Once in a Lifetime. Gwynne Forster
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I’ll get in late tonight. See you.”
Russ stared at the dial tone. He was having none of it. After dumping his bags in a corner of his room and kicking off his shoes, he charged, barefooted, downstairs in search of anybody against whom he could release a little venom.
“Hello. What’s your name?”
He whirled around and banged his head against the antique chest that had stood in that spot in the hallway since before he was born. He was on his way out of his mind. He was certain of it.
“My name is Tara. Who’re you?”
He looked down at her and tried to collect his wits. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. Maybe you’ll tell me who you are.”
“I already told you. Where’s Mr. Telford?”
“He’s…uh…out of town, but when he gets back here, you will definitely know it.”
“You want to see Biscuit?”
“Biscuit?”
“Biscuit is my little puppy. Mr. Henry gave him to me.”
He looked toward the ceiling and fought the urge to bare his teeth. Animals did not belong in a house, and especially not if he lived there. “Did he, now? Where’s your mother, Tara?”
To his surprise, she took his hand and smiled. “She’s around here.”
He’d been in a trance ever since he walked in the door, so he submitted to the eerie feeling that he might have lost his mind, allowed her to hold his hand and followed her.
“There you are, darling.”
He stopped and waited until Alexis reached him. “I assume this is your kid.”
“You assume wrong. She’s a little girl, my daughter.”
He ran his hand over his silky curls and regrouped. “Didn’t mean to be offensive, but this… Well, it’s unsettling at best. I don’t know what my brother was thinking about. With two females in this… This is a man’s preserve, and with you here, we’ll have to reinvent ourselves. This isn’t going to work.”
She folded her arms, as relaxed as if she were unaware of his annoyance. “You’ll hardly ever run into either one of us, and when you do, you’ll find you don’t mind it at all. We’ll see you at dinner. Come along, Tara.”
“Wait a second. Didn’t you understand me? I said this isn’t—”
This housekeeper had the temerity to interrupt him. “I heard you, but you want to quarrel with somebody. Anybody will do, but I never argue. We’ll see you at dinner. Seven o’clock.”
She took her daughter’s hand, turned and left him standing there.
Housekeeper, huh? Queen of Sheba was more like it. He went to the telephone in the hallway and dialed Henry’s cottage. When he didn’t get an answer, he dialed Henry’s room off the kitchen.
“Henry. I’m trying to sleep.”
“How are you, Henry? This is Russ. I came—”
“I know good and well who it is, and I still need my sleep.”
“And I need some answers. Where did Telford find Alexis Stevenson? How long’s she been here, and what about this little girl and this puppy? This is no place for grown men anymore.”
“No? Things musta changed since I was your age. She’s the housekeeper, and you needn’t raise a stink about Tara, ’cause she’s got your brothers in her pocket.”
“And you, too, I suppose.”
“Well, she is a right cute little tyke, and just as sweet as anything. Might as well get up, since you broke my rest. Supper’s at seven.”
Russ hung up and headed back to his room. An outsider in his own home.
Although she was off duty, Alexis set the table for dinner in the breakfast room. The sooner she got Russ Harrington off his high horse the better, though she suspected he’d resist change until a crisis forced him to be reasonable. She arranged the table with embroidered linen place mats, family-heirloom porcelain, silver and crystal goblets, flowers and lighted candles in silver candlesticks. She’d overdone it, but that was her way of declaring war. Her child deserved a peaceful, happy environment, not an atmosphere soured by Russ’s disgruntlement. She hoped Drake would be home for dinner, because the prospect of eating with Russ and only Tara as a buffer all but took her appetite.
At seven o’clock, she and Tara took their places at the table, and to her surprise, Russ joined them immediately. No one had to tell her he wasn’t motivated by a spirit of cooperation. The man was anxious to strike back.
“What the… Is somebody getting married?”
“I eat at a properly set dinner table,” she said, smiling her best smile. “I try to make the home comfortable, a happy place.”
“You’re kidding. This looks as if you’re expecting the president, or some big shot’s getting married. I don’t call this comfortable.”
She looked at him and smiled, though she knew he was vexed. If he took pleasure in eating with them, he had to be the world’s best actor. He picked up his fork.
“You have to say grace first,” Tara told him. “My mummy always says it before we eat.”
Russ looked steadily at the child, but he didn’t say grace.
“Would you like to say it, Tara?” Alexis asked her daughter.
Tara offered a long, colorful supplication, and Alexis’s respect for Russ mounted with the minutes, for he didn’t attempt to stop her and didn’t begin eating until she finished. In fact, it was the sound of Telford’s voice that ended Tara’s grace; she would have dashed to greet him, if Alexis hadn’t restrained her.
“How’s everybody? Am I late?”
Russ stood, and the way in which they clasped each other tightly told her much about the Harrington men. In spite of Russ’s displeasure with Telford because he’d hired her, he greeted his brother with affection.
“You’re in time,” Alexis said. “We hadn’t started eating.”
“That’s because Tara here treated us to the longest grace I ever heard. I expect she’d still be at it, if you hadn’t walked in. Look, man, this is a hefty dose you’re pouring out.”
Telford ignored him. “Be back as soon as I wash up. That’s another thing. Our homemaker says no dirty hands at the table.” She glimpsed the twinkle in his eye and realized that he enjoyed jostling with Russ.
“Put a lid on it,” Russ said, reaching for his fork. “Who taught you to say grace?” he asked Tara.
“My mummy. Is Mr. Telford coming back?”
He helped himself to a broiled hamburger, tasted it and grimaced. “Henry’s losing it,” he said in reference to the hamburger, then looked at Alexis. “Is she stuck on Telford? What’s Drake’s reaction to this?”
“He graciously capitulated.”
“Hmmm.”
She nearly sighed in relief when Telford sat down, but she knew at once that Russ intended to press for her dismissal when he said, “I’m going to speak to Henry about these meals. And you’ve got a lot to account for, brother.”
“Not till after I eat,” Telford said. He spoke in a gentle tone, but she knew, and she didn’t doubt that Russ knew, that Telford meant what he said.
“How’s Biscuit?” he asked Tara, signaling to Russ that the matter of Alexis’s status was closed for the moment.
As if she’d been waiting for him to acknowledge her presence, Tara’s face bloomed into a smile. “He’s