Laura unbuttoned her poncho and threw it over a wing chair. "I'll give Mandy a tour and try and get her settled."
Mitch watched Mandy scramble after Puffball as the feline jumped from the settee to the back of a chair so she could look out the window. "There's milk in the refrigerator and a package of Oreo cookies in the cabinet over the microwave."
Laura felt like smiling for the first time since she entered the house. "You have a passion for them, too? Mandy and I are addicted. We eat a package a week. With lots of carrot and celery sticks in between, of course."
When Mitch grinned, the angles of his face gentled, his eyes twinkled. "Maybe I'd better pick up another pack. Unfortunately, I eat more than my share. I'll leave you and Mandy to the carrot sticks."
Her eyes skimmed his lean physique. There wasn't an ounce of fat anywhere. She'd like to see what he looked like in jeans--relaxed, happy, having fun. "Oreos must agree with you." She couldn't hide the appreciation in her voice.
His grin evaporated and he appraised her for a long moment. "You'll only be here two weeks, Laura. Don't count me among your trophies."
Her mouth dropped open. She quickly closed it. "That wasn't a come-on, it was an observation. I'd think you'd be experienced enough to know the difference."
In two steps, he was standing in front of her, his blue eyes dark with annoyance and a fire he was attempting to quell. "I'm experienced enough to know trouble can be wrapped in an attractive package."
She wished she was five inches taller so he couldn't physically intimidate her. "Nothing I say will change your mind about me. But I'm not going to watch every word while I'm here. That might be your style. It's not mine."
"Cautious versus reckless?" he taunted.
"No, cold versus warm." She turned toward the sunroom.
Mitch's words stopped her as efficiently as his hand could have. "Just because the prodigal daughter has returned doesn't mean all is forgiven."
Heat suffused her cheeks. "You won't be the one to decide."
"No, Ray will." Mitch strode to the foyer and out the door.
Tears pricked Laura's eyes. What a homecoming!
***
When Mitch parked his Buick in Ray Applegate's driveway an hour later and switched off the ignition, his mother made no move to get out. "Carey called while you were gone. He's coming home for a few weeks."
Mitch sighed heavily. Just what he needed right now--Laura's male counterpart. "Is he in trouble again?"
Nora Riley averted her eyes. "I don't think so. He wants to talk to you about something."
"He wants money again." Mitch's tone was as resigned as he was to his brother's escapades.
Nora grew defensive. "He didn't say that."
They had traveled this route many times before. "Mom, why else would he come? We go for months without hearing from him. He comes home when he's in trouble or needs something."
Her head tilted. Mitch could see his own stubbornness and determination came from this woman, not his father. "Carey is my firstborn. He's done many deeds I'm not proud of, but I'll always love him. Just as I'll always love you."
Unconditional love. Thank God for mothers. But he had to be realistic for her sake as well as his. "Answer me one question, Mom. If we were as poor as we were ten years ago, do you think he'd be coming home?"
"I hope so."
Mitch fell silent. His mother had always been naive where Carey was concerned. She consistently made excuses for him just as she had for her irresponsible, gambling, drinking husband. Carey had been his father's favorite. And unfortunately he had picked up many of their dad's bad habits. Mitch had inherited his goals, industry, and ambition from his mother. During all those years she'd kept food on the table and a roof over their heads by working long hours at a tailor shop and taking in private sewing work at night. She deserved love and admiration from Carey, not heartache.
Mitch finally asked, "Did he say when he's coming?"
"Next week maybe. He wasn't sure." Nora tenderly touched the scar on Mitch's cheek. "You still blame him, don't you?"
"No. But I do blame him for the worry he caused you."
"He was hurting, Mitch. He missed your father--"
Mitch's hand swished through the air in frustration. "What he wanted always came first and it still does. Another paycheck would have helped us make ends meet. Instead he ran with his buddies and left town at the first opportunity."
She assessed him cautiously. "We're all a little selfish. You much less than your brother, though."
