Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [17]
“A guest cottage?” Monty asked thoughtfully, with a low whistle. “That's really royal treatment, Brenna. Cottages are reserved for stars and visiting VIPs.”
“Then there must be a mistake,” Brenna said firmly. “We both know that I'm neither.”
“There's no mistake, Miss Sloan,” Paula Drummond spoke up quickly. “Mr. Donovan's instructions were very explicit.” She looked beyond Brenna to smile at the young woman who had just gotten off the elevator and was crossing the lobby toward them. “This is Doris Charles, Miss Sloan.”
Doris Charles was a woman in her middle twenties with short curly red hair and rather plain features that were illuminated by a warm smile. She held out a strong square hand and shook Brenna's hand vigorously. “I'm very happy to meet you, Miss Sloan.” She turned immediately toward Walters, who was still holding Randy, and said briskly. “I'll take him.” She held out her arms, and Walters obediently put the child into them. Brenna stared in bewilderment as the red-haired woman cuddled the child expertly, her face softening as she looked down at him. “What a little darling he is,” she said softly. “His name's Randy, I believe?”
“That's right,” Brenna said, confused. “But who are you?”
Doris Charles looked up at her, a small frown creasing her forehead. “I'm your son's nurse. Mr. Donovan flew me up from Los Angeles to care for Randy.” she said calmly. “I believe you'll find I have the highest qualifications.”
“I'm sure you have,” Brenna said tiredly, her head whirling. “But I don't need a nurse, Miss Charles. I take care of Randy myself.”
Johnny Smith came into the lobby laden with suitcases that he put down in front of the desk.
“Don't be too hasty, Brenna,” Walters said easily. “You'll need someone to care for Randy while you're working. Miss Charles is well qualified to do just that.”
Brenna nodded slowly at the logic of Monty's reasoning. “You're right, Monty,” she admitted, and smiled at Doris Charles. The red-haired woman seemed to be loving as well as efficient. “I'll be glad to have your help with Randy, Miss Charles,” she said warmly.
“Doris,” the nurse said briefly, grinning back at her. “I'll take the greatest care of your son, Miss Sloan,” she promised.
Paula Drummond cleared her throat gently, and said tentatively. “Now, if you'll tell me which of these bags are your personal possessions, Miss Sloan, I'll have Johnny take them to the cottage. He can come back and take the baby's things to Miss Charles' apartment later.”
“What are you talking about?” Brenna asked blankly. “Everything goes to the cottage. Randy is staying with me.”
Paula Drummond shook her head. “No, ma'm,” she said, “Mr. Donovan was quite definite on that point. Only you are to occupy the cottage. The baby is to remain at the residence hall with Miss Charles.”
“I don't care how definite Mr. Donovan was on the subject,” Brenna said between her teeth. “I am not being separated from my baby.” The nerve of the man, she fumed. Casually disposing of her child like an unwanted parcel. “I don't care where you put me,” she went on grimly. “I don't need any fancy cottage, anywhere will do. But wherever it is, I want my child with me.”
There was a shocked look on the receptionist's face. “But you don't understand, Miss Sloan,” she stammered. “I can't go against Mr. Donovan's orders.”
“I'm not going anywhere without Randy,” Brenna said flatly. “So you are going to have to, aren't you?”
“It's just not possible,” Paula Drummond said, almost in tears. “Please be reasonable, Miss Sloan. Mr. Donovan will be most displeased.”
Brenna had opened her mouth to tell the girl what Michael Donovan could do with his displeasure, when Walters interjected smoothly. “You can't do anything about it tonight, Brenna. Paula is only obeying orders, and you'll only get her in trouble. Why don't you go along with the arrangements right now. When you see Mr. Donovan, you can speak to him about making any necessary changes.”
The voice of reason again, Brenna thought impatiently, wishing