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“I don’t do children,” she said to Beth. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier so we could have postponed—”
“Postponed?” Beth’s voice took on a strident note. “Gordon would have loved that, now wouldn’t he? Just prove everything he’s been saying about me is true. You know I don’t have anyone else—no girlfriends, no family here—so please, please, please, can you look after Ashley this evening?” Beth reached out and grasped Mackie’s hand.
Mackie sighed. She’d promised to go the distance with Beth. What could she do but agree?
Ashley was cute to look at, but about as easy to control as a young chimpanzee. From the second Mackie had arrived at her town house with the toddler in tow, the latter had been expressing her displeasure with the arrangement. She’d turned up her nose at dinner, rebelled at having her diaper changed and refused to stay in the playpen Mackie had borrowed from a neighbor, preferring to roam around the unfamiliar territory.
Pricey art books, marble fruit and crystal obelisks now cluttered the mantel, secure from Ashley’s reach. Although by now Mackie would willingly sacrifice any one of them to Ashley’s mayhem if that would keep the baby from sobbing and pitifully begging for her “Da Da” the way she was doing.
“Don’t cry. Please stop crying.” Mackie cast her eyes upward in supplication. Where are you, Beth?
Pacing the floor with the fussy baby in her arms, Mackie noticed the warmth of her skin. She leaned her head back for a better view of the child’s face. It was flushed and tearstained. “Is it too hot in here? Or do you have a fever?” Don’t you dare have a fever.
At eleven-thirty, every shred of patience and energy exhausted, Mackie called the restaurant. “Beth Galloway, please.”
“Sorry, ma’am. Beth’s gone.”
Mackie hung up the phone. Hallelujah! Beth’s on her way.
For thirty more minutes Mackie circled the room and watched the time crawl by. Where was Beth? What could she possibly be doing? An accident perhaps. Or maybe she’d forgotten and gone home. She dialed Beth’s apartment. No answer. Of course Beth hadn’t forgotten—something was definitely wrong.
The waiting was getting intolerable. Ashley crying... Mackie worrying now about both Ashley and Beth.
Finally deciding she could no longer put off the inevitable, Mackie placed a weepy Ashley in the playpen with a bottle of milk to distract her, then fished out Gordon Galloway’s card from her briefcase and dialed his number.
“Mr. Galloway, this is Mackie Smith, Beth’s attorney. I know it’s late, but—”
“Has something happened to Ashley?”
“I don’t think it’s anything serious but she may be running a fever. If you’ll give me directions to your home, I’ll bring her there right away.”
“Did you take her temperature?”
“Uh, no. Not yet.”
“Did you even think about it?”
“No, frankly I didn’t. I’ve been too busy walking the floor with her the last four hours.”
“Give me the address. It’ll be quicker for me to come there.”
Mackie rattled off her street name and number.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He hung up before Mackie had a chance to say another word.
When the phone rang seconds later, Mackie guessed it was Galloway asking for directions. But it was Beth.
“Mackie, it’s me.”
“Beth, where are you? I’ve been frantic.”
“I’m fine...it’s a long story.”
Mackie, frazzled and not mollified by Beth’s non-answer, snapped, “Then give me the condensed version.”
“Uh-oh, I was afraid you’d be upset.”
“Upset? You might say that. First you spring the news you have to work, then you don’t come when you say you will—”
“My car stalled on the freeway, Mackie. I’ve been stranded for over an hour praying for someone to stop and help. A policeman’s here now and we’re waiting for a tow truck.”
“Jeez...that’s scary.” The thought of what could have happened when Beth’s clunker of a car gave out sent a chill through Mackie.
“Tell me about it,” Beth groaned. “But you all are OK, aren’t you?”
“Ashley’s restless. I think she may be running a fever.”
“Probably just a minor thing,” Beth replied. “Listen, I don’t know how long this will take and it’s late already. I think it’d be best for you to keep Ashley until morning. Oh, the wrecker’s here, gotta go.”
“Don’t hang up!” But the plea was too late. For the second time in less than ten minutes, Mackie heard only a dial tone at the end of a telephone line.
Gordon had grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and raced out to the garage within seconds of ringing off from Mackie Smith. He hoped he could drive, unnerved as he was by this turn of events. He’d wanted Ashley back, but not this way. What was going on with his baby? He had heard her whimpers in the background.
