Always in Her Heart (10 page)

“Good morning, sweetheart. How are you?”

Marcy dropped the teddy bear she was playing with and scrambled to her feet, holding both hands out above the crib railing. “Nan,” she demanded.

Annie scooped her up, planting a kiss on the chubby cheek and feeling a flood of love. This was
all she needed. She just had to concentrate on being the best mother she possibly could to Marcy. The love they'd share would be everything she could want.

She changed Marcy quickly, singing to her and laughing at her babble, then picking her up again. “Okay, let's go get some breakfast for Marcy.”

When she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped. Link was still downstairs. She could hear him moving around the kitchen. She'd hoped he'd be gone by the time they went down.

Well, she wouldn't be a coward about facing him again. Arms around the baby, she went quickly down to the kitchen.

“Good morning.” Link's gaze seemed to glance off hers. He took Marcy, lifting her high before giving her a hug. “How's my girl today?” He kissed her.

If Link could ignore what had happened between them, so could she. “I'll get her milk ready. She doesn't need to go in the high chair yet.”

She poured milk into the blue cup that was Marcy's favorite, screwed the lid tight and put the cup into the baby's reaching hand.

Marcy stuffed the spout into her mouth and leaned against Link's shoulder, expression blissful. Link watched her, smiling.

“Wish I enjoyed my morning coffee as much as she enjoys that.”

Annie poured a cup for herself from the pot he'd already made. “Do you want more?”

“No, I have to leave.” He put Marcy down and
watched as she toddled into the family room. “But there's something we need to talk about first.”

Apprehension gripped her heart. If he wanted to discuss that kiss—

“About Mrs. Bradshaw,” he said abruptly. “How did she know you were hosting the play group yesterday? You didn't tell her, did you?”

This she could talk about, though she didn't have any answers.

“I never mentioned it to her.” She frowned. She'd been so preoccupied with the things that had gone wrong that she hadn't really given that her full attention. “It is odd, now that I think about it. Even if she knows people in the play group, why would they tell her?”

Link leaned back against the pale birch cabinet, planting his hands behind him on the edge of the counter. He should have looked relaxed but he didn't. His eyes were very serious when he stared at her.

“I don't like it, Annie.” He moved his shoulders as if he felt something crawling up his back. “I think we need to find out how she knew.”

“How do you expect to do that?”

“Ask her.”

“You can't do that.” Her response was immediate.

“Why not?” He reached out and lifted the receiver from the white phone that rested on the counter. “Seems to me the direct approach is best.”

“I'm not so sure.” She tried to marshal her thoughts even as she took Mrs. Bradshaw's number
from the bulletin board and handed it to him. “I don't know what the etiquette is for dealing with a social worker who's investigating you. Do you?”

She wished she hadn't spoken. That had sounded unpleasantly close to a reminder of Link's childhood, even though she hadn't meant her words that way.

Link's expression didn't betray anything. If it took nerve for him to approach the woman, he didn't show it.

She was half hoping Mrs. Bradshaw wouldn't be in yet—when the woman obviously answered. Link didn't waste time on preliminaries. Before Annie could express any more reservations about this, he'd asked the question.

She waited, hands gripping each other, while he concluded the short conversation. She couldn't tell anything from his responses. If Mrs. Bradshaw was offended at his question—

He hung up and turned to her, frowning.

“What?” Her nails dug into her palms.

“She said it wasn't a secret. She happened to be talking to Julia, and Julia told her.”

Julia.
Her fists clenched.

“I suppose Julia thought it would be a wonderful idea for Mrs. Bradshaw to drop in at that particular moment.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “We're not going to start talking about that quiche again, are we?”

She had to smile in spite of the cloud of worry that hung over her. “No more talk of burned quiches, I
promise.” The smile slipped away. “I can understand Julia's motives. She hoped I'd look bad if the social worker turned up and rattled me when I was entertaining. But how did Julia know about it to tell her?”

“I don't know. Yet.” Link's face set in his determined, I've-decided-and-that's-it expression. “We've got to find out who's been carrying tales to Julia. It must be someone in the play group.”

“I suppose you expect me to do that.” Her heart shrank from trying to probe which of Becca's friends had chosen to be on the Lesters' side.

“It'll come more naturally from you than from me.”

