“I’ll have the plane there in an hour,” his father said finally. It was as though he’d struggled with himself and decided to give his son a break for once.
Luke heaved a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Harlan said. He paused, then added, “But if you go and change your mind on me, though, I’m warning you that you’ll pay for the fuel.”
Luke laughed at the predictable threat, relieved by it. Obviously Harlan hadn’t mellowed that much. “That’s what I love about you, Daddy. You never allow sentiment to cloud your thinking about the bottom line.”
By the time Jessie got downstairs for breakfast on the morning after Christmas, only Mary remained at the table. She looked as stylish and perfectly coiffed as she had the night before, despite the fact she couldn’t have had more than a few hours sleep.
Last night, surrounded by family and old friends, by the famous and the powerful, she had been in her element. She was equally at ease at the head of the table with only her daughter-in-law to impress. Jessie found that polish and carefully cultivated class a bit intimidating.
Her reaction to Mary Adams had a lot to do with the older woman’s unconscious sense of style. In fact, Jessie couldn’t ever recall seeing Erik’s mother in anything more casual than wool slacks, a silk blouse and oodles of gold jewelry. Nor had she ever seen her with a single frosted hair out of place. Mary eyed Jessie’s jeans and pale blue maternity sweater with obvious dismay.
“We must take you shopping,” she announced, without a clue that her expression or her innuendo were insulting.
“I have plenty of clothes,” Jessie protested. “Unfortunately, the baby arrived before I’d planned, so I didn’t bring anything except maternity clothes along. The pants can be pinned to fit well enough.”
“Not to worry,” Mary said cheerfully. “I’ll ask Harlan if the plane’s free. The pilot can take us over to Dallas for the day. We can shop the after-Christmas sales at Neiman-Marcus. I have half a dozen things that I need to return and you certainly won’t be needing those new maternity outfits we gave you now.”
She shook her head, an expression of tolerant amusement on her face as she confided, “Harlan hasn’t gotten my size right once in all the years we’ve been married. I’ve become used to these post-holiday exchanges.”
Jessie tried again. “Maybe another day,” she said a little more forcefully. Deliberately changing the subject, she asked, “Where are Jordan and Cody this morning?”
“Jordan’s already flown back to Houston. He had business to attend to, or so he claimed. He’s probably chasing after some new woman. I think Cody is off somewhere with his father,” she said without interest.
She regarded Jessie thoughtfully. “That shade of blue isn’t quite right for you. I believe something darker, perhaps a lovely royal blue, would be perfect with your eyes.”
Jessie had been so certain she’d ended the subject of the shopping excursion. Apparently she hadn’t. “I’m not sure I have the energy yet to keep up with you,” she confessed as a last resort.
Finally something she’d said penetrated Mary’s self-absorbed planning.
“Oh, my goodness, what was I thinking?” Mary said, looking chagrined. “Of course, you must be exhausted. I remember when the boys were born, I didn’t even leave the hospital for a week and here it’s only been a few days since Angela was born. How on earth are you managing? Young women today are much more blasé about these things than my generation was.”
Since Mary’s question seemed to be rhetorical and she appeared to have fallen deep into thought, Jessie concentrated on spreading jam on her perfectly toasted English muffin. She’d once wondered if the kitchen staff at White Pines had been told to toss out any that weren’t an even shade of golden brown. Her own success was considerably more limited. She burned as many as she got right in the old toaster she had in her apartment.
“A nanny,” Mary announced triumphantly, capturing Jessie’s full attention with the out-of-the-blue remark.
“A nanny?” Jessie repeated cautiously.
“For Angela.”
She’d hoped for a new tangent, but this one was pretty extreme even for Mary. “Please, it’s not necessary,” she said firmly. “I can take care of the baby perfectly well. Besides, you couldn’t possibly find anyone on such short notice. And I’ll be going back home next week, anyway.”
“Nonsense,” Mary said dismissively. “You’ll be staying right here.”
When Jessie started to argue, Mary’s expression turned intractable. It was a toss-up whether Luke and the others had gotten their stubborn streaks from Harlan or their mother. The combined gene pool was enough to make Jessie shudder with dread.
“I won’t take no for an answer,” Mary said just as firmly. “Even if you insist on going back to that tiny little apartment and that silly job eventually, you have to take a few weeks of maternity leave. You’ll spend it right here, where we can look after you.”
Jessie bristled at having the life she’d made for herself dismissed so casually, but she bit her tongue. She honestly hadn’t given any thought to the fact that she was entitled to maternity leave. It was on her list of things to worry about closer to the baby’s arrival. Angela had thrown that timetable completely off.
“I don’t know how much time I’m entitled to,” she admitted.
“I believe I’ve heard six weeks is the norm,” Mary said distractedly, jotting herself a note on the pad she always had at hand at breakfast for writing down the day’s chores. She dispensed them to the staff as merrily as if they were checks. They weren’t always received in quite the same spirit, but Jessie doubted if Mary noticed that.
Her mother-in-law glanced up from her notes. “Of course, three months
