“Life can be very melodramatic. And you forgot one important point. Your father’s being investigated by the government, and I’m afraid his...involvement in the issue of faulty machinery was a bit more than Neddie’s. Neddie has been covering up for him, but the price must be paid. And you, my dear, are going to pay it.”
She’d heard the phrase, having one’s blood run cold, but she’d never actually experienced it before. “What exactly did my father do? Did people die because of Ridley’s greed? Did soldiers die?”
“Soldiers always die, and greed is always part of the cause. Grow up, Tallulah. Time to put away childish things like idealism and get on with life. It’s almost the 1950s. Time to face the future.”
Face the future. Save Tallulah. Protect her mother. Stop the wedding. The choices flew at her head like crazed bats, and she wanted to strike at them, driving them away.
“Message received, Elda,” she said calmly. “What are you doing out here besides delivering dire warnings? Were you looking for me?”
“Actually I’d forgotten. Cousin Ginny’s misplaced her ridiculous baby. You’d flunk she’d know infants aren’t welcome at a social occasion like this, but people are so selfish,” she said with an absolutely straight face, the epitome of self-absorption. “If anything happens to that child I’ll be devastated!”
Susan blinked. “You will?”
“We’d have to postpone the wedding.”
“Would we?” It was only momentarily tempting. She could bribe Hattie to take the baby off for a couple of days. Or bribe Ginny, whose heavy-drinking husband seemed to be causing all sorts of financial woes.
Nice idea, but impractical. She couldn’t save Tallulah’s butt by risking a baby’s security. “I’ll go look for her,” she said wearily, starting back toward the woods.
Elda grabbed her arm, swinging her around. “No, you won’t,” she said flatly. “You’ll go back inside the house and keep Neddie company. You’ve been ignoring him all evening, and we don’t want people to get the wrong idea, now do we?”
“That we don’t actually like each other? Heavens, why would they think that?” Susan said in a mocking voice. “Why isn’t Neddie looking for the baby?”
“He isn’t the outdoors type. Besides, everyone else is searching madly—there’s no need for him to bother himself.”
“He’s all heart, isn’t he?”
“He’s a determined man, Tallulah. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him. He’ll win.”
“So he tells me,” Susan said. “That doesn’t mean he’ll win without a fight.” She yanked her arm free, turning her back on the house and her fiancé. Heading into the gathering darkness, in search of a lost child.
The night grew still and dark around the sprawling Abbott mansion. Even the band members had abandoned their instruments to join in the search for the missing child, and the night air echoed with a myriad of voices, calling the baby’s name.
She wasn’t afraid to go back into the woods, wasn’t afraid that she might run into Jack again, with his seductive mouth and his clueless soul. Neddie might sit in comfort while a child was missing—Jack would do no such thing. He’d be off searching as well, and whatever complicated agenda drove him would be superseded by the greater need.
Apart from the fact that he seemed to have no idea that Lou Abbott was desperately in love with him, he was everything a hero should be.
Odd, that whenever he touched her she didn’t feel like Susan anymore. The past, or was it the future, faded, and she became Tallulah, completely, body and soul.
But he didn’t recognize that they belonged together. He didn’t believe in love or happy endings, and she wasn’t sure she could blame him. If she’d had to go through a war she might not believe in happy endings, either.
The night grew thick and dark around her, the lights from the house warring with the newly risen moon. The distant cries had faded, and she could hear the soft strains of music from the band once more. She looked down at the thin watch on her wrist, but she’d forgotten she had to wind the stupid thing, and it had stopped hours ago, probably during the rehearsal..
She wondered whether the baby had been found, or whether Elda had simply decreed that a party was more important than a lost child.
She skirted the edge of the lawn, staying out of the glare of lights, and went into the house through the French doors on the lower level, hoping to avoid Neddie. She found herself in the deserted library, lit only by the faint glow of a desk lamp that spread a pool of light throughout the walnut-paneled room.
She wasn’t alone. Someone was sitting in the darkness, a mere shadow in the cavernous room, and she started to tiptoe out when the oddly familiar sound of heavy breathing stopped her in her tracks.
She took a few tentative steps toward the sofa, her eyes accustomed to the dim light, and then stopped. Her instincts had been right—Jack McGowan sat sprawled on the sofa, sound asleep. With a towheaded baby nestled comfortably against his shoulder.
He was snoring softly, which didn’t seem to disturb the sleeping baby one bit He’d loosened his tie, his hair was ruffled and he was in need of a shave. He was the best thing she’d ever seen in her life.
She could see the mark of her hand where she’d slapped him, just faintly against the tanned skin. She let herself linger on his mouth, which had kissed her with such devastating tenderness.
With an instinct that belonged to someone else, she sank into a chair behind her, one she hadn’t even seen in the first place, and stared at him. It was sentiment, of course. There was nothing sexier than a big strong man cradling a helpless baby—she’d seen enough perfume ads to know it.
But this was before the time of evocative perfume ads. This was a man who’d simply gone out and found the missing baby, no muss, no fuss. The kind of man a baby trusts instinctively.
