Pillow Talk Read online

  A horn sounded. Parker pulled up alongside them at the curb. Jem pushed his shaggy body against Parker and yelped out the window.

  Parker worked the dog back to its side of the car.

  Gus laughed.

  Meg marveled at the difference when the child laughed. All traces of his scowling anger disappeared, giving her hope he would heal from the sorrows of his young years. She heard a rumble behind them and turned to see the streetcar approaching. As it ground to a screechy halt, she said softly to Gus, "I'm not going to be like the others."

  "Yeah, well prove it and then I'll believe you," he said, before he jumped onto the streetcar and slid his dollar into the fare box. She followed his example and they climbed into a seat.

  Parker waved from the car and drove off, Jem's head hanging out the side, his tongue tasting the breeze.

  Meg waved back, wondering if Parker knew what a hero he had proven himself to be.

  Gus had half turned from her, his face pointing out the window. As the car racketed homeward, she could think of only one solution to Gus's situation. And to achieve it, Grandfather Ponthier would have to take her side.

  "Get back, you smelly excuse for an animal," Parker said, lowering the dog's still-damp backside to the towel-draped seat.

  Jem yelped and cocked his head. The upright ear dipped.

  "And don't touch the dash, or you'll wish the dog catcher had found you."

  Jem whimpered and stuck his head out the window that Parker had lowered after watching the dog swipe his tongue across it a few times.

  On his left, the streetcar had just passed. Gus half hung out the window, a none-too-happy look on his face. Poor kid. If the dog cheered him up, it was worth transporting it and facing Teensy. He'd wanted to call a cab for the animal but somehow he knew that would have cost him a great deal of stature in his nephew's eyes.

  And in Meg's.

  Though the latter shouldn't matter to him at all. His gut tightened as he pictured her lying beneath him the night before. Soft and willing and tender. She'd given him the only moments of ease from his grief he'd yet to know.

  He liked her.

  He wanted her.

  But he didn't trust her.

  As soon as he cleaned himself up, he was heading to his office. If it meant calling in a team of investigators, he was going to learn every detail he could about Meg "Was-her-last-name-really-Ponthier?"

  Before she wormed her way any further under his skin, before he wanted her even more, he had to know the facts. And if his instincts were right on, there was a lot about herself she hadn't been telling him.

  He wanted the truth and he wanted it now.

  Sixteen

  That evening, Meg shifted from foot to foot, watching Grandfather Ponthier watch her the way Garfield eyed his favorite mousehole.

  "So, I ask you again, if the woman you left in charge of your children has no idea you married my grandson, what other details are you not sharing?"

  Meg tried to produce a smile but it died before her lips could move. Grandfather beat the fingers of his mobile arm on the padded leather rest of the wheelchair.

  "She's—um—only the babysitter."

  "Is that so?" He glared at her. "Mrs. Fenniston and I enjoyed quite a cozy chat. It took me a while to figure out when she referred to you as a 'struggling young widow doing your best with three lively ones' that she was referring to your first widowed state, not to your loss of Jules."

  Meg sat down. Maybe if she felt less like a kid called on the carpet she could think more clearly.

  “And she said you'd come to New Orleans on a job."

  Mrs. Fenniston did love to talk. Meg considered a full confession. He'd be pretty mad and rave about the Ponthier honor but maybe he'd keep it their secret, the way he hadn't mentioned her three children to anyone. Or not yet anyway. That way Parker wouldn't have to know what she'd done.

  But what about the family vote? What did she owe Jules? If she confessed, they'd block her from voting, but that might even be for the best. Miserable, Meg sank her shoulders against the back of the couch and clasped her hands together.

  “Not to speak ill of the dead," Grandfather went on, “but I guess I could see how you'd call marrying Jules a job."

  She nodded. Maybe he was coming around.

  “You would've had your hands full if he hadn't gotten himself killed, you know. Between my son and that half-wit he married, Jules never stood much of a chance."

  “Parker is different," Meg blurted out, forgetting it was Jules she was supposed to be in love with.

