One Baby, Two Secrets

“He is very busy.” Christina paused. “He loves his daughter, though.”

“I’m sure he does.”

Annabelle started to squirm, and her face twisted into a frown.

“She’s hungry,” said Christina.

“I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“Not at all. I just need to sit down to feed her.”

Kate stepped back to give them some room. She wasn’t sure if she should leave, but she desperately wanted to stay.

Christina climbed into a padded chair at the breakfast bar and adjusted Annabelle across one forearm, popping the bottle into the baby’s mouth. Annabelle began to suck and her eyes fluttered closed.

“She’s very patient,” said Christina. “Most babies cry from the time you get them up to the time they get their bottles.”

“Have you cared for a lot of babies?”

“I’ve had my diploma for four years. I did a lot of fill-in work for the first two, and my last posting was newborn twins.” Christina smiled. “They were a handful.” She smoothed a lock of hair across Annabelle’s forehead.

“Boys or girls?” asked Kate, easing her way onto one of the other chairs.

“Boys. We got them into a routine at about four months. Mom took them on by herself when they hit six months. She still sends me email updates.”

“They’re doing well?” Kate continued to watch Annabelle.

“They just had their first birthday. They’re finally both sleeping through the night.” Christina sobered. “I’m very sorry about your sister.”

“Me, too,” said Kate. “I hadn’t seen her in a long time. Well, I guess you would know that since I haven’t been to see Annabelle. I didn’t even know Francie was pregnant.”

Christina didn’t respond to that. Kate supposed there wasn’t a whole lot more to say on the subject.

“I’m glad she had Annabelle and Quentin in her life,” said Kate.

Christina’s brow furrowed ever so slightly “You know we lived in the gatehouse, right?”

Kate wasn’t sure what that meant. “The gatehouse?”

“Quentin and Francie, they weren’t... They weren’t together as a couple. He said he liked having Annabelle close by, but I understood his relationship with Francie was short-lived.” Christina glanced away, as if she was aware that she’d shared too much.

“Thanks for telling me that. I didn’t know.”

Cristina didn’t answer, instead adjusting the bottle at Annabelle’s mouth.

“It was nice that Francie could live here,” said Kate, glancing around at the huge, ultramodern kitchen.

From where she sat, she could see the estate grounds and the city beyond. The great room was behind her with its expensive furniture and art, the plush carpeting and a massive stone fireplace across one entire wall. If the gatehouse was any comparison to the main house, Francie had lived in the lap of luxury.

“She did enjoy the lifestyle,” said Christina.

Kate could well imagine, at least from what she remembered of her sister. “Quentin seems to throw her kind of parties.”

“He does,” said Christina, removing the bottle from Annabelle’s mouth and holding the baby against her chest to pat Annabelle’s back. “She definitely liked the nightlife better than the mornings.”

“I remember that about her.”

“But she had me. So she didn’t need to worry about the mornings.”

A male voice interrupted their conversation. “Sorry to barge in.”

Kate stood, turning to see the man she’d met Saturday night.

Brody Herrington looked a whole lot fresher than she felt in her crumpled cocktail dress. He’d topped a pair of well-worn jeans with a crisp charcoal dress shirt.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for an early riser,” he said to Kate.

She stuck to her story. “The vacuuming woke me up.”

“I’ll get out of your way,” said Christina, her demeanor immediately changing to deference as she rose with Annabelle.

Kate wanted to tell her not to leave, to ask her to please stay and talk some more. She wanted to learn about her sister and Annabelle’s life here with Quentin. But she couldn’t risk tipping her hand. If Quentin knew she was here to judge his fitness as a parent, he would send her packing.

“It was nice to meet you,” she said instead.

Christina gave her a brief nod and left the room.

“You crashed here last night?” Brody asked.

“One too many martinis,” Kate lied, pushing past her embarrassment to stay in character.

What must he think of a woman who passed out at a party? Then she told herself he probably didn’t think anything. He likely met that kind of woman all the time.

“I may have left my watch behind last night,” he said, holding up his bare wrist as evidence. Then he seemed to spy a coffeepot. He smiled and crossed to it.

“Want some?” he asked.

“Kill for some.”

He retrieved a pair of mugs from a glassed-in cupboard. “I was going to take a look around and see if I could find it.”

“It must be expensive,” she observed.

He looked puzzled. “Expensive?”

“You’re here at six in the morning. I assume you were worried about it.”

“Oh. Yes. Well, it is a nice watch. It was a gift. From my mother on my twenty-first birthday. It’s engraved.”