Chapter 14
Leigh Anne studied the seamstress Rick had recommended, her gaze very intent.
Apparently Maggie Kennedy had been friends with the girls’ mother and was also a friend of Francesca Cahill’s.
She had also heard that Maggie had been attacked during Francesca’s last case.
The redhead seemed pleasant enough, Leigh Anne thought.
She had a gentle way about her and surprisingly good manners, which Leigh Anne sensed she worked hard at.
She was rather pretty, too, although sadness seemed to shadow her remarkable blue eyes and her smiles seemed forced.
Leigh Anne intended for her to make a wardrobe for the girls. It was greatly needed.
At first she had been dismayed by Rick’s recommendation.
She hadn’t wanted someone else from the girls’ past entering their lives, not when they still did not know what their uncle really wanted.
But Rick had mentioned that Maggie, a widow, had lost her factory job, yet had to support four children.
That had finally settled it—Leigh Anne had decided to use Miss Kennedy.
Having met her, she was glad. The woman was pleasant to be around.
Just then, Maggie was leaning over Dot, who was pretending to read the story in a wonderfully illustrated children’s book.
Maggie exclaimed over the drawing of King Arthur and Guinevere.
Dot laughed, but clearly did not remember her.
Children were blessed with very short memories, Leigh Anne thought with a small pang.
She wished her own memory of the past would vanish, too.
She was beginning to realize that she must forget the woman she had once been, if she was to be a good mother to the girls.
Recalling the fairy-tale balls, where she had danced the night away in gorgeous evening gowns, saddened her.
Somehow, she must think of the future now.
She smiled a little, imagining herself as a plump matron with some gray hair, the children a few years older.
In the scenario, she remained in a wheelchair, but she was content and the girls were beautiful and happy.
In the fanciful daydream, Rick was there, strong and handsome, an integral part of their lives.
“Read! Read!” Dot cried, smiling devilishly.
Leigh Anne jerked back to the present. Katie, as serious as usual, took her little sister’s hand. “Mrs. Kennedy is here to make us clothes, real fancy clothes, the kind Mama wears,” she admonished. She smiled just a little, at Leigh Anne.
Leigh Anne’s heart turned over. She knew the children had been raised in a fatherless, working-class home with few amenities.
In spite of how serious Katie was trying to be, she saw that her eyes sparkled with excitement.
Leigh Anne had sent the nurse away. Now, she turned the wheels of her chair, moving it closer to the sofa where Dot sat, and Maggie and Katie stood.
A sense of triumph filled her as she approached.
It was so strong she did not care that her hands were blistered from turning the wheels.
She could actually move about. It felt like a miracle. Maybe she could actually become that plump, happy woman….
“Can I help you?” Maggie asked, moving nervously to stand beside Leigh Anne.
Although she was breathless from the exertion, Leigh Anne was also aware that the smile she gave Maggie was genuine—a reflection of her real pleasure. “I am fine, Mrs. Kennedy, but thank you.”
“Shall I bring my samples in? Some clients wish to detail the order first, while others prefer to look at the fabrics. They often change their mind when they find a color or a material they like.” Maggie smiled, but her blue eyes remained lackluster.
Leigh Anne recognized the sadness in the other woman, as much as if they were kindred spirits.
Maggie Kennedy was in some kind of distress.
“I should love to see some swatches,” she said.
“But I do wish to see Katie in a bright, daffodil-yellow. Katie? Would you like a yellow dress? I think the color would suit your complexion and your hair.”
Katie nodded, her eyes huge, clearly too excited to speak.
“Daff! Daff! Dot want daff!” Dot shrieked.
Leigh Anne reached for her chubby hand. “You, my dear, I should love to see in pastels—a pastel green, a sweet baby blue. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
Dot held her arms wide. “Mama! Mama, Mama!”
Leigh Anne’s pleasure vanished. She knew Dot wanted to be picked up and placed in her arms. But of course, she could not manage that feat, and she would never manage it again. The sadness returned, tenfold.
“Here you go,” Maggie said, moving before Leigh Anne could react. She lifted Dot and handed her to Leigh Anne.
Leigh Anne held her tight, just for moment. The girls were the real miracle, she thought. Then she smiled at the other woman, who regarded her kindly but without pity. Leigh Anne knew, in that moment, that she liked her very much. “Thank you. Do you approve of my color choices?”
