While We Were Watching Downton Abbey Part 7

There was the clatter of pots and pans. Voices rose from the kitchen.

"I need to go check on the caterer," she said. "It sounds as if they've packed up. I'm sure he must be ready to go."

He leaned down and brushed his lips across her ear. "To be continued then," he said, sending a s.h.i.+ver over her bare skin. "If you're up for it."

As if she'd ever refuse the prince who'd scaled the tower, slayed the twin dragons of debt and despair, and carried Samantha and her loved ones to safety. Or ever even wanted to.

She sighed when he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck before straightening.

"I'll be looking forward to it."

CHAPTER TEN.

BROOKE HELD A CHILD'S HAND IN EACH OF HERS and Darcy's leash looped around her wrist as they raced toward the Alexander. Everyone but Darcy, who would have clung to each bush and tree if she'd had hands and who had dawdled outside shamelessly, was in dire need of a bathroom.

"Hurry, Mommy!" Natalie cried as they speed walked down Peachtree.

"We're almost there. Hold on!" Brooke moved faster, slightly afraid that Ava's feet were no longer touching the sidewalk. One last tug had Darcy breaking into a trot. Brooke ignored the startled looks of pa.s.sersby. There were plenty of dogs being walked in Midtown. Young children were more of a rarity, which was something she'd tried to point out to Zachary when he'd fallen in love with the Alexander. "Look! There's Daddy!"

Brooke looked up, surprised. Zachary lounged next to the BMW, which he'd somehow managed to park directly in front of the building. His hair was windblown and his face was sun-kissed. He looked as if he'd just stepped off a golf course, which he probably had.

As she watched Sarah Grant came out of the building. She hesitated for a moment under the awning, her face ashen. There was a large wet spot on the s.h.i.+rt of her golf ensemble-as if she'd tried to blot or remove a stain. When she spotted Brooke and the girls she moved quickly to Zachary's side. Together Zach and his girlfriend looked like On the Links Barbie and Ken.

She wondered when Zachary had started playing golf on weekdays. As soon as he'd moved out and no longer had to be home for dinner or pretend he was paying attention to his family?

With the smallest of nods to Sarah, Brooke let go of Natalie's hand long enough to thrust Darcy's leash at Zach. "Potty emergency. We'll be right back."

In the lobby they rushed past the security desk and sped toward the restrooms. "We gotted back just in time." Ava looked up at her seriously while Brooke helped her wash her hands. "I almost had a acc'dent."

"I know," Brooke said. "Me, too." She remembered triangulating the distance to the nearest bathroom when they'd been potty training and didn't miss the mental exercise, but she appreciated the lobby restroom almost as much as the beautiful water feature.

"Mommies don't pee in their pants," Natalie chided.

"Well, we try not to," Brooke said. "But everybody has an accident now and then. n.o.body's perfect." Unless you were Zach Mackenzie, she thought. Or one of his patients.

She took a minute to finger comb both girls' heavy red hair, which was just as useless as trying to wrest control of her own. Once upon a time Zachary had thought the springy waves of red hair were exotic, but over the years it, like her, had become something that needed to be controlled. "Let's go get your bag at the concierge desk. I'll pick you up tomorrow after school for ballet cla.s.s. Okay?"

At the desk the young Isabella pulled out their overnight bag and handed it to Brooke. "'Ow's it goin' then, m'lady?" she asked Brooke with an unservantlike grin. "I'm workin' on me accent in case I gets to 'elp out on Sunday night again."

"Yes, very . . . good," Brooke said. The young woman's earnestness made laughing out of the question.

"I asked the guhv'nor if I should wear the maid's costume more regular-like to get into me character, but he said no."

"Really?" Brooke smiled. She could only imagine the other residents' surprise if Isabella began to show up for her s.h.i.+ft dressed like an English house servant of a hundred years ago.

There was a "woof" and the sound of footsteps approaching. Zachary accepted a hug from each of the girls, but his gaze was fixed on Brooke. "I wanted to let you know that I'm going to start taking the girls on Sunday nights." He was not asking.

"But you're supposed to have them every other weekend for the whole weekend."

"Sundays are better for me," he said.

And Sarah, Brooke thought even as she swallowed the words. She did not want to argue with him in front of Natalie and Ava. Taking them every Sunday was better than not taking them for two whole weekends a month. The main thing was that the girls spent time with their father.

"Fine," she said. "Did you bring the maintenance check?" It was as always embarra.s.singly overdue.

"I figured you'd already paid it and I'd reimburse you later."

"I can't, Zachary." Her account had exactly three hundred dollars in it, not even enough for an emergency should it arrive. The only payments that happened regularly and on time were those that went through the court. Everything else depended on Zachary's conscience, which seemed to have shriveled to the size of a pea. "I don't have enough money to 'front' what you owe."

