She felt as though she’d just ruined the life of the man she loved.
MICHAEL CAUGHT a flight to Chicago Saturday morning. He’d secured an appointment with the Miller family for a week from the following Monday. He wanted to use the time in between to finalize his market analysis and to check in with team members who were experts in various areas of acquisitions. And he wanted to be settled in his personal life before the new week began. He was going home to catch up on mail, on Mrs. Leets, on his phone messages, to pick up some more clothes—and the Pathfinder. He needed that Pathfinder more than anything, illogically so. As if it represented the only piece of freedom he had left.
While he was home, he called his family, caught up on all the new happenings in Carlisle. They were finally getting a McDonald’s. Which was the biggest news Michael had heard from there in a long time.
“How are the twins?” Michael asked when his mother took a turn on the phone.
“Fine. Those babies keep them busy,” she said. The same answer he always got, and yet, his little sisters suddenly seemed much more real to him.
“They’re a great support for each other, aren’t they?” he asked, only just realizing something everyone else had probably known for twenty years.
“Of course,” his mother said. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
“No reason, Mom.” He meant to change the subject then. “Mom?” he asked instead.
“Yeah?”
“How did you feel when you found out you were having twins?”
“Ohhh, I don’t know that I remember. Happy, I’m sure.”
“Was it hard, you know, that first little bit?”
“Hard?” She paused. “No, I don’t think so.”
“What about when both of them were crying or needed to be changed, or when you had to go somewhere and lug two babies with you?”
“Well, of course, that wasn’t easy, but I had you boys and your father—and besides, Michael, you just don’t think about those things. You’re just too busy loving them.”
Right. There was that. Unfortunately, Michael didn’t have any idea how to go about it. Loving them.
“Of course, if you asked your father, I’m sure you’d get a different answer,” Mary Kennedy continued, rattling blissfully on. “He grumbled a lot when the girls were little. ‘Double everything, mostly trouble,’ he used to say. But he didn’t really mean it. He took such pride in them. In all you kids.”
Because they were the only thing he could take pride in? The only thing he had? But it wasn’t a question Michael could ask.
He rang off a few minutes later, not telling his family that he’d be staying at Susan’s over the next few weeks. He knew exactly what they’d make of that—adding more pressure that he didn’t need. He also didn’t want to get their hopes up about something that wasn’t happening.
Which was exactly why he also failed to mention the two grandchildren on the way. Until that moment, he’d never even considered the fact that Susan’s babies had another entire family who would delight in their existence. Who deserved to have a share of their lives.
With that thought wrapping the chains more tightly around him, Michael phoned his brother Bob. And didn’t hang up until he’d secured permission to send Bobbie Jayne to drama camp in August. And then, filled with the need to call his niece back and tell her everything was finalized, he called the director of the camp—reaching her at home—and reserved Bobbie Jayne one of the last slots. So as the day drew to a close, at least he felt good about something.
He met the new director of finance at Smythe and Westboume for dinner Saturday evening—as he’d been doing every time he came to town since he’d left the position himself. Melanie Dryson had worked for him for years and was every bit as committed as Michael had been to the continued growth of the investment firm. And while she was very well qualified to do the job, there were still some things she liked to run by him. Sensitive issues relating to employees and to clients.
“I need to give you some new contact numbers,” he told her as soon as he’d finished off the steak and baked potato he’d ordered. Pulling out a business card, he scribbled Susan’s number under his own. He’d told Melanie when she agreed to take the position that he’d keep her apprised of his whereabouts for as long as she needed him.
“You’re through in Denver?” Melanie asked him. She’d had a salad that made him appreciate Susan’s more voracious appetite.
“Last Thursday.” Melanie was a beautiful woman, a brunette with classical features. Everything about her from her dress to the way she wore her short, layered hair was classy, stylish. She reminded him a lot of Susan—especially the air of confident poise she was never without.
Taking a sip of her tea, she smiled at him. “Have you been to Atlanta yet?”
“Just briefly.” He’d made a couple of weekend trips to familiarize himself with the office he was hardly ever going to use. To meet his new secretary whom he used a lot—but only long-distance.
Looking at the card he’d given her, Melanie asked, “So where are you going this time?”
“Cincinnati.”
“Doesn’t the travel ever get to you?”