Kiana hopped up and down in her familiar spin, hands flapping. “I love tobogganing! And I love macaroni and cheese!”
“Glad to hear it.” Gwyn turned her smile on Abby. “See you soon?”
Abby raised her gaze to the ceiling and grimaced. “Soon-ish is more like it, I’m guessing.”
To her surprise, her sister reached out and gave her a quick hug. “Deep breath, sweetie. You’re doing great.”
Chapter 21
Abby shuffled Kiana, Brittany, and their winter gear out the door and into the vehicle she’d forgotten to put into the garage the day before, making yet another mental note to ask Mitch if there was a spare remote for the opener. Then she loaded two giant bags of laundry into the back and swept away the previous night’s snowfall from the SUV’s windows while they waited for Rachel to grace them with her presence. At last the front door slammed, and Rachel stomped down the path to the driveway, school backpack hugged tight against her chest. She passed Abby without so much as a glance and got into the back seat with her sisters. Abby finished brushing off the windshield, returned to the house to lock the front door, and, shoulders squared against the hostility rolling her way, slid into the driver’s seat.
Rachel’s stony silence lasted the entire way to Gwyn’s house, out of the SUV, and up the stairs. But when Abby’s movie-star brother-in-law opened the door to her knock, the girl’s jaw nearly hit the porch floor, and Abby found her elbow clutched in a surprisingly strong grip. Knowing she was taking way too much pleasure in the situation, she looked around at the girl and asked with deceptive innocence, “Rachel? Is something wrong?”
Round eyes blinked at her, and Rachel’s gaze moved swiftly between her and Gareth and back again. Her mouth remained open. Gareth cleared his throat and held out a hand in greeting.
“You must be Rachel,” he said, flashing his best smile and making Abby want to hug him. “I’m Gareth. Please, come in.”
The teenager released her grip on Abby’s elbow, brushed her fingers against Gareth’s and snapped her teeth shut. “Pleased to meet you,” she croaked.
Without missing a beat, he looked down at Brittany and Kiana. “And you,” he said, “must be Charlie and Fred.”
Kiana giggled and returned his offered fist bump. “Yes,” she said. “I’m Fred.”
“Now you’ve done it.” Brittany rolled her eyes. “She’s gonna wanna be Fred all day now.”
“Oh. Oops.” Gareth stepped back and swept an arm wide in invitation. “Well, Kiana-Fred and Brittany, come on in and meet the others.”
A tug on her jacket sleeve stopped Abby from following the younger girls into the house. She met Rachel’s awed brown gaze.
“You know that’s Gareth Connor, right?” the girl hissed. “The Gareth Connor?”
Abby held back a smile. “I’m aware, yes.”
“And you’re related to him? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Abby regarded her in silence for a long moment, until Rachel’s gaze slid away from hers. Then she stepped inside, leaving the teen to trail behind her.
***
“Well?”
Abby looked up from folding the last load of laundry to find her sister watching her over the rim of a coffee cup. Baby Julianne lay on her back on the floor at Gwyn's feet, happily chatting with her toes as she tried to chew on them. A familiar pang of envy shafted through Abby. She pushed it away and responded, “Well, what?”
Gwyn rolled her eyes. “Well, the kids and Gareth will be back any minute, and you still haven't told me a thing about this job of yours. Spill, sister.”
Abby waved a pair of socks in the air, one in each hand, rolling her eyes. “This is my job. This and dishes and meals and driving... I hardly think I have to tell you what goes into looking after three kids and a house.”
“No, but you could tell me something about the family. And why you're working on a weekend.”
“Not the whole weekend. Just Saturdays, and I offered. Mitch—Mr. Abrams has his own construction firm, and things fell apart when his wife got sick and...” she trailed off and shrugged. “He needs a little extra help getting back on his feet.”
“Understandably.”
Abby shot a look across the table. Had there been a double meaning in that response? Something directed at her own situation as well as Mitch's? Gwyn's noncommittal gaze met hers, giving nothing away.
“Go on,” Gwyn said.
