Stepping back, he went into his vast closet to select a suitable lounge jacket. He had shipped his stuff back home a week before he left and they were folded and hung neatly for his convenience.
The minute he announced his plans to return home, his parents had set the servants to work, cleaning and arranging his suite. For that and many other things he was grateful for their support.
And he intended to prove to himself and his family that he had changed. He was no longer like a butterfly flitting from one rose bud to another. He was steady and was ready to take his place in the company. It was time.
"Shall we?" Determined to put the past behind him, he offered an arm to his sister. "Let's go down to dinner."
*****
They had a special ritual, and it had been established since her daughter was a baby. No matter how tired she was or how late she was getting home, Abby would dismiss the nanny and see about getting her daughter ready for bed.
Tonight was no different. Forcibly pushing aside the worry facing her, she filled the tub and half-listened to her little girl's chatter about kindergarten.
"Melissa was such a baby." Oblivious to her mother's troubled thoughts, Zoe stepped into the tub and sank down until the bubbles reached her pointed chin. Her riot of light brown curls were pinned on top of her head to avoid getting wet.
Hazel eyes danced as she stared at her mother and gleefully related the story of how her best friend in all the world went crying to Mrs. James after she spilled juice all over her pretty pink sweater.
"Remember when I spilled juice over my white shirt, mama?" She lifted her left leg and rubbed at the suds. She enjoyed this time together. Grams and Grandpa were super-duper nice and gave her whatever she wanted, but her mother was the best in the world.
"You never cried. Not one bit." Abby knew the drill. "You were brave about it and very dignified."
Zoe nodded solemnly. "That's because you told me that it was an accident and it could happen to anyone. I tried to tell Melissa that, but she wouldn't listen. She screamed and said it was her favorite sweater in the world, and the juice will not come out."
She lifted trusting eyes to her mother. "But it will, right, mama?"
"Sure it will. A few sprays from a stain remover and it will be as right as rain." She smiled as her baby giggled at the term. "Ready?"
"Just one more minute."
"That's a minute that will be taken away from your story time."
That did the trick. Zoe was up instantly. Her daughter might not have inherited her physical features, but she had certainly inherited Abby's love for the printed word.
When she was pregnant with her, Abby had been obsessive with reading, even more so than she normally was. Part of it was her trying to escape the heartache that had seemed to last forever.
Even now, the comfort she found in books remained her refuge, a way to navigate the complexities of adult life and motherhood.Turning the page on every new story was a small act of hope, a signal that, with patience, things could always get better.
Abby believed in the healing power of bedtime rituals, in the quiet magic that stories brought to their evenings together, soothing both their worries as the days wound down.
Just the simple gesture of wrapping the towel around her child's slight body was something she had come to cherish. She had been a frightened young pregnant girl, but she had found her footing with the help of her family.
No one was going to take that away from her. Not even Kincaid Tyrell.
"Okay sport, let's get this show on the road." Zoe's big laugh echoed around the room as her mother swung her up and into her arms to carry her into the adorable pink and cream bedroom that smelled of powder and crayons.
*****
"We were thinking you should take some time before you plunge into things." Eloise was determined not to show her worry. She was over the moon happy that her son was back home, but she wanted him healed before attempting anything too difficult.
Lifting his head from his plate, Cade scanned the formal dining room where his family were seated. His father was at the head of the table, looking as confident and calm as usual. Nothing much fazed Kenneth Tyrell.
He had slid into the company and taken over when his father had died of a heart attack when Kenneth was only twenty and still in college. And had spent the years turning that company into a wildly successful one.
He had done that while taking the rest of his courses so he could get his degree in leadership management and accounting. He had met his wife Eloise when he was twenty-five and decided that the outrageously beautiful woman was going to wear his ring and bear his name.
They had been married in six months. Shortly after that, she had given him two sons and a daughter. Thirty-five years of marriage had not dimmed his adoration for his wife.
He showed it by the way he looked at her and the fact that he was constantly touching her. His first born had followed in his footsteps. Kevin was vice president of the company and happily married to his Sarah-Jane. They were still trying to make a baby.
