She’d grown, Laura told herself. In the past year she’d learned not just to be strong but to be as strong as she needed to be. She might not have reached the peak, but she was no longer scrambling for a foothold at the bottom of the hill.
It was as easy as asking. After her thanks were brushed aside Laura hung up the phone and glanced at her watch. If Michael stuck to his usual schedule, he would wake within the hour and demand to be fed. She could take him to Amanda—the first big step—then drive to the gallery. She glanced down at the dirt-stained knees of her jeans. First she had to change.
The doorbell caught her halfway up the stairs. Feeling too optimistic to be annoyed by the interruption, she went to answer it.
And the world crashed silently at her feet.
“Laura.” Lorraine Eagleton gave a brisk nod, then strode into the hall. She stood and glanced idly around as she drew off her gloves. “My, my, you’ve certainly landed on your feet, haven’t you?” She tucked her gloves tidily in a buff-colored alligator bag. “Where is the child?”
She couldn’t speak. Both words and air were trapped in her lungs, crowding there so that her chest ached. Her hand, still gripping the doorknob, was ice-cold, though the panicked rhythm of her heart vibrated in each fingertip. She had a sudden, horrible flash of the last time she had seen this woman face-to-face. As if they had just been spoken, she remembered the threats, the demand and the humiliation. She found her voice.
“Michael’s asleep.”
“Just as well. We have business to discuss.”
The rain had cooled the air and left its taste in it. Watery sunlight crept through the door, which Laura still hadn’t closed. Birds were beginning to chirp optimistically again. Normal things. Such normal things. Life, she reminded herself, didn’t bother to stop for personal crises.
Though she couldn’t make her fingers relax on the doorknob, she did keep her eyes and her voice level. “You’re in my home now, Mrs. Eagleton.”
“Women like you always manage to find rich, gullible husbands.” She arched a brow, pleased that Laura was still standing by the door, tense and pale. “That doesn’t change who you are, what you are. Nor will your being clever enough to get Gabriel Bradley to marry you stop me from taking what’s mine.”
“I have nothing that belongs to you. I’d like you to leave.”
“I’m sure you would,” Lorraine said, smiling. She was a tall, striking woman with dark, sculpted hair and an unlined face. “Believe me, I have neither the desire nor the intention to stay long. I intend to have the child.”
Laura had a vision of herself standing in the mist, holding an empty blanket. “No.”
Lorraine brushed the refusal aside as she might have brushed a speck of lint from her lapel. “I’ll simply get a court order.”
The cold fear was replaced by heat, and she managed to move then, though it was only to stiffen. “Then do it. Until you do, leave us alone.”
Still the same, Lorraine thought as she watched Laura’s face. She spit a bit now when she was backed into a corner, but she was still easily maneuvered. It infuriated her now, as it always had, that her son had settled for so little when he could have had so much. Even in fury she never raised her voice. Lorraine had always considered derision a better weapon than volume.
“You should have taken the offer my husband and I made to you. It was generous, and it won’t be made again.”
“You can’t buy my baby, any more than you can buy back Tony.”
Pain flashed across Lorraine’s face, pain that was real enough, sharp enough, to make Laura form words of sympathy. They could talk, had to be able to talk now, as one mother to another. “Mrs. Eagleton—”
“I won’t speak of my son with you,” Lorraine said, and the pain vanished into bitterness. “If you had been what he needed, he’d still be alive. I’ll never forgive you for that.”
There had been a time when she would have crumbled at those words, ready to take the blame. But Lorraine had been wrong. Laura was no longer the same. “Do you want to take my baby to punish me or to bind your wounds? Either reason is wrong. You have to know that.”
“I know I can and will prove that you’re unfit to care for the child. I’ll produce documentation that you made yourself available to other men before and after your marriage to my son.”
“You know that’s not true.”
Lorraine continued as if Laura hadn’t spoken. “Added to that will be the record of your unstable family background. If the child proves to be Tony’s, there’ll be a custody hearing, and the outcome is without question.”
“You won’t take Michael, not with money, not with lies.” Her voice rose, and she fought to bring it back down. Losing her temper would get her nowhere. Laura knew all too well how easily Lorraine could bat aside emotion with one cold, withering look. She believed, she had to believe, there was still a way of reasoning with her. “If you ever loved Tony, then you’ll know just how far I’ll go to keep my son.”
“And you should know just how far I’ll go to see to it that you have no part in raising an Eagleton.”
“That’s all he is to you, a name, just a symbol of immortality.” Despite her efforts, her voice was growing desperate and her knees were beginning to shake. “He’s just a baby. You don’t love him.”
“Feelings have nothing to do with it. I’m staying at the Fairmont. You have two days to decide whether or not you want a public scandal.” Lorraine drew out her gloves again. The terror on Laura’s face assured her that there was no risk of that. “I’m sure the Bradleys would be displeased, at the least, to learn of your past indiscretions. Therefore, I have no doubt you’ll be sensible, Laura, and not risk what you’ve so conveniently acquired.” She walked out the door and down the steps to where a gray limo waited.
Without waiting for it to drive away, Laura slammed the door and bolted it. She was panting as though she’d been running. And it was running that occurred to her first. Dashing up the stairs, she raced into the nursery and began to toss Michael’s things into his carryall.