The perfect baby wasn’t sleeping soundly. Brian wasn’t happy in his seat, since the plane looked like a fun place to crawl around in, and she was coaxing him to chew on a gummy-looking teething biscuit. Then she was making faces at him, which finally brought out a smile. The smile led to some embarrassingly loud screeches, which she quieted by singing, “Itsy Bitsy Spider.”
He glanced around the cabin. No one was looking at them, probably hoping that if they didn’t look at them, they’d go away.
“May I get you something to drink before the flight?” The attendant stood at his side, smiling not at him, but at Brian.
“Allie?” he said.
“I need more coffee,” she said.
“Two coffees.”
After the flight attendant moved on, Allie was busy again, getting Brian interested in his favorite clothbound book, the alphabet book.
“A is for Apple,” she hummed, pausing to outline the apple with her fingertip, then point to each letter.
Mike realized he’d have to act like a grown-up and wait his turn.
Mercifully, Brian soared into the air fearlessly, then immediately fell asleep with his head against—
Not Allie’s shoulder, but Mike’s.
“Look at him.” Her voice was soft and loving. “You have no idea what he’s been through in the last few hours. Us in a flurry, everything off-schedule, a strange car with a strange man driving the car. A terminal changing room, a waiting room, the plane taking off—”
He hadn’t imagined that their whispered conversation would be about Brian, but her smile made him want to tease her. “I went through the same things,” he complained. “Nobody’s letting me sleep with my head on their shoulder.”
“You have to wait until we get to the hotel,” she said sternly.
“It won’t be easy.”
She flushed, looking young and innocent, which she was. His eyes drifted over her lovely face. She was innocent of the evil in the world. Innocent about hard times, selfish parents. He hoped she’d never lose that innocence, she’d never know sadness or fear. He’d never tell her about his own unhappiness, his loneliness, his feeling of not being loved that had made him lash out at the world to get attention. Or about the knots that twisted in his stomach at the slightest uncertainty. He wanted her to buy the person he appeared to be: cheerful, a regular stand-up guy, happy-go-lucky—at least until Brian came along—cool about everything, totally secure.
A strong man, which she thought he was. When, in fact, he was a ripe tomato, ready to burst at the slightest blow, just as the tomato at Mayhew’s Market had been.
As any gentleman would do, he engaged her in small talk, the news, national rather than LaRocque, small details about the restaurant and bigger details about Brian. Just as their conversation was about to turn personal, the pilot announced, “We’re starting our descent into JFK…”
Brian woke up, screaming, Allie swiftly pulled a bottle out of the diaper bag and stuck it in his mouth, informing Mike that his ears probably hurt and sucking would help him get through it, and life was back to what he was starting to think of as normal—minus a place where he could bring down his blood pressure by cooking.
They landed. Mike had no problem finding their driver. Hard to miss your own name on a sandwich board the man wore around his neck.
“Have you checked luggage, Mr. Foster?” the man said, then took a look at Brian and said, “Yes, of course you have.”
Starting toward the baggage carousel, Allie said calmly, “Brian needs to be changed. Where shall I meet you?”
She left with Brian and the ever-present diaper bag while Mike and the driver waited for the luggage. “You have kids?” Mike asked him.
“Seven.”
Mike’s head reeled. “So you understand car seats and gigantic suitcases for a single twenty-four-pounder…”
“Yep.”
“Any babies now?”
“Nope.”
“Are you relieved that they’ve grown up?”
“Nope. They were easier then.”
It was the second time today he’d gotten the same bad news. He was feeling glum when Allie returned at last with Brian, who studied the driver and seemed to give him a grudging approval, although he clung to Allie, then held out his arms for his personal parking space, Mike’s left hip.
At last, when the driver had retrieved the car, had gone through an endless drill to pick them up outside the terminal, crammed the trunk to its maximum capacity and wrestled the car seat into its moorings, they were on their way to the hotel. It was early afternoon, and Mike felt as if he’d fought a war singlehandedly and deserved six weeks of rest and rehabilitation. Allie, on the other hand, was pointing out buildings on the New York skyline to Brian.
Mike thought about her energy and his lack of it. He was a healthy, relatively young man. He could manage a full day at the restaurant, occasionally a night of getting started on a catering job, a day at the restaurant followed by the catering job itself, and not feel the least bit tired.
Now he was exhausted. It must have something to do with having a kid, but he was too tired to figure out what that something was.
They arrived at the hotel, which was like a palace. As they checked in, the clerk said, “We’ve put you in the Lucerne Suite,” he said, “very comfortable, and we hope you’ll feel at home there.”
It wasn’t until they were alone in the suite that Mike felt the full impact of the situation. He and Allie were away from LaRocque, where everybody knew everything about everybody else. It would be the first real privacy they’d ever had. He had no idea what these meetings with Abernathy would entail. He had no idea what privacy with Allie would do to his logical thinking. He just hoped he was up to it all.
ALLIE STARED disbelievingly at their home away from home. “This is amazing,” she said. “The last time I was in New York, I stayed in a room the width of a double bed and two nightstands. You couldn’t have the closet door and the bathroom door open at the same time.”