“Yes. Well. Like I said, I offered to work Saturdays, so he'd have extra time for the business.” Abby rolled the socks together and added them to the neatly folded stack of clothing on the table. She'd have to get the girls to help sort it when they got home, because she had no idea yet what belonged to whom, especially when it came to Brittany and Rachel, who wore the same size in underwear and most shirts.
“The girls are lovely.”
“They are, aren't they? Well, Rachel is a bit of a handful, but the others are a breeze.”
“Even Kiana?”
“You noticed.” It would have been difficult not to. Kiana's little quirks—the hand-flapping and spinning—became decidedly more prominent when she was excited, and the promise of a tobogganing adventure had proved very exciting.
“Autism?” Gwyn asked.
“She's on the spectrum, yes, but it's part of a bigger thing called trisomy X, or triple X syndrome. She carries a third X chromosome.”
“I've never heard of it.”
“I learned about it when they tested Oliv—” Abby corrected for the shake in her voice and tried again, “Our doctor tested Olivia for it when they diagnosed her autism.”
“You never told me she was on the spectrum.”
“When was I supposed to? In my annual Christmas card?” Abby set aside an odd sock and plucked a Kiana-sized pair of jeans from the basket. “Season's greetings, and oh, by the way, Olivia is autistic?” She folded the jeans. “Besides, most people didn't know. William didn't do well with the idea.” An understatement if there ever was one—and one of the main reasons Abby had never considered leaving Olivia behind, no matter how much William loved his daughter.
“You had a lot to deal with.”
Abby regarded her sister for a moment, wondering if the it served you right she detected behind the words was actual or imagined. She opted for imagined and gave a shrug. “I managed.”
“And did she have the X thing?”
“Fortunately not.”
Gwyn frowned. “Is it that serious? Kiana seems healthy.”
“There can be some physical things, such as heart and kidney anomalies, but Eve had Kia checked for those, and she's fine. She does have a lot of the other symptoms, though. Low muscle tone, autism, a hand tremor when she gets tired, and a potential host of learning disabilities that showed up on her evaluation a couple of years ago. Those will be more of a problem as she goes through school, along with a strong chance of anxiety and depression.”
Her sister's eyes had widened. “Good Lord, that's a lot for your Mr. Abrams to have to deal with on his own. Can he handle it, do you think?”
“It is, and yes, I think he can.” If I can get him organized enough in the next couple of months. No pressure.
“So. Nice guy, then?”
“Mitch? He's very nice.”
“Dating anyone?”
Gwyn's uber-casual tone—and the sudden change in topic—made Abby's hands stop in mid t-shirt fold. “Excuse me?”
“I'm just curious.” Blue eyes blinked innocently.
Abby wasn't buying it. “You know we grew up in the same house, right?” She finished folding the t-shirt. “I know you, Gwyn.”
“Fine.” Gwyn sighed. “Look, I know it's none of my business, but you really rushed into this job, Abby, and I can see how much you care for those kids already, and you're still so vulnerable, and—” Her gaze dropped away from Abby's glare. “I'm overstepping, aren't I?”
“Only by a mile or two.”
Gwyn set her coffee cup on the table but didn't release i
t. “Gareth told me I should keep my mouth shut, but I can't help but worry about you. You've been through so much, and I'm just afraid you'll...”
“That I'll what? Throw myself at the nearest man in an effort to fill a void?” Abby felt equal parts angry and betrayed—and all parts sick to her stomach.
“No! That's not what I meant. Lord, Abby, you've said how desperate he is, and I just don't want him taking advantage of you, is all.”
“Advantage, how? By sweeping me off my feet and proposing marriage so he has a new mother for his children? I've been there less than three weeks, Gwyn. That's hardly enough time for him to get to know me well enough to—” Abby broke off, the air leaving her lungs as sudden understanding dawned. Well, hell. Long seconds passed as she stared at her sister, at the careful way Gwyn avoided looking at her and the way her knuckles had whitened in her hold on the cup. She drew a shaky breath. Then, just to be sure, she asked quietly, “This is about William, isn't it?”