“You probably know them better than I do.”

He frowned at her for another moment, then shrugged. “Okay, I'll try and ask some tactful questions, too.”

On second thought, maybe relying on Link's tact wasn't such a good idea. “That's all right. I'll do it. Jenna has been the friendliest. She might have some idea.”

“Good.” He pushed himself away from the counter.

“We'll see a lot of people at the company picnic Saturday. It will become clear who's on Frank and Julia's side.”

Some of her new-found confidence slipped away. “Do we have to go?” The thought of facing Frank and Julia and perhaps watching people line up beside them made her feel a little sick.

“Yes, of course we do.” He looked at her as if she were an obstacle to be removed. “You know that.”

She nodded slowly. She knew, but did Link have any idea how difficult this was for her? Maybe, or maybe not. Even if he did, it wouldn't change anything. Link charged toward his goal, carrying her along with him. She could only pray they all arrived where they had to be, with Marcy safe in her care.

I
t was probably better that Annie not know how much Mrs. Bradshaw's unexpected visit had bothered him, Link thought as he lifted the picnic hamper from the kitchen table. It had niggled at him for the rest of the week, and the few tactful inquiries he'd made hadn't resolved anything.

Someone close to him or to Annie had told Julia Lester about the play group meeting. Silly, on the surface, to worry about something so slight, but he didn't like it. That small betrayal might mean that the town's opinion had begun to solidify against them.

Annie didn't know how small towns worked, but he did. Lakeview could be closing ranks behind the Lesters, marking him and Annie off as outsiders.

He glanced at Annie, who was trying to persuade a wiggling Marcy into her red jacket for the company picnic. She'd been upset enough at her imagined fail
ure with the play group. He couldn't lay another fear on her, not now. She had to be—they both had to be—convincing as a family today.

Carrying the picnic basket, he opened the family room door and bumped into a large carton on the porch. He checked the label, then glanced back into the family room.

“Were you expecting a package from your father?”

Annie's face lit up and she dropped the jacket. “Did it come already? That's great.”

“I'll bring it in.” He set the picnic basket on the porch and lifted the carton.

Marcy made a determined sprint toward the half-open door. Annie scooped her up, then closed the door behind him. She bounced the baby in her arms as she followed him to the kitchen table.

He set the box down. “I gather you know what this is.”

“Our dollhouse.” Annie was as excited as he'd ever seen her. “Dad found it in the attic and said he'd send it for Marcy. Will you take her while I open it?”

He glanced at his watch. “Can't this wait until after the picnic?” The need to get moving rode him. One way or another, he'd be able to gauge people's reactions to them today.

“We can take another few minutes, surely.” She tugged at the box lid.

He opened his mouth to say no, then changed his mind. He'd rather indulge her curiosity for a few
minutes than risk making her nervous over how she'd be received today. He pulled the penknife from his pocket and slit the thick layer of tape.

“I didn't know you were into dollhouses. Wasn't an abacus more your speed?”

“Actually, I had an abacus, too. Surprised?”

“Not a bit. Every budding accountant should have one.”

Annie set Marcy down, hugging herself impatiently. “The dollhouse was special. Becca and I played with it for hours at a time. We had a whole series of imaginary adventures with our little figures.”

For once, she was talking about her sister without sorrow darkening her eyes.

“Then, Marcy should definitely have it.” He yanked the lid free, then dumped out an armload of packaging material, exposing a gray roof. “Here we go.” He lifted the building out, shredded paper snowing onto the kitchen tile.

Annie practically danced around the table, eagerly pulling packaging foam off the house. The tall, white, Victorian replica had a round turret and a wraparound porch festooned with gingerbread trim so small he couldn't imagine someone carving it.

He whistled softly, admiring the workmanship. “That's quite a dollhouse. It looks like something you'd see in a museum.”

“Our grandfather made it for us.” Annie touched a broken porch railing, and some of the light faded
from her eyes. “I didn't realize it was in such bad shape. I knew the furniture was broken, but I hoped the house itself would just need cleaning up. I can't let Marcy play with this.”

“I'll fix it.” He heard the words come out of his mouth and couldn't remember forming the thought. What did he mean, he'd fix it?

“Do you think you can?” Hope softened her face, then faded quickly. “You don't have time, do you?”

No.

