Baby 101. Marisa Carroll

for me and Billy Joe and Gracie and the three of you. It’s good enough for Greg when I get it painted, and someday it will—”

      “Mom, do you want to hear about Lana Lord or not?”

      “Of course I do. It’s the medicine. I just run on and on.”

      “You always run on and on, Mom.”

      She laughed. “Okay. Tell me about this woman who’s taking care of my Greggy.”

      “She heard him crying the first night and came upstairs. She’s keeping him with her in her store during the day. I’ve got him with me at night…at her house.” He didn’t have to tell her that. She wouldn’t know where he was if she called on the cell phone. But if she did find out, there’d be hell to pay.

      “Her house? You’re living with this woman you only met three days ago?”

      “We’re staying in the maid’s room. The house is huge. A big old Tudor monstrosity, cold and damp as the dickens.”

      “I see. Then she must be one of the Austin Lords.”

      “She is.” Dylan didn’t elaborate, although his mother’s silence told him she wanted more details.

      “Well,” she said after a silence. “I’m glad Greg’s out of that musty old apartment. I mean, the paint has to be lead-based—”

      Was he the only adult in Texas who hadn’t thought about lead paint on the walls? He cut her short. He could hear someone coming up the steps from Lana’s store. Only she had the key. He glanced at his watch and frowned. It wasn’t five-thirty yet. Something must be up with Greg. Another bellyache? Diarrhea? “I’ll call you back, Mom. Someone’s here.”

      “Okay.” There were voices in the background. “My roommate’s getting visitors, and this call is probably costing me a fortune. I’m sure the hospital doesn’t have a five-cents-a-minute plan. Dylan, you’ll give me your number at this woman’s house, won’t you? I don’t like being out of touch.”

      “You can always reach me at this number. But I’ll call you as soon as I get hold of the new one. I’ll let you talk to Greg, how’s that sound?” he asked, half teasing.

      “Wonderful. I miss him so much.”

      “I know you do, Mom. We’ll be out to see you this weekend. I promise.”

      “Good. Take care of that precious little boy of ours.”

      “I will, Mom.”

      He broke off the connection and turned. Lana was standing in the doorway of his apartment, the living room of which was now doubling as his field office. “Hi,” she said.

      She was holding Greg against her shoulder, against her heart. She was patting his back gently, absently, as though it were the most natural rhythm in the world. He couldn’t feel that way when he held the child. He wondered if he ever would. Physically, he was more comfortable with him in his arms, but there was no personal feeling there, no warmth, no connection.

      “You were on the phone. I hope we didn’t interrupt you.”

      “No,” he said. “I was talking to my mom.”

      “How is she?” She continued patting Greg’s back as she moved around the room, stopping to look at the architect’s rendering of the facade of the building where it was taped to the wall between the big front windows.

      “Pretty spaced out on painkillers. She was worried about Greg. I told her we were staying with you. I promised to give her your phone number. I hope that’s okay.” It still felt strange to him to be in her home, even though the place was so big he never saw her unless she came into the kitchen while he was getting ready to feed Greg.

      “Of course it’s okay. There used to be a separate line running into the maid’s room. We can have it turned back on. I’ll call the phone company today.”

      “You don’t have to do that.”

      “I’ll be sure to send you the bill.” She smiled. He didn’t like being in her debt, and she knew it.

      “Thank you.” He didn’t smile back. He couldn’t. He never knew what to do, how to react to her teasing. Jessie had never teased him. But then their marriage had been based on her needs and his promise to his dying buddy to take care of his wayward sister. Love hadn’t been part of the equation.

      “How did it go with the electrical inspector today?” she asked as she wandered over to look out the window at the street below. It was a humid and rainy afternoon. Business was probably slow. Maybe that’s why she had brought Greg upstairs in the middle of the afternoon.

      “About like I expected. This place is a mess. A lot of the wiring up here is original. Scary as hell when you look at it.”

      She turned, alarm on her face. “But downstairs—”

      “It was rewired about ten years ago. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told.” He didn’t want to worry her, but there were some areas on the ground floor that had been missed or skipped to save money. That wiring would have to be replaced, too. Another twenty thousand dollars he hadn’t been counting on.

      “We have trouble with the computers sometimes when the air-conditioning is going full blast.”

      “I’ll look into it.”

      “Thanks.”

      She didn’t make any move to leave or to hand over Greg. Dylan weighed the prospect of asking her out to dinner. He owed her a lot for bailing him out of a tight spot. But it would have to be someplace quick and casual. There was no one else to leave the baby with, unless he got the salesgirl—what was her name, Brittany?—to baby-sit. His mom would have a fit at that. He barely knew the girl.

      But if Lana didn’t think her employee was competent enough to watch his son, she’d say so. He’d learned that much about her already. She spoke her mind and was confident in her opinions.

      She stood there rocking, humming snatches of a lullaby under her breath. Her eyes were closed, her lashes dark against her cheeks. She looked tired. That made up his mind. Taking care of his son on top of running her business and overseeing that big house with only a once-a-week cleaning service and part-time gardener must be taking their toll. Besides, he liked the idea of sitting down to a meal with her, not bringing home take-out to wolf down at the kitchen island with only Greg in his carrier beside him for company.

      “Lana.”

      “Yes.” She opened her eyes. They were hazel, he’d noticed more than once. Sometimes more green than gold, sometimes darkening almost to brown. When she was angry or upset they got that way. Lightning in river water, he thought. Like now. She was frowning, too.

      “I’d like to buy you something to eat tonight. A little thank-you for all you’ve done for us this week.”

      “I can’t.” Her frown deepened. She must have tightened her hold on Greg, because he began to fuss a little. She shushed him, settling him more comfortably on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so abrupt. It’s—”

      “No apology necessary.” The words sounded perfunctory, and he regretted not being able to keep his chagrin hidden. Fine. She didn’t want to go out with him. That was all there was to it. She probably had a date and was trying to figure out how to tell the date she had Dylan and Greg living in her house. He’d never thought of that when he’d taken her up on the offer. On top of everything else he was complicating the hell out of her love life. “Look, if you need to be alone tonight, I’ll take Greg to the mall or something.”

      “No. It isn’t that. I mean, if you’re asking me do I have a date, the answer is no. But I do have plans.” Dylan braced himself and didn’t know why. Possibly because he could see the agitation swirling in the depths of those green and gold eyes. Something had upset her. She brushed her lips across Greg’s hair, then took a little breath as though she