The parade ended and fireworks blazed through the sky, amid earsplitting booms. The children cheered, although some younger kids clung to their parents in alarm.
Caitlin stood up to get a better view. She leaned against Robin, who slipped an arm around her. A moment later, Brick pressed close and claimed the other arm. Aaron had wedged himself between Flint and Maureen and was accumulating lots of cuddles.
They didn't have to act like a family—they were one. But Robin wondered what it would take to make Flint see that.
*
His outburst had nearly ruined their day, Flint reflected in embarrassment as he stood protectively behind his family. For a shocked moment, when he saw the fear on his son’s face, he’d felt his entire world threatened. How easily the boy could have disappeared. To lose him, as Flint had lost Kathy, was unthinkable.
He’d lashed out at the person he’d felt was responsible. That hadn’t been entirely fair, but when Robin tried to lay the blame on him, his temper had boiled over.
Kathy wouldn’t have argued. She’d have shared his distress, and taken the blame on herself. Then Flint could have reassured her that it was as much his fault as hers.
With Robin, his emotions kept veering off track. He hated seeing the hurt he inflicted. He had to figure out a way to stop doing this.
But not tonight. They were all far too tired.
Chapter Fourteen
By Monday, Robin still hadn't decided what to do about Flint. He’d been quieter than usual after the incident with Brick and even complimented her housekeeping, but the memory of his angry words lingered.
They apparently lingered for Aaron, too. He suffered one of his bad dreams Friday night, and Robin spent an hour cradling and reassuring him until he fell back to sleep. On Saturday, she baked three small birthday cakes and the children invited friends from the neighborhood. Later, they delighted in their presents—books from Flint, gift certificates from Maureen and, from Robin, a late afternoon shopping trip to a toy store. Flint had to work most of the day.
Robin spent Sunday, her day off, at the beach and was amazed how much she missed the children. In an odd way, she missed Flint, too—at least, she missed the warm side of him.
Monday morning, she arrived at Flint's house to discover that Aaron had sprained his wrist the previous day, pretending to be an acrobat in the Disneyland parade. In addition, Brick had finally stopped toughing it out and revealed that he'd incurred major blisters at the amusement park. These had burst open on Sunday and left him hobbling around.
"They can skip their classes today," Flint instructed as he lingered by the door, laptop case in hand. "But I do want them productively engaged."
"Absolutely." Robin repressed an impulse to add, "Sir!" .
Then he was gone, still without an apology for Friday's outburst. The man needed a good shaking, Robin thought.
The morning passed smoothly. Since bike riding and gardening were out of the question, she let the children choose their own activities. They spent an hour with their tablet computers, reading books, although she suspected they sneaked in some game playing when she wasn’t looking.
By later in the morning, Aaron was assembling a jigsaw puzzle, Brick was playing with a science kit he'd picked out at the toy store, and Caitlin was on-line, claiming to do research, although she was vague on the specifics.
"Don't ever give anyone your name or address," Robin warned as she brought the triplets' sandwiches into the family room. Flint had forbidden the children to eat anywhere other than the kitchen or patio, but today Robin felt like flouting him wherever possible. "And never arrange to meet anyone you've contacted through the computer."
"I know better than that." Caitlin picked up a cream-cheese-and-olive sandwich.
“Do you have any peanut butter?” Brick asked.
“Plenty.” Robin supposed her warning had sounded naïve, in view of Caitlin’s technical skills, but the kid was barely eight.
By mid-afternoon, the kids grew bored and began picking fights. The second time Robin had to send them all to their rooms, she heard her voice approaching a shriek. When Maureen called to check on Aaron's wrist, Robin invited her over for a snack.
"I could use some adult companionship," she admitted.
"I'll pick up fresh pretzels at the bakery," Maureen said. "The kids love them."
"I'd appreciate that."
When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, she hurried to open it before realizing that it was too soon for Maureen to arrive. On the porch stood Gigi, colorfully clad in a gypsy-style scarf, an embroidered peasant blouse and unbelievably outdated stirrup pants. "Hey, kid."
