Читать книгу Billion Dollar Bride - Muriel Jensen - Страница 10

AUSTIN AWOKE to the ringing of the telephone. He squinted sleepily at the travel alarm on the hotel’s bedside table as he reached for the receiver. Three-twelve.

His first thought was that something had gone wrong with the deal. But common sense reminded him that it couldn’t be that. He’d closed it already.

Then he remembered that his mother was traveling in Africa with her best friends, Dorothy Churchill and Emily Pratt. She’d returned from Ireland the previous year with a knot on her forehead after being lowered by her ankles to kiss the Blarney Stone. What could she have done this time—enraged a rhino or caused an elephant stampede?

“Hello?” he said urgently.

“Hi, Austin! Did I wake you?” It was his mother, and the question sounded hopeful rather than apologetic.

“Yes, you did,” he answered, relieved at the sound of her voice. “It’s just after three here.”

“Well, it’s ten-fifteen here in Nairobi, and Dot and Emmy and I are having breakfast on our sunporch. Wish you were here.”

He propped up on an elbow and laughed lightly. “Oh, you do not. Having a man along would just cramp your style.”

“That’s true. The gigolo I’m looking for would think I already had a young man. Are you still getting married?”

He’d stood firmly against her disapproval since he’d announced his plans just before she’d left for Africa. When he’d driven her and her friends to the airport, she’d lectured him on the necessity of marrying for love.

“You married for love,” he’d told her, “and look at what happened. You held everything together, and if my father hadn’t killed himself by driving drunk, you’d still be supporting him.”

“It apparently wasn’t love on his part, because love gives you comfort and the ability to endure. Austin, I wish you wouldn’t think of marriage as just another merger.”

“Mom, I’m doing what’s right for me.”

“You’re doing what’ll get you a child. That’s all.”

“A child is all I want.”

“That’s insane, Austin!”

He’d framed her face in his hands as her flight was called. “Mom,” he’d said gently. “You don’t exactly set the standard for sanity, so don’t judge, all right?”

He’d tried to turn her toward the boarding gate, but she’d taken hold of his lapels and held on, her dark eyes gravely serious.

“Darling, don’t do this to yourself,” she’d pleaded. “I like Caroline. She’s a good friend to you. But don’t miss the chance for a love relationship just to have things your way. Please.”

Then her friends had tugged on her, and the three of them had disappeared past the gate.

He sat up in the cool bed and said firmly, “Yes, Mom. I’m still getting married.”

“You know what’ll happen,” she predicted. “You’ll be married two weeks, and you’ll meet someone you’ll want to spend the rest of your life with. But it’ll be too late.”

“That wouldn’t happen to me, Mom.”

“Austin, everyone is skeptical of love until it happens to them. You think because you saw it fail that it fails all the time. But it doesn’t. Dorothy had a wonderful marriage for half a century. Emily was married to Ray for thirty-seven years. And they were happy.”

That wasn’t precisely the point, but explaining required too much thinking, too much analyzing. And it was three in the morning, for God’s sake. “That’s great. It’s just not for me. You have enough money?”

She emitted a high-pitched sigh, which he recognized as surrender. It was her signal that she was tired of arguing with him.

“You gave me enough money for my birthday to allow me to buy Africa. Money isn’t everything, you know. I thought I taught you that.”

“You did. It’s just more reliable than people. Except for you, of course. I love you, Mom. Be careful, okay?”

She made that sound again. “Okay, Austin. But I give you fair warning. When the day comes and the minister asks if anyone has a reason the wedding shouldn’t take place, I’m going to speak!”

“Mother…”

“Bye, dear. Dorothy and Emily say hi.”

The line went dead, and he cradled the receiver, the room suddenly very dark and very quiet.

Lying back and pulling the covers up, he rested his hands behind his head and listened to the sounds of his loneliness. Quiet, distant traffic, the ticking clock, the nighttime sounds of the hotel—furnace, plumbing, soft steps walking past his door.

He remembered how quiet their Dallas apartment had been at night when he was a child. His father had been out drinking or home sleeping it off. He’d died when Austin was eight, but the house remained quiet because Austin’s mother had slept in exhaustion from working twelve hours a day, six days a week just to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.

Austin could clearly recall lying in bed and worrying about his mother, worrying about himself. He’d loved his father and hadn’t understood his need for the booze that rendered him unconscious. And like most children in similar situations, he’d been convinced that something he’d done had made his father unable to cope.

He used to wonder if it would drive his mother away one day.

When he felt bold enough to share that worry with her, she’d wept and assured him that nothing in the world would ever separate them until he was old enough to make his own life. He was everything in the world to her, she’d said, and she would always be there for him.

And she had been. She’d slaved with overtime and extra part-time jobs all through his childhood, until he was old enough to help and finally take over responsibility for their household.

What he’d liked best about money, he thought now, was that generating it created noise and activity. It filled the awful silences where fears bred and worries accumulated.

