Page 23 of Wedding Season
“You weren’t struggling to manage your phone and your nanny duties at the same time.” Why had she made the stupid little dig? What did it matter with a baby that young if Heather was on the phone at the same time she was holding her? At least she was holding her and hadn’t left her alone and deserted in her crib for hours.
“I’m reading to her,” the girl said. “I have an eBook downloaded on my phone.” She held up the device as she joined Mariella at the counter. “It’s what I used to do with my sisters. I would read to them from my English class required reading. I could entertain them and get my homework done at the same time. My mom says she thinks part of the reason I’m so smart is because of how much she read to me as a kid. She loves to read.”
Heather transferred the baby to Mariella’s arms and moved the plate to the scuffed table. “She also likes to bake, and she volunteered as the room mom when I was little. She’s a good mom. I’m lucky.”
“Jasmin is a good mom, too,” Mariella said then wanted to kick herself in the shin for her insensitivity.
It was a relief that Heather’s adoptive parents were good to her. For years, she’d wished and hoped and prayed for just that. She had no right to the sudden pang of jealousy.
“That makes me happy,” she said, purposely gentling her voice.
“I wasn’t trying to make you happy.” Heather’s sharp tone cut like a knife. “I don’t care about your feelings.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. What are you reading? One of the great classics or some treatise on philosophy?”
Heather rolled her eyes.
“What?” Mariella shifted her hold on Isabella when the baby started to fuss. “I know you’re really smart. I just figured you’d read the kind of stuff smart people read.”
“I like mysteries,” Heather said quietly. “I read plenty of classics and important books in high school and I’m sure I will again when I get to UNC. When it’s just me, I like commercial fiction. I read pretty much anything. But cozy mysteries are my favorite.”
“Have you ever tried Brenda James?” The popular cozy mystery author kept Mariella enthralled for hours each time she released a new book.
Heather paused in the act of taking a bite of sandwich. “Her Darby Kelleher series was my favorite. I actually cried when I finished the last book. I didn’t want it to end.”
“Did you know they’re making a movie of it?” Mariella asked.
“I heard that. Books are almost always better than movies. Amber Turner is starring in it, right?”
The few moments of joy Mariella had felt sharing something in common with her daughter seemed to fade away as quickly as they’d started thanks to the reminder of Amber.
She worked to keep her face features neutral. “I introduced her to those books.”
“Along with your fiancé?”
“Something like that.”
“Sorry,” Heather said. “That must have sucked.”
“Yep,” Mariella agreed, unsure what else to say. What else could she say? Her past wasn’t a secret. She should have expected that Heather would have seen the video.
Isabella had settled again and was contentedly sucking on her fingers. It was a recent trick she’d learned much to Jasmin’s delight. Apparently a purposeful awareness of her own hands was a developmental milestone around two months and the fact that Isabella had discovered them a few weeks early made her mother certain she was destined to be a genius.
Mariella’s daughter was a genius, or close to it as far as Mariella was concerned. The whole nature versus nurture argument was a load of crap. Heather might have gotten her sun-kissed highlights from her mom and her soulful smile from her biological father, but Mariella gave credit for every bit of her intelligence, caring and any other good traits she possessed to the people who’d raised her.
Just as Mariella had wanted.
She was so much more than Mariella could have imagined, and her dreams about her daughter left pretty big shoes to fill.
An awkward silence filled the apartment for several long moments. The only sound was the soft noises Isabella made sucking on her fingers.
What were the little habits Heather had as a baby? Mariella brushed aside the question she wouldn’t give voice to. What was the point of thinking of her child as a baby when she didn’t even know her now?
For the first time since she’d met the girl, Mariella admitted to herself how much she wanted to know her daughter and how curious she felt about every aspect of Heather’s life. The realization whispered through her like a night breeze, making promises in the darkness that the light of day might not be willing or able to deliver.
She was about to suggest they set up a date for coffee or even a meal. The thought of putting herself out there in that way terrified her, but it was what she wanted. She wished she had more of an idea what Heather wanted, but the girl kept her motivations private.
Then Mariella’s phone started going wild both with incoming calls and texts. The noise startled Isabella, and the baby began to cry. Heather immediately reached for her, and Mariella handed over the baby as she pulled her phone out of her back pocket.
