THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY (11 page)

“What about your house in San Angelo?” she asked.

Cordelia shrugged. “I put it on the market. Since it’s in such good shape and I priced it reasonably, it won’t take long to sell.”

An uncomfortable silence fell.

Ginger stared at her mother in abject misery. “You realize I haven’t actually won any work here yet, Mom.”

Unperturbed, Cordelia walked over to a window and adjusted the shade, so even more light poured into the room. “You will, honey. But even if you don’t, it’s my understanding that Rand has plenty of work.”

Ginger stiffened and got to her feet. “What does that have to do with me?”

It was Cordelia’s turn to look annoyed. She sent her only child a chastising look. “Plenty, since you’re his wife, and part of being his spouse is creating a warm and loving home for him.”

Rand rose. He hated to be in the middle of this, but since his name had been mentioned, he had no choice. “Ginger’s been doing fine on that score,” he said easily.

“Really?” Cordelia spun toward him. “You forget. I’ve seen the way the two of you have been living.”

Ginger huffed. “So?”

Cordelia stepped forward, her hands knotted at her sides. “How many home-cooked meals has she prepared for the two of you? Has she prepared even one?”

Rand nodded, making no effort to disguise his pleasure. “We had chili with all the fixin’s last night,” he announced.

“Chili that I made and brought to you,” Cordelia corrected. “Had I not...”

“Food isn’t the issue here,” Josie interrupted her.

Cordelia sniffed and folded her arms in front of her. “Really? I beg to differ.”

“Rand and Ginger’s privacy is,” Josie asserted.

The two mothers-in-law stared at each other in stony silence.

“And to that end—” Rand interjected.

“I think everyone should back off,” Ginger put in. Her expression distraught, she headed blindly for the door.

“Believe me, I would—” Cordelia cut her off at the threshold “—if I thought you were coming even close to meeting your husband’s needs. Don’t you see? Your marriage to Rand will fail as surely as your first failed, if you don’t put your husband first!”

Rand wrapped his arms around his wife’s shoulders. “Our marriage will fail if we don’t put each other first,” he corrected her. Able to see Ginger was at her limit, which in his view was understandable, he continued mildly, “And to that end, I think Ginger and I should take a rain check on dinner this evening.”

Sagging with relief, Rand’s mother quickly added, “Actually, I’m feeling rather tired, too.”

Cordelia glared at Josie in disbelief. “You’re siding with them?”

The lady wildcatter shrugged her shoulders in abject surrender. “I’m not siding with anyone. I’m just saying we all need a time-out.”

“Amen to that,” Ginger muttered beneath her breath.

They all looked at each other. It seemed everyone was in agreement except Cordelia. “I’ll drive you back, then,” she said stiffly. She ushered everyone outside onto the front porch and locked the door behind them.

The two older women headed for the car, but Ginger hung back. “Rand and I are going to walk.”

Cordelia started to argue, then stopped. “Suit yourself,” she said. Face rigid with hurt and disapproval, she got in the car with Josie and drove off.

Silence fell between Rand and Ginger. He was glad his wife had opted to walk back to their vehicle, which was still parked at the Summit Inn. They needed time alone. It was a pleasant spring evening. And the distance wasn’t all that far.

Ginger raked her hands through her hair. She shook her head in disbelief. “What a nightmare.”

Rand took her hand in his, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I guess you weren’t kidding when you said your mom was a helicopter parent. Up to now, I thought it was kind of cute, the way she kept butting in, trying to help.”

Her eyes glittered with frustration. “And now?”

He shrugged. “Frankly, it’s a little scary, realizing she could drop everything to follow us to a job site.”

Ginger leaned into Rand’s touch. “She pulled herself together once, when she reacted like this, after my dad died. I’m sure she can do it again.”

Figuring she needed more than simple hand-holding, Rand tugged her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “And in the meantime?” he asked, feeling the rapid beat of her heart.

Ginger blew out a weary breath and turned tortured eyes up to his. “We brace ourselves for even more interference.”

* * *

H
OW
ARE
YOU
doing?” Josie asked Rand several days later when she ran into him outside city hall.