  “True," his grandfather said, “and the reason for that is because Jules got all his parents' warped attention." He cleared his throat and glared at her again. “At least you've got enough sense to see the difference between the two of them. I still don't understand why you married Jules in such a hurry. The two of you obviously had nothing in common. If you've got any sense at all, now that you're here, you'll cozy up to Parker." His eyes gleamed and a smile played at his lips.

  Crazy old fox, Meg thought. Was he trying to trick her to see what she'd say? Test her? Was he warning her away?

  Meg kept her expression as neutral as possible, trying not to think of what might have happened last night if she hadn't mentioned the stock shares while wrapped in Parker's arms.

  "I'm through with matrimony," Meg said.

  "Well, if you change your mind, you might want to think about my other grandson." He gazed at her, a speculative gleam in his eyes. "And I wouldn't say that to just any outsider."

  "Thank you," she said, touched by what was for him a compliment.

  Just then Gus bounded into the room. "Teensy says she's going to send Jem to the SPCA!" He ran over to Meg. "You can't let her get rid of my dog. I even gave him a bath."

  The object of the turmoil dashed in, followed by Teensy brandishing a violin bow.

  "I will not stand for this—this creature in my house."

  Gus lunged for the dog and wrapped his skinny arms around him. The dog licked the boy's face.

  Teensy waved the bow. Dressed in a sapphire-blue suit, her feet ensconced in black pumps topped by neat velvet bows, she looked incongruous chasing the dog.

  Grandfather said in a mild voice, "Now, Teensy, I think as long as there's breath in my body this pile of bricks is technically my house."

  She fluttered her hands. "You can't mean to allow him to let this beast run free. Think of the priceless antiques, the Aubussons, the floors."

  "Think of the child," Grandfather said.

  Gus planted his hands on his hips and stuck his nose in the air.

  "Ever hear of a gracious winner, Gus?" Meg asked quietly.

  He shook his head.

  "I think it would be nice of you to thank your grandfather and work out a plan for which rooms of the house Jem may visit."

  "Why should I do that?" He set his jaw.

  "Because that's what your Uncle Parker would say any Ponthier would do."

  Grandfather barked a laugh. "She's got you there, boy."

  "Thank you, Margaret," Teensy said. "Keep the dog out of the Great Parlor and the front sunroom. He's allowed only up the stairs and into your room. No one else's."

  "What about Parker's?” Gus asked, stroking the dog's droopy ear.

  "I don't think your uncle wants anything to do with that mongrel," Teensy said.

  "Oh, yeah? Well, then why'd he let him ride in his Porsche?”

  Teensy blanched and Grandfather chuckled. Gus, looking pleased with himself, said, "Come on Jem, let's go outside.”

  After the boy and his newfound pal left, Meg said to Teensy, "Perhaps you can arrange for obedience lessons.”

  She nodded faintly, closed her eyes, and rubbed her forehead over the bridge of her nose, as if the idea were too much for her to deal with.

  "Yes, and we'll send the kids to lessons, too,” Grandfather said.

  "Kids?” Teensy's eyes fluttered open. Then she turned to Meg with a look of joy on her face. "Ar
e you expecting another grandchild?”

  Meg could have oozed through the floor from the awkwardness of Teensy's question and the sadness she felt at the eager anticipation on the woman's face. There was no way she was pregnant by Jules. "No, I'm not.”

  "Then why did he say kids?" She looked puzzled and Meg couldn't blame her. Guiltily, she thought of the evening before with Parker and how close she'd come to giving herself to the son she hadn't married.

  "You did say kids plural?"

  Meg looked over at Grandfather Ponthier, who was sitting there with a very smug expression on his face.

  The door to the sunroom swung open and Horton appeared. Before he could say anything, three children rushed past him. "Mom! Mommy! Mother!”

  Meg's jaw dropped. She looked from Teddy, Ellen, and Samantha back to Grandfather. Then Mrs. Fenniston entered, elegant as always in a dark blue suit with pearl buttons.

  Meg smiled at her friend and held out her arms and all three of her children raced into them.

  Samantha's voice drowned out the others as she said, "Mommy, we flew on a plane and we were the only ones on it!”

  Meg's gaze flew to Grandfather Ponthier, who was watching the scene with satisfaction on his face. He must have chartered a plane for them. And Meg had been worried about how to replace her single ticket home from the flight she'd missed that morning.

