“This is Hermione,” she said quietly, smiling up at Theo as he came to stand beside Imogen, placing a protective hand around her waist. “Would you like to hold her?”
“Oh!” Elena blanched and nodded then. “Of course. Yes. May I?”
Imogen shrugged. “She’s your granddaughter.”
Elena held her hands out and her fingers were shaking slightly. Imogen nestled the baby into Elena’s hands carefully, arranging the blanket so that it wasn’t so high on her face. “Please, have a seat,” she offered, and Theo hid his smile.
But God, he loved having Imogen back in their home. And it was theirs. He wasn’t sure when he’d stopped thinking of it as his, and started to know that it was a home, rather than just an apartment. But it was.
“Thank you.” Elena sat in one of the armchairs, barely lifting her gaze off the baby’s face. “She’s so beautiful.”
“Just like Imogen,” Theo agreed.
“Yes, she is. I love her name,” Elena added.
“So do we.” Imogen smiled up at Theo. “It was Theo’s idea.”
“It made sense,” he said, stroking Imogen’s shoulder.
Elena was quiet for a moment, her expression somber as she turned to Imogen. “I really … I came because … I have to apologise, Imogen. My behavior to you has been unforgivable. I … And so childish.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t realise how much you mean to my son. I should have trusted his judgement instead of living in the past. I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat.
Imogen nodded slowly, and her smile was kind. “Thank you.”
“Thank you?” Elena repeated, her eyes skimming Imogen’s face.
“Yes. I don’t want us to be at odds.” She blinked up at Theo. “I love your son. I love him for who is, not what he has or to whom he was born. With or without your approval and friendship, I’m going to marry him. But it will be a lot easier if you and I get along. Theo, Hermione and I are a family now,” she said, still kindly, but with a hint of steel. “I would like you to be a part of it.”
Theo was gobsmacked. Such a pretty speech with such an underlying strength. The warning was clear. Behave or you’re out.
He stifled a laugh as he saw his mother’s comprehension.
But Imogen apparently had his mother’s measure, because Elena nodded and her eyes filled with tears. “I want that too. Those things I said…”
Imogen shook her head. “They’re forgotten. They don’t matter. I know the truth. And I think you do too.” She smiled brightly then. “Would you like a coffee?”
“Oh,” Elena blinked and looked at Theo uncertainly. “I’ll have a tea, if that’s what you’re having, dear.”
*
“This was meant to be an intimate affair!” Imogen laughed, eyeing the packed cathedral with a small shake of her head. “There must be a thousand people out there.
”
“It is no more than two hundred,” Theo corrected, shifting the heavy burgundy curtain to follow her gaze. The church was, indeed, packed to its rafters. Family, friends, colleagues – so many people had come to celebrate the christening of the beautiful baby Hermione. And, at twelve weeks of age, Hermione was indeed beautiful. Her thick downy hair had fluffed out and was now a blonde cap on her sweet head. Her eyes were staying blue, and her skin was flawless.
In Theo’s utterly unbiased opinion, she was the most beautiful and intelligent three month old that had ever lived. And she even slept well!
“Are you ready?” He asked Imogen.
She nodded, relief filling her when her eyes landed on her mother and father. Despite the formal invitation and the location in one of London’s oldest and grandest churches, her dad had chosen to wear his staple suit – a brown velvet that he’d trotted out at everything since his wedding. Imogen grinned and waved.
Didee waved back.
It was then that someone she recognized, but couldn’t quite place, caught Imogen’s attention. A man, with a woman she didn’t know, and a young baby. “Theo? Who’s that?” Imogen asked, pulling the curtains back so he could see where she was looking.
“Ah. That is Roger Greenback,” he said with a nod.
“Who?”