And so he’d dedicated himself to making money. He had a gift for it and eagerly learned all that he could to turn the gift into a skill.

Was he really missing something, as his mother insisted?

It didn’t feel as though he was. He had everything he wanted and, probably within a year, he would have a child. If Caroline chose to stay with him, that would be fine because they were good friends and she was pleasant company.

If she chose to leave, that would be fine, too. Although he liked having her around, he didn’t really need her. And he would be there for their baby. He’d learned parenting skills from the very best.

He closed his eyes, relieved to have heard from his mother and to know that she was safe. He was also satisfied with his analysis of his life. He had things perfectly balanced at the moment, and the love his mother was so sure he needed would only unsettle that balance.

Yes. Life was good as it was.

“MOM THINKS this would be the perfect setting for your wedding,” Anna said, stopping in the middle of her mother’s garden and gesturing around her. “Of course, not all the flowers are in bloom yet, but they should be beautiful in time for your wedding. What do you think?”

She turned to face the couple following her through the garden. The path spilled into a broad expanse of velvety green lawn.

Connor O’Hara and Janelle Davis came toward her hand in hand, he a tall, well-muscled man and she a slender brunette with watchful eyes and an effusive manner. Both looked around appreciatively at the setting.

Their story was one for the soap operas, Anna thought.

Their baby had unwittingly invaded the lives of Anna’s mother and her children last September, the day Megan invited the press to Maitland Maternity Clinic to talk about preparations for the hospital’s twenty-fifth-anniversary celebration.

The infant lay in a Moses basket on the back step of the hospital, fragile and beautiful, causing a commotion among the hospital staff and the press.

Connor arrived in October, and the Maitland siblings eventually learned that he was their cousin, the adopted son of their father’s sister, Clarise.

Janelle came to Austin in January, claiming that she was the baby’s mother and Connor his father. She’d explained that she’d abandoned her relationship with Connor because he’d been a workaholic. When she discovered she was pregnant, she’d tried to contact him, only to learn that he’d sold his ranch and moved on.

When she’d given birth to the baby, she had no job, no money and no family, and she’d heard about Maitland Maternity Clinic.

Anna’s mother believed them, but Social Services insisted that Janelle produce the baby’s birth records before he could be removed from Megan’s foster care. Apparently the records were in New Mexico, and bureaucratic red tape and a fire were interfering with their journey to Texas.

Meanwhile, Megan kept the baby in the hospital’s day care while she was at the office, and at home with her at night. Janelle and Connor visited him regularly.

Anna had been suspicious of them at first, but Janelle’s sincerity was becoming difficult to question. Anna knew some of her siblings still had doubts, but Megan’s happiness at discovering her nephew was all Anna needed to convince her that Connor was genuine.

“This would be perfect!” Janelle said, clutching Connor’s arm in her delight. “I can’t believe this is happening to us! To think that just seven months ago, I thought I had nothing. I’d given up my man and my baby and I was sure I’d end up spending the rest of my life behind the counter of some fast food restaurant, thinking about what I was missing.”

Her voice broke, and Connor drew her closer, smiling apologetically at Anna as Janelle broke down.

She did that a lot, Anna noticed, but then it was an emotional time for all concerned. And it must be killing her not to be able to take her baby home.

“When you make the right decisions,” Anna said, “like coming back to claim your baby, things usually turn out well. So let’s not waste energy on what you thought the future would be when it now includes a newfound family, a wedding to plan and—as soon as the records arrive—the right to take your son home.”

Janelle reached out to pull Anna into her embrace with Connor.

“We’re so grateful to you!” she said.

Anna shook her head. “I didn’t do anything.”

“But you’re planning our wedding as a gift!”

Anna shrugged. “You’re just lucky enough to have a fiancé whose cousin is in the business. Now, come on. Mom wants us to have coffee with her while we plan the menu for the reception.”

ANNA MAITLAND was everything Janelle hated in another human being—in a woman particularly.

She was all grace and good manners and good intentions. And it didn’t hurt that she looked like some supermodel who now had better things to do.

It helped soothe Janelle’s feelings of hatred and resentment that Anna didn’t have a husband. It was nice to know that her privileged life had left her needing something.

And it was also satisfying to know that though she was smart enough to have had that brilliant kid and to own and run her own business, she was still gullible enough to have swallowed the story, hook, line and baby.

She believed that Petey Jones, Janelle’s husband, was Connor O’Hara, Megan’s long-lost nephew. And she believed that Janelle had really given birth to the little stinker in the house and had turned her life around to reclaim him and give him a loving home.

Ha!

She couldn’t wait for the day Miss Grace and Beauty learned the truth.

“HELLO!” Megan Maitland opened the back door, baby in her arms, and called, “Coffee’s ready!”

Anna hurried her step. Her mother was the only sixty-two-year-old woman she knew who could run a corporation, know what was going on with every member of her family, happily cope with the daily care of a seven-month-old baby and still look as though she’d never lifted a finger.

