attention hadn't strayed. "Did she cook Constance's breakfast? Will she pick her up at school this afternoon? Fix her dinner tonight?"
"Sandra's just visiting. I can't ask her to do those things. I imagine she'll do them when she takes Constance home."
"You imagine?" she asked in outrage. "You imagine she'll take care of your child? Isn't that the same thing as saying you really don't care? That once she's out of sight, you don't have to worry about her anymore?"
Heat rushed to his head, and Axell almost leapt out of his chair before he realized she'd driven him to rage. He'd spent a lifetime cultivating impassivity. Yet it had taken this California hippie less than five minutes to explode his ironclad control.
He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. "I love Constance enough to do what's best for her."
"Which is why you're here," she prodded.
Right, he'd forgotten. He'd had an ulterior motive. If Constance's reaction this morning was anything to judge by, she didn't want to go with Sandra any more than he wanted her to go. If Sandra wasn't the best path to Constance's happiness, then he had to find another one.
Axell dropped his gaze to the unappealing cup of tea and forced out his plea. "I don't suppose you would have any interest in taking on the job of nanny?"
A gurgle of laughter reached his ears, and he looked up in suspicion. Maya beamed from ear to ear, presenting him with the picture of soft pink lips and a slightly tilted tooth. She had a mole the size of a speck just on the edge of her delicate chin. Fascinated, his gaze lingered there, blocking out his hearing and probably his brain. He didn't recover until she tapped his hands.
"Don't you think I'm just a trifle overqualified?" she asked in amusement.
Groggy from the spell she cast, he didn't respond immediately. His gaze drifted downward to her creamy skin above the lace-trimmed, collarless pullover she wore beneath her jumper today. He thought maybe it was the same iridescent reddish-brownish-purple dress she'd worn the other day. A little voice in the back of his mind told him she probably didn't have money for clothes.
"Can you afford to turn down the offer of free room and board and handsome salary?" he asked blandly.
She blinked, disconcerted. For a change, he thought. The woman had kept him unbalanced since their first meeting.
"As long as the shop makes enough money to pay the rent, I have my own apartment, Mr. Holm. If I'm to pay off my sister's bills, I need to keep the shop open. And the school is a dream of a lifetime. I'll not trade it for the offer of comfort. I'm aware I do not appear to be the most ambitious person in the world, but I'm capable of supporting myself."
He nodded. He hadn't held out much hope that she'd accept his offer. "Then I don't have much choice, do I? Unless you happen to know someone who can give Constance the mother figure she needs, I'll have to send her home with Sandra."
"That child needs you." Rage quivered in her voice again. "Do you have any idea at all how it feels to be abandoned? To feel unloved, unwanted, shoved from place to place, never knowing the rules, never knowing where you belong? It's hell, Mr. Holm. I'll do whatever I can to prevent that happening to another child within my reach. Bring her here after dinner in the evenings. I'll be her mother. It's scarcely a palace, but I can offer her a home and the love she needs while you polish your bar and pat the backs of strangers."
She may as well have smacked him. Trembling with fury, Axell stood up. He'd had this or a similar argument once too many times with his wife.
"I'm not abandoning my child, Miss Alyssum. I love her enough to do what's best for her, and dumping her in the arms of a complete stranger is not best for her." In his anger, he ignored his inconsistency. "I think it may have been a mistake to allow her to grow so attached to you. I'm withdrawing her from the school."
Chapter 5
Support bacteria, they're the only culture some people have.
"I would like to buy a gift for my granddaughter."
At after two in the afternoon, Maya had expected the ringing door chime to represent the arrival of her afternoon clerk. Recognizing the haughty, rounded tones of Southern aristocracy, Maya sighed and returned her