The Summer Of Sunshine And Margot

He nodded, not sure what any of this had to do with him.

“I prefer to take my meals in my room.” Margot’s tone was firm. “I’m not a member of the family and there’s no need to act like I am. I’ve found it’s much easier on everyone if we all remember that. There’s no awkward conversation and if I have a bad day with your mother, the last thing she would want would be to have dinner with me.”

“Bianca is gone most evenings,” he said. “She often goes to see Wesley or to spend time with her friends.” In fact, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t had dinner with his mother since she moved in nearly two weeks ago. Which was odd considering how it seemed she was always everywhere.

“No matter. I’ll collect my meals from the kitchen and take them upstairs if it’s all the same to you.”

“Excellent. Anything else?”

“Your mother and I begin in the morning. As my contract is with her, I won’t be providing you with updates.”

“I believe I will be the first to notice if you make any progress.”

She studied him. “You still don’t think I can help.”

“I’m not sure anyone can help. My mother answers to no one. She is like a leaf on the wind—she goes where she likes.”

“I thought leaves went where the wind said.”

“You are correct. A poor analogy.” He tried to think of another, but the only thing that came to mind was how much he wanted to look at Margot’s breasts and that certainly wasn’t anything he could mention.

“Tell me a story from when you were little,” she said with a smile. “About your mother.”

The request surprised him. “What kind of story? A good story or a bad one? Are you trying to learn something specific?”

“Not really. I’m just curious and I’d like to get a feel for her. Can you give me one of each?”

He nodded. “When I turned seven, she rented out an ice-cream parlor and treated my entire class to an afternoon there. We played games and ate as much ice cream as we wanted.”

“That is a good story.”

“Yes, until all the children started throwing up because they’d had too much.”

“Oh. I suppose I can see how that would happen. And the other story?”

“When I was seventeen, she slept with my best friend.”

Alec immediately wanted to call back the words, but it was too late. They hung out there in the late afternoon, echoing in his large office. Margot’s eyes widened.

“I was away at a Swiss boarding school,” he added, realizing he had to explain. “She came to visit and took the two of us to Paris for a long weekend. I went for a walk one afternoon and when I came back, I saw him stepping out of her room.”

He remembered the sense of betrayal—that his mother would come between him and a friend. She’d always known he didn’t make friends easily and to get in the middle of that, to change it into something uncomfortable, had made him furious. And sad.

“I’m not gay,” he said. “It wasn’t that I was in love with him, but it wasn’t something she should have done.”

“No,” Margot murmured. “We’ll leave the fact that she slept with a minor for another time.” Her mouth twisted. “I’m sorry. You must have felt betrayed by both of them.”

“I did. He and I never spoke of it.” Not a word, he thought. But everything had changed. The next year Alec had gone off to University of Oxford and he and his friend had lost touch.

Until then he’d known his mother was impulsive, but he hadn’t realized how the flaw affected other people. He’d always kept fairly tight control on his emotions, but that incident had solidified his determination to let his mind dictate his actions. There would be no hasty decisions, no wild flights of fancy. It was a rule he lived by, regardless of circumstances.

Margot worried her lower lip, drawing his attention to the shape of her mouth.

“My mother abandoned my sister and me when we were little,” she said quietly. “Her mother had abandoned her the same way. The Baxter women are not known for their good choices in the men they fall for or how they raise their children.”

He appreciated her attempt to level the emotional playing field. It was a nice gesture and spoke well of her character.

“You haven’t abandoned any children.” His tone was firm.

“No, but I’ve been unwise about men.” She wrinkled her nose. “Or rather, one man.” She drew in a breath and met his gaze. “But that’s behind me now.” Her mouth turned up in an impish smile. “Because unlike you, I believe people can change.”

“It’s not people so much as my mother. Still, she wants this. She does love Wesley.”

“You sound surprised.”

“She’s never been so devoted to someone. He’s not her usual type, so perhaps that’s the reason.”

“Or he’s the one she’s been looking for all along.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A romantic, Margot? I would not have expected that.”

“Not a romantic, but I remain hopeful.”

He wondered about the man she’d been foolish with. What did that mean? Alec made it a point to never get involved with a woman. Not seriously. If he let down his barriers, if he gave his heart, well, he didn’t know what would happen, but the worry that he could turn into his mother was enough to keep him comfortably solitary. He didn’t like a lot of drama and emotion in his world. He’d created the life he wanted and he was content. There were no highs, but also no worries that he would become unhinged.

She rose. “I won’t keep you any longer,” she said. “I just wanted to say hello and make sure we were both clear with the ground rules.”

“Of course.” He stood. “Have you discussed them with my mother?”

“I will and I’m confident she’ll be in favor of them.”

He allowed himself a slight smile. “We’ll see.”

“I can be stubborn and disciplined.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but Bianca has a way of making things happen that are more to her liking. She swoops in and rearranges until you’re left wondering how exactly things got that way. It’s a gift.”

She laughed. “You mean it’s a curse.”

“Not for her. Just us lesser mortals.”

“I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to proving you wrong.”

“I am rarely wrong, Margot.”

“Neither am I.”

By nine-thirty that night, Margot was nearly giddy from her excitement about the house. She’d spent an hour in the small chapel, only leaving when it got dark. She’d checked out the empty guest room, the guest lounge and most of the kitchen. She’d made herself a sandwich for dinner and had discovered that the cookie jar was full of cookies. Homemade cookies with frosting or chocolate chips, all soft and gooey and if this kept up she was going to have to up her exercise routine. Or buy bigger pants.