“I'll make time.” It was a small enough thing to do for her. “You've been making time to work on the books, haven't you? So I'll work on the dollhouse.” He swung a tiny shutter. “It's not as bad as it looks. Your grandfather was a good craftsman.”

“I don't remember him very well. He died when I was about five or six.” She touched the turret lovingly. “But I remember the fun we had with this.”

“Reason enough.” He picked Marcy up, showing her the dollhouse. “We'll make it as good as new.”

Marcy didn't seem impressed by the promise. She reached toward the house, then pulled her hand back.

But Annie—Annie's face was lit with happiness. A man would be a fool not to try and keep that look on her face.

 

Link pulled into the lot at the lakeside park, noticing the number of cars already there. They were late. If people wanted to talk about them, they'd had plenty of opportunity. He opened the door.

Annie slid out quickly enough, but he could sense hesitation as they started unloading. He studied her averted face, his gaze touching the line of her cheek and the set of her chin. Even without understanding small-town dynamics, she didn't like walking into a crowd of people she didn't know. Whether some of her nervousness resulted from their need to look like a happily married couple, he wasn't sure.

He tossed a blanket over his shoulder to free up his hand, and then clasped hers.

“It's okay,” he said, trying to sound reassuring in spite of his own doubts. “They're nice folks.”

She glanced sideways at him. “I'd like to take your word for it, but will Frank and Julia be here?”

He understood that concern, at least. “Frank's only concern is with impressing the board, not the ordinary working people. They won't be here.”

The lines in her forehead smoothed. “Let's go pretend we're a happy family, then.”

They walked across the grass toward the group gathered at the pavilion. He put Marcy down, and she scuffed through the carpet of fallen leaves.

The aroma from the charcoal grills floated teasingly toward them, but it didn't look as if anyone had started cooking yet. Some of the guys were playing volleyball at a net they'd set up. Link started toward it. When Annie hesitated, he glanced at her.

“Don't you want to play?”

“I'm not much for volleyball.” She took the blanket from his shoulder and nodded toward a woman
with a child along the sideline. “Marcy and I will join the audience.”

He almost let her walk off alone.

“Hey.” He scooped Marcy up and put her on his shoulder. “I might not be the most sensitive guy in the world, but at least I'll take you over there.”

“Sounds pretty sensitive to me.”

They walked around the improvised court, and he responded in kind to some good-natured ribbing about the newlyweds arriving late and whether or not he was in shape for the game.

He tossed the blanket down next to Linda Trent, relieved that it was she. At least Annie had met her.

“You remember Linda, don't you? We ran into her and Joe at the Town House the other night.”

“Sure. She's in the play group, too.” Annie dropped down onto the blanket, pulling Marcy close as Linda's toddler dived at her. “It's nice to see someone I know.”

He stood still, frowning. Linda was avoiding his eyes. That wasn't a good sign.

“You can go play volleyball, Link—”

That might have been a warning in Annie's words. Maybe she understood more than he'd thought. “Linda and I will chat.”

Quickly, before he could think too much about it, he bent and dropped a quick kiss on her lips.

“Have fun, sweetheart. It won't take me long to beat these guys.”

Her color rose. “See that you do. We'll be cheering for you.”

He jogged onto the court, trying to beat down his concern. No good would come of his confronting Linda. Little as he liked relying on anyone else, he'd have to trust Annie's judgment on this one.

Somewhat to his surprise, he did.

 

Annie watched him jog onto the court. The other men greeted him easily, apparently not feeling any barriers between them even though Link was their boss.

Did Link realize how they accepted him, or was that acceptance so routine that he didn't even think about it anymore? The little he'd told her about his childhood had shown her how much he valued belonging here.

He'd certainly picked up quickly enough on Linda's uneasiness. She'd seen it in his eyes.

Little Charlie made another determined dive at Marcy, and Linda pulled him back onto her lap. “Marcy doesn't want a hug, sweetie.”

Annie shook a bag of blocks out onto the blanket. “Why don't you two play blocks? Marcy, help Charlie build a tower.”

The blocks distracted the children, for the moment at least, and Annie smiled at Linda. “It's so nice to see you. I was afraid I wouldn't know a soul here.”

Should she ask Linda right out about Julia? If
Linda had already chosen sides, that might be the worst thing she could do.