"Hello, Mom." Robin wished her mother hadn't ignored her request not to visit Flint's house again. "Sorry, but I'm expecting company."
"It's only for a minute," Gigi said. "To see my grandchildren."
Yesterday, Robin had told her mother the truth about their origins. Now Gigi must have come on the bus and wouldn't be able to catch a return ride for an hour. Unless Robin was prepared to leave her sitting on the porch, she’d have to make the best of things.
The triplets poured out of their rooms as soon as Robin gave them permission. "Grandma Gigi!"
"Happy birthday!" Gigi produced a large shopping bag. "I'm a few days late, but I only learned yesterday that you were my grandchildren."
"What did you bring us?" Aaron peered into the bag.
"Special things from my shop." Gigi produced three packages wrapped in glittery paper.
Caitlin accepted her box reverently. "This is beautiful."
Soon the youngsters had shredded the wrappings and were admiring their acquisitions beneath Gigi's approving gaze. She'd given Aaron a children's book on unexplained phenomena. Robin skimmed it, afraid Flint might object, but it took a well-reasoned, scientific approach.
For Brick, Gigi had selected a magic set featuring marked cards and other tricks to entertain his friends. He was quickly absorbed in studying the instructions.
Both gifts seemed appropriate to Robin, but she wasn't so sure about Caitlin's. Gigi had given her granddaughter a crystal ball.
A cloudy globe about the size of a bowling ball, had no obvious practical use. "Mom, what do you expect her to do with that?"
"I expect her to develop her psychic abilities." Gigi scraped her chair closer to Caitlin's. "My sensitivities may have skipped your generation, but that doesn't mean she hasn't inherited them."
"What do you mean by sensitivities?" Caitlin peered into the ball.
"My ability to commune with spirits, to access the future and the past," Gigi intoned. "It goes through the female line, since women are more insightful than men."
"I'm insightful," said Aaron.
"Me, too." Brick looked dubious. "Can you be insightful and still play soccer?"
"Mom, this is nonsense." Robin refused to consider the image she'd seen in Gigi's mirror, or her sensation in the laundry room here, as anything more than flights of fancy.
"Maybe it isn’t nonsense," Caitlin said. "You should see what they talk about on the Internet."
“Is that the research you were doing?” Robin asked warily.
“I cast a wide net,” her daughter said blithely. “That’s how people learn new stuff.”
The doorbell rang. "That's Maureen!" Robin sang out, and ran to answer it. She could use an ally. Gigi had, as usual, managed to get the upper hand, and Robin wasn't about to let her keep filling the children's minds with foolishness.
Amid the flurry of introductions and the smell of fresh-baked pretzels, the issue of ghosts was soon forgotten. The older women hit it off immediately, despite their different personalities. Or perhaps, Robin mused, opposites really did attract.
Look at Flint and me.
She didn't want to think about him, but it was hard not to. Every now and then, she caught a whiff of his scent and images slammed into her mind—Flint taking her in his arms to dance, Flint bending over her on the bed, Flint on the carousel.
Once the pretzels were consumed, Robin and the other women reclined in lounge chairs on the patio while the children sat around a table playing with Brick's marked cards. "You must come by my shop," Gigi said. "I’ll tell your fortune free of charge."
"How amusing." Even in a chaise longue, Maureen sat rather stiffly. "I've always thought it would be fun to have my fortune told."
"Give me your palm." Gigi reached out.
"Oh—I couldn't."
"Yes, you could." Gigi took Maureen's hand and laid it on her lap, examining it closely. "Your lifeline is long and steady, but your heart line has a break in it. Did something go wrong for you?" Before Maureen could answer, Gigi's breathing sped up. "He's here.”
“Who’s here?” Maureen looked around.
“He wants to talk to me...." Her eyes lost their focus, as if she were staring into another dimension.
“Mom!” Robin cast a cautious glance toward the kids, but they were sitting on the far side of the patio, caught up in their activities.
