. “That way, someone’s sure to take her picture with the babies. I know she’s grown fond of them these past few months. I’m sure she’d like to have a souvenir clipping.”
Mason wished he’d come up with the idea of photographing Gina with his daughters. He’d have to make sure he got a copy of whatever ran in the newspaper.
But then, he intended to have plenty of pictures taken. At their wedding.
I’M SORRY. I’ve thought your offer over carefully, but I can’t accept. I do love Lily and Daisy, and I want what’s best for them. But becoming their mother, then having to give them up—well, I’m not sure I could handle it.
No, she didn’t dare give him wiggle room. I can’t handle spending months as Lily and Daisy’s mother, and then leaving and only seeing them on rare occasions. Please, let’s not argue about it. Let’s stay friends.
Gina sighed. She’d been going over and over in her mind what she was going to say to Mason. If only he would hurry back so she could stop torturing herself!
Freshly changed and cute as kittens in their springlike dresses, the two little girls were ready to go. Each was accompanied by an apnea monitor slightly smaller than a VCR.
The Velcro chest belts didn’t need to be attached while the girls were awake, although they should be put in place for the long ride home. Mason had been instructed in their use yesterday afternoon and, unlike some parents, had mastered the correct degree of tautness right away.
As for Bonita, the housekeeper, he’d called her yesterday and she’d promised to come in for CPR training next week. Gina hoped there wouldn’t be any need for emergency resuscitation before then—or ever.
Katie stopped by, holding one of her charges. “What did you decide to do about Mason? I saw the roses on the counter, by the way. They’re gorgeous!”
On the verge of answering, Gina decided it wouldn’t be right to disclose her decision to someone else before she informed Mason. “I’d like to tell him first.”
“You always do things so discreetly!” Katie said. “You’re what people call a real lady. I aspire to be like you, Gina, although I’m not sure I’ll ever make it.”
“Please don’t use me as a shining example of anything!” she protested. At the moment, she felt more like a squashed cabbage leaf than a lady.
Eleanor Maitland’s assistant poked her head into the room. “Nurse Kennedy? They’d like you to wheel the Blackstone babies to the lobby, please.”
Gina froze. The girls were being released already? But Mason hadn’t returned to talk to her!
“She’ll need someone to push the second bassinet,” Katie pointed out. “Oh, good, Susan’s here!” Susan, a nurse assigned to the intermediate nursery, had been delayed by a flat tire. “I’m supposed to assist Dr. Carrington in half an hour, so I can spare the time to push the other one.”
“Thanks.” The assistant ducked out, then stuck her head in again. “By the way, there’s press all over the front steps, and Abby and Megan Maitland are out there, too, so make sure you’ve got lipstick on.”
Press? And Megan Maitland, the family matriarch who had founded Maitland Maternity nearly twenty-five years ago and still served as its CEO? This was getting more and more complicated.
Gina needed help. “Katie, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I need to talk to Mason.”
She was on the brink of confiding her decision to turn down his proposal when Susan bustled over. “So these cuties are leaving us, huh? We’re all going to miss them, not to mention that heartthrob uncle of theirs. How’d you let him slip through your fingers, Gina?”
She didn’t know how to answer, even though the question was meant in jest. Fortunately, Katie intervened. “Don’t make assumptions, Sue!”
“Just stating the obvious.” The nurse bustled off to take care of her own charges.
The possibility of having a private conversation with Katie had vanished, Gina saw, when Elly Maitland appeared outside the glass partition and waved to them to hurry. She would have to figure out what to say to Mason by herself.
Was it possible he assumed he already knew her answer? Last night, Gina recalled, he’d brushed away her objections and insisted that a sham marriage made perfect sense. Perhaps, overnight, he’d convinced himself that his logic was so irrefutable that she couldn’t possibly say no.
The last thing she wanted was a painful public confrontation with Mason. She preferred quiet discussions that preserved everyone’s self-respect. They simply had to find a moment together.
WALKING THROUGH THE LOBBY toward the hospital’s front entrance, Mason saw Dr. Abby standing outside talking to half a dozen reporters and a camera crew. Beside her, beaming, stood the proud figure of Dr. Abby’s mother, Megan, head of Maitland Maternity.
The press gathered around them weren’t nearly as numerous as he’d expected. He hoped they wouldn’t be as obnoxious as he’d feared, either.
“…demonstrate one of the reasons I established this clinic,” Megan was saying. At a well-publicized sixty-two years, she had a vigor and presence that dominated the scene. “Getting babies off to a healthy start is the most important job in the world.”
“Here’s Mr. Blackstone now,” Abby said. “He can tell us about the twins from his perspective.”
The moment he reached Dr. Abby’s side, an attractive woman thrust a microphone toward Mason. He didn’t watch much television, so it took a moment to place her as Chelsea Markum, a local reporter who specialized in gossip and human interest stories.
“Mr. Blackstone, who’s going to take care of the twins while you’re working on the ranch all day?” she demanded.
Did she have to ask that question right off the bat? “I’ve made arrangements for them to be well cared for, and I’ll be spending every possible moment with them,” he said.
“Taken care of by whom?” she asked.
“I’m not at liberty to…”
From the corner of his eye, he noticed a taxi pulling to the curb. The instant the wheels stopped, the doors flew open and two people hurried out.
Even if she hadn’t been his sister, his attention would have gone first to Margaret. She was a striking woman, tall, with vivid dark coloring. Stuart, stockier and blander, could have been cast as a lawyer in the movies, as in real life.
“Just in time!” Marge called, striding toward him. “Where are my little darlings?”
The camera swung toward her. Chelsea Markum frowned. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Margaret Blackstone Waldman,