Mike grinned at her. “Want to explore?”
They wandered through the suite. The living room was larger than Mrs. Langston’s. Three bedrooms, two baths, small kitchen, and all of it beautifully furnished and decorated. “A starter home,” she said. “For a wealthy young couple, that is.”
Mike gave her a quick kiss. “I’d like to stick around, but I have to get to the Abernathy building in a hurry.” He grabbed his suitcase and vanished into one of the bedrooms.
She stood in the living room holding Brian and wondering where to start. By feeding him, of course. One look at the splendid chintz-covered armchairs in the living room motivated her to drag one of the wooden dining chairs that surrounded a small table into the kitchen, and there she fed Brian, grateful that her shirt was washable.
Mike came out of the bedroom while she was on her hands and knees mopping up puréed green beans from the marble floor. She looked up and gasped, then stood to take him in from head to toe. “I’ve never seen you in a suit,” she said.
He looked embarrassed. “Bought it for Daniel’s wedding.”
He was a vision in the navy suit. It hung perfectly from his broad shoulders, and the trousers, sharply creased, outlined his narrow hips in a way that stirred her blood.
“You look gorgeous.”
That seemed to embarrass him more. “Okay, gotta go. Will you and Brian be okay?”
If I can stop thinking about you. “Of course.” Brian supported her by burbling assurance from the car seat she’d strapped him into while she cleaned up.
“Remember your new best friend, room service,” he reminded her. “I feel bad about not coming back for dinner.”
“A business dinner is important. The conversation will be less intense, more casual. You may learn more there than you will in their offices.” She straightened his tie.
“You think they’ll invite me to play golf?”
She laughed. “Eventually they will. Probably not on this trip.” She
tweaked the handkerchief in his breast pocket.
“Good, because I don’t play golf. Bye, Brian,” he said, and gave the baby a kiss on the top of his head.
He held out his arms to gather Allie close, but she jumped back. “Green beans don’t match your outfit,” she said, pointing to her shirt.
Wearing a wry smile, he leaned over to give her a kiss, physically distant, maybe, but a lovely kiss nonetheless. “Wish me luck,” he said.
“Luck,” she whispered, her lips lingering on his. “It’ll go great.”
With a look she hoped was a longing one, he left.
How far he’d come since the morning he went down to the diner without kissing Brian or even telling him goodbye. She smiled. He wouldn’t be able to resist loving Brian like his own son.
Her smile faded. She hoped she could resist loving Mike just as much.
Remembering why she was here, she said, “Okay, Brian, a quick change and cleanup, and then we’ll take a walk! New York, New York, it’s a wonderful town,” she sang, and Brian chuckled.
“MIKE!”
Richard Stein seemed happy to see him. Thrilled would be a better word, even ecstatic. “Come right in,” he said. “We’ll have lunch and then get to work. Are your accommodations adequate?”
“Very pleasant,” Mike said, restraining himself from gushing.
“And the trip went well?”
Stein really didn’t want to hear cute baby stories, Mike was certain, so he said, “Yes, quite well, thank you,” and he smiled, graciously he hoped.
Lunch met his standards and then some. Abernathy Foods either had its own star chef or an excellent caterer. Six of them sat at the table, and they began giving him an overview of the company even before the snails were served. After lunch they really got down to business, and he began to long for Allie to be sitting at his side, her calm attitude and good judgment giving him strength.
ALLIE WALKED Brian uptown to Central Park. His first treat was a trip to the most famous toy store in the world. He was fascinated by the singing clock, which was a good thing because there was no way he could grab it.
It was the only thing he couldn’t grab. She centered the stroller in each aisle, hoping the impatient shoppers who scooted around her understood that the alternative would be a floor covered with every toy Brian could reach.
He wasn’t misbehaving. He was smart, curious, just the way a baby should be. “Look at the polar bear, Brian,” she said when they passed a display of stuffed toys. Taking a chance, she handed it to him. He hugged it, and when he didn’t want to let go, she bought it for him.
The price was appalling. She couldn’t afford it, but the ruckus Brian made when she had to take it away from him so the clerk could scan the tag made the purchase seem like nothing in comparison.
“So that’s the toy store,” she said, whisking him out the door. “Now let’s go to the zoo!”
She was as fascinated by the zoo as Brian was. It was a beautiful, sunny fall day, the kind that lifted her spirits, made everything look golden. Even as she talked to Brian, telling him the name of each animal, she was thinking about Mike, what confusing or disturbing facts and conditions were being thrown at him, how he was handling it.
On the outside, she was sure he was handling it in a businesslike way, just as he managed the diner, always cheerful, always with a twinkle in his eye. But why had she always wondered if he felt the same way inside? Was it some vibe thrumming from him that she picked up on when nobody else seemed to?
She was probably just wrong. “Look, Brian,” she said, “polar bears just like yours, but lots, lots bigger!”
They continued their stroll through the zoo, at last ending up at the aviary. It contained birds of all species, birds from dozens of countries, and yet they got along together.
