“I just…” Lanna moved away, and Susan lowered her eyes, rapidly blinking away tears, her voice coming out increasingly shaky. “I just… Lately I just can’t seem to handle anything well. It’s…expectations. Expectations I had of myself, expectations Griff has of me…” Suddenly, she felt exhaustion flood through her as if she were a wind-up toy that had finally wound down. She threw back her head and folded her arms around her stomach. “The cheese incident this morning with Barbara, and the mess I made with Tom tonight. Griff doesn’t have time for me, but what the hell am I, a child? One minute I feel like a slave, and the next minute I feel so selfish. And when Griff and I do have some time alone, I’m so tired…”
“I understand,” Lanna said gently. She studied Susan for a long moment and then informed her, “I’m putting you to bed.”
Susan shook her head. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you. I just thought that if I could lie down on your couch until it’s time for the store to open up…”
“Hmm,” Lanna commented, a trick she’d picked up from someone she was inordinately fond of. “You found out from the doctor that you were pregnant, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” For one short instant, Susan managed a wan smile. “I told you I wasn’t sick.”
“I guessed a long time ago. About the day you started shelving the fiction on the nonfiction shelves.” Lanna chattered until she had Susan safely tucked in bed, her jeans and red angora sweater replaced by a borrowed nightgown. “We’re not exactly of a size, but tomorrow you can borrow one of my sweaters…”
The suggestion fell on deaf ears. Susan was gone, her head nestled on the pillow and her eyes closed in exhaustion. Lanna pulled the bedcovers up to her chin and left the room, closing the door behind her.
***
She didn’t awaken until past ten, and then to a completely silent apartment and a lukewarm sun peering down at her through the long, narrow window of the bedroom. For a moment, Susan was disoriented and lay still, staring in sleepy confusion at the ceiling.
Twenty minutes later, she opened the door to her shop below, wearing a pale yellow sweater of Lanna’s that was a tad too small, and the jeans she’d worn the night before. She’d helped herself to toast and a quick cup of coffee, but there was no time for more than that. Regardless of what a mess she had made of her life, she had a responsibility to her business, which she had no intention of foisting off on Lanna. And in that frantic rush downstairs, she had realized that no clear-cut answers had appeared from thin air, that she was no more prepared to face her fears than she’d been the night before.
Lanna spotted her over the heads of six customers. She bit her lip, then was forced to direct her attention to the people who were bombarding her with questions. Saturday mornings were like that. Susan forced a cheerful smile and dug in, taking over as she had once been very, very good at taking over. It could only last so long, though, the forced brightness. As soon as the customers thinned out, she headed for the shelves. She had a good excuse to fuss over the shelves, of course. Saturday morning people picked up a thousand books and always put them back in the wrong spots; keeping order in this chaotic atmosphere was an endless job, but truthfully, she liked it. She liked the people, and she liked the work, and she liked the feel and smell of books…and this morning every single thing she did brought on an unexpected threat of tears.
She was on her knees, working on the bottom shelf in the back, when she saw a worn pair of tennis shoes next to her. The wearer was shifting his weight, first to one foot, then to the other. Her eyes rose slowly, to jeans with patched knees on skinny little legs, to a brand-new sweatshirt emblazoned with the slogan, “Put a Tiger in your tank,” to a pair of big brown eyes she knew very well.
“Like, where were you this morning?” Tiger asked. He crouched down, delighted to have finally caught eye-to-eye attention, and offered her an effortless grin. “I’ve made my own breakfast lots of times, you know. I like to make my own breakfast. But not this morning, Susan. This morning I had all this stuff to tell you…”
His look was faintly reproachful. It tore every single string in her heart. “Tiger,” she started unhappily.
“Tom’s coming to get me in a minute,” Tiger informed her. “We’re going to Aunt Julie’s.”
“That’s nice.”
“I think we should go to McDonald’s tonight, don’t you?”
“I…don’t know,” Susan said, and had to look away from those big brown eyes. She put two more books on the shelf and took down three others.
“You want me to help you?”
“No, darling.” Lanna must be responsible for the apparition of Tiger. Susan was going to fire her…after injecting her with slow poison.
“Susie?” A tentative imitation of his father.
She was forced to look up into those limpid eyes.
“We can work out a deal,” Tiger suggested happily. “I’ll get rid of the hamsters.” He hesitated, having gotten no immediate response. “Like, that’s the deal. Okay? If those hamsters bother you—”
God in heaven, she was going to burst out crying. This wasn’t Lanna’s doing. It couldn’t be. This was Griff’s kind of dirty pool. “There is no reason in hell for you to get rid of your hamsters,” she choked out to Tiger.
“You shouldn’t say ‘hell,’” he told her, disturbed.
“I know that, darling.”
“So why did you say it?” he inquired interestedly.
“I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“There must be some reason.”
“Grown-ups can occasionally be idiots.”
He concurred with a nod of his head. “And if you want me to pick up my room, Susan…”
She jerked up to a standing position, only to face another pair of dark eyes. “Tiger’s going out to Aunt Julie’s car,” Tom said bluntly. “I want to talk to you.”