  Teensy dropped her violin bow. It landed with a clatter on the floor. She fanned herself with one hand and said, "Horton, go tell Dr. Prejean I must see him now."

  Predictably, Ellen pulled away first from the family reunion. "Mom, you don't have to squeeze the oxygen out of our lungs."

  "Sorry, sweetie," Meg said. Samantha clung to her leg when Teddy stepped back to survey this new territory. "Mrs. Fenniston, how can I ever thank you?"

  The silver-haired woman bustled over, looking every inch a cross between Princess Margaret and Angela Lansbury on "Murder She Wrote." "Don't mention it. I've always been curious about New Orleans," she said, taking in the gracious room. She breathed deeply and added, "My, I do believe I smell roses. And in December, too."

  Teensy quit fluttering her hands. "They're from our hothouse."

  Mrs. Fenniston smiled at her. "Delightful. Now, Meg, don't worry about thanking me for anything. I've never had the opportunity to visit New Orleans before. The colonel's travels never brought us here. Too much of a navy town, I suppose."

  Grandfather rustled in his wheelchair. "So who do we have here?"

  Meg rose, Samantha still attached to her leg. "Mrs. Fenniston, meet Grandfather and Teensy Ponthier. And this is Ellen and Teddy and Samantha."

  The kids said hello politely enough, relieving Meg of any embarrassment over their manners.

  Grandfather nodded and gestured with his right hand at his wheelchair. Meg sensed his keen frustration at his disability. "Forgive me for not rising, Mrs. Fenniston," he said, sounding positively friendly.

  Teensy produced a smile, a frigid gesture that evoked little sense of the famed southern hospitality. "Are all these children yours, Meg?"

  The three kids stared at her. "Of course we are," Ellen said. "Can't you tell we look alike?"

  Teensy glanced at all of them, then shrugged. Obviously, if they weren't offspring of hers, they held no interest. Which wasn't surprising, given that she scarcely paid attention to Gus, her own flesh-and-blood grandson.

  Teddy had been staring hard at Grandfather Ponthier. Finally he walked over and said, "Are you my grandfather, too?"

  Mrs. Fenniston put her arm around him. "Now, Teddy, you've already met your grandfather."

  "Only one. Kids are supposed to have two."

  "Well, then, I'll be the other one," Grandfather Ponthier pronounced. "That is, if you'd like me to be."

  Meg had never heard him take such pains to be gentle. What had gotten into him?

  She could tell Teddy was considering the offer by the way he tipped his head to the side. He always did that when he thought hard. "That would be good because it would mean my mom's not an orphan anymore."

  Meg was touched. "That's very thoughtful, Teddy."

  Gus burst through the doorway and charged straight at Teddy. "Well, you can't have him. He's my great-grandfather!" He snatched the violin bow off the floor and flourished it at Teddy's chest. “On guard!"

  Never one to run from a challenge, Teddy knocked the bow aside and the two boys lunged and rolled together on the floor.

  Dr. Prejean walked in. "What is the meaning of exposing Teensy to such violence?" He addressed his question to the room at large; everyone ignored him.

  As long as they did no damage, Meg didn't see any harm in letting the two boys get acquainted. Ellen, however, evidently had other ideas. She pushed her twin aside and jumped on top of skin-and-bones Gus, straddling his chest.

  Gus stared at her. "Hey, you're a girl. Get off me."

  Jem came bounding into the room, yelping, and made a beeline for the downed Gus.

  "Haven't you ever heard of sharing?" Ellen ignored the dog and glared at Gus.

  Meg caught Teddy by the arm to keep him from escalating the fight.

  Gus said, "Ponthiers don't share."

  "Oh, yeah?" Ellen grabbed his hair and thumped his head against the floor. "Maybe you will after I knock some sense into your thick skull."

  "Ellen, that's enough," Meg said.

  Ellen let go of his hair but didn't move from her position of dominance.

  Grandfather wheeled his chair over beside the kids and grabbed Jem by the scruff of his neck, holding him off. "I like a show of spirit but enough's enough. You're all Ponthiers now, so get up and act like it."