She realized something about herself she’d never thought of. She was like these birds. She didn’t have to be separated from anyone. She relished contact with any human foible, weakness or need, with no agenda except to make the people with those problems feel better.
Help people feel better. That was what she’d always wanted to do, and that was what she would do, but not as a doctor, as a therapist.
The feeling that came over her was one of pure joy. She’d thought psychology was a maybe, but now she knew it was what she’d wanted to do. At last, she’d made her career decision. She didn’t have to worry anymore. About many other things, but not that. Her heart lightened, and she felt a burst of energy. “Brian,” she said with refreshed enthusiasm, “That’s a parrot. Par-rot, and that’s a—”
MIKE FELT as if his brain had turned into a calculator. Abernathy Foods had made an offer that any sensible man couldn’t refuse. But he didn’t know the conditions yet.
He couldn’t wait to get back to the St. Regis. His guess was that Brian was already in bed and asleep, but with any luck, Allie would still be awake, because he needed someone to talk to in the worst way. Not Daniel or Ian. The person he wanted to talk to was Allie.
He unlocked the door to the suite and saw her sitting on the sofa, her feet curled up under her, wearing something pink and sheer, the scrap of fabric the security guard had plucked out of her carry-on, with an equally sheer robe over it. As always, she was reading, and when she saw him, she flung the book aside and stood up slowly. “How were the meetings?” she asked.
Mike felt the air whoosh out of his lungs. “Good.”
She moved toward him, the sheer gown and robe revealing more than they concealed. “Tell me what happened.”
“I can’t,” he admitted when she stood close to him. “All the blood has left my brain.”
“Oh, really?”
He slipped his arms around her waist. “Mmm. Yes. Maybe later I can remember, but right now—”
Then he kissed her.
BRIAN’S COMPLAINING cries woke Allie the next morning. She reluctantly climbed out of the warm bed, pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt, then padded to the baby’s room. “Hi, sweetie.”
Brian smiled at her and talked up a storm while she changed him, then went into the kitchen. She sat him in his car seat and said, “What’s for breakfast?”
“I’ll have the puréed apricots.”
She spun to see Mike standing in the doorway.
He was wearing a pair of jeans low on his hips. The sight of him made her heartbeat pick up. “Puréed apricots? Without turning them into an apricot soufflé?” she asked him.
He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “I’m way too distracted to make a soufflé,” he said, “And it’s a great feeling. How about you?”
“I’d never attempt a soufflé, and certainly not now,” she said, “not with you looking at me that way.” She moved toward him, but Brian indicated that she’d better come back at once.
“He’s hungry,” Allie said, deserting Mike reluctantly.
“So am I. For food, among other things. We’ll order from room service. My first meeting isn’t until nine.”
Allie glanced at the clock. Babies certainly got your days going early.
“I’ll make that first cup of coffee right now,” he told her. “I’d rather serve it to you in bed,” and his eyes roamed over her as he spoke, “but this will have to do. You want to call room service while I feed Brian, or the other way around?”
“I’m on phone duty,” she said, giving him a mischievous smile. Watching him spoon apricots into the baby’s mouth while she placed their order, she realized she’d never felt this good, this fulfilled. She couldn’t ever remember feeling this—blissful. She wasn’t just happy, she was content. Content with what she was doing, content with the way her life was going.
The way it was going right this minute. With a sinking feeling, she realized it was already too late, that she loved them both, loved Mike passionately, loved Brian as if he were her own child. She couldn’t imagine not being with them every day.
Impulsively she said, “I’m so happy, Mike.”
He smiled at her. “It’s good
to be happy.”
She suddenly felt shy, but she forged ahead. “I mean I’m happy right now, I like my life, I like what I’m doing. I don’t want anything to change.” She took a deep breath. “But yesterday I decided for sure what I wanted to study. Psychology. I want to be a clinical psychologist if I can get through the Ph.D. program.”
His face lit up, and his eyes sparkled. “It’s just what you should do. I want to get up and hug you, but…” He gestured to Brian, to his fruit-stained shirt. “Just you wait.” His smile was filled with promise.
Promise of what? Promise to respect her if she went back to school? Promise to wait for her until she finished her education? “I realize,” she rushed on, “that I could help you with Brian until he’s a bit older and then start the program…” But…But what if she settled in contentedly just as her mother said she might and didn’t go back to school, ever?
She glanced at Mike. He’d drawn his eyebrows together ever so slightly, so that he looked worried, or disapproving, maybe. It made her want to throw her arms around him, spilled baby food and all, and tell him that no matter what happened, she loved him. But with that expression on his face, she couldn’t tell him what was in her heart.
His face cleared as suddenly as it had clouded over. “We’ll talk about it tonight. Right now, I have to clean up this young man before our breakfast gets here. Right, Brian?” He lifted the baby high into the air, making him shriek happily and wave his hands.
He was Mike as usual, cheerful, smiling, starting his day with enthusiasm. She stood in the kitchen for a moment, thinking about his growing and building relationship with Brian, and about her increasing love for both of them.
It was all about Brian, really, wasn’t it? Brian deserved a focused father. He didn’t deserve an often-absent—she could hardly bear to think the word—mother.
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