“I was talking to Susan,” Tiger informed him resentfully. “Just because you’re bigger…”
“Aunt Julie says she’s going to take you for an ice-cream cone.”
Tiger reached over to Susan, expecting a goodbye hug and some understanding as to life’s priorities. He got both. That firm, skinny little body was already wriggling impatiently, but she could hardly fail to get his message. Love offered, gift-wrapped at no extra cost.
Tom was intrigued with her office, poking into corners, opening the files, testing the corduroy chair, leaping up again. “What’s this?” He motioned to the typed list on top of her desk.
“That’s the list of the week’s bestsellers,” she answered.
“And is that supposed to mean they’re actually good books? Recommended reading?”
“Bestsellers are the books people are buying the most of. And yes, sometimes they’re the best of what’s come out—sometimes, but not always. If you don’t read much, it’s not a bad list to go by…”
Susan could have gone on. She was being shredded apart inside, and it would have been much easier to talk books, but Tom sliced through that, very casually. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to my dad.”
“I…”
He straddled a straight chair, undoubtedly intent on looking manly. Susan settled back behind her desk, grateful for the support of her desk chair.
“Mom fed us a bunch of junk about Dad after they got divorced,” he told her flatly. “How he didn’t want us, crud like that. Maybe we all believed it for a while. I don’t know why, when we all knew that Dad was the only one who ever really took care of us. And I was the oldest—I shouldn’t have turned against him. I don’t even know why I keep on fighting him…except that he seems to be right all the time, and I can’t stand that. He can be a very annoying person,” he said flatly.
“Look, Tom…”
“He has a lot of love to give,” Tom interrupted her. “I’m not saying he’s not occasionally annoying, but he really does have a lot of love inside him. He can come on sometimes like a ton of bricks, so don’t think I don’t understand, Susan. Lik
e I’ll probably be going to college, maybe even as soon as January. I’ve got all the credits I need. And Dad may not buy it yet, but what I really want is my own apartment. I’ll be eighteen by then, so if he makes you uptight, you can come over and stay with me. Anytime you ever want to. You’re family, Susan, and I know he can get really annoying on occasion—”
“Tom.”
“You’re going to have a baby. We know. Lanna called Dad.”
Susan closed her eyes, hating Lanna, hating Griff.
“He’s got a big thing for babies. He always has.” Tom hesitated. “Actually, he seems to have a pretty big thing for you, and, like, I know he can be really annoying on occasion—”
“Honey, I get the drift,” Susan said desperately.
“I thought you would. I knew from the beginning I could talk to you, Susan.”
A rap on the door, and there was Barbara.
“I’m nowhere near through,” Tom growled.
“Quit sounding like you know it all just because you’re older,” Barbara snapped. She stepped in, her dark eyes shifting rapidly from place to place, conveying an anxiety that Susan was beginning to recognize all too well. Tom stood up, staring at Susan. In a moment he was gone, and Barbara had folded herself up in the corduroy chair. She didn’t say a single word until Tom had closed the door and she had pleated a fold in her sweatshirt three times.
“Susan, you don’t understand,” she volunteered finally. “You just don’t understand anything.”
For the first time in twenty minutes, Susan found that she could breathe effortlessly. Barbara was not likely to wring out her heart and offer up her soul. “I never said I understood anything, Barbara, and you didn’t have to come here to—”
“Mom hates you,” Barbara interrupted flatly. “Like, I have to stand by her, you know?”
“I know,” Susan said quietly.
“Like, who else will stick up for her but me? The boys don’t count—they’re not the same thing at all as mother-daughter…”
“I know, honey.”
Silence reverberated in the little office. Barbara pleated her sweatshirt a few more times. “I was trying to do my best by Mom, you know?”
“I never doubted that,” Susan said gently. “Barbara, it’s all right…”
“Like, I really didn’t know those boys were coming to that party,” Barbara burst out angrily. “For that matter, Mom never let me have a party. She never even let us have friends over. Too much mess, she said. And nobody needs to make my lunch for me, Susan. For God’s sake, I could make peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches when I was five. And I’d hate to have to tell you the times Mom pulled a disappearing act on us, even back when Tiger was really little. If Dad had ever known the kind of meals I put together—”
At Susan’s shocked look, Barbara’s expression hardened. “Don’t you say a word against her,” she snapped.
“Have I ever said a word against your mother?”
“No,” Barbara admitted, and lowered her eyes. “Sometimes I feel so tied up in knots I can’t see straight.”
“Oh, honey…”
Barbara stood up, stuck her hands in her pockets and glared at Susan. “Don’t you leave my father,” she said flatly.
“I…”
“And it’s a stupid way to run a house. Letting Tiger walk all over you with those stupid animals. You think we can’t all eat the same stupid thing for breakfast? And, like, when were you going to get around to saying something about my room? Mom would have had a conniption. Don’t you leave my father,” she said angrily.