At least luck was partially on his side. It was late, but he was still dressed, so he hadn’t been delayed throwing on clothes. And Mackie’s place wasn’t that far away.
Mackie opened the front door of her town house just as Gordon’s finger started to hit the bell. “Where’s Ashley?” he demanded, rushing inside.
“Shh.” Mackie put a finger to her lips. Together she and Gordon tiptoed toward the middle of her living room where Ashley lay in the playpen, rump in the air, thumb in her mouth, sound asleep. “She’s fine now.”
Gordon bent over, gently placing the back of his hand on Ashley’s forehead. Her brow was cool. He straightened up. “No fever and her coloring’s good. Probably just upset over having her life upended.” A flinty glare punctuated the gibe to ensure that it wouldn’t escape Mackie’s notice.
Reassured that Ashley was indeed fine, Gordon looked around. Something was wrong with this picture. “Where in Hades is Beth? Why’s Ashley here with you?” He’d been too scared before to question why Mackie Smith was the one who had called him. Now he wanted some answers.
“Uh...there was an unavoidable emergency.”
“...‘an unavoidable emergency,’” he repeated. “Right...I’ll just bet.” A pause, then a derisive chuckle. “You’ll find Beth’s whole life is a series of ‘unavoidable emergencies.’ Another one of those endearing foibles of hers I tried to tell you about. Beth’s a manipulator, using everything and everybody to get what she wants. Believe me, I could cite chapter and verse—”
Mackie gave an impatient sigh. “I’m sure you’re relishing this opportunity to throw in a few more slurs about Beth, but it’s been a long day and I’m too tired to spar with you right now.”
Gordon heard the weariness in her voice and almost felt sorry for her. This was not the poised, self-confident woman he’d dealt with earlier. A few hours ago she’d been bandbox perfect—tailored wool suit, shiny gold earrings, spotless black pumps. Then, he’d come close to hating her—and her ability to tear his and his daughter’s life into shreds without breaking a sweat. This woman looked exhausted and vulnerable. Stained silk blouse hanging loose over her skirt, one earring missing, shoes off and a gaping run snaking up a leg of her sheer stockings. Quite a contrast.
She became aware of his assessment, smoothing back her mussed hair and tucking in her blouse. “Well...” she began, “guess it was only a false alarm. Go back home. We’ll be OK.”
Gordon cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”
“You saw for yourself, Ashley isn’t sick. Sorry I bothered you, but there’s no point in your hanging around.”
“I won’t be ‘hanging around.’ I’m taking my daughter home.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Try and stop me.”
“You know full well I can’t, but the judge’s order can.”
“Nice try, Ms. Smith. Only the order says Ashley’s mother has visitation privileges this weekend. It says nothing about some hired hand laying claim to her. Besides, an hour ago you were ready to bring her to me.”
“Things have changed since then.” Mackie’s brain raced. “Surely you know the position you’re placing me in.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t get overly concerned with your ‘position.’”
“OK then, think about yourself. From where I’m sitting, Judge Fillmore isn’t all that fond of you. He isn’t keen on being sassed in court. Whether or not Beth violated the terms of her visitation—and that remains to be seen—if you take Ashley, then you will be too. Do you want to chance riling the judge even more, and possibly strengthening Beth’s hand when we do pursue joint custody?”
Gordon seemed to mull that one over. And while he was, Mackie added, “Besides, Ashley is down for the night Why wake her up when she’s already had a bad evening?”
More mulling on Gordon’s part. “I’m not about to walk out of here without my daughter. Yet you do have a point about not waking her up.” Gordon wasn’t about to concede any other points. “I’ll just camp out until Beth shows up.”
“No way. I must insist—”
“Insist till doomsday. I’m not leaving my daughter in the care of a stranger who clearly doesn’t know much about small children. Unless you think you’re strong enough to throw me out.”
“I wish.”
“Then you have a choice—either you get Beth over here pronto or I stay the night.”
CHAPTER TWO
GORDON’S pronouncement caused Mackie to throw her hands in the air. “So stay! But just so you know...I own one bed, which I have no intention of giving up. Or sharing. That leaves the couch for you and, as you can see, it’s sixty inches at best.” She gave a smirking assessment of his six foot plus frame. “I’m sure you’ll get lots of sleep.”
