Free Love's Haven by Catherine Palmer

on.”
    Mara accompanied him into the adjoining room. Everything he had mentioned sat in perfect showroom newness—crib, high chair, swing, bathtub.
    “A rocker!” she exclaimed, delighted at the sight of thelarge, smooth wood chair with its high arms and comfortably curved back. “This will be perfect for nursing Abby.”
    She went straight to the rocker and eased her sore body into its cradling cushions. The chair glided evenly back and forth on the floor without a creak or a bump. Immediately, Abby turned her face inward, and her mouth puckered into an expression of hunger. Mara lifted her eyes to Brock.
    He stood in the gathering shadows, hands in his pockets and hat pulled low. “You like the chair?”
    “This is perfect.” She let out a breath. “I love it.”
    As Abby began to whimper, Brock turned away. “I’ll go see what’s for supper.”
    Mara watched the door shut behind him, then she unbuttoned her blouse. She could get used to this, she realized.
     
    “Knock, knock?”
    Mara looked up from the crib where Abby lay sleeping peacefully. Rosa Maria Hernandez beckoned from the door.
    “Pierre sent me to tell you it’s almost time for supper,” the housekeeper said as Mara crossed the room to her. “He wants to know, will you eat in the main dining room or in the lounge?”
    “There’s a lounge?”
    “Sure. It’s right down the hall there.”
    Mara gave Abby a last check, content that her daughter would be secure without her for a few minutes. As she stepped into her bedroom, she tried to envision this lounge Rosa Maria was talking about. It made the house sound like a hotel.
    “You haven’t seen it?” The older woman followed Mara into the room and began turning down the bed. “It’s a big area with tables and chairs, bar, movie screen, pool tables, everything. Mr. Barnett has parties there, you know?”
    “No, I didn’t know.”
    “Sure! He has a big crowd of friends from Las Cruces. They come up to visit. Sometimes they stay all night.”
    I’ll bet they do, Mara thought. Just when she was trying to accommodate the image of an art-loving Brock, the old party boy stepped back in. Maybe he simply liked to play with his money, spending it on expensive historical artifacts to impress his friends.
    She unzipped her suitcase and wondered how long she could endure living right down the hall from Brock Barnett’s Bar and Grill. How long before the Las Cruces crowd decided it was time to party? Would there be strange men sleeping in the empty rooms up and down the corridor? Women lolling around the pool? Going into Brock’s bedroom? Her husband…
    The whole idea made her nauseous—especially the fact that she had actually married such a man. So different from Todd. So opposite to her ideal.
    Mara felt lonely enough without family to help her celebrate Abby’s birth, without a mother to help her tend the newborn and with her few friends miles down the highway. To have Brock’s pack of revelers around would be too much. Jerking a pair of jeans from the top of her suitcase, Mara frowned at the picture her mind had conjured.
    “I don’t think a lounge is the right place to bring up a baby,” she said firmly.
    “Oh, everyone will love Abby. Mr. B.’s friends are…well, they’re…” Rosa Maria’s voice trailed off, and Mara glanced at her.
    “They’re what?”
    “I was just thinking about some of those who come. I don’t know if he has told anyone.”
    “About me?”
    “About the wedding.”
    “I would doubt if he had, Rosa Maria. This marriage ison paper only. Brock and I have been very honest with each other about that, and everyone else should be aware of it, too. The only purpose of the marriage is to provide for Abby.”
    “Mr. B told us—the ones who work here—that he doesn’t know you very well.” The housekeeper plumped Mara’s pillows. “You’re his best friend’s wife?”
    “Todd Rosemond was my husband.”
    “I’m very sorry about what happened.”
    Mara