"You can see I'm busy."

Go, she thought frantically. Just turn around and walk away. "I'd like

to speak with you." Emma heard her own voice, but it sounded like a

stranger's. "I'm Emma."

Jane didn't move, but her eyes changed, narrowing further, struggling to

focus. She saw a young woman, tall, slender, with a pale, delicate face

and flowing blond hair. She saw Brian-then her daughter. For an

instant she felt something almost like regret. Then her lips curved.

"Well, well, well. Little Emma come home to her mam. Want to talk to

me?" She gave a quick, high laugh that caused Emma to jolt and brace for

a slap. But Jane merely stepped back from the doorway. "Come right on

in, dear. We'll have ourselves a chat."

Jane was already calculating as she led the way down the hall into a

cluttered parlor made dim by the thick curtains. There was a scent

there-old liquor, stale smoke that wasn't tobacco. It seemed they

hadn't come so far from the old flat after all.

Her annual check from Brian would soon stop, and no amount of

threatening or wheedling would pry another pence from him. But there

was the girl. Her own little Emma. A woman had to think ahead, Jane

decided. When she had expensive tastes, and an expensive habit.

"How about a drink?. "Ib celebrate our reunion."

"No, thank you."

With a shrug, Jane poured a gla.s.s for herself. When she turned back,

the red silk shifted over her plump hips. "To family ties?" she

offered, raising her gla.s.s. Then she laughed when Emma looked down at

her hands. "Imagine finding you at my door after all these years."

She drank deeply, then topped off the gla.s.s before sitting on a sofa of

purple velvet. "Sit down, Emma luy, and tell me all about yourself."

"There's nothing to tell." Stiffly, Emma sat on the edge of a chair.

"I'm only in London for the holidays."

"Holidays? Ah, Christmas." She grinned, tapping a chipped nail against

the gla.s.s. "Did you bring your mama present?"

Emma shook her head. She felt like a child again. Terrified and

lonely.

"The least you could have done after all these years was bring your

mother a little gift." With a wave of her hand, Jane settled back.

"Never mind. You never were a considerate child. All grown-up now,

aren't you?" She eyed the quiet diamond studs in Emma's ears. "And done

well for yourself, too. Fancy schools, fancy clothes."

"I'm in college now," Emma said helplessly. "I have a job."

"A job? What the h.e.l.l do you want with a job? Your old man's got

nothing but money."

"I like it." She hated the fact that she couldn't control the stutter.

"I want to work."

"You never was a bright kid." Frowning, Jane tossed back more gin. "When

I think of all the years I scrimped and saved and did without to put

dresses on your back and food in your belly. Never a bit of grat.i.tude

from you." She reached for the gin bottle and slopped more into her

gla.s.s. "Just sniveling and crying, then going off with your father

without a backward glance. Been living high, haven't you, my girl?