He nodded, sure he wasn’t going to like what was coming.She stared down at her drink, then up at him.Tears pooled in her dark brown eyes.She was close enough that he could hear her shallow breathing and count the freckles across her nose.The pattern reminded him of something but before he could figure out what, she sniffed.
“Billie?”He rested one hand on her shoulder.“It’s all right, peanut.”
“I made my mom cry.”
“How?”
“I asked about my dad.I knew I shouldn’t.It always makes her cry.But sometimes, I just want to know.Where is he?Doesn’t he love us anymore?”
As he pulled Billie into his arms, a soft sound came from the hallway.He looked up and saw Jane standing in the doorway.The expression on her face—pure pain—stabbed at him.Before he could say anything, she turned and fled.
He continued to hold her daughter, murmuring words of comfort, but his mind raced.Obviously Jane had heard what Billie said.Obviously her ex-husband had hurt her very deeply.Obviously she still cared for the man.
Chapter Eight
“Are you all right, child?”Charlene asked as Jane hurried into the kitchen.
“What?”She stared at her friend, then tried to smile.“Oh, I’m fine.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.Now don’t go getting any ideas.The Carolina Barringtons have always been too well-bred to allow ghosts in the house.”
Jane moved through the kitchen and picked up the plates for dinner.“I’m a little tired.That’s all.”
“Mmm.”Those shrewd blue eyes saw more than they were supposed to.Still Jane knew that she was safe.Despite the truckers that visited from time to time and her rather flamboyant wardrobe and ways, Charlene was too much of a lady to pry.“I thought you were going to ask Billie to set the table.”
“She’s…ah…Adam, that is, they’re watching the ball game.I didn’t want to disturb them.”
“Well then, you’ll need to get out the good silver.It’s in the middle drawer of the hutch.”
Jane nodded, then escaped from the kitchen to the quiet of theformal dining room.Lace-covered windows let in the soft, afternoon light.Underfoot, an antique Oriental carpet provided the color in the elegant room.The beautiful carved table could seat twenty, with all the leaves.Even at its smallest, it was too big for four, but Charlene liked to use the good pieces on Sunday and that meant eating in the dining room.Jane didn’t mind; the formal setting, remembering which forks went where, would occupy her mind.If she tried hard, maybe she could forget Billie’s conversation with Adam.
It was futile, she admitted, as she smoothed the pressed linen cloth over the table.Her daughter’s pain had ignited her own.“Where is my daddy?Doesn’t he love us anymore?”Her words echoed over and over again.
“I never meant to hurt you, Billie,” she murmured softly, as she folded the napkins.She had hurt her though, and Adam, too.All in all, she’d botched the whole thing.Now what?Should she tell him today?Could she?
“You have to tell him soon.That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”
She hadn’t heard Charlene enter the room.“Yes,” she said, as she continued to fold the napkins.
“You have to tell him,” Charlene repeated.
“I know.”
“He’s going to guess, and if he doesn’t, people in town will.She has too much of the Barringtons in her.”
“But she doesn’t reallylooklike him,” Jane said, hopefully, as if convincing Charlene would mean putting off the deed for another day.
“You’re right.She looks like Dani.”
“You think so?”
“Of course.All she needs is to be blond.She’s even got the freckles.”
“I never thought of that.”
“Start thinking.”Charlene placed a silver trivet on the table.“Sophia Yarns called me yesterday.”
Jane opened the center door of the hutch and picked up a handful of flatware.“She was at the New Accounts desk at the bank.”