“Probably more than I was going to get before, worrying about Ashley with Beth. At least I’ll be able to ensure Ash is OK.”
“Well now that everything’s resolved to your satisfaction, I’m going upstairs to change into something more comfort—” Mackie stopped. All she’d meant to convey was that she was getting out of her work clothes, but the words were classic innuendo.
“Into something else,” she corrected. “Then I plan to have a sandwich. I haven’t eaten since lunch.” Without waiting for a response, she started up the stairs. Gordon remained behind in silence, yet with every step, she could feel his eyes following her ascent.
Minutes later, when Mackie returned to her living room dressed in an old pair of gray sweats, Gordon wasn’t there. She went to the kitchen and found him hunched over her refrigerator, pulling out packages of deli ham and cheese. Lettuce and a ripe red tomato were already draining on a paper towel by the sink.
“Making yourself right at home I see.”
“I haven’t eaten much today, either. Hope you don’t mind my helping myself. If you do, just bill me.”
Mackie rolled her eyes and handed him a loaf of seven-grain bread from the pantry. “Feel free... and while you’re at it, you can fix me a sandwich, too. Mustard, no mayonnaise.
“What do you want to drink?” she asked, replacing him at the refrigerator. “Milk? Beer? Water?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
“I hate that,” Mackie said. “Just pick what you prefer.” She set a Michelob on the counter along with a half gallon of milk.
“Milk. OK?”
Gordon had finished assembling the sandwiches and placed one in front of her, watching as Mackie poured milk into their glasses. “And what else do you hate?”
“Blue eye shadow, party cocktail wieners drenched in messy barbecue sauce, smokers puffing away at the next table in a restaurant,” she answered nonchalantly, carrying her food to the glass-topped table.
“Strange, isn’t it,” Gordon said, grabbing a napkin and joining her.
“What’s strange?”
“Us sitting here eating together like a couple of old friends.”
Her expression was one of incredulity. “Oh, I hardly think anyone would mistake us for friends.”
“Disgruntled married couple then.”
“Bad image, but closer.”
“Too close. I’d say we’re experts on bad marriages and the fallout that goes with them.”
“What do you know about me and my marriage?” Mackie said warily. He was right, but the details of her miserable four years with Bruce weren’t common knowledge.
“Nothing. Actually I was referring to your profession, not you personally. However, few people get into their thirties without taking the plunge at least once. Have you had a bad experience?”
A disastrous one. But the scars of her marriage—a bruised heart and pummeled psyche—were none of Galloway’s business. “It’s no secret I’ve been married,” she admitted, “but it’s not a subject I care to talk about.”
“Well, if we’re going to spend the night together, I think I should know something more about you than your name and marital status, don’t you?”
“If we were ‘spending the night together,’ as you put it, that might be true, but you’re only bunking on the couch. There’s no need for a round of true confessions.”
“Any children?” he persisted.
“As I said, I don’t want to talk about my past.”
“No, no children,” Gordon said. “Silly question anyway. It’s obvious your experience with kids is nil.” He leaned back in his chair. “So...what about brothers, sisters?”
“Mr. Galloway, you’re slow to catch on. There’s no reason for us to make small talk or to try to get better acquainted.”
“No, I suppose there isn’t Besides, I wouldn’t want you to accuse me of taking advantage of your hospitality. It’s obvious you’re tired and sleepy.” He took a last bite from his sandwich and drained the glass of milk. “Go on up to bed and I’ll rinse the dishes and wrap up the food.”
Mackie was past caring whether the dishes got rinsed or the food wrapped. She was fading fast and relieved that Galloway understood that much. Maybe he wasn’t willing to leave, but at least he wasn’t going to be a demanding guest. “Whatever,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”
“By the way...” Gordon’s voice stopped Mackie just as she reached the door of the kitchen. “Do you happen to have a spare toothbrush?”
Mackie eyed him skeptically as if the question was loaded. Then she said. “Medicine cabinet. Guest bathroom.”
Gordon watched her leave and pondered her reaction to him. Mackie Smith was one skittish lady. Was it the attorney or the unhappy divorcée showing through? Mackie was hard to read. She’d reacted to the marriage question and the innocuous family question as if she were a prisoner of war required to give only name, rank and serial number. Then he remembered—this was war. She and Beth on one side, he and Ashley on the other. Mackie Smith wasn’t forgetting that and neither should he. He shouldn’t be letting his guard down or getting too chummy.