  Ellen climbed off Gus, who leapt up. Hands on her hips, she said, "I'll have you know I'm a McKenzie, not a Ponthier."

  Grandfather beetled his brows. "McKenzie? Which husband was that?"

  "My maiden name," Meg supplied. Three months after Ted's death, about the time they'd been forced to move from their family home, Ellen had informed her she was renouncing her father's name in favor of Meg's, even though her daughter knew McKenzie had been the name of the foster parents Meg had lost when she was ten, not her birth name.

  "Well, you've got some tough females in that clan," Grandfather said, but he followed his stern words with a chuckle.

  Teddy approached Ellen. "I didn't need your help."

  She shrugged. "We're twins. It's genetically encoded in me to react that way."

  Teensy looked up from the shelter of Dr. Prejean's arm. "How old is that child?"

  "Ten," Ellen said. "I guess you're wondering about my vocabulary. It's quite advanced for a child my age. That's because my mom teaches us."

  Meg knew at a glance Teensy and Dr. Prejean found it hard to believe the interloping outsider from Vegas with a GED had instilled those traits in her offspring. She let it drop. She'd had enough turmoil for the day. It was late, though as late as it was, there'd been no sign of Parker returning to the house. Even with all the commotion and the reunion with her children, she still felt his absence. Without Parker, the house felt empty.

  "Bedtime," she said.

  As expected, all the kids groaned.

  "Not for me," Gus said, freeing Jem from Grandfather's clutches.

  "Why not you?" Teddy asked, obviously still spoiling for a fight.

  "I go to bed when I say."

  Teddy looked at Meg. He was holding back a yawn but interested in her answer to Gus's independent stance.

  Meg smoothed Samantha's wild curls and wondered how to respond. Finally she decided a roundabout approach would work the best. "Let's go see what bedtime snack Horton can find for us."

  "Who's Horton?" Samantha asked.

  "A nice man who knows where the milk and cookies are hidden." Meg began moving toward the door, Samantha in tow. Ellen and Teddy fell into step.

  "You go ahead," Grandfather said. "I'll entertain Mrs. Fenniston." Turning his chair towards Mrs. Fenniston, he said in his nicest voice, "May I offer you a glass of s
herry?"

  Meg smothered a smile. "Want a snack, Gus?"

  He shrugged and muttered something that sounded like milk and cookies are for babies. But after they left the room, he trailed behind them, Jem his faithful shadow.

  With Horton's help, Meg got the kids fed and bathed and made sleeping arrangements. Samantha and Ellen she put in the room on the other side of Parker's, though she knew Samantha would insist on sleeping with her, which meant Ellen would probably join them.

  Horton offered to make up the spare maid's room on the ground floor for Teddy when Gus surprised them all by offering Teddy the other bed in his room.

  When all was set, the twins and Samantha tumbled onto Meg's big bed, ready for their good night pillow talk. Samantha still clung more than usual, which caused Meg an extra dose of guilt for having left her children for as long as she had. She reminded herself to thank Grandfather first thing the next morning for bringing them to her.

  Even though they'd all soon be winging their way back to Las Vegas.

  Meg sat on the bed, Samantha's curly head lodged on her lap, her daughter's small hand resting in hers on the pillow Meg had placed in the center of the bed. Teddy leaned against the headboard, only his foot grazing the pillow. Since Ted's death, her son had joined in a little less easily than he had in the past. Ellen stretched out lengthwise on the bed, her eyes half-closed, her head lying on the pillow.

  "Pillow talk time," Meg said in a soothing voice. "And I want to say first how very thankful I am to have you all with me again."

  "Don't ever go away again," Ellen said, her eyes now wide open and fierce. "It's scary when you leave us."

  Meg bent over and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Sometimes I have to do things that are complicated but I try to do everything I can that's best for all of us."

  Ellen sighed. "I just wish we can all stay together."

  Teddy said, "And I wish just once you'd let me fight my own fight."

  Ellen sat up.

  Meg interrupted. "Hey, guys, this is pillow talk. Peace and quiet, okay?"

  Ellen lay back down. "I wouldn't jump in if I didn't love you, squirt."

  Teddy made a face. "Who is that other kid?"