Mitch closed his eyes. He supposed most people were selfish. But some were a lot more selfish than others. Carey and Laura were prime examples.
Laura. Lord, that woman rubbed him the wrong way. Her eyes never stopped studying him, questioning. Maybe she had an innate curiosity like her daughter. What did he care? Because he was trying to figure her out...and suddenly, himself, too. Just when he thought he had his reactions to her under control, something went haywire. The best thing to do was keep his distance.
He opened his eyes and unlatched the car door.
***
"Laura! Mandy!"
Laura would know that deep baritone anywhere. It not only echoed up the spiral staircase to the library/loft, but resonated through her body, vibrating a hidden part. "We're up here," she called.
Mandy ran to the top of the staircase and started to climb down. Laura's "Be careful, honey," was lost as her daughter found Mitch at the bottom. Her excitement spilled out. "We were explorin'. Mommy let me go into all the rooms. We sat on the bed she slept in when she was little. It's pink and white." She waved to the loft. "And there's bunches of books up there."
Mitch had discarded his suitcoat and tie and rolled his sleeves above his forearms. Laura noted the black wavy hair and wondered if his chest was covered with it too.
He lifted Mandy into his arms as if she were as light as a bag of Oreos. "You've been busy. There's someone downstairs I want you to meet."
Laura was thankful Mitch's cool reserve didn't extend to her daughter. She descended the stairs, careful of her footing.
As she neared the bottom, Mitch blocked her path. "Refamiliarizing yourself?"
She could smell his cologne, stronger this morning, now faded into a nuance she could hardly distinguish. She wondered how he smelled without it. Did he always look so sexy?
She ignored her increased pulse rate. "Mandy was fascinated by all the rooms. She's never seen so many doors. I think the most fun for her was opening and closing them."
"Are you going to put her in your old room?"
On the second step, Laura was as tall as Mitch and could look straight into his incredibly blue eyes. "Yes."
"I found a dog and a teddy bear and pretty dolls in the closet. Wanna see?" Mandy interrupted.
Mitch straightened an overall strap that had slipped down her shoulder. "Maybe later."
He stepped away so Laura could come down the remaining curved steps. After she did, they moved down the hall at the same time. Her breast brushed his elbow. The contact electrified her. She saw the startled look in his eyes. When he quickly averted his gaze, Laura walked ahead of him.
A woman was sitting on the edge of the living room sofa, waiting. She stood when she saw Laura and smoothed her hands down her navy skirt. Her hair, once black, was streaked with gray and framed her face with soft, tight curls. Her eyes were the same blue as Mitch's. Laura liked the way the older woman's smile disappeared into full rosy cheeks.
Wondering what Mitch had told his mother about her return, Laura extended her hand and introduced herself. "I'm Laura Sanders and you must be Mrs. Riley. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Nora's pudgy fingers enveloped hers. "You too, dear. Please call me Nora. I'm glad I can help out. I admire your father and wish him all the best. He's been good to Mitch."
Mitch set Mandy on the floor. "And this is Ray's beautiful granddaughter. Mandy, this is my mother."
Mandy looked at Laura then stood in front of
Nora. "Hi."
Nora sat on the sofa to be at Mandy's eye level. "Hi there, honey. Mitch told me you drew pretty pictures when you were coming here in the airplane. Do you think you can draw me a few?"
Mandy's head bobbed up and down, swinging her hair across her cheeks. "Sure. But I'm hungry. Can we eat first?"
Laura glanced at the grandfather clock. "We were so busy exploring, we forgot about the cookies. What time can we see Dad?"
"Whenever we get there. I'll go get us fast food sandwiches."
"Nonsense," Nora protested. "I'm sure there's something in the refrigerator. Let me go look."
Laura objected immediately. "Mrs. Riley, I can't let you do that! You're here to keep Mandy company."
"Child, I love it most when I'm cooking or taking care of others. Now, if you want to help, that's fine. But I'm not letting you put all that fat and those preservatives into your bodies when I'm around."
