Jacqueline Diamond - I Do! I Do!

“Apparently someone notified him, as the attorney to your brother’s estate, that Lily and Daisy are being released,” she said. “He and your sister will be here tomorrow.”

“Why?” Mason hoped he didn’t sound as irritable as he felt. Eight years his senior, Marge still regarded him as her kid brother. Furthermore, since childhood she’d had a way of hogging the limelight, performing a small amount of work and expecting a large amount of credit.

“He said your sister intends to raise the babies herself.”

Mason’s gut tightened. He’d gone through so much with these little girls. What the heck did Marge think she was doing?

If she loved them even a tenth as much as he did, she’d have come to Austin long ago. She’d have camped out, as he had, unable to bear missing a single day with them.

“My sister has no right to these children,” he said.

“According to your brother-in-law, she believes she could provide them with the best home,” Elly said mildly.

“The best home is the one where they’re loved.” He couldn’t keep an edge from his voice.

“I won’t disagree with you,” the administrator said.

“Did Stuart happen to mention why they never brought this up until now?”

“According to him, your sister needed time to ‘clear the decks’ of other involvements,” she said. “Still that wouldn’t prevent her from picking up a telephone and calling you, would it?”

Mason knew quite well why his sister hadn’t contacted him directly—because she didn’t want to give him a chance to speak bluntly. Acknowledging painful truths had never been Margaret’s favorite activity.

“She wants to take charge and be the center of attention,” he said. “In a few months, she’ll get tired of playing nursemaid and turn them over to a series of nannies. That may sound uncharitable on my part, Miss Maitland, but I’ve known my sister for a long time.”

“You understand that, no matter where my sympathies lie, I can’t get involved.” She tapped a pen against her clipboard. “Mr. Waldman asked me to delay the girls’ release for another day, to give them more time to get here. However, there’s no medical reason to hold them, so I declined.”

“Much obliged,” Mason said.

“It was the least I could do.”

As the administrator departed, the full impact of this development hit him. He might lose the girls. If Margaret was determined to take Lily and Daisy, she would have the odds stacked in her favor.

A lawyer for a husband. An elegant home in Dallas. Three nearly grown kids of her own as proof that she knew how to raise children. A judge wouldn’t understand that, to Margaret, the baby girls were ornaments to show off, while Mason loved them with all his heart.

He must have been scowling when he returned to the nursery, because several people scooted out of his way. Gina didn’t budge. “What’s wrong?”

He became aware of the other nurses and parents around them. It was too personal a subject to discuss here.

“There’s a problem I’d like to discuss with you,” he said. “But not here. Could I take you out to dinner after your shift?”

Mason caught his breath, realizing that he’d just asked her on a date. Of course, she would refuse—politely and sweetly, but firmly. Why should she agree to spend time with him?

“Something’s wrong that affects the girls? Of course,” she said.

Suddenly it wasn’t a date, just a conference about the twins. He wished he didn’t feel so disappointed.

Across one of the plank-style tables at Lone Star’s, a steak house down the street from Maitland Maternity, Gina studied Mason.

She hadn’t been able to finish her barbecued chicken, although it was excellent. The huge portions, however, didn’t prevent him from making short work of a platter of steak and fries, along with a salad. He ate exactly the way she’d imagined he would.

He also managed to tell her quite a bit about himself, and especially his relationship with his sister. Until now, Gina had known Mason primarily as Lily and Daisy’s uncle. It was intriguing to glimpse the larger scope of his life and his family.

Margaret, he’d explained, was eight years older than him and had already married and left the Blackstone Bar ranch when their mother died. Mason, who’d been twelve at the time, had helped raise Rance, five years his junior, and had assisted their father on the ranch.

In Dallas, Marge kept a busy schedule. She headed several social committees and ran a charity art gallery and craft shop.

“Why do you suppose she wants to go back to changing diapers and staying up half the night for two babies she’s never met?” Gina asked. “She’d have to give up most of her other activities. And it doesn’t get any easier when they’re toddlers, or teenagers, either! This is a twenty-year commitment.”

She stopped, surprised by her outburst. She didn’t usually state her opinions so boldly.

Mason spread his hands in a gesture of frustration. “Maybe because she knows she can win. What would I say to a judge? ‘Your honor, my brother and I were so close, he and his wife meant everything to me. Their children were going to be my children, too. Now that they’re gone, these girls are all I have left.’ That’s not a strong argument.”

“It ought to be!” Gina said.

“She’ll say she’s better suited in every way to raise the girls, and the judge will agree,” he concluded. “I have to come up with a counterargument. That’s where I could use your advice.”

“I can testify that they never visited the nursery,” she said. “You were there every day.”

“It might not be enough,” he said. “Before I knew for certain that Amy’s parents didn’t want the children, I talked to a lawyer about custody issues. He told me judges have a hard time weighing intangibles like bonding, so they take a by-the-numbers approach. Margaret can list a lot more advantages than I can.”

“Can’t you reason with her?” she asked. “The direct approach is sometimes the best one.”

The waitress stopped to take their dessert order, apple pie for him, sherbet for Gina. When they were alone again, he said, “Reason with her? I tried that this afternoon, on the phone. Margaret didn’t even hear what I was saying. To her, I’m still her kid brother.”

It was hard to imagine how anyone could see Mason as a kid. From across the booth, Gina could feel the heat of the man and smell the leathery fragrance he exuded.

“I wish I could help,” she said. “With all their activities, the Waldmans don’t sound like ideal parents for two medically fragile infants.”

“Medically fragile?” he repeated.

She hadn’t meant to alarm him. “I don’t mean that they’re in imminent danger. But they need extra care.”

“Like attaching the monitors.” He spoke to himself more than to her.

“Yes. Someone will need to check their weight gains, and take their temperatures, and log how much they’re eating,” she explained. “It’s not the sort of thing a person can do easily in between running a store and organizing a charity event.”

“It’s not the sort of thing a person can do while running a ranch, either.” He shook his head. “From a judge’s point of view, this looks hopeless.”

To Gina, the difference was clear. “You’ve got a full-time housekeeper, someone you’ve known for years, who’s dedicated to you. And you won’t get tired of the girls after a few months. You’ve shown you’re willing to sacrifice for them.”

Their dessert came. Mason stared at his apple pie. “You know what I want them to have?” he said.

“Love?” Gina guessed.

“Of course.” He gave her a weary smile. “Also, a sense of belonging. Memories, traditions. The kind of thing you get on a ranch or in a small community.”