"The condo is expensive to keep up, Brooke." He said this as if this might be news to her.

"That didn't seem to be a problem when you decided on this building. Or when you were living here."

"I wasn't running two establishments," he replied.

This of course was not her problem, or shouldn't be. "That was your choice, not mine," she said as she had so many times before. She cast an eye down at the girls to try to gauge how intently they might be listening. "And there's really nothing to discuss." Her hand tightened on the leash. She did not want to have this conversation in front of the girls, had vowed she wouldn't drag them into the middle of the discord between her and Zachary, but she couldn't bear to let him twist everything this way. "I had two and three jobs at a time while I was putting you through medical school. Remember? That was one of the reasons the judge thought it was your turn now." Brooke's attorney had warned her that male judges were sometimes biased toward the husband in divorce proceedings. Judge Walton had been decisive and fair, but over the last six months, she'd learned that what you were awarded and what actually arrived each month were often different things.

"The settlement stipulates that the girls will continue to live in the home they know. The home you insisted they live in." Her jaw was tight, her teeth clenched in an effort to stay calm.

"I know you never really wanted to live here, Brooke," he said in a conciliatory tone that surprised her. "But I do. And so does Sarah." He threw this last comment out as if it were incidental and not, as she was now beginning to realize, the whole reason they were having this conversation. "If I took over the condo, the girls would still have their own rooms."

Brooke flushed with anger. This was going too far, even for Zachary.

"No," she said clearly, and she hoped, calmly. The blood rus.h.i.+ng to her head made it hard to tell for sure. "I'm not giving up the condo so that Natalie and Ava can come sleep in their rooms on those rare occasions when they actually get to visit you."

"But you can't really afford to stay in it, can you?" he asked again.

"I can if you do what you're morally, ethically, and legally obligated to do," she replied through still-clenched teeth. Her head began to throb. She still couldn't believe that after all the years as the family breadwinner, when she had treated every penny she'd earned as "theirs" that Zachary now held on to every penny he was supposed to give her as if it were his last.

"I'd give you current fair market value for it," Zach said. "Then you could buy a little house somewhere like you always said you wanted."

She looked at this man whom she had once loved beyond all reason. And who had turned out to have the moral fiber of a gnat.

"I can't believe you would even suggest this," she said. "The real estate market here is nowhere near a recovery, as you've pointed out on endless occasions. Our unit is worth half of what it was when we bought it. And even if I wanted to sell, I'd never sell it to you and that Barbie doll you created. Never." She would burn down the whole building before she let Sarah Grant live in their condo with Zachary. Better yet she'd go out and get a job to pay for maintenance fees and all the other things that Zachary used in order to manipulate her.

The click of heels on marble reminded her that they were in the middle of the lobby. She looked at her children's faces and knew that although they might not have followed all that had been said, she shouldn't have allowed them to overhear it.

"Oh, 'ello, Mrs. Davis, mu'm." Isabella's voice reached them from the other side of the lobby.

Brooke turned at Isabella's greeting and saw Samantha Davis smile pleasantly at the girl as she breezed by the concierge desk. Brooke and Samantha's eyes met and Brooke offered the closest thing to a polite smile she could muster, fully expecting the woman to offer a regal nod as she pa.s.sed. Instead Samantha Davis walked over to them. "h.e.l.lo, Brooke," she said pleasantly. "How are you?"

"Um, fine. Thanks. How about you?"

"Good."

There was an awkward silence. Beside her, Brooke could feel Zachary waiting to be introduced or at least noticed, but Samantha Davis had already turned her attention to the girls. She leaned down and put out a hand to Natalie. "I'm Samantha, what's your name?"

"Natalie." The seven-year-old's chubby hand slipped into Samantha's as she'd been taught.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you," Samantha replied shaking her hand. "Your mommy and I watched a movie together the other night." Brooke was relieved there was no mention of their first meeting in the fitness room; something she was still trying to erase from her memory banks.

"I'm Ava." Never one to be overlooked, Ava extended her hand toward Samantha Davis.

"Do you have any little girls for us to play with?"

The look that pa.s.sed over Samantha Davis's face was gone in an instant. "I'm afraid not. But I have a sister just like you do. Well, she's a good thirty years or so older than you are now." She turned to Natalie. "Big sisters need to look out for their little sisters."

"Uh-huh." Natalie nodded. "Except for when they're being 'noxious."

"Ah, but that's when they need looking after the most," Samantha said.

Natalie looked skeptical.

"You sound like you have some experience with that," Brooke said, still unsure why Samantha Davis hadn't departed as soon as she'd displayed her good manners.

"I do," Samantha replied.

Zachary inserted himself into the silence that followed. "h.e.l.lo." He gave Samantha the big white-toothed smile that he reserved for the wealthiest and most influential clients. Like Sarah Grant. He stuck out his hand. "Doctor Zachary Mackenzie."