"Is your mother ill?" Maureen asked.
"I don't think so. Mom?" Robin moved to the foot of Gigi's lounge chair. She recognized the signs of a trance, which she'd always believed resulted from her mother hypnotizing herself. But this had come on quickly, without the usual hocus-pocus.
Gigi's jaw twitched as if she were talking with someone. Expressions of disbelief and dismay flitted across her face.
"We'd better call a doctor," Maureen said. "Does she have heart problems?"
"I don't think she's in any danger.” Robin hoped not. "She does this sometimes during séances, except then she talks out loud."
"Nevertheless, it could be a symptom of a serious condition." Maureen jostled Gigi's arm. "Can you hear me? Do you need to go to the hospital?"
Gigi blinked and slowly her gaze focused. "I'm all right."
"What happened?" Maureen asked.
"He needed to talk to me, urgently." Gigi shuddered. "I'm afraid it wasn't good news."
"What wasn't?" Robin couldn't keep the skepticism from her voice. "And who is he?"
"Frederick, of course." Gigi turned to Maureen. "He's a restless spirit who's seeking his lost love. She's in danger. He just told me that the danger is greater than he thought. She must attend a séance on Wednesday morning at my apartment. He insists on it."
Maureen had flinched on hearing the name Frederick. Now she rapped out the words, "Why are you telling me this?"
"Surely you guessed," Gigi said. "The woman he's looking for is you."
Maureen glared at Robin. "You've been telling tales."
"I haven't. Please believe me." Robin hated for Maureen to believe she’d revealed a confidence. "I would never betray your trust."
"About what?" asked Gigi.
"My former fiancé, Freddy," Maureen said stiffly. "I mentioned him to your daughter last week."
"Oh, Frederick's been pestering me since long before Robin started work here," Gigi assured Maureen. "I have witnesses."
Flint’s aunt clamped her lips together and studied the two of them. "All right. I'll let Robin off the hook. But as for attending a séance, I've put the past behind me, and I intend to leave it there."
"But the danger!" Gigi caught Maureen's shoulder. "He was beside himself with worry."
"I can take care of myself, thank you." Shaking free, Maureen stood up. "I'm sure you mean well, Gigi, but you have no business interfering in my private life. If I wanted to tell the world about my personal trials, I would go on one of those daytime talk shows and get paid for my troubles."
With a brief farewell, she stalked into the house. The children didn't notice her departure, too absorbed in a device that split a rope in half and then reassembled it as if by magic.
Robin arose, also. "It was kind of you to bring the gifts, Mom, but it's time for your bus."
"Oh, dear." For once, Gigi failed to spring to her own defense. "I didn't plan it this way. Robin, I know I try your patience. I do exaggerate and I do manipulate you sometimes, but only for your own good."
"Like those spirits who threw my clothes out the window?" she demanded.
Her mother nodded ruefully. "But I didn’t intend for Frederick to show up today. Maureen really is the woman he's searching for. And he's terribly frightened for her. Couldn't you talk to her? Persuade her to come by my shop Wednesday morning—out of curiosity if nothing else?"
"Maureen has a right to ignore your advice," Robin said. "Now I'd better go make sure she's all right."
She hurried through the house and onto the front porch. Maureen stood on the sidewalk next to her Cadillac, talking to Flint. As Robin watched, he caught her eye and his forehead creased with annoyance.
Not again. What had seemed a moment ago like an awkward moment among the women was about to turn into yet another altercation with Flint. She doubted he'd believe she had been an innocent bystander.
She waited, palms damp. Once Maureen drove off, Robin braced to defend herself.
Flint approached, said, “Good afternoon,” and walked inside. Was he too angry to say more? She couldn’t tell.
Before she could question him, Gigi entered from the backyard with the children pelting after her. "Daddy, look!" Brick showed off his rope device. Aaron and Caitlin, too, insisted on retrieving their gifts for Flint's inspection.
While he was occupied, Gigi said a subdued farewell and headed for the bus stop. Apparently her mother realized that today she'd gone too far.
