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Spurs jangling, Ballard trailed after both of them, lugging the suitcases up the steps. When they reached the bedroom that had formerly been occupied by Cat, Tara directed Ballard on where she wanted each suitcase placed.
When he set the last one down, Tara inquired, “Which room will Noah have?”
“The first guestroom in the west hall,” Jessy replied, and immediately provided Ballard with directions to it. After he exited the room, she turned to take her leave of Tara.
But she wasn’t given the opportunity. “Everything is just the way I remember it,” Tara declared. “The old place hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Not in the ways that count,” Jessy agreed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to give Trey his bottle. If there’s anything else you need, please let me know.”
On that parting note, Jessy walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She continued down the hall to the master suite. Sally was just putting Laura in her crib when Jessy walked in.
Straightening, Sally lifted a shushing finger to her lips and whispered, “She’s asleep.”
Jessy nodded and crossed to the rocking chair. “By the way,” she said, keeping her voice pitched low, “you should know there will be two more for dinner.”
“No problem.” Sally smiled. “I got out extra on the chance that Chase would invite them to lunch.”
“They will be here for dinner as well as lunch.” Cradling Trey in her arm, Jessy slipped the plastic nipple into his mouth, tipping the bottle. “They’re spending the night.”
Startled by the announcement, Sally didn’t have the skill to hide it. “Tara is staying here?” A look of utter dismay claimed her expression. “Oh, Jessy, how awkward for you.”
Jessy couldn’t help thinking that Tara didn’t appear to find the situation at all awkward. Which made her all the more determined to control her temper and maintain an outward aura of calm.
“Which room is she in?” Sally asked with sudden concern. “You didn’t put her in your old room, did you?”
“No, she’s in Cat’s, and the architect is in the first guest room.”
An absent frown knitted Sally’s forehead. “I don’t think there are extra towels in Cat’s bathroom. I’d better get some.” She hurried from the room, leaving Jessy alone with the twins and her thoughts.
Leaning close to the dressing table’s mirror, Tara inspected her reflection. The face in the mirror was as smooth as ivory without a hint of a wrinkle, thanks to the artistic skill of Tara’s plastic surgeon. His fee had been exorbitant, but the result was worth every dollar he charged.
There was satisfaction in knowing that Jessy and her sun-creased lines suffered in comparison. Tara drew back from the mirror and added a touch more gloss to her lips, then adjusted the folds of the chiffon scarf around her neck.
There was a light rap on the bedroom door. Thinking it was Jessy, Tara lingered at the mirror and gave her black hair a few fluffing pushes then walked over to the door.
But it was Sally Brogan who stood in the hall, a stack of towels in her arms. Tara recovered in a flash and stepped back, adopting a quick look of astonishment. “Sally.” She breathed the woman’s name then released a confused laugh. “I didn’t expect to see you here. This is a surprise.”
“I work here now.”
Reaching out, Tara placed a warm hand on the woman’s arm, her eyes misting over on command. “We’re both hopeless, aren’t we?”
“I beg your pardon.” Sally frowned, puzzled by the comment.
“Even though they don’t love us, we can’t stop loving them. For us, it’s enough to be under the same roof with them, isn’t it?”
Clearly embarrassed, Sally turned away. “I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sorry,” Tara murmured, instantly contrite. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I think I must have known in my heart that you were secretly in love with Chase. Perhaps that’s why, when I saw you here, I was so quick to recognize a kindred soul.” She paused and made a show of gathering herself, brushing away the sheen of tears, and drawing in a long breath. “But you’re right. It’s better not to talk about it. It makes it just that much harder to conceal when we’re around others.”
Sally lifted her head, a marveling look in her eyes. “You do understand.”
“Of course, I do,” Tara said softly and embraced the woman, towels and all, in a warm hug, then retreated, managing to exhibit a trace of self-consciousness. “Gracious, look at us,” she declared, thickening the drawl in her voice. “We had better stop this before I start crying.” Half turning, Tara delicately pressed a finger to the corner of an eye as if blotting away a tear.
Sally hesitated. “I guess I’d best be putting these towels away.”
“Sally.” Tara reached out a hand in a stalling gesture when the woman started to turn away. “Sometimes it’s—good to share your pain with another who is going through the same thing. It helps somehow. Thank you.”
Tara read the hesitancy and doubt in the older woman’s eyes. As clearly moved as she was by their exchange, Sally still didn’t fully trust her.
