Judy Christenberry - Who's The Daddy?

Chelsea and her husband entered the sun room, pausing at the entrance. “Hello, everybody.”

When greetings were offered, Roddy moved forward but Chelsea grabbed his arm to hold him back. “Well? Aren’t you going to say something?”

“What would you like to drink?” James asked, turning back to the bar.

“Not that, Daddy!” Chelsea said, pouting. “I’m wearing a maternity dress, my first.”

“It’s lovely,” Caroline murmured, hoping her low-key compliment would satisfy her sister.

“Thank you. When you need maternity clothes, Caro, you’ll have to ask me where to shop. I found some of the best places.” Chelsea’s superior air, while annoying, at least signaled she’d found a way to compensate for Caroline’s pregnancy.

Apparently satisfied with the response to her new dress, Chelsea allowed Roddy to lead her to a chair. “Get me some white wine, sweetums,” she cooed as she sat down.

“No,” Amelia said calmly, but her word had the effect of an explosion. Everyone stared at her.

Even Caroline was taken aback. In the little she had discovered about her mother, she assumed Amelia had nothing to say about anyone’s life in her house.

“What? I always have white wine, Mother. And I should be pampered. After all, I’m pregnant.” Chelsea pouted again.

“I’m sure your doctor told you to have no alcohol. It’s not good for the baby.”

“But surely one little glass of wine—” Chelsea began, but her mother cut her off.

“No. Have club soda like your sister.”

“Oh, of course! Caroline is always right!” Chelsea huffed, sliding down in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Your mother’s right, darling,” Roddy began with such tentative tones that Caroline fought the urge to chime in with encouragement. It wasn’t hard to decide who wore the pants in that family, even if they were maternity pants.

“I’m sure Mother heard that rule at the home for unwed mothers. And, of course, they shouldn’t indulge because they have no self-control, but I—”

“Also have no self-control,” James finished. “You’ll do as your mother says and have club soda.”

Caroline leaned toward Max. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’d planned on a private dinner. Then you wouldn’t have had to endure this argument.”

“No problem.”

She stared at him in irritation. The least he could do was look disappointed at having to share her with this mob all evening. Instead, he seemed quite interested in Chelsea’s performance.

Maybe he was attracted to Chelsea. Her honey blond curls, even if they were out of a bottle, gave her a little-girl look that some men found alluring. Caroline couldn’t remember anything about her relationship with Max, but she knew she didn’t want him attracted to her sister.

“Dinner is ready,” Mrs. Lamb announced from the doorway.

Amelia put away her needlework and stood to lead the way into the dining room. Beside each plate was a charming china name plate. Caroline was unhappy to discover Max was to be seated at the opposite end of the table from her.

“I’m afraid a mistake has been made, Daddy,” she announced, calmly exchanging Max’s name with Adrian’s. Instead of having her father’s two favorites surrounding her, she would have Max as a dinner partner.

“I just thought I’d like an opportunity to visit with our guest, Caro,” James protested.

“Some other time, Daddy.” She took Max’s arm and drew him to the chair at her mother’s left. He courteously pulled out the chair beside him for her, in the center of the table, opposite her sister.

Max wasn’t sure what difference it made where he sat at the big table. From the moment he’d met the other two men on the front porch, he’d realized the evening would be a disaster. He’d been an idiot to expect anything else, he decided.

An uneasy silence fell on the table as the housekeeper served consommé. Max may not have been brought up in a wealthy mansion, but he’d been taught good manners. He turned to his hostess.

“Do you do needlework for relaxation, Mrs. Adkins?” he asked politely.

His hostess looked surprised at his question, but she smiled. “Why, no. Actually, I’m doing it for an auction the home for the unwed mothers is having to raise money. It’s so expensive to care for all of them.”

“That’s very nice of you,” he said, and picked up his soup-spoon. As if he’d knocked a hole in a dam, words poured forth from Mrs. Adkins as she described all the ways the money would prove useful for her charity.

An occasional nod or encouraging word was all Max needed to contribute for the next few minutes. That gave him plenty of time to think about the brunette beauty beside him. She’d been on his mind for the past two months. Their two weeks together had been wonderful. Since then he’d wondered if he’d ever see her again.

Maybe he would’ve been better off if he hadn’t.

He sneaked a glance at her and decided that wasn’t true. If he had a chance to be with Caroline, then he wanted that chance.

“Do you have brothers or sisters, Mr. Daniels?” Mrs. Adkins asked.

“Why, yes, ma’am. I have three brothers and two sisters.”

“My, you come from a large family. Do they all work with you at your business? I believe my husband said you build homes?”

Max noticed Caroline leaned a little closer, as if trying to hear what they were saying. He grinned. She’d loved to hear him talk of his family. He’d assumed she had none of her own, but now he wondered if it was because hers seemed so distant to each other.

“Only my baby sister, Susan. She answers the phone when she’s not in class.”

“She’s in high school?”

“No, Susan’s a junior in college.”

“Was she the one who answered the phone when I called yesterday?” Caroline asked, proving that she’d been listening to their conversation.

“Yeah.”

“Did—did I meet her when we—while we were dating?”

“No.”

He hadn’t wanted to share her with his family. One introduction and they would’ve taken her in like a long-lost relative. So he’d put off taking her home to his mother. Until it was too late.

“Did I meet any of your family?”

“No.”

Her hazel eyes, with their dark lashes, rounded in surprise. He wanted to lean toward her and kiss her soft lips and tease her about her reaction. Instead, he sat stiffly, unsure what to say. How could he explain the sweetness he’d wanted to hold close, keep private, as long as possible?

“And you had the nerve to complain that I didn’t tell you about my family?” she whispered to him under her breath so her mother couldn’t hear.

“At least I told you about my family.”

“That’s going to be a little hard to prove since I can’t even remember you, much less what you told me!”

“Caroline,” her father called, pulling her attention away from Max.

“Yes?”

“I wondered if you wanted to have lunch with me tomorrow? You haven’t been to the office since the accident, and you used to come all the time.”

“She can’t,” Amelia said as she rang the bell for the next course to be served. “Tomorrow is her day at the home for the unwed mothers.”

“It is?” Caroline asked, seemingly surprised.

“I really don’t think that’s appropriate now, Mother,” Chelsea said. “After all, they might mistake Caro for one of the inmates and not let her leave at the end of the day.” She giggled, as if feeling her words were quite entertaining, but no one else laughed.

Max thought it best to ignore her remark. “What do you do there?” he asked Caroline.

The lost look on her face made him want to take her into his arms and comfort her, but that wouldn’t be appropriate dinner behavior. Besides, anything she did got that reaction from him.