The Arrangement ~ Chapter 12 Preview
It might REALLY be Friday this week. I'm running behind. 😱
There was a knock at the door. One of the maids answered quietly, and a familiar voice followed, light, cheerful, cutting right through the tension in the air.
"Good morning," she greeted. "Here to see my daughter."
Mary stepped into the sitting room, balancing a cloth bag over one arm, carrying two other bags, and her coat was dusted with a bit of morning dew and determination. Her eyes landed on Tommy as he rose to help her with everything she was carrying. Her smile didn’t falter, though her brow lifted slightly.
“Well, it’s not the daughter I expected to find, but I’ll take the son-in-law.”
Tommy gave the barest smile. “Someone decided to sleep in.”
Mary clicked her tongue but didn’t press.
Turning her attention to the bundle she draped over her arm, she placed it gently on the couch. “These are the rest of her new dresses you asked for. I just finished them last night.”
Tommy stepped closer, opened the cloth with careful hands. Rich fabrics, soft colors. Pale blues, soft greens, a deep plum he remembered choosing without a second thought. She’d look good in all of them.
“Looks like you got it just right,” he said, lightly impressed. “Stitching’s damn near perfect.”
Mary gave a small, pleased shrug. “We know how to finish things properly.”
She began folding the empty cloth wrapping when she added, almost offhand, “And I put together that list of shoes you wanted commissioned for her. My new helper is better at sketching than me, fortunately. Bram Sullivan's daughter said they should be ready within the week.”
Tommy looked up, brow drawing slightly. “You didn’t go over there yourself, did you?”
Mary snorted. “No. I sent everything with Rory.”
Tommy eased slightly at that, nodding once. “Good.”
She set down another smaller parcel near the sewing machine in the corner. “Just some small mending pieces. Thought I’d leave them here for her.”
Tommy frowned. “That new girl I hired for you, she not working out?”
Mary smiled at that, but it was a quiet, knowing smile. “Oh no, Irene’s lovely. Very sweet, talented. Thank you again.”
“Then why are you still bringing work for your daughter?”
That earned him a look. Mary straightened up, hands on her hips, her eyes warm but firm. “Because she grew up working. Just like you did.” Mary folded the now-empty cloth bag with efficient hands. “She’s not used to sitting idle, and never had the opportunity to do so, especially after Malachy died.”
“I’m at a place in life,” Tommy said carefully, “where I can have a wife who doesn’t have to do anything except take care of me and our children.”
Mary looked at him for a moment, giving him that same half-smile her daughter wore sometimes, like she could see straight through him. “You can have that,” she said. “But whether she’ll sit still for it is another thing entirely.” She looked toward the sewing machine again. “If I don’t leave her something to do there, she’ll go poking around the garden. Or the pantry. Or reorganizing your entire bloody house. I’m trying to keep her from climbing the walls.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow. “That’s your idea of rest?”
She shrugged. “My idea of peace. She’s like me that way, we need something to do with our hands.”
He leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed, something like respect in his expression. Christ, I know exactly what that’s like.
Mary turned to her final bag and pulled out something smaller, a muslin pouch with a few round shapes wrapped carefully inside. “Lemons,” she said. “I’ll leave them in the kitchen for her.”
Tommy glanced at it. “She hasn’t had morning sickness in weeks.”
Mary smiled, but there was something gentler behind it now. “She’s nervous today.”
That made him straighten a little. “Why?”
“She didn’t tell you?” Mary tilted her head. “Nadia’s coming tonight. Checking up on her. Says she’s going to tell us if the baby’s a boy or girl. Something about a ring or a charm.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow, the edge of a smile playing at his mouth. “They’ll use her engagement ring. Dangle it on a strand of her hair or thread, hold it over her stomach.”
Mary looked intrigued.
He continued, voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “If it moves in a circle, it’s a girl. If it swings back and forth, it’s a boy.”
Mary smiled. “Well, I’ve never heard that one.”
“You’ve learned something new, then.”
She nodded, genuinely curious. “I know very little about the Romani. Just the basics.”
Tommy paused. His voice softened just slightly. “There’s gypsy blood in my family.”
Mary tilted her head again, thoughtful now. “I guessed as much. From the way Nadia speaks to you. It’s familiar.”
He studied her carefully. “Does it bother you?”
Mary waved it off without hesitation. “Why would it? Romani are good people. Malachy’s grandmother was Romani, if I remember right.”
Tommy didn’t show his surprise, but a part of him that had stayed braced, waiting for judgment, waiting for that subtle shift in tone people used when they learned about his gypsy blood. But Mary like her daughter was accepting, and his girl had Romani in her blood too.
Mary glanced toward the hallway. “I’ll try to come by again later tonight, see what Nadia says about this grandchild of mine.”
She picked up her empty bag and headed for the door. "Giver her my love," she said. "I'd stay but Rory has men stomping all over our house doing the repairs." She laughed. "If they pull up any more floorboards without checking with me first, I'll be dragging them out by the ear."
And with that, she was gone like a spring storm, leaving behind lemons, dresses, and more for Tommy to think about than he was ready to admit.
