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“Yes.” Sloan found that she took supreme pleasure in doing the opposite of what Tara thought she should. “There’s plenty of room for a crib and a changing table once we take out those two chairs. That way I won’t have to worry whether I’ll hear him when he cries in the night.”
“A baby monitor can accomplish that. Your bedroom should be restricted to you and your husband. It isn’t a place for a child.”
“Some might feel that way, but we don’t.”
One shoulder moved in an elegant but dismissive shrug. “It’s your bed and your marriage. I should think it will make it a bit awkward for your nanny. You are going to have a nanny, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely not,” Sloan replied without hesitation, determined that no one else was going to raise her child.
“Then you decided to give up your career, after all. That’s a wise choice,” Tara declared with approval. “I was confident that once you had time to think about it, you’d see for yourself. It would just be a source of conflict for you. And, I assure you, you will be much too busy with all your other responsibilities to devote yourself to it as you would want, both as a mother and the mistress of this house.”
“Sorry, but I intend to continue my work after the baby’s born. After all, I wouldn’t presume to usurp Cat’s position.”
“And you shouldn’t, either,” Tara agreed, to Sloan’s surprise. “Cat is such an incredibly unselfish woman—and so devoted to her father. I mean, the way she has stayed here to care for him even though she would love more than anything to move to Texas to be near her only son. Yet, you never hear a word of complaint from her. It’s sad, really, but Chase needs her now, and, heaven knows, none of us can be sure how much longer he’ll be with us.” Releasing a dramatic sigh, Tara gave a little shake of her head. “That’s much too morbid a subject when we should be talking about little Tyrone.”
“Tyrone?” Sloan looked at her blankly.
“You are going to name the baby after his grandfather, aren’t you?”
Sloan tried to dodge the question. “We haven’t decided on a name yet.”
“But Tyrone is such an obvious choice. I’m surprised Trey hasn’t insisted on it. What better way for him to honor his father’s memory than to name his son after him.”
“I certainly wouldn’t object,” Sloan stated, determined to make that clear. “But Trey feels that our son should have his own name.”
“We’ll have to change his mind, won’t we?” Tara declared. “Perhaps I’ll talk to Cat about it over coffee. I would ask you to join us but—”
“No thanks, I’ll pass.” For the first time, Sloan was glad she couldn’t stand the smell of coffee. It provided the perfect excuse to decline spending any more time in this woman’s company.
Some two hours later, Sloan heard the helicopter take off. It was a beautiful sound, considering it meant Tara wouldn’t be joining them for lunch.
Sloan made a point to mention Tara’s visit to Trey when he returned to The Homestead for the noon meal, as well as Tara’s desire that their son be named after his father. Trey’s reaction was instant and emphatic.
“If that woman thinks she can use emotional blackmail to force me to name our son after my father, she is very mistaken.”
Cat spoke up, “You could use it for a middle name.”
“Is that your idea, Aunt Cat? Or Tara’s?” Trey challenged.
“It’s nothing more than a suggestion.”
“As suggestions go, there’s nothing wrong with it—except we all know that if our baby has Tyrone anywhere in his name, Tara will be here constantly, fussing and cooing over him. I don’t think any of us want that.” He sat down at the table and dragged a napkin across his lap. “The next time Tara says anything about it, tell her that Laura is planning to name her
first son after our father.”
Chase frowned. “She is?”
“She is now.” Trey grinned, then added, “I’ll give Laura a call later and remind her that she owes me some favors.”
But they hadn’t heard the last of Tara. The second week of November a delivery truck arrived. The driver made trip after trip into The Homestead, hauling the larger boxes on a dolly and carrying the smaller ones. All were addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Trey Calder, and all identified the sender as Tara Calder.
When everything was opened, Sloan could only stare at the lavish assortment of baby items in amazement. There was everything from a new crib, baby dresser, and changing table to a complete layette, a crib bumper, and custom-made bedding based on the colorful cowboy mobile. She couldn’t see a single thing a baby might need that wasn’t there.
Not every item was one she would have chosen, but at the same time, she could find little fault in Tara’s taste. Still, she couldn’t shake that sense of disappointment at being deprived of the pleasure of shopping for these things herself.
Jessy was the first to return to The Homestead that evening and view the munificence. A dry smile tugged at her mouth when she glanced at Sloan.
“Let me guess,” she said. “This is from Tara.”