Samantha placed her hand in his and allowed him to shake it. "Is this your husband?" she asked Brooke.

"Oh, no!" Zachary said before Brooke could speak. He used the dismissive tone that now seemed attached to even a mention of Brooke. "Well, not anymore." His relief at not having to claim her was excruciatingly obvious. "We're divorced."

"Oh." The brunette's expression turned cool. Any hint of the warmth she'd shown Brooke and the girls disappeared. "Samantha Davis." She retrieved her hand and turned back to Brooke.

Shocked surprise at the slight flashed across Zachary's face; the sight warmed the c.o.c.kles of Brooke's heart.

"Are you going to the screening Sunday night?" Brooke asked Samantha.

"I'm not sure. But I have to say I really loved the first program."

"Me, too," Brooke replied.

"I thought they did a good job with the whole t.i.tanic thing," Samantha said.

"Yes." Brooke had no idea what else there was to say. She'd cried in front of this woman and sat through an hour television show with her. Other than that she didn't see that they had much of anything in common. But she absolutely loved the way Samantha had cut Zach out of the conversation.

"Well, I'm afraid I really have to be going." Continuing to ignore Zachary, Samantha gave Brooke a quick hug and said good-bye to the girls. All of them watched her leave.

"Good G.o.d, that's Jonathan Davis's wife. How in the world do you know her?" Zachary asked.

Brooke shrugged, embarra.s.sed by the way he'd fawned over Samantha while managing to distance himself from her. "We've run into each other a few times in the building."

"It figures that you'd start meeting the right people now," he said. "Maybe you could tell her a little bit about my practice." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small stack of business cards. "She could help me tap into a whole new level of clientele."

She stared at her former husband, appalled. If she hadn't been willing to be surgically altered to advertise for him while they were married, why on earth would she want to s.h.i.+ll for him now? Was it possible he hadn't registered how completely Samantha Davis had dismissed him? "I barely know her, Zach."

"She hugged you." It was clear he still couldn't believe it. "She knows you well enough to hug you." He shook his head baffled.

"I'm sure she was just being polite," Brooke said. But Samantha had only been polite to Brooke and the girls. Not to Zachary. This made her smile.

Natalie reached out and tugged on her father's hand. "C'mon, Daddy. I'm hungry."

"Me, too!" Ava added.

Darcy woofed.

"You better get going." Brooke leaned down to kiss the girls. "Have fun. I'll see you two tomorrow."

Brooke watched them go, then wrapped the leash handle more tightly around her hand. "What do you say, Darcy? I bet you're hungry, too. Let's go up and have dinner." As she walked the dog to the elevator she realized that she felt far less bruised than she usually did after an encounter with her ex-husband. She'd nipped his condo takeover idea in the bud-at least she hoped she had. And then she'd gotten to watch Samantha Davis put him in his place. What a pleasant change to have someone on her "side." Someone who seemed able to see Zachary for what he was. And didn't seem to only see Brooke for what she was not.

With a small but satisfied smile, Brooke deposited the stack of Doctor Zachary Mackenzie's business cards in the trash can and stepped into the waiting elevator.

"PRIVATE BUTLER." EDWARD PARKER ANSWERED HIS phone and leaned back in his chair. A few seconds later he propped his feet up on the desk, ankles crossed. He wasn't due at the Alexander until later in the afternoon. Mornings spent at his home office were decidedly less formal. "This is Edward. How may I help you?"

The man's voice was deep, but his tone was tentative. "I have to put on a birthday party and I'm . . . well, I'm, I think I need some help."

Edward smiled. For so many men doing for others was surprisingly intimidating. "Do you need help with the planning, the guest list, or the implementation?"

"Yes."

"All right then." Once Edward might have said that they weren't really party planners, but the company tagline was "Making your life more civilized, whatever it takes." He'd discovered that what it took varied almost as much as each person's definition of what was civilized.

Edward pulled a yellow pad in front of him and uncapped his pen. "What can you tell me about the person for whom you're planning the event? Do you have a theme and location in mind?"

"She's turning six," the potential client said. "It's her birthday. I'm thinking the backyard?" The question in his voice made it seem that all of these things were up for negotiation.

"I see." This was Edward's best fall-back-and-regroup line. He'd learned it when he was a young trainee. It was used primarily in situations where he didn't yet see at all.

"My wife used to handle all of this. But we're . . ." There was a long pause in which Edward silently filled in the word "divorced." But the man said, "I'm . . . she's . . . she died."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Edward said, meaning it. He could actually hear the pain in the man's voice.

"Yes. Thanks." Another pause and then, "So can you organize it?"

"I'm sure one of our staff can handle this for you, Mr. . . ."

"Dalton. Bruce Dalton."