She sank onto the bed and willed away the start of a headache. She was here in LaRue and she would make the best of it. Hadn’t she been making the best of things for about six years? This situation wouldn’t be any different.
Rubbing her temple, she gazed around the room. At any other time, she might have enjoyed the place John McMollere had recommended.
Complete with slowly revolving ceiling fans and patrons in rumpled suits and Panama hats, the White Hotel was like something out of a Hemingway novel. Built in the days of Louisiana’s rice and sugarcane barons, it was garishly grandiose. But just as those were bygone days, the hotel was past its heyday.
Not that any of this mattered. Claire was in no mood to appreciate decor. Her thoughts were on the upcoming meeting with her son’s grandparents, the McMolleres. Because of their power and arrogance, they’d won this round, but she was determined they weren’t going to win the war.
They were not going to take Danny away from her.
She glanced at her watch. Three hours before she and Danny had to meet them. Just the thought sent up a flock of butterflies. She touched her stomach, and her troubled gaze strayed to the balcony and Danny. He was usually a happy, good-natured boy, but lately he was picking up on her anxiety. Somehow she was going to have to keep from communicating her distress to him. Closing her eyes, she vowed to do better at keeping her fears to herself.
The telephone rang.
She stared at it, knowing the caller had to be one of the enemy. If not the lawyer, then old Angus McMollere, himself. If not him, then John McMollere, the older son—the one everybody called Mack. He was the one she most hated dealing with. Not that she’d seen him during the negotiations for this visit. They’d communicated only by telephone. Knowing that she was being silly—even childish and cowardly—she allowed the telephone to ring four times before she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Claire Woodson?”
The voice was dark and deep and confident. Not cold, but not friendly either. She recognized it instantly and sighed. John McMollere. Strangely enough, a picture of him flashed vividly in her mind even though she’d only seen him once. Six years ago in Houston on a night that had changed her life forever.
“Claire?” he repeated.
“This is she.”
“John McMollere here.”
“Yes.”
“I expected to hear from you earlier.”
“The appointment is for seven. Has that changed?”
“No. Nothing’s changed. But a woman and a child traveling alone, I thought—”
“Danny and I are used to traveling alone, Mr. McMollere.”
“Mack.”
She murmured something. She wasn’t ready for a chummy relationship with any of them.
He waited a beat. “Satisfied with our hotel?”
“It’s…interesting.”
“How’s Danny?”
Her gaze went to Danny who was leaning over the balcony railing obviously interested in something going on below. “He’s fine. Bored with no one to play with, but he’ll be okay.”
“He’ll like it here at Sugarland. No little kids, of course, but it’s a big place. He can explore to his heart’s delight. His grandparents can’t wait to see him.”
Two days. Only two days and we can go home.
She clutched the receiver. “I need directions to get there.”
“No need. I’ll pick you up.”
“No! I mean…ah, that’s not necessary. I’m—”
“I know it’s not necessary, Claire,” he said patiently. “But you’ve been on the road most of the day. It’s another twenty miles out here with twists and turns you might miss.”
“I can follow directions.”
“I know this whole thing is stressful for you. It’s not exactly easy for us on this end, either.”
“What does that have to do with whether or not I drive myself to Sugarland?” she asked. Even to herself she sounded negative and testy. She heard him draw in a deep breath.
“I think we should all try to make this visit a happy one, Claire. For Danny’s sake.”
She gripped the receiver even tighter. “Where was all this concern for Danny when you people first learned of his existence, Mr. McMollere?” she asked. “Forgive me for being blunt, but I’m here only because a judge ordered it. And we both know he ordered it because of the prestige of the McMolleres. You’ve got what you wanted—a weekend to meet my son. And contrary to what you might think, I will do everything I can to see that nothing upsets Danny. As his parent—his only parent—how could I do otherwise?” Touching her head, she wished for a pill to take away the headache and the weekend. “Maybe that’s the one thing you, your parents and I can agree on,” she ended in a weary tone.
“Then there’s no problem.”
“Fine.” The man sounded as though he agreed with everything she’d said, which was impossible. “Good. So how about those directions?”
“Are you always this stubborn?”
“The directions, please.”
There was a moment when she thought he’d argue, but he made a sound—surely not a chuckle?—then began to rattle off a string of instructions which would get her to Sugarland.
Birthplace of Danny’s father.
“Thank you.” she said stiffly.
“See you at seven.”
Quietly she replaced the receiver. Above her, the ceiling fan sliced slowly through the humid air. After a minute, she looked up and sighed.
Are you satisfied, Carter?
SHE’D MET Carter McMollere when she was a student at Louisiana State University after her mother died. It was her second attempt to obtain her degree. An only child of divorced parents, she never knew her father except through her mother’s bitter memories. Shy, imaginative and intelligent, she had studied liberal arts at LSU that first time around, but left before earning her degree to care for her mother who’d become ill. When her mother died, Claire reenrolled and like a bird out of a cage, she wanted to try everything she’d missed.
She’d missed love. Loving. Sharing the singular joy of passion with a special man. She’d fallen eagerly into Carter’s hands. He’d made her feel special for the first time in her life. When she was with him, the long years devoted to caring for her mother seemed part of another lifetime, one she was only too happy to forget. Carter had painted a glowing picture of their future together, and she had happily pictured a life as his wife. He’d been vague about his background. She never knew Sugarland by name. She’d learned later it was one of the few sizable sugarcane operations remaining in southern Louisiana. In her naiveté, Claire had believed every promise Carter made. She’d been heartbroken to learn that he was a married man, and had broken off with him that same night.
It was even worse when she discovered that she was pregnant. Believing Carter had a right to know, she’d phoned to tell him. He’d immediately urged her to get an abortion. Painful as it had been to discover that her lover had a wife, to hear him coolly suggest that she destroy their baby was devastating. Everything in her rejected the idea. She had wept an ocean of tears before finally deciding that Carter wasn’t worth such heartfelt despair. He might casually dismiss the tiny life growing inside her, but she never could. From that moment, the baby was all