Mackie slept until nine the next morning, waking with a start when she realized how late it was. Shrugging quickly into her robe, she tore downstairs, fearful she’d find the Galloways long gone.
Once in the kitchen, her anxiety subsided as she came upon the two having breakfast together. Ashley, sitting on the cabinet, was eating slices of banana. Gordon, standing in front of her, was drinking coffee and coaxing the baby to take spoonfuls of cereal.
“I...uh, I overslept,” Mackie said, flustered and searching for something to say. She was glad the chenille robe was strictly of the utilitarian variety. Galloway’s peep show was enough. He was dressed, but his shirt was unbuttoned and hanging loose, revealing an expanse of furry chest. Maybe it was because she wasn’t used to bare chests in the morning, but the view of male flesh was disconcerting. She averted her gaze. “I need coffee—bad.”
“Coffee’s made,” he said hostlike, gesturing toward the nearly full carafe as if they were in his kitchen rather than hers.
Mackie poured a cupful, holding the mug with both hands as she watched the interaction between the Galloways. “You found something for her to eat.”
“Yeah, been rummaging again. I’m grateful you’re not the type of woman who stocks only tofu and sprouts.”
“A compliment? That’s almost too much to handle first thing in the morning.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it later.”
“I’m sure you will.”
The baby, tiring of the cereal and the adult conversation, pushed away the spoon in her father’s hand and centered her attention on Mackie.
“Hi,” Mackie said tentatively.
The little girl didn’t answer, but did respond with a grin of tiny teeth.
The grin was irresistible and Mackie could only smile back. “Is she feeling OK this morning?” she asked Gordon.
“She’s great.”
“That’s good.” At least there wasn’t a pediatric health crisis facing her, Mackie thought. So what do I do now? Beth would be arriving before long and it might be dicey if Gordon was still around when she did. Addressing that was priority number one. “Don’t mean to rush you along,” she said, “but since everything’s under control, why don’t you run on home? Beth should be here soon.”
“You don’t get it, do you? For a sharp legal eagle...” He shook his head as if unable to believe anyone capable of such naivete. “First, I’m staying till Beth shows. Second, don’t hold your breath waiting for that to happen. God only knows when it’ll be. Experience says she’ll come when she’s good and ready. My money’s on tomorrow. About a half hour before her visitation’s due to end.”
Mackie encountered enough strife in court appearances during the week and wanted only peace and quiet on the weekends. Today that appeared about as likely as Galloway turning into a nice human being. She was mentally composing a nifty retort when the telephone rang.
“Mackie?”
“Good morning, Beth.” Smugly Mackie cast her eyes at Galloway who was monitoring, her conversation. “How’s the car thing going?”
Big sigh from Beth. “You know mechanics. I’m sitting here at the garage cooling my heels and now he tells me it’s going to be midafternoon before it’s fixed. A part has to be sent over. There’s no way I. can get to your place before three. Go ahead and tell me I’m the worst client ever, but I need to beg for another favor. Can you keep Ashley a bit longer?”
A bit? Three o’clock was almost six hours from now. But what choice did she have? “I suppose I can hold down the fort until three.”
“You’re a dear, Mackie. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Promise.”
“Car trouble...that was the emergency? She used to be more original than that,” Gordon taunted as Mackie hung up the phone.
“Give it a rest,” Mackie snapped. “Beth’s doing the best she can. Not everyone can afford cars that don’t break down at the most inconvenient times. Shiny new Infiniti vans like you’ve got parked out front don’t fit most budgets.”
“Would Beth go away if I bought her a new car? She can have an Infiniti, too, if she wants. Or a Mercedes. Her choice. You can tell her that if she ever arrives. As for me and Ash, we’re going home.”
“Leave with my blessings; only Ashley stays here.”
“No way. When Beth comes, I’ll zip right over here and hand Ashley over... just like the judge ordered. But in the meantime, I need a shower and she needs a chance to wander around somewhere safe.”
Mackie bristled. “You act like my home is seeded with land mines.”
“Almost. You’re damn sure not equipped for a fifteen-month-old. Those steep stairs are a hazard to grown-ups much less kids and I have yet to spot a plug protector or cabinet guard.