“I…”
“I’ll babysit, you know. Whenever you want, and don’t think I don’t know anything. I took care of Tiger all the time when he was little. I like little kids. Really. You probably think because I’ve been so—”
“Barbara…”
But the tape wasn’t quite ready to run down. “You’d be surprised, Susan, but I can bring the whole family around when I want to. Dad’s not so easy to handle anymore, but the boys…they can fold a few clothes and do a few dishes. You’ll see…”
Barbara finally left, closing the door behind her. The shock of sudden silence hit Susan like a bomb! She sat totally still behind the desk, afraid to move for fear Griff would conjure up more children out of thin air and send them in to splinter her heart in another thousand pieces. How could he? How could he have involved them? And as for Lanna broadcasting that she was pregnant…
She rubbed her fingers against her temples, trying desperately not to admit how much the children had gotten to her. So she loved the urchins; she already knew that. Tiger, who liked to discuss his entire life in detail before breakfast, and Tom, who was determined to grow up too fast and drive his father up the wall. Even Barbara, perhaps especially Barbara, so desperately belligerent as an act of loyalty to her mother, her big eyes so terribly vulnerable…
“Susan?”
Her head jerked up at the sound of Lanna’s voice from behind the closed door; one hand brushed rapidly at her eyes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“You don’t need to,” Lanna called smoothly. “It’s nearly twelve, though, and I’ve gotten rid of the crowd. I just wanted to tell you that the Closed sign is going up.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”
“No,” Susan said quietly. “Everything’s fine.”
She stared at the closed door until she heard the sound of Lanna’s footsteps fading; then she got up from behind the desk. Why couldn’t she get her head together? She had been so very sure they were doing the right thing when they got married, and she’d known all about his children then. She’d known in her heart that the marriage would work. It had seemed so simple. All it took was enough love; she knew she had enough love, and she knew Griff had enough love…
She opened the door of her office. A silent shop greeted her, late fall sunlight glinting in faded yellow patches through the two windows. She let down the blinds, removed the key from beneath the register and remembered distractedly that she’d walked here. She didn’t have a car; she didn’t have a change of clothes; Lanna’s sweater was too tight; she was hungry and miserable and didn’t have the least idea where she was going.
But she went. At least as far as opening the door, closing it and fitting the key into the lock.
“Susan?”
She whirled at the sound of Griff’s voice, her face turning pale. The Viking’s features were carved in granite, his eyes boring into hers like some piercing stab of life.
“I…” She took the key out of the lock and put it in her pocket, not looking at him. “I didn’t mean to just…leave. I wasn’t leaving you, Griff. I can’t even imagine…really leaving. I just needed a little time alone. If you’ll just give me a little time…”
“No way,” Griff said quietly. His voice came out in a growl. “You’re coming with me.”
Chapter 15
The vise that enclosed Susan’s hand would have put a handcuff to shame. Griff had left his car in the no-parking zone directly in front of the shop. Before she realized what was happening, her head seemed to be leaning back against the soft upholstery of the passenger seat. She was locked in; Griff had bolted around to his side and was starting the engine.
“That was unforgivable. Sending the children,” she accused him uncertainly.
“Tough.”
The conversation wasn’t moving any too smoothly. “You don’t have to sound quite so angry…”
“Madder than hell,” he corrected.
“With me.”
“With you,” he agreed.
“Griff,” she said quietly, “you’re not the only one capable of having an honest temper tantrum on occasion. I wouldn’t push it if I were you.”
The words had come from nowhere and were so out of character that Griff shot her a startled look. “I think, Susan,” he said gently, “that that’s exactly what we’re going to have to do. Push it.”
“I…”
<
br /> The conversation wasn’t just difficult, it was impossible. Susan subsided, staring out at the Saturday drivers, weaving in and out of traffic, determined to have their weekend fun as dangerously as possible. Speed was the essence; murder the sideline. They arrived safe and sound, but the place they arrived at took Susan back.
Anderson’s, the sign said. The plant was a long, low mass of glass and concrete; nestled back from the road among trees and shrubs. Griff parked the car near the entrance, came around to her side, opened the door and waited patiently.
She just looked at him as she unfolded her legs and got out of the car.
“The kids are at my sister’s, but this is the one place where I know no one will interrupt us.”
On a Saturday, that was undoubtedly true, but she was suspicious of his motives. First he’d sent the children to soften her up, and now he expected her to do battle on his turf. She hadn’t known when she married him that he fought dirty. There was no one but a watchman to let them in. The corridors were yawning empty; the lights were dimmed; the switchboard silent; the elevator creaked plaintively… They got off on the third floor—Susan knew the route to his office.
She led the way, her back rigid, not looking at Griff. Her heart felt sick; she didn’t really know what to say to him. He opened the door, and she walked into his private working domain; she heard the click of the door as it locked behind her like some frightening omen.
Executive elegance was not the style of this room. Griff was a working man; there was a brown leather couch, yes, but only for those occasions when he catnapped while working extra-long hours. The gold carpet was deep-piled only for the purpose of blocking out the sounds of machinery, and Griff’s walnut desk was piled high with paperwork. The credenza beyond held a pair of phones, a computer and a small, square refrigerator where he stocked supplies for five-minute lunches of the kind she herself usually ate. He strode past her and crouched down in front of it now, a thousand times more calm than she was. “Have you had lunch?”
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