Two years younger, Megan was on the shy side and hid behind her brother during Peter’s introduction. Her two front teeth were missing, but that didn’t detract from her dimpled smile when she chose to show it. A bedraggled teddy bear named Murphy was hugged tightly to her chest. The bear, Peter explained, had been a gift from her mother shortly before the woman’s tragic death.
The attorney ruffled the boy’s dark hair. “How’s it going, sport?” Kneeling in front of Megan, he held out his arms. “Don’t I get a kiss from my favorite girl?”
Meredith watched Peter quickly win over the little girl, who not only gave him a kiss but a hug as well. She noted with interest that no similar affection was bestowed upon her uncle, whose tone of voice had risen several octaves while he continued to berate one of his plant managers, making the child shrink further in response.
A few moments later Peter’s beeper went off, calling him back to his office, and Meredith was left to fend for herself with the children, which didn’t bother her in the least. She adored kids and hoped one day to have some of her own.
Engaging them in conversation, she soon had Megan and Andrew revealing all sorts of details about themselves, like how Megan hated brussels sprouts, how Andrew had broken his arm last year by falling out of a tree, and how their dog Barnaby was not allowed in the house because he tinkled on the carpet.
The children, laughing aloud at some of the silly jokes Meredith told, were completely at ease in her presence; the effortless, friendly exchange between them was not lost on Adam, who had a very difficult time communicating with his niece and nephew.
He was a man who talked to CEOs of major corporations, political figures and civic-minded leaders on a regular basis, but became tongue-tied and ill-at-ease when he had to converse with his dead sister’s children.
Noting that Meredith had no such problem, Adam’s previous pique was all but forgotten, replaced instead with intriguing thoughts and possibilities, and he heard himself saying, “Why don’t you stay for lunch, Miss Baxter, so we can continue our discussion of the wedding.”
Though startled by the invitation, Meredith’s stomach, which had been rumbling like a cement mixer at the most inopportune moments, made up her mind for her, as did the two children, who were tugging her hands and begging her to stay.
“Please say you’ll have lunch with us, Miss Baxter,” Andrew implored, his sister bobbing her head in agreement. “You don’t have to worry about the food. Mrs. Fishburn made it before she left, not Uncle Adam.”
For once Adam didn’t admonish his niece and nephew about butting into grown-up affairs that were none of their concern.
Meredith’s heart went out to the two lost little souls. She couldn’t imagine being so young and having to deal with the death of someone who comprised your whole world, and having to face the fact that your father, the man you were supposed to love and look up to, had been accused of killing your mother and was gone now, too.
“All right,” she said, realizing her heart had suddenly jumped to her throat. “I’d love to.”
OVER A DELICIOUS MEAL of chicken salad, fresh fruit and nut bread, Meredith and Adam discussed various locations where the wedding and reception could be held, finally deciding on the fashionable Morgantown Country Club, where Morgans had been members since its inception shortly after the Civil War.
When the discussion turned to bridal candidates, the children had their own advice to offer.
“Make sure the ladies you talk to like model trains, Miss Baxter,” Andrew advised. “Uncle Adam loves playing with his trains.”
Eyes widening, Meredith glanced up from her salad to observe the man seated across from her, wondering what else he liked playing with. Her knee started knocking and she grabbed it. “Is that so?” Adam’s ears were as red as his necktie, and he seemed genuinely embarrassed, a fact she found quite charming.
“Yep. Uncle Adam doesn’t let anyone—”
“That’s quite enough, Andrew. I’m sure Miss Baxter isn’t interested in my personal habits and hobbies.” He looked to her for confirmation, but found none.
“Quite the contrary, Mr. Morgan. The more I know about you the easier it will be to find someone who’s compatible, chimpanzees notwithstanding, of course.” He replied to her teasing smile with an imperious arch of his brow.
“He doesn’t like dogs, I know that,” Megan said, turning to look out the dining room window at Barnaby, who bore a marked resemblance to Little Orphan Annie’s dog Sandy, and was staring in at them with a forlorn expression. Barking several times, the mutt wagged his tail in hopeful reprieve.
Adam’s voice softened. “Now, Megan, it isn’t that I don’t like dogs. But we have some very expensive Aubusson rugs on the hardwood floors, and the dog can’t seem to distinguish between them and the grass.”
“But Barnaby’s lonely outside, Uncle Adam. He’s just nervous because this is a new house, and he’s scared of all the changes, that’s all.”
Meredith wondered if the little girl was speaking about the dog or herself. From the blank look on her uncle’s face, it was doubtful he noted the difference.
“Rules are rules, Megan. And what did we learn about rules?”
“They’re not to be questioned, but obeyed,” the two kids recited in unison, making Meredith eager to jump across the table and shake some sense into the obtuse man.
But she wouldn’t.
It was obvious Adam Morgan truly loved his niece and nephew, but was out of his element when it came to relating to them. Instead of talking to Andrew and Megan on a level they could understand, he spoke to them as if he were discussing a merger in a boardroom.
It was none of her business. It was better not to get personally involved in the problems of a business client. Morgan would just have to work things out as best he could.
But the children…
She hated thinking that those adorable, lovable children would grow up to be carbon copies of their pompous millionaire uncle—hard, unyielding, unable to love.
Her appetite suddenly gone, Meredith made an excuse to leave and hurried out of the mansion, vowing not to get emotionally involved with anyone who lunched with three-fork place settings. And who didn’t love dogs.
Chapter Three
Despite the bucolic name, Pleasant Acres Nursing Home was located downtown on High Street, only a short distance from Morgantown General Hospital on one of the town’s main thoroughfares and within walking distance of Meredith’s business, which is why she’d chosen the facility for her mother.
Louise Baxter’s degenerative heart condition, which had been diagnosed as acute myocarditis two years before, was slowly killing her. Absolute bed rest and a proper diet were essential, and Meredith realized from the first that she would need help in providing the kind of adequate nursing care necessary to handle her mother’s illness.
Stepping into the spacious black-and-white-tiled foyer of the brick building, which had been designed to look like Jefferson’s Monticello, she waved to Flo Welch, the gray-haired receptionist seated at the entry station, and skirted around Henry Mullins’s dachshund, who had escaped the confines of the old man’s room again, with the hope, no doubt, of making it out the front door this time. Henry suffered from Alzheimer’s, and he wasn’t able to provide the dog with the kind of attention it craved.
Proceeding down the wide hallway, whose soft yellow walls always made her hungry for her mother’s lemon meringue pie, she whistled at the colorful macaw perched outside Mrs. Hammond’s suite, waved at the old lady seated in the doorway, then stepped next door to her mother’s room.
Pets were an integral part