Laura didn't need more of Mitch's disapproval. She looked at him for his opinion.
He lifted his shoulders. "When Mom gets an idea in her head, there's no stopping her. C'mon, Mandy. Let's go find Puffball and show her her new litter box."
As Mandy scampered beside Mitch, his mother reminded Laura, "You can call me Nora, dear."
Laura liked Mitch's mother. She'd feel good about Mandy staying with her. She wondered if Mitch had decided they'd have supper now so she could spend more time with Nora and be comfortable leaving her daughter. He definitely had a caring side. She'd like to see more of it. The thought stuck. Why did she want to see more of it? Because that would make life easier. She reminded herself again, men like Mitch didn't interest her. She preferred men who were outgoing, friendly, accepting. Mitch was none of those, at least not with her.
But there was something elemental about him, powerful...
Cut it out!
***
Laura was silent on the ride to the hospital. Mitch glanced at her a few times but didn't force conversation. She was aware of each look, each movement, the heat from his body, the line of his jaw. She wanted him to smile at her, not because he forgot his disapproval for a moment, but because he meant it.
What did it matter what he thought of her anyway? It didn't. Concentrating on Mitch was simply easier than dealing with her feelings about her father. A cacophony of emotions assaulted her every time she thought about him lying in a hospital bed. She felt sadness, guilt, disappointment, remnants of anger, worry, and hope. Hope for what? That they could again establish a relationship? How? If so, what kind? Stranger to stranger? Friend to friend? Father to daughter? Then again, how much could happen in two weeks?
As they took the elevator to the coronary care unit, other visitors pressed Laura and Mitch toward the back of the cubicle. Laura felt awkward as Mitch's arm pressed against her shoulder and his hip nudged hers. When the elevator came to an abrupt halt, she swayed against him. His arm went around her to steady her.
When his eyes met hers, his arm dropped. But the heat remained where his arm had supported her back. They left the elevator and followed the winding corridor.
Mitch stopped in front of the doorway to the waiting room. "You can stay here while I tell him you've come."
When he would have turned away, she grabbed his elbow. "If he doesn't want to see me, I can go back to Independence tomorrow."
"Is that what you want?" Mitch's voice was as hard as his eyes.
"I want what's best for him."
He canvassed her face thoroughly, as if attempting to see into her soul. He must have decided she was telling the truth because he nodded. She released his arm and watched him walk away.
Laura paced the empty room, picking up a magazine, tossing it on the chair where she found it. She felt six years old, as if she'd again taken one of her dad's golf clubs and chopped up the manicured lawn, attempting to hit the ball. He'd been furious and sent her to work with the gardener for a morning so she'd realize how much work she'd made for him.
When her mother was alive, her father had been stern but fair. Sometimes almost tender. Laura fingered the gold chain around her neck and tugged out the miniature gold rose. She'd always loved the rose garden. She used to go there and sit on the bench when she wanted to think, or wait for deer, or reread one of the classics in her father's library.
He'd given her the necklace on her eleventh birthday. She'd worn it almost every day since then, not only to remind her of the garden but to remind her her father had been thoughtful enough to know how much it meant to her. Where had all the tender feelings gone? Had he been so devastated by her mother's death that nothing had mattered but his work? She'd been a duty and a responsibility he had to keep in line. At least that's the way it had seemed to her.
When Doug died, she hadn't felt like going on either, in spite of the problems that had surfaced after Mandy was born. He'd been her first lover, her first serious relationship, the only person since her mother who'd accepted her as she was. Having Mandy had grounded her in reality and given her a sense of responsibility she'd never experienced or expected.
Doug had loved Mandy, there were no doubts about that. He loved to hold her and cuddle her and play with her as a child plays with a child. But he treated her like a doll and when he stopped playing, he didn't want the responsibility of twenty- four hour care. When Laura remembered their last argument...
She sighed. Mandy had given her the impetus to create a good future for both of them. There was no way Laura could ever disown her daughter, no matter what she did.