Flint played with the children while Robin prepared dinner. She wished she knew what he was thinking, but decided not to torture herself. She’d find out soon enough.
Alone in the kitchen cooking chicken fajitas, Robin reflected on Gigi's trance. How had her mother made the connection between Maureen and Frederick? Robin had avoided mentioning the story of the faithless fiancé.
Was it possible there’d been an account on the Internet? No, not something so private and from decades ago. She supposed Maureen was simply the most eligible prospect Gigi had encountered: the right age, unmarried, likely to have been involved with a man at some point in her life who fit Frederick's general description. The similarity in names must be a coincidence.
The children arrived to set the table, and dinner passed amid their usual babble. Flint asked a few questions, but didn't say much.
It seemed like ages before the children went to sleep.
Caitlin dozed off with the crystal ball beside her bed. Aaron's eyes drifted shut while he was reading his book on unexplained phenomena, and Brick snored softly with the marked cards jutting from beneath his pillow.
When Robin emerged after checking on them, she found Flint in the kitchen, wiping the counter. "If you want to chew me out, go ahead," she said. "I swear I didn't invite my mother and I certainly didn't put her up to involving Maureen in anything."
"I'm sure you didn't." Flint spoke with measured calm. "Besides, I know the children enjoyed today.”
"Maureen didn't." Robin stood with arms folded.
"Maureen's a grown woman. She can take care of herself."
If he wasn't upset, why did stern lines mark his face? Why wasn't he meeting her gaze?
"Flint?" Robin said. "What's wrong?"
The deep intake of breath told her she was on the right track. "I've been reviewing the last few days," he said. "I've come to the conclusion that I made a mistake."
An apology at last. "You were concerned about Brick. I know you didn't mean to yell at me."
With a flicker of surprise, he replied, "You're right. I did overreact, and I apologize. I should never let my emotions get the better of me. But I wasn't referring to that."
Robin’s relief faded. "What were you referring to?”
Flint cleaned the counter with precise movements, as if readying it for military inspection. "It was a mistake to say we should act like a family. I gave you the wrong idea."
Robin’s chest squeezed. "I have n
o intention of moving into your bedroom. If you think otherwise, you're kidding yourself."
Flint reached across the counter and caught her arm. His hand felt large and protective. "I'm not making myself clear. Robin, I care for you very much. More than I should. But ever since I learned that you were the egg donor, I've been trying to fit you into Kathy's place. Only you're not her."
"Of course I'm not." She bristled, less for her own sake than for Kathy's. "I would never try to replace her. But the kids need a mother."
"Lots of children have only one parent, and do fine," Flint corrected. "But the point is, our relationship should remain that of employer and employee. Then you won't treat the children as if they were your own."
"They are my own," Robin protested.
He withdrew his hand. "You may be the biological mother, but you have no legal standing. Don't try to fight me on this, Robin."
"It never even occurred to me—"
"These are my kids." Flint regarded her thoughtfully. "They're my responsibility and mine alone. You make an excellent nanny, but any relationship beyond that is off-limits. I accept the fault for suggesting otherwise."
Robin couldn't believe the man's attitude. "The children's feelings don't matter?” she cried. “My feelings don't matter? You're shutting me out?"
"I wish you’d control your emotions. I’m working hard to control mine." Flint's phone rang, and irritation tightened his mouth. "Perfect timing, as usual." He checked the phone number. "I’m sorry, I have to take this."
Left alone, Robin clenched her fists in frustration. How could she be nothing more than a nanny after everything that had happened between her and Flint? Yet, perhaps she had presumed too much about the children.
She wasn’t their real mother. Not only did she have no legal rights, but she hadn’t carried them, nurtured them, loved them from birth. She’d donated eggs and then gone about her business, while Flint and Kathy devoted their lives to these children.
Flint reappeared in the doorway. "I have an important meeting that's been moved up to tomorrow. I left some important notes in my office computer and I might as well work on my report there. Okay if I see you later?"
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