Gwyn pressed her lips together.
Well, double hell.
Trembling, Abby snatched up one of the bags in which she'd transported the laundry and began stuffing clean clothes into it. Folded or unfolded, it didn't matter. Not through the tears prickling behind her eyes. She blinked furiously, refusing to let Gwyn see her hurt. Her sister had made her disapproval of Abby's whirlwind marriage to William crystal clear at the time—that's what had driven the initial wedge between them. Now, thirteen years later, she seemed determined to finish the job. Well, that was just fine by—
“Wait,” Gwyn said, catching hold of her arm. Abby shook it off. Gwyn caught hold again, her grip stronger this time. “Abby, wait. Let's talk about thi—”
“I hear the kids outside,” Abby interrupted, pulling away a second time. “I need to get them home for dinner.”
“I thought maybe you could stay. I made—”
“No.” Abby didn't even attempt politeness. She tied the three bags shut, hefted two of them off the table, and lugged them down the hall to the front entry. She set them on the floor as the door opened to a tumble of snowy, happy children, eyes bright with lingering excitement, all chattering at once.
“... so much fun!”
“... go again?”
“Next week!”
“Gareth said—”
Following in the crowd's footsteps, Gareth's oldest daughter, Amy, put two fingers in her mouth and whistled sharply. Silence descended, and all eyes turned to her. “Much better,” she said. She looked at Abigail and the bags. “You're ready to leave?”
Throat tight and not quite trusting her voice, Abby nodded.
“All right. Those staying here, take three steps toward the closet,” Amy directed. “Those leaving, back out onto the porch. Rachel and Brittany, each of you take one of the bags for Abby.”
Another flurry of activity ensued as bodies tangled together for goodbye hugs and everyone tried to get out of each other's way, but finally the staying and going groups sorted themselves out and Abby was able to get her own coat and boots on. Then it was her turn to receive icy wet hugs from her nieces and nephew.
“I like your new family, Auntie Abby.” Maggie planted cold lips against her cheek. “Can you come again soon? Tomorrow?”
Abby's heart shredded at the innocent words. She gave the six-year-old an extra squeeze. “They're not actually my new family, sweetie,” she managed past the pain. “I'm only looking after them for a little while to help out their dad. But maybe we can come again one day.” She disentangled herself from the soggy snowsuited arms and stood to face her sister, who held Julianne in one arm and the last bag of laundry in the other. Abby held out a hand for the latter, but Gwyn's grip tightened when she tried to take it.
“I'm sorry,” she said. “I had no right.”
“No, you didn't,” Abby agreed. “Just like you had no right thirteen years ago.”
Gwyn continued to hold firm to the bag. “You were my kid sister, you'd known him a month, and I was worried about you. But maybe I could have dealt with it better.”
You think? Abby wanted to ask but didn't. Instead, she continued to grip the laundry bag until, finally, Gwyn released her hold. Abby turned to leave, passing Gareth in the doorway as he came in. She paused on the porch to look over her shoulder at Gwyn. “Thank you for the use of your laundry facilities,” she said. “And lunch. And if it makes you feel any better, I have no intention of becoming involved with anyone again on any timeline, fast or slow. As it turns out, you weren't all wrong about William. Gareth can tell you the details.”
Chapter 22
Rachel sat in the front passenger seat on the way home, shooting Abby sidelong glances the entire way. After the confrontation with Gwyn, Abby was disinclined to engage in conversation, however, and so she drove in silence. It wasn't until they turned onto the Abrams's street that Rachel cleared her throat.
“It was fun today,” she said. “I'm glad I went.”
“And I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. You didn't get have much time for homework, though.”
“It's okay. The essay isn't due until the day before Christmas vacation.”
Rachel didn't seem to remember her earlier fit, and Abby pressed her lips together to avoid reminding her.
“It's pretty cool that Gareth is your brother-in-law,” Rachel continued, staring straight ahead. “I didn't know you had someone famous related to you. I thought...” She trailed off.
