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“Stop the theatrics, Mara,” Dena commanded, rising from her insolent position on the couch. “And don’t bother to try and convince me that you’re doing the ‘right thing’ for either me, my mother, or your kid by carrying out Peter’s wishes. The whole thing doesn’t wash with me, not one little bit,” Dena announced, bitterly.

“Dena—”

“Don’t start with me, Mara,” Dena persisted, rising up from the couch to look down her nose at her sister-in-law. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s all or nothing with this company.”

She turned on her heel to go, but Mara’s voice arrested her. “Just give it a chance,” Mara suggested wearily.

“Not on your life!” With her final retort, Dena marched regally out of the office and quietly closed the door behind her.

Mara gritted her teeth and quietly attempted to calm herself. The next two weeks were not going to be easy by any means.

Chapter 8

The first week of Shane’s visit flew by at an exhausting pace. Personnel were shuffled, the microcomputer, “Delta’s finest,” was shipped and assembled, and truckloads of information, anything from payroll records to scrapped ideas about products, were fed into the large keyboard with the video screen. Shane insisted that everyone in the office be able to run the machine, at least to some degree. The more private files concerning personnel or secret new designs were specially coded so that only a few of the more trusted employees had access to them.

Mara was reluctant to sit at the keyboard and hesitant to work with the imposing piece of new machinery, but she couldn’t hide the smile of satisfaction when she had mastered a few of the more basic programs. Within weeks, Shane assured her, she would be an expert concerning the Delta 830-G.

At home, where Mara should have had time to relax and unwind, the situation remained tense. June’s health was a very real concern for Mara, as the older woman seemed far too distracted at times, and the grayish pallor of June’s face couldn’t be hidden by even the most expensive cosmetics. Angie was as exuberant as ever, and Mara wondered if the vivacious child was too much of a burden on June. But every time that Mara broached the subject of June’s health, the older woman found a way of avoiding the issue. Mara even suggested that June make an appointment with Dr. Bernard, but the advice was conveniently ignored.

Angie was busy discovering the world. The four plump kittens were one of her most time-consuming infatuations, and her idolization of Shane was apparent to everyone, including June. Several times in the past few days, June had made excuses to stay late with Angie, at least until Shane’s sleek silver Audi pulled into the driveway. Mara caught June observing Shane and Angie, and the older woman’s mouth drew into a fine line of pain when she noticed the easy familiarity that Shane lavished upon the child. And Angie’s innocent and loving response wasn’t lost on June. Whatever love that Angie harbored for Peter was forgotten when the child was with Shane; that much was certain.

Mara was torn. She cared for her mother-in-law, she cherished her child, and she loved Shane with a passion that at times burned wildly through her body. The past week of watching him at work, while he was absorbed in some minor problem, made her body ache with longing for him. He hadn’t stayed with her since the first night together, and somehow she felt betrayed. She knew that it was his own way of saying that until she told June about Angie, he wouldn’t have any physical contact with her.

Mara was wise enough to realize that he still wanted her, perhaps more desperately than ever. She would catch him gazing at her, his eyes touching her, caressing her, and she knew in the black intensity of his gaze that he was burning for her. And yet he controlled himself, silently waiting for her to tell the world about Angie. Mara flirted with the idea of attempting to seduce him, hoping to break down his ironwilled control, but she hesitated, foreseeing more problems than the three of them already faced.

It was the day of the board meeting that the simmering tension between them snapped.

It didn’t help that the day dawned hot, and that the cool mountain breezes that usually favored the high plateau of Asheville hadn’t appeared. Instead, the dull, sultry heat was unnervingly oppressive, even in the early morning. The dust and bothersome insects that Mara rarely noticed seemed to be everywhere, inside the house as well as out. And Angie, usually happy to spend the day at home, clung fitfully to Mara’s legs, whining and crying, begging Mara to stay with her.

Mara was standing at the mirror, trying to apply a light sheen of plum lipstick to her lips while Angie complained loudly beside her. Angie’s face was red from the heat and passion of her outburst. Mara dropped the lipstick tube on the counter and bent on one knee so that she could face her child on her level. As she did so, she felt the tickle of a run climb up her knee in her panty hose. Ignoring the fact that she was already late and doubted she had another clean pair of panty hose in the house, she cradled Angie’s curly head in her hands.

“What’s wrong, Angie?” Mara asked, wiping a tear from the child’s flushed cheek and reaching for a tissue to wipe Angie’s nose.

“I don’t want you to go,” Angie sobbed.

“But, honey, you know Momma has to go to work . . .”

“No!”

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” Mara suggested. “I can’t make things any better unless you tell me what’s troubling you. Don’t cry, just talk to me.”

“I . . . I don’t want to stay with Mrs. Reardon . . . I want Grammie!” Angie demanded, stamping her bare foot imperiously.

“But, honey, Grammie will be here later. You know that she has to be at the board meeting today.”

“No, she don’t!”

“Angie,” Mara said authoritatively. “Mrs. Reardon is a very nice lady. She comes here every Friday to help Momma . . .”

“But she don’t play with me.”

“Honey, she’s very busy. She has to clean the house, but I just bet, if you ask her nicely, she would read a book to you.”

“I don’t like her!”

“Sure you do.” Mara was having difficulty hiding the exasperation in her voice. The last thing she wanted this morning was a full blown battle with her child. The guilt about leaving Angie was beginning to get to her. Did all mothers who worked full-time at a career they enjoyed feel the welling sense of guilt that Mara was experiencing? “Come here, Momma’s got to find a new pair of panty hose,” Mara called to the child as she stepped back into the bedroom and rummaged in her top bureau drawer. The digital clock on the nightstand reminded Mara that she was already twenty minutes late. Somehow, she had to placate Angie. If she left the child and Angie was unhappy, Mara knew that she would have trouble concentrating on the board meeting. And today, more than ever, she needed every drop of concentration she could muster.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Mara hinted in a secretive voice that Angie loved.