Give me the words, Lord. I don't know how to approach this.

“Everyone knows who you are.” Linda helped her son put one block on top of another. “I'm sure they're ready to get acquainted.”

“I appreciate that.” How open should she be? “I thought maybe, with the custody case going on, people might find it awkward to be friendly.”

“Because of the Lesters?” Something shadowed Linda's dark eyes. “I don't think so.”

She sounded reassuring, but a faint hint of some other emotion disturbed Annie. What
wasn't
Linda saying?

Cheers and jeers erupted on the volleyball court, and Linda's husband, Joe, pounded Link on the back. Apparently he'd done something good. Link's face, split by a grin, looked younger—like that of the boy she'd known once. Fallen in love with, once.

She shoved that thought out of her mind. She had enough worrying her without dwelling on that.

“I've been hoping that Becca and Davis's friends, like you and Joe, would feel that Link and I are the right people to have Marcy,” she said carefully.

“Of course we do.” Linda said it so quickly that nervousness seemed to drive the words.

Annie's apprehension deepened. All her natural reticence urged her to let the subject drop, but a stronger
instinct pushed her forward. Maybe that feeling was the guidance she'd prayed for.

She put her hand over Linda's where it lay on the blanket. “What is it, Linda? Something's obviously bothering you.”

Linda bit her lip, looking at her with such a guilty expression that Annie sensed what was coming before the woman spoke.

“I…I didn't mean to. But I think I did something wrong.”

“This is about Mrs. Bradshaw showing up at play group, isn't it.”

Linda nodded, blinking back tears. “I'm sorry. Really I am. I didn't know that was why she was being so nice to me. I should have realized she was up to something.”

Julia, obviously. Tension was an icy ball in her stomach. “What happened?”

“I ran into her—Julia, I mean—at the grocery. She's never done more than nod at me, but that day she stopped, said how cute Charlie was.” Linda flushed. “I guess I was flattered that she wanted to talk to me. She asked about the play group.”

“And you told her when it met and that it would be at my house.”

Linda nodded miserably. “I'm so sorry. I didn't realize she meant mischief. But then, when the social worker showed up, I figured Julia must have told her.” She grasped Annie's hand. “I really am sorry. I wanted to tell you but I just couldn't.”

And Annie wanted to be angry, but she couldn't. “It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known.” She tried to smile. “Anyway, I was the one who messed up, not you. You could probably have juggled the play group, the brunch
and
Mrs. Bradshaw without batting an eyelash.”

Linda didn't respond with a smile. Instead, her eyes filled with tears. “I'd never want to do anything to hurt you. Honest. After the second chance Link gave my Joe, we'd do anything for him.”

“Second chance?”

“Link didn't tell you?”

Annie shook her head. She didn't want to admit how many things she and Link hadn't shared.

“Joe is an alcoholic,” Linda said simply. “He hasn't had a drink in years, and I know he won't again. But one time he messed up, showed up at work drunk and nearly caused an accident. Most people would have fired him without a thought. Not Link. He sobered him up, got him to rehab, even kept paying his salary until he could work again. We can never thank Link enough for that.”

“I didn't know.” It was another insight into her husband, and one she hadn't expected.

“Anyway, we're on your side.” Linda clasped her hand. “I'll do anything to make up for telling Julia. Anything.”

Annie had to blink back tears. “It's all right. Really.” Oddly enough, she felt as if she'd made a friend.

 

“Okay, smile!” Annie sighted through the viewfinder and clicked the camera button, hoping she actually got a picture. The old-fashioned wooden carousel swung Link and Marcy past her as she lowered the camera, but she caught a glimpse of the baby's laughing face.

She'd try again the next time they came around. The music tinkled happily, the painted wooden horses moved up and down. Link had told her it was one of the oldest wooden carousels in the country still in operation. Watching it was like watching a piece of the past.

Link and Marcy came into view again as the carousel slowed. She snapped two more pictures in quick succession. Marcy didn't show a bit of fear at being atop the glossy palomino. She laughed, waving both arms wildly, obviously perfectly secure with Link's hands holding her.

They looked right together. She grappled with that thought as the carousel stopped and Link carried Marcy toward her. It seemed somehow disloyal to Davis and Becca, to be thinking how right they were together. Besides—