The Billionaire's Bedside Manner by Robyn Grady Page B

least she’d had her mother until she was fourteen. Had a father too, although he’d been emotionally absent these later years. But looking at that little boy…
    Bailey angled her head. “Remy seems happy enough. Lively.”
    Was it because he was too young to fully understand there was another way to live…with a family, a mother and father?
    â€œHe’s a joy.” Then Nichole hesitated. “Although he doesn’t speak often. There’s nothing wrong with his hearing. Seems he simply doesn’t care to talk most of the time.” Her expression softened. “But he and Mateo have a relationship that extends beyond words.”
    A thought struck and Bailey’s smile wavered. “Do you think Remy’s father will ever come back for him?”
    â€œI can only say Remy will always have a home here if he doesn’t.”
    Nichole Garnier meant it as a comfort but Bailey heard a dirge rather than a choir. From the little she’d seen, this establishment was well run, with genuine carers who were dedicated to their work. Still, any comprehending child would rather be with his parents in a real home if there were any way, even if that father had once abandoned him…wouldn’t he?
    Hand cupped to his mouth, Mateo called out.
    â€œBailey, the girls want to meet you. The boys too.”
    Laughing, Mateo ruffled Remy’s hair and Bailey and Nichole moved forward.
    â€œHave you known Mateo long?” Nichole asked as they walked together and bands of birds warbled nearby.
    â€œNot very.”
    â€œHe’s a good man.”
    Bailey grinned. “I keep hearing that.” She’d even said it herself.
    â€œHe gives others so much joy. He deserves every happiness.”
    Bailey heard the tone in Nichole’s voice…the suggestion theirs might be a relationship that could bloom into love and marriage. Perhaps she ought to set the older woman straight. She and Mateo might be lovers, but that didn’t translate into anything permanent. He didn’t want anything permanent.
    As they met again and Mateo took her hand and introduced her, Bailey reaffirmed to herself—right now, she didn’t want permanent either.
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    After the children dispersed, Nichole Garnier showed them around the buildings and grounds.
    Although the kitchen facilities, plumbing and sleeping quarters were all twenty-first century, the exterior was undoubtedly restored medieval; and the interior, including the lower chapel, retained much of its original decoration, including intricate paintings. Having grown up in a young country like Australia, Bailey was in awe of the sense of history these children were surrounded by every day. The hallowed atmosphere made her feel insignificant, humbled, and at the same time part of the very heart of this sacred place, as if she, herself, might have strolled these soaring halls in a former time.
    They enjoyed a lunch of soupe a l’oignon and quiche aux legumes after which the children sang for their adult audience. Although she understood little, Bailey couldn’t remember a performance she’d enjoyed more. At the concert’s close, she and Mateo provided a standing ovation while the children all bowed and grinned.
    Mateo had a meeting with Nichole in the afternoon, so Bailey spent time with the children playing escargot—a Frenchversion of hopscotch—and le loup and cache-cache, or hide and seek. One little girl, Clairdy, stole her heart. Only five, Clairdy had white blond hair and the prettiest violet colored eyes. She never stopped chatting and singing and pirouetting. By the end of the afternoon, Bailey’s stomach ached from laughing and her palms were pink from applauding.
    For dinner they gathered in the dining hall. When Nichole said a prayer before the meal, Bailey’s awareness of her surroundings swelled again and, from beneath lowered lashes, she studied her company, particularly the man seated