“Okay,” he said. Given the fact he had been locked in the Boernes’ attorney’s office for at least twelve hours every day with the other members of the independent review board, evaluating all the proposals and red-flagging any potential problems, for the upcoming Q and A sessions.

“And Ginger? How has she been?”

Not as well, Rand admitted silently. She was on pins and needles as she waited to find out whether she would advance to the semifinal round or be eliminated. But he figured his mom knew that.

“Are she and Cordelia still on the outs?” Josie prodded.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Josie waited, sensing there was more. Needing to unburden himself to someone, Rand continued, “The day after Cordelia told us about the move to Summit, she came over to the cottage to apologize.”

Josie paused. “What’s wrong with that?”

Rand rubbed at the tense muscles in the back of his neck. “Cordelia also dropped off a binder of favorite family recipes.”

His mom winced. “Let me guess. Ginger hasn’t been near a stove since.”

He nodded. “Not that this is necessarily a problem except that Ginger hasn’t wanted
me
to cook anything for us, either. Instead she asks me to bring takeout for both of us every night on my way back from town.”

Rand had humored Ginger, like countless expectant dads before him, because she was hormonal and totally stressed out. However, the “not cooking anything on principle” was beginning to get old. Especially when they had a freezer full of homemade dinners.

Rand studied his mom. “You understand where Ginger is coming from, don’t you?”

Josie nodded. “This is a very tough business to break into, for anyone.”

Rand remembered that little bit of family history. “But you made it happen anyway.”

“Over both my parents’ objections, since my dad thought the oil business was no place for a woman and my mother wanted me to be part of Dallas society.”

Rand smiled, still not really able to envision his tomboy mother making her official debut to the social elite in a white gown and gloves, although he had seen the photos that proved she had indeed endured what she had considered the ultimate in public humiliation. “You quit that, too.”

“Not until after my debutante years.” Josie sighed. “And not without enduring a lot of quarreling with both my parents. Ginger is a strong, smart, independent woman, Rand. She’ll figure out a way to handle Cordelia, same as you and you brothers have all found ways to deal with me when I’ve meddled in your lives.”

Rand was glad his mother had finally backed off. It helped, not having to bicker with her, too. It also helped being able to come to her with his problems, at least when it came to understanding women. “What should I do in the meantime?”

“Be there for Ginger. But don’t, under any conditions, try to tell her what to do.”

That, Rand already knew. “And when it comes to Cordelia?”

Josie paused, thinking. “I’m not sure how successful I’ll be, but I’ll try to get Cordelia to ease up a little.”

“I’d appreciate it. Ginger’s got enough on her plate right now without dealing with her mom’s disapproval.”

Josie started to say something, then stopped. She gave him an odd look, but still didn’t say what was on her mind. Finally she asked instead, “How is Ginger’s preparation going for the Q and A sessions?”

Rand tensed. “She won’t say.” But Rand had a feeling, given the way his new wife had been walking around the cottage, scowling and muttering to herself when she and Maria weren’t rehearsing together, not all that well.

Finally he admitted, “I’m trying to give Ginger the space she needs.”

Josie nodded approvingly. “I’m sure she appreciates it.”

Did she?
It was hard to tell. All Rand knew for certain was that Cordelia’s criticism of her daughter’s ability to participate in an effective marriage had put a damper on his relationship with Ginger. He wasn’t sure how to get them back on solid footing. He only knew that it wouldn’t happen until Ginger found out whether she had won—or lost—the biggest business opportunity of her life.

* * *

W
HEN
R
AND
WALKED
in Monday evening Ginger was going through all the line-dried denim in her closet. He had missed her, during the hours he had been around, but there was no telling from her expression whether or not she had missed him.

Glad to be home again, nevertheless, he went to her side, watching as she tersely checked out one label, then another, and another. “Wardrobe crisis?”

Her lips twisted unhappily. “Something like that.”

The shirt she had borrowed from him clearly wasn’t the problem. She looked pretty and ultra-casual in the oversize light green button-up.