“Besides, how long do you think that white upholstery and those oriental rugs will hold up to a toddler’s abuse?”
“That’s my problem.”
“No, it’s Beth’s problem and she’s not here to handle it. I don’t think the judge gave Ashley’s mother temporary custody for the weekend only for her to turn around and transfer it to her lawyer.”
“There are extenuating circumstances here, Mr. Galloway,” she protested. “And most reasonable people would extend some leeway to Beth. After all, car problems can be overwhelming.”
Gordon took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Be that as it may, if it weren’t the car, then Beth would find something else to be overwhelmed about. She always does. She was overwhelmed when she got pregnant, when she delivered, when she came home with the baby. Do you realize that she ignored her daughter from the very beginning? Didn’t want to hold her, cuddle her, feed her?”
“Symptoms of postpartum depression at its most severe,” Mackie defended.
“A lot of women suffer depression after giving birth but they don’t abandon a month-old infant like Beth did.”
“How can you blame her for something she had no control over? Her behavior was the result of a medical condition.”
Gordon poured more coffee into his cup, then turned to face her. “I blame her because I think she latched on to the handy label of postpartum depression to get sympathy. She’s got a medical condition all right—she was born without a heart. And there’s no cure for that.”
“Why are you so hostile, so unforgiving? You don’t give your former wife an inch.”
Gordon, agitated, almost sloshed the coffee out of his cup. “Lady, my concern is for my daughter. If you were in my shoes, you’d act just like me. Only you’re not, and you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know a lot more than you think.”
“I’m aware you’re a family rights advocate, a do-gooder who volunteers a lot of hours to help women who are down and out—”
“Been checking up on me?” she broke in.
“Through my attorneys. It pays to know a little about your adversaries. The point I’m trying to get to is that with your background, surely you’ve come across one or two rotten apples who need a boot to the behind more than a pat on the head.”
“Yes, but that’s not the case here—”
Before she could speak further, they were interrupted by Ashley’s tearing up.
“Look at that. We’re upsetting her,” Gordon scolded. “She isn’t used to hearing adults’ squabbling.”
“The last thing I want to do is make Ashley cry. But don’t expect me to simply remain mum while you attack my client.”
“Forever loyal. You’re probably...” Gordon shook his head. “You’re probably even representing Beth pro bono. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re busting your rear, providing her legal representation, even taking care of her child, and Beth’s not even paying you a fee.”
Mackie grimaced. From Gordon’s lips, her humanitarian deed sounded like the height of stupidity. What was it to him, anyway? “My being paid or not paid is immaterial. I’ll have you know—”
In the midst of being read the riot act, Galloway flashed her a disarming smile. “Actually it is material,” he said. “Clues me in to the fact that you and I have something in common.”
“We do? I can hardly imagine what.”
“Being totally taken in by a con artist, that’s what. Welcome to the club.”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t patronize me. You can take your club and stuff it.”
Surprisingly Gordon laughed and in spite of herself, Mackie did, too.
He put his hands on her arms. “How about a compromise?”
She eyed him suspiciously, stepping back. “What kind of compromise?”
“If I leave, you’re going to have the same situation as last night—Ashley in a strange place with a strange person. Most likely being pretty vocal about not liking the situation. Since Beth won’t be here for hours, come home with me so I can shower and shave and Ashley can have some time in familiar surroundings. Then we’ll get back over here by midafternoon. Deal?” He stuck out his hand for a shake.
Mackie thought for a moment, then accepted his offer. His touch was warm, his long fingers wrapping around her own. This was not at all like a business handshake, more of a caress. Uncomfortable, she pulled free, then excused herself. “OK, Mr. Galloway, I’ll be ready to leave in a half hour.”
“Do you think you could call me Gordon? This Mr. stuff is getting pretty tiresome.”
“All right then...Gordon.”
The neighborhood was beautiful with its wide curvy streets and stately old homes. The St. Augustine grass favored in Dallas now lay in a dormant strawlike phase, but the live oaks were vigorously holding on to their rich greens and the hearty pansies added a flash of color to the oversize lawns.
Gordon’s house was a two-story of brick and Austin stone showcased nicely by landscaped grounds and imposing trees. It was charming, warm and inviting.