Laura had always felt as if she'd failed her father after her mother died. What could she have done to make him less sad? What could she have done to establish a good relationship between them? Why couldn't he take her in his arms and share his grief with her? Wasn't she good enough? Wasn't she pretty enough? Didn't he love her anymore?
She'd tried to be good, quiet, studious, perfect, following all the rules. But when that hadn't worked, she'd tried the opposite. That hadn't worked either.
Now... What would her father say, what would he do, what did he feel?
When Mitch reappeared, his tall, broad-shouldered frame filled the doorway. She was afraid she wouldn't have the opportunity to find out what her father felt or thought. Mitch looked so troubled she wondered if she'd even need to unpack her bags.
Before she could ask, Mitch said, "He'll see you now."
So many questions popped into her head. Did he really want to see her? Was he glad she was here? Had the news upset him? None of the questions came out because she was afraid of the answers. She had to see for herself.
She followed Mitch to the room. He said, "Ray wants me to wait out here. Call if he needs me."
Need. She was curious as to just how much her dad did need Mitch. With her heart pounding, she stepped into her father's room. His brown hair had receded and thinned. There were many lines radiating from his eyes and mouth. He looked pale. The IV and oxygen tube seemed out of place attached to a man she'd always known as vigorous and energetic. He looked worse than she'd imagined, and she was determined not to say or do anything to upset him.
Crossing on wobbly legs to the bed, she stood at his side. She wanted to kiss his cheek or stroke his hand, but didn't know if either gesture would be welcome. So she said, "Hello, Dad."
His eyes held hers. "Your hair's longer, but you look the same," he said gruffly. He motioned to the chair next to the bed. "Sit."
She lowered herself onto the blue vinyl, her hands tight on her purse. A hug would mean so much... But her father had never been the hugging kind. "How do you feel?"
He scowled, his brows pulling together. "Like someone turned off my power. I've never been so damned tired in all my life."
"Mitch said--"
"What do you to think of him?"
That was a loaded question. "I haven't spent much time with him."
"I hope you will." He paused without explaining then continued. "He said you manage a jewelry store?"
"It's what I know best.
" She loved working with jewelry and selling it to customers who appreciated it as much as she did.
"Mitch isn't too enamored with the business side. He'd rather design and work with the gold and gems."
That surprised her. She suspected the still waters ran deep, but Mitch's giving his imagination the freedom to design seemed out of character. She kept quiet, letting her father direct their conversation.
"I'd like to ask you a favor. Call Mitch in here, will you?"
So much for a father-daughter reconciliation. Weren't they going to talk about what had happened? Why they hadn't seen each other for six years? Or was Mitch to be included in every little thing. She stuffed her resentment. She couldn't take the chance of exciting her father. She had to do what he asked.
She went to the door. "Mitch, he wants you to come in."
When they were both standing by the bed, Ray Applegate said, "I know I'm going to make it through this surgery tomorrow. So we're not going to start spouting words we might regret. But it is going to be a while until I'm back on my feet and up to full speed again."
"You don't have to worry about anything," Mitch assured him. "We have good people at both stores."
"I know we do, but they're not us. You have your exhibit coming up and I know you're busy with that." He gazed at his daughter. "Laura, Mitch told me you plan to stay two weeks. I'd like you to change your plans and stay six weeks, take over managing the York store until I can go in at least part time. What do you say?"
One glance at Mitch told her this was a surprise and an unwelcome one. Either he didn't like the idea of her staying, or he hated the idea of her being involved in the business. Maybe he thought of it as his domain.
"I don't know if I can be away for six weeks," she said quietly.
Her father growled. "Won't your husband let you help your father?"
Mitch shot her a "be careful" look.
"I'm a widow, Dad. I'm self-supporting and I need a job when I go back."
He appeared shocked. "When did that happen?"
"Two years ago."
"I'm sorry." She doubted his sincerity when he asked, "Was he doing something crazy like racing his motorcycle?"
Wish On The Moon Page 3