She glanced up from her book on the history of France in the sixteenth century—she did not believe in novels. There was only the tiniest flicker of annoyance when she saw his fac
e, then she composed herself. She knew that he had something bad to tell her.
Alastair got his height and his blondness from her. Some people said that he was so much like his mother that it was hard to believe that Hamish had anything to do with him.
Noreen put down her book, nodded toward the blue brocade chair, then waited for him to speak.
In spite of his planning, Alastair didn’t know where to start. At the beginning? Tell how he made such an effort to meet her through that dreadful Delia? No. Not there.
“She’s pregnant.”
Noreen seemed to be relieved. “That’s easy to change. Careless of you but fixable.”
“She wants us to get married.”
Noreen laughed at that. “She couldn’t be that stupid. Or is she? Who is it?”
“Cheryl Morris.” The words almost choked him. Lowest of the low. The dregs. The type a Stewart didn’t speak to, much less...
His mother’s face had gone ghostly white. He’d never seen her look so upset. But how could that be? His mother was a rock. A solid, never-flustered person.
“Morris,” she whispered, then stood up.
“I’m sorry. I—”
She whirled on him. “Why her? Why?”
“Dad said—” He’d never seen his mother look so angry.
“What did that father of yours say?” She was leaning over him, her face distorted with rage.
Alastair’s belief that he was a man fled his mind immediately. He reverted to being a scared child, his voice full of tears. “He said she was a ‘fine girl.’ He said he was proud of the way she’d overcome her life. He said—”
She stood up and turned to the window. “No more. I can guess.”
“I wanted to please him,” Alastair sobbed. “Just once, I wanted to do something that he liked.”
When Noreen turned back, she was calmer. “Are you packed to go to camp?”
“Yes.”
“Then get your bag and leave. I’ll take care of this.”
“But how—?”
“Don’t ask questions. If I need you, I’ll let you know. Now get out of here.”
He obeyed his mother.
Noreen went to the safe that was hidden under an antique carpet and withdrew twenty grand in cash. She also pulled out a diamond necklace that her beloved father-in-law had given her. It was a beautiful thing and she’d hate to part with it, but women like Verna Morris tended to like flash. As for the girl, she had no worries. After what Noreen had to say, agreeing to an abortion wouldn’t be a problem.
As her son did, Noreen parked some distance away and walked to the Morris house. She certainly knew where it was. Not that she’d ever visited before, but she knew.
She wasn’t recognized by anyone. But then, the light was low and she had raided her husband’s closet. She had on his pants and shirt, a cap hiding her blond hair.
The house was well lit and she paused for a moment to see what was going on. There was an old van in the weedy driveway, all the doors open. Inside were boxes and bags of household goods. It looked like Verna had been told of her daughter’s predicament and they were at last leaving town.
Good! Noreen thought, but she wanted to make sure.