She wore a gray-blue wool dress today that lightened her dark blue eyes. Her soft white hair was drawn into her favorite French twist. She had an air of serenity Anna had always wanted to acquire but never quite mastered.

“Hi, Cody,” Anna said, reaching out for the baby and settling him on her hip. With her free arm she hugged her mother.

“Chase, Anna,” Megan corrected. “Not Cody. You are having a hard time with that.”

Anna groaned as she kissed the baby’s plump fingers. “Sorry about that. Chase is really a good name for you,” she said to the baby, who watched her with big eyes, “because I could just chase you all over then eat you up!” She nibbled at his fingers, and the baby laughed.

When he’d been found on the hospital doorstep, her mother had called him Cody because of the initials C.O. on a baby bracelet he wore. When Janelle came to claim him, she explained that the initials stood for Chase O’Hara.

“I swear, Mom,” Anna said, bouncing the baby. “This child must be gaining a pound a day.” Janelle and Connor approached, and Anna handed the baby over to his mother.

Megan patted Anna’s shoulder. “And we thought that was a quality relegated to Maitland women,” she teased.

Anna frowned at her mother. “Not funny, Mom. I did an hour on the treadmill last night.” With playful resentment, she turned her frown on Janelle. “You never seem to gain an ounce, Janelle.”

The baby reached for Anna with outstretched arms, but Janelle took one of his hands and kissed it and drew him to her. “Now, come on, baby,” she said. “Aunt Anna has work to do. You have to sit with me.” She disappeared into the house, and Connor followed.

“I swear,” Anna said quietly to her mother as they, too, walked into the house, “that baby remembers she left him on your doorstep and refuses to warm up to her.”

Megan frowned as she closed the door. “It’ll just take time,” she said. “He’s gotten used to me, and you’ve helped a lot, so you get the smiles she doesn’t get. Poor Janelle. It isn’t easy to right that kind of wrong.”

“I know.” Anna wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders and walked with her through the sunporch and toward the kitchen. “I’m sure they’ll be more comfortable with each other by the time the records prove her parentage.”

Megan smiled suddenly, stopping Anna on the threshold to the kitchen. “Isn’t it wonderful about R.J. and Dana?”

Anna laughed and hugged her. “Will’s so excited. He’s going to take up sports so he can teach the baby. I’m planning a Boston shower. You’ll have to help me.”

“Of course. You’re welcome to have it here, if you like.”

“That’d be perfect. We can do it in August and have it on the lawn. I still have all those sun umbrellas from that Spalding wedding that never happened. The bride’s mother was so upset, she refused to pay for the garden party things her daughter ordered, so I kept them. I have thirty green-and-white-striped umbrellas in my guest bedroom.”

“Closed, I hope, or you’re in for a lot of bad luck.”

“Not me,” Anna insisted. “All my bad luck turns to good.”

ANNA REMEMBERED what she’d said two hours later when she went to the day-care center at Maitland Maternity to surprise Will by picking him up for lunch. She stopped in confusion when she realized that members of the staff were huddled on the lawn in nervous little groups. Her brother Mitchell stood at the door, shaking his head adamantly as an older man tried to gain entrance.

“Anna!” Hope Logan, who managed the hospital’s gift shop, emerged from one of the groups to intercept her as she headed for the entrance. “Anna, you heard! Isn’t it awful?”

Dread trickled down Anna’s backbone. “Heard what? What’s happened?”

“A man’s holding the kids in the day-care center hostage!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with horror. “He thinks Jake’s got his wife or something. Or she’s run away with him. I didn’t get all the…”

Jake was Anna’s younger brother, and he had appeared at Christmas with a pregnant woman who still remained a mystery. This wasn’t the first time the woman’s husband had shown up at the clinic. Anna tore across the lawn, straight for the entrance.

Her brother Mitchell caught her by the shoulders. “You can’t go in, Anna. What are you doing here?”

“Will’s in there, Mitch!” She tried to shake him off. “There’s no school today! And Beth! Let me through.”

“Nobody’s getting through, Anna.” He held her firmly, lowering his voice to reason with her. “Mike and Max are talking to this guy, and the police are on their way. R.J. and Mom were at a meeting, but they’re on their way in. I promise you we won’t let anything happen to Will, or Beth, or to any of the kids. But we’ve got to be cool.”

Mike was Michael Lord, head of Maitland Maternity’s security, and Max was Max Jamieson, a private detective.

Her heart was beating so hard she could hardly form a thought. But she did understand that Mitchell wasn’t letting her through.

Mitchell was two years younger than she was, and the oldest of Megan and William’s natural children. So close in age, Anna and Mitchell had fought throughout their childhood, but found a common ground as teenagers and had been good friends ever since. She knew he wouldn’t deliberately cause her grief, but at that moment she’d have willingly knocked him unconscious and walked over him to get to her son.