Page 36 of Gabriel's Angel

The chin came up again. “That’s something I should discuss with Gabe before anyone else.”

“You’re tougher than you look. Thank God for that.” Finishing off the sparkling beverage, she set down the empty glass. “I might just like you at that, Laura. Or, of course, we might end up detesting each other. But whatever is between the two of us doesn’t change the fact that Gabe has committed himself to you and the child. You’re family.” She sat back, lifting both brows, but inside she felt a faint twist of sympathy. “From the look on your face, that doesn’t thrill the life out of you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to being in a family.”

“You’ve had a very rough time, haven’t you?” There was compassion there, but not so much that it made Laura uncomfortable. Mentally Amanda made a note to do a little digging on the Eagletons.

“I’m trying to put that behind me.”

“I hope you succeed. Some things in the past need to be remembered. Others are best forgotten.”

“Mrs. Bradley, may I ask you something?”

“Yes. On the condition that after this question call me Amanda or Mandy or anything—except, please God, Mother Bradley.”

“All right. Who was Michael named for?”

Amanda’s gaze drifted to the empty cradle and lingered there. There was a softening, a saddening, in her face that compelled Laura to touch her hand. “My son, Gabe’s younger brother. He died just over a year ago.” With a long sigh, she rose. “It’s time we left you to settle in.”

“Thank you for coming.” She hesitated because she was never quite sure what people expected. Then listening to her heart, she kissed Amanda’s cheek. “Thank you for the cradle. It means a great deal to me.”

“And to me.” She brushed her hand over it before she left the room. “Clifton, aren’t you the one who said we shouldn’t stay more than a half hour?”

His voice carried, muffled, from upstairs. Clucking her tongue, Amanda pulled on her gloves. “Always poking around in Gabe’s studio. The poor dear doesn’t know a Monet from a Picasso, but he loves to look over Gabe’s work.”

“He did some beautiful things in Colorado. You must be so proud of him.”

“More every day.” She heard her husband coming and glanced upstairs. “Do let me know if you want any help setting up the nursery or finding a good pediatrician. I also expect you’ll understand if I buy out the baby boutiques.”

“I don’t—”

“Not understand, then, but you’ll have to tolerate. Kiss your new daughter-in-law goodbye, Cliff.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” Rather than the formal, meaningless kiss she was expecting, Laura received a hearty hug that left her dazed and smiling. “Welcome to the Bradleys, Laura.”

“Thank you.” She had an urge to hug him back, to just throw her arms around his neck and breath in that nice, spicy aftershave she’d caught on his throat. Feeling foolish, she folded her hands instead. “I hope you’ll come back, maybe next week for dinner, when I’ve had a chance to find things.”

“Cooks, too?” He pinched Laura’s cheek. “Nice work, Gabe.”

When they were gone, she stood in the foyer, rubbing a finger over her cheek. “They’re very nice.”

“Yes, I’ve always thought so.”

The sting was still in his voice, so she steadied herself and looked at him. “I owe you an apology.”

“Forget it.” He started to stride back into the library, then stopped and turned around. He’d be damned if he’d forget it. “Did you think I would lie to them about Michael? That I would have to?”

She accepted his anger without flinching. “Yes.”

He opened his mouth, rage boiling on his tongue. Her answer had him shutting it again. “Well, you shoot straight from the hip.”

“I did think so, and I’m glad I was wrong. Your mother was very kind to me, and your father...”

“What about my father?”

He hugged me, she wanted to say, but she didn’t believe he could possibly understand how much that had affected her. “He’s so much like you. I’ll try not to disappoint them, or you.”

“You’d do better not to disappoint yourself.” Gabe dragged a hand through his hair. It fell in a tumble of dark blond disorder, the way she liked it best. “Damn it, Laura, you’re not on trial here. You’re my wife, this is your home, and for better or worse the Bradleys are your family.”

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