“It is not my place to approve,” Maggie said quietly.
“But I should like your honest opinion.”
Maggie smiled. “I think bold colors will suit Katie, and you are right, soft pastels for the baby.”
Something clicked in Leigh Anne’s mind then, something about Maggie Kennedy that she should know.
An image of the countess Benevente assailed her, and Leigh Anne recalled the gossip she had heard and shared with the widow.
She made the connection, at last. “I beg your pardon,” she said, “but are you the woman with whom Evan Cahill was dining, along with some young children, at one of the hotels, perhaps a month ago?”
Maggie Kennedy turned crimson. She glanced away.
“He is very good to my children,” she murmured.
“I have four.” She smiled too brightly now.
“My oldest, Joel, is Miss Cahill’s assistant.
Evan—I mean, Mr. Cahill—often visits the children, bringing them cookies and gifts.
” Her tone dropped. “We haven’t seen him in some time.
” Then she smiled at Leigh Anne again. “I’ll go get those samples. I left my case in the front hall.”
Leigh Anne watched her go out, bemused. She hoped the pretty seamstress wasn’t in love with a man she could never have, not in any proper way. Worse, Cahill was a rake and everyone knew it. Bartolla suited him; they were a good match.
Peter came to the parlor door. “Mrs. Bragg? O’Donnell is at the front door.”
She froze. “Send him away!” she cried. And panic consumed her.
Rick had said he was taking care of O’Donnell—but the man had come back!
Why was he there? Rick had told her that Feingold had already filed the adoption papers, but he said the process usually took several months.
In that moment, Leigh Anne knew that they could not wait.
Rick had implied that O’Donnell was going to leave town—immediately. Had she misunderstood?
Peter was striding down the short hallway to the front door.
Suddenly fury added to her panic, fueling her as nothing else could.
She seized the wheels of the chair, turning them fast and hard, racing down the hall after Peter.
She heard Katie calling her, but she did not stop.
There in the front hall, not far from Maggie, was Mike O’Donnell.
He dared to grin at her. Leigh Anne feared him, but in that moment, she hated him, too.
He was not going to be a part of the girls’ lives—and he was not going to take them away.
Huffing and puffing, Leigh Anne rolled the chair so fast that he had to jump out of the way or be hit by it. Peter caught the handles, braking her before she crashed into the wall. “Turn me around,” she told him.
Instantly he turned the chair to face O’Donnell.
“Good day, Mrs. Bragg,” he began. “It’s lovely day and I was thinking—”
She rudely cut him off. “Don’t tell me it is a lovely day! What do you want? Why are you here?”
Peter, who rarely spoke and never volunteered advice, leaned low. “Mrs. Bragg,. I’ll get rid of him.”
She reached behind her, stopping him. “No.” She stared coldly at O’Donnell.
“Like I said, it’s lovely day, and I was thinking to take my nieces for a little stroll in the square.”
“Never,” Leigh Anne cried.
His smile flashed. It felt ugly, and dangerous. “I got every right to take my own flesh and blood out for a walk,” he said, pleasantly enough.
All she could think was that he intended to abduct the girls and she would never see them again. “No. You don’t have every right. They live here with us now. You may be their uncle, but you are a stranger. I cannot allow you to take them for a stroll.”
His smile faded and his gaze held hers. “I got every right. I know my rights, ’cause I just got a lawyer.”
Her heart seemed to stop. “You have retained a lawyer? Why would you want a lawyer?” she managed, hoping her horror didn’t show.
“Well, the girls are my nieces. I know you got a fancy house here an’ lots of money, but I’ve been thinking about it. They belong with me and Aunt Beth.”
Hadn’t she sensed all along that he wanted to take the girls away? It was her worst fear come true. It was worse than losing the use of her legs. It was worse than anything she could imagine.
Maggie had stepped close. She said, lowering her tone, “Call your husband, ma’am.”
Leigh Anne heard her. She wet her lips as her mind raced furiously. “You can’t give them the life that we can. And…and we love them. I love them.”
“Now, isn’t that nice! I’m glad you’re so fond of them, and I know you’re right. You can give them pretty French dresses and brand-new toys, and I’m just a hardworking, God-fearing plain and simple man. But I can give them a roof over their heads, a bed, home-cooked food and schooling.”
She realized she was shaking. “We plan to adopt them, Mr. O’Donnell.”