In no hurry to go anywhere, he lounged against the bureau, arms crossed at his chest. Steadfastly ignoring his presence, she shucked off the pair of paisley pajama pants she’d been wearing and pulled on a pair of denim. To her visible frustration, there was no way they would come even close to zipping. With a muttered oath, she took off the pants and tried another pair to the same result.

“Maybe you should buy some maternity clothes,” Rand offered casually.

She sent him an irascible look and shook her head. “It’s way too soon for that.”

Rand didn’t really see what the big deal was. Yes, her waistline was thickening, but only because their baby was growing inside her.

Ginger sat on the edge of the bed, the long tails of his shirt covering her bare thighs. “I am going to have to buy larger clothes, though.”

“Want me to go with you?”

She flashed him a droll look. “To do what? Hold my purse?”

Rand shrugged. “Or get sizes for you, or whatever.”

Not above doing what had to be done to get to spend more time with her, and perhaps regain some of their previous closeness and make love again, Rand used what leverage he had. “If you want people to think our relationship is as authentic as our skills in the field, we’re going to have to be seen together at least some of the time. Otherwise, people are going to start to wonder what’s going on with us.”

That got her. “Okay, fine.” Ginger vaulted to her feet and put on a pair of sexy black yoga pants with a roll top that ended several inches below her navel. “As long as we get dinner in town before we come back here.”

Rand shrugged. “Fine with me.” He could use a good meal and some quality time with his new bride.

Together, they headed for Summit, and once there, went straight to Callahan Mercantile & Feed, an old-fashioned general store that carried everything from camping gear to authentic Western wear.

Rand accompanied her inside. “So what are you looking for?”

She headed for the shelves of ladies’ jeans and plucked up several different sizes. “Loose-fitting, practical work clothes.” She handed him a stack of different styles and sizes, then moved on to the cotton vests and men’s twill shirts. Satisfied she had enough to try on, she found a unisex fitting room located in the middle of the clothing area. The look in her eyes said she did not want him to come in with her, so he waited outside the locked door.

And then waited. And waited. And waited.

Wondering what was going on in there, and hoping she wasn’t starting to feel sick again, he moved closer. “Ginger? Everything okay in there?” No answer. “Honey?” he prompted, a little louder.

Hannah Callahan Daugherty, the proprietress of the mercantile, appeared at his side. Married and a mother herself, the slender brunette flashed an easy-going smile. “How’s it going?”

Rand wished to heck he knew. “I’m a little concerned about my wife,” he confessed.

A huff sounded from behind solid oak. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” The dressing room door slid open slightly and Ginger reached for him. “Just come in,” she ordered, exasperated.

Mindful of the soft, feminine hand suddenly fisted in his shirtfront, Rand shrugged good-naturedly. “Women!”

Hannah laughed and moved off. “Just let me know if you need anything,” she said over her shoulder.

Ginger tugged Rand the rest of the way inside. As he had feared, her eyes were red and glistening with tears. “Must you make everything such a big deal?” she snapped. He wasn’t the one who had locked himself in here, crying.

“What’s the problem?” he asked quietly, as calm as she was emotional.

She plucked at the sides of her jeans, which seemed to comfortably fit her thickening waistline but overwhelm everything else. Her lower lip trembling, she whispered back, “I look like I’m wearing jodhpurs, that’s what. But I can’t go down a size, because if I do, they won’t fit me in the waist and I won’t be able to get them zipped.”

Rand eyed the pile of discarded garments. It certainly seemed as though she had been busy while he’d cooled his heels. “What about the other styles?”

Ginger threw up her hands. “They’re even worse. I either can’t get them on...or I can and the tummy on them sticks out a mile, making me look a lot more—” She gestured comically as if outlining the belly of a whale. “Than I already am,” she finished finally.

Rand knew when he was in over his head. “Want me to call Hannah in?” Surely the storekeeper would know how to get a better fit.

“No!”

He leaned close enough to her ear, then dared ask, “Want me to take you to a maternity store up in Fort Stockton?”

Her glare turned lethal. “How do you know where the closest one is?”

Damn, she was pretty when she was agitated. He shrugged. “Same as always. I researched it online.” He paused to smooth a lock of silky copper hair from her face. Tenderly, he tucked it behind her ear, then murmured, “You could always order something off the internet.”