Dance Away with Me - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,80
said.
Only then did Tess turn. Jeff looked his normal natty self, but Diane didn’t seem to have remembered to comb her hair. Her lipstick was in place, but not her eye makeup, and instead of a chunky silver necklace, her black sweater displayed a milky stain.
“Wren’s like her father,” Jeff declared proudly. “Simon could kick up a fuss, too.”
Diane reached out to cup Wren’s head. “We were younger then.”
“She can be exhausting,” Tess managed to say.
Diane offered a tired smile. “I’ve definitely had better nights.”
Tess’s spirits soared. Maybe her plan had worked. Maybe the reality of dealing with a cranky newborn had made them realize they didn’t want to do it full-time. Maybe seeing how quickly Wren had quieted for Tess would open their hearts.
Diane immediately crushed her hopes. “She’s so precious. Worth every moment of lost sleep. How could anyone not love this little creature?”
“I smelled bacon inside,” Ian said. “Let’s see what Tess has made for us.”
“Everything’s better with bacon,” Jeff declared, the epitome of a cheery grandpa.
Tess straightened Wren’s cap. The baby didn’t smell like herself. Instead, she smelled of Diane’s perfume and Jeff’s aftershave.
Ian poured coffee.
“Wren smiled at me last night,” Jeff announced.
“She didn’t smile for me.” Diane’s curtness once again raised Tess’s spirits only to—once again—torpedo them. “But I haven’t forgotten how to burp a baby, and I do love the way she curled her hand around my finger.”
Wren had fallen asleep. In order to finish making breakfast, Tess would have to set her down. Or hand her back to her grandparents. Neither was acceptable. Nor was carrying her in the sling around a hot stove.
She slipped the baby into Ian’s arms. Mercifully, he didn’t protest, although he didn’t exactly look happy.
Her hollandaise was excellent, but the poached eggs were overcooked, and she’d charred the edges of the English muffins. Jeff was the only one who ate everything.
Tess barely touched her food. She was holding Wren again, treasuring her. Diane pushed her plate back from the edge of the table. “You probably think we’re hopelessly old-fashioned by insisting Wren be raised in a stable family, but I can’t bear thinking about her carrying around the same kind of scars I have.”
Tess chose her words carefully. “I’m not sure it’s fair to equate your experience with the experiences of other children of single mothers.”
“You’re right. Except . . . My mother had the best intentions, and I guarantee those intentions didn’t include falling under the influence of abusive men.”
“One thing I do know for certain,” Jeff said, “is that we all want what’s best for Wren. The legalities could take a while, but I think we can agree that it’s not in her best interest for us to wait until every t is crossed. She’s only a month old. We need to act quickly. Settle everything before she gets too attached.”
Tess started to tell them Wren was already attached, but Jeff wasn’t done. “Diane and I understand the adjustments we’ll have to make to raise a child at our age, but we’re more than willing to do it. It’s fortunate we can afford to hire help.”
“Help?” Tess straightened in her chair so abruptly that Wren offered up a mew of protest. “Are you talking about a nanny?”
“Not necessarily, but—”
Tess came out of her chair. “You think it’s best to rip Wren away from the only mother she’s known and give her to a nanny?”
Diane’s jaw set. “That’s not our intention, Tess. And maybe you should turn that question on yourself. Do you think it’s best for Wren to be raised by a struggling woman who, right now, seems to be jobless and whose plans for marriage are more than a little vague?”
“Your business, of course,” Jeff added hastily. “Diane and I aren’t judging your choices, except as they affect Wren.”
Tess spoke as firmly as she could manage. “The only reason our plans are vague is because we had no reason to hurry. Until now, that is.” She couldn’t look at Ian. Was this the moment he’d give her away?
Jeff turned to him. “I’ve done some more digging since your initial phone call. Your bio indicates you kicked up your heels quite a bit in your twenties.”
“It was more than kicking up,” Ian said flatly. “My family had disowned me. I was drinking too much, doing drugs, and living on the streets. I couldn’t hold a job, and I didn’t care about anything except leaving my mark on whatever flat surface drew my attention.”