At The Texan's Pleasure. Mary Baxter Lynn
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Trent still appeared reluctant, he made his way toward his grandmother and let her put her arms around him, giving him a bear hug. Finally pushing Trent to arm’s length, Maxine’s eyes glistened with tears. “My, what a big boy you are.”
“I’ll be five my next birthday,” Trent said with pride.
Maxine winked at him. “Granna hasn’t forgotten. I already have your birthday present.”
“Wow!” Trent said with awe.
“Don’t get too excited,” Molly cautioned. “Next month you’ll only be four and a half, which means your birthday’s a while off yet.”
“Can I have it now?”
Molly grinned, tousling his hair. “Not a chance, boy.” Then it was her turn to hug her mother, though through it all, her heart took yet another beating, but for an entirely different reason.
Maxine’s once unlined face had wrinkles that were unavoidably noticeable and dark circles under her eyes where none used to be. Her mother appeared frail, so much frailer than she had ever been.
Though Maxine wasn’t a robust woman, she’d always been the picture of health and beauty. Friends and strangers who saw the two of them together knew they were mother and daughter because they favored each other so much. Some even told them they could pass for sisters.
Pain. That was the culprit that had so changed and aged her mother. Peering at Maxine closely through trained eyes, Molly didn’t see any signs of that pain turning Maxine loose any time soon, not if the X-rays her doctor had sent Molly to peruse were correct. At this point, Molly saw no reason to question the diagnosis.
“Mom, how are you really doing?” Molly asked into the short silence.
“Good.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “Hey, remember who you’re talking to.”
Maxine made a face. “A nurse, I know.”
“All the more reason you need to be honest and ’fess up.”
“Okay, my back hurts like you-know-what,” Maxine admitted down in the mouth, casting a glance at Trent who was busy wandering around the room, fingering this and that.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Only not for long, surely.” Maxine made a face. “You just can’t leave your job. I’d feel even worse if you lost it because of me.”
“Hey, calm down,” Molly said, leaning down and kissing Maxine on the cheek. “I have a great doctor for a boss. Besides, I have sick days, as well as vacation days, I haven’t used. Four weeks’ worth, actually.”
“Still…”
“It’s all right, I promise. I’m not going to do anything that puts my career in jeopardy.”
Maxine gave a visible sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear that.” She smiled. “It’s so good to see you and Trent. You’re a sight for my sore eyes.” Maxine faced her grandson and her smile widened. “He’s grown so much since I last saw him.”
“He’s growing much too fast,” Molly said with a crack in her voice. “He’s no longer my baby.”
“That’s not so.” Maxine looked back at Molly. “He’ll always be your baby just like you’ll always be mine.”
Tears welled up in Molly’s eyes, but she blinked them away, hopefully before her mother could see them. “So tell me what’s going on here.”
“Are you referring to my job?”
Molly was taken aback. “No. I wouldn’t think there’s a problem with that.”
“I hope you’re right,” Maxine said, her brows drawing together. “Worth let me hire a part-time helper several months ago, which is good. She’s more or less running the house now, with me telling her what to do, of course.”
“So is that working out?”
“Yes, but this home needs a full-time housekeeper, especially with Worth thinking about entering politics.”
The last person Molly wanted to talk about was Worth. Actually, she’d rather not know anything about him period. Under the circumstances, she knew that wasn’t possible.
“I just can’t help but be a little fearful of eventually losing my job,” Maxine said, “especially if I don’t start improving.”
“Oh, come on, Mom, Worth’s not going to let you go. You know better than that.”
“Maybe I do, but you know how your mind plays tricks on you and convinces you otherwise.” Maxine paused. “I guess what I’m saying is that my mind is my own worst enemy.”
“That comes from lying in bed with nothing to keep you occupied.” Molly smiled with a wink. “But now that Trent and I are here, that’s going to change.” Speaking of Trent made her turn to check on him, only to find he was no longer in the room.
“Did you see Trent leave?” Molly asked, trying to temper her building panic.
“No, but he can’t go far.”
That was when she noticed the door leading to the main house was open. “I’ll be right back,” Molly flung over her shoulder as she dashed out of the room, soon finding herself in the house’s main living area. “Trent Bailey, where are you?”
“Who is Trent?”
Molly stopped in her tracks, and stared into the face of Worth Cavanaugh. For what seemed the longest time, not only did her body shut down, but their eyes also met and locked, though neither said a word. But that didn’t matter. The tension was such that they might as well have been screaming at one another.
“Hello, Worth.” Somehow Molly managed to get those words through cotton-dry lips.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded in a curt tone, choosing to ignore her greeting.
“I would think that’s obvious.”
“Maxine failed to tell me you were coming.” Instead of curt, his tone was now in the freezer, showing no chance of thawing.
“That’s also obvious.”
Another silence.
“Again, who’s Trent?”
“My son.”
Worth’s black eyes flickered and his mouth stretched into a pencil-thin line. “Lucky you,” he finally said in a caustic tone, his eyes filled with scorn as they traveled up and down her body.
The word bastard was about to fly out of her mouth when Trent rounded the corner, racing to her side. “Mommy, I went to see the moo cows.”
Molly pulled him against her, clamping her hand on his shoulder. When he started to squirm, her hold tightened. As if sensing he was in trouble, Trent stopped wiggling and stared up at Worth with open curiosity.
“Trent,” Molly said in a tight voice, “this is Mr. Cavanaugh.”
Worth merely nodded at the boy, then looking up at Molly said, “I’d like to talk to you alone.”
Biting back another choice word, Molly peered down at Trent. “Go back to Granna’s room, honey. And don’t leave. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Okay,” Trent said, whirling and running back down the hall.
Don’t run, Molly wanted to shout, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Trent was already out of hearing range.
“So how old is he?”
Molly shook her head as though to clear it, Worth’s question taking her by surprise. “Almost four,” she said, lying with such ease that it shocked her.
“Good-looking