“You thought I was just paid help,” Abby supplied, signaling for the turn into the driveway. “Seems to me there's a lesson in there about judging people.”
The teen shrugged a shoulder. “I guess.”
Abby pulled the SUV to a stop, put it in park, and switched off the ignition. She turned to face Rachel. “Want to start over again?”
Rachel still wouldn't meet her gaze, but she nodded.
“Me, too,” said Abby, reaching over to give the girl's hand a squeeze. “Now I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Let's get all this into the house and have some dinner, shall we?”
With Brittany and Kiana in charge of carrying the wet winter things inside and hanging them in the mudroom, Rachel helped Abby with the laundry bags.
“Why do you do it?” she asked on their second trip.
Abby handed a bag to her as, in her coat pocket, her phone chimed. She fished it out, glanced at the text message, saw Gwyn's name, and stuffed it away again. Then she took the last bag out of the vehicle and slammed the hatch shut. “Do what?”
“Work as a nanny for us when Gareth is rich. Couldn't he look after you?”
“Probably. But I don't want him to. I want to be able to support myself.”
“Can't you do anything else?” Rachel hugged the bag close. “Didn't you go to university or anything?”
“I didn't have the chance.”
“Do you like looking after us?”
“Most of the time.”
The pale green gaze, so like her father's, dropped. “I guess I haven't exactly made it easy for you sometimes, have I?”
“Not exactly, no.” Abby watched her for a moment, then sighed. “I meant what I said about starting over, all right? Clean slate. You good with that?”
She got a nod in response, but Rachel still wouldn't look at her. Ah well, might as well get it all out of the way while they were at least speaking.
“Starting Monday,” she said, “I'll be driving you and Britt to school myself. Please text Mandy to let her know.”
“What?” Rachel's head came up at last, and she stared wide-eyed at Abby. “But why?”
“Because that's how I want to do things from now on. That bag of laundry can go upstairs, by the way, and I'd appreciate it if you'd sort it and make sure your sisters put it away.” And with that, Abby walked up the sidewalk to the front porch and went inside as her phone chimed another alert. She ignored it.
Chapter 23
Mitch leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching Abigail clear away the remains of dinner. Her back
was to him, and her movements smooth and efficient. God, but he envied her comfort level in this room. And in the house in general, come to that. He'd hugely underestimated the amount of organization and know-how that went into running a home when Eve was alive. She'd made it look effortless, and so he'd never paid that much attention to it until he’d had to take it over himself. He grimaced. He had, in fact, taken his wife very much for granted, as she had so often accused him of doing. She'd be relieved to see things back under control at last. And she was probably laughing herself silly at the agreement he and Abby had come to.
Just over two months left to get his act together. The business, the house, the kids and all their goings-on, and likely a slew of appointments for Kiana, now that Abby had reminded him to look after his youngest's special needs. Were there enough hours in a day to make it possible? Maybe they'd get lucky and Abby would change her mind before the time was up. Maybe she'd stay longer. Maybe—
Mitch realized his gaze lingered on the soft round curves of Abby's rear as she stretched up on tiptoes to put a bowl on the top shelf of a cupboard, and he straightened away from his leaning post with a cough of embarrassment.
Looking over her shoulder, Abby dropped down onto her heels, bowl still in hand. “All done with stories?” she asked.
Mitch nodded, trying to regain his equilibrium. Once again, he was noticing things about his employee that he had no business noticing. Things he'd never noticed about any of the other women that had paraded through the house over the last year. They'd all seemed like girls, fresh out of college and far closer in age to Rachel than to him. Abby, however, was different, with fine lines at the corners of her eyes that crinkled when she smiled at one of his kids, and an air of weary sadness that made him wonder again what her story was.
“Everything okay?” Abby's voice recalled him to the here and now.
He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. “I'm fine,” he said. “And, yes, stories are done. Kiana fell asleep halfway through, and Britt and Rach are both reading in their rooms. They're all pretty wiped from tobogganing today. Thank you again for getting them out like that.”
Abigail Always Page 12