by Lisa Plumley
Red rolled her eyes.
“I’m not changing my mind.”
She rolled her eyes again and clucked her tongue, too. Disagreement personified.
Chloe wavered and grabbed the porch railing. “Ohh,” she moaned. “I think I feel a sit-down strike coming on. You’d better alert the media and call up the—”
“All right, all right!” Red yelled, throwing up her hands. She yanked the journal the rest of the way out of Chloe’s grasp, grabbed her arm, and hauled her to the car. “I heard ya’ the first time. I won’t give the dang thing to him until Christmas Eve.”
“I’ll look forward to receiving the agreements.” Nick smiled at the man who, upon signing those agreements, would become his growth accelerator’s first investor. “Thank you for meeting with me, especially right before the holidays.”
The man, who looked about as patrician and big-business as he imagined Chloe’s absentee father did, smiled too. “It’s our pleasure, Mr. Steadman.” His nod indicated the video camera and remote conferencing setup Nick had arranged. “This is nothing less than we’d expect from an innovator like yourself.”
Nick was just glad it had worked. The video conference—his first step toward cutting back his work hours and putting some balance back in his life—had linked him with his California investor in less than a quarter of the time it would have taken him to attend the meeting in person.
Chloe and Danny would have been so proud. Nick glanced at the six boxes of toothpicks he’d bought. Out of camera range, he smoothed his fingers over the drawing of the gingerbread monolith he planned to construct with his nephew after he’d wrapped up the meeting. I’m finally doing the right thing.
By doing less of the right thing. It had all the makings of a new Steadman family tradition.
On his computer monitor, his new investor’s image beamed with satisfaction at a job well done. “That just about wraps it up. Have a merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you,” Nick said. “I’ll be in touch.”
He signed off and shut down the equipment, then looked around the empty room. He slapped his hands on his thighs, grinning like an idiot. He’d done it!
News this momentous was meant to be shared. Still smiling, Nick tromped down the hallway to his bedroom and lifted the mini-blind slats with one hand. He’d never spotted Chloe gazing across their adjoining yards the way he did, but it was the fastest way to find out if she was at home.
Also the fastest way to make a good mood plummet, he realized when he saw her lights were out and no curvy, Chloe-shaped shadows moved behind her dusky windows.
Should he go over anyway? He’d been waiting—since she’d been the one to walk out on him at the baby shower—for her to let him know she was ready to talk things over. It had seemed the best way to make sure he didn’t make her, the woman who never cried…cry.
Again.
Nick waited a few minutes, then looked again. Okay, mixing business with pleasure he could take. Maintaining a balance in his life he could handle. Waiting for Chloe to make her move was another story altogether.
He was going in.
He opened his front door and stepped onto the porch, nearly squashing the gift-wrapped package waiting there for him. The name and address written on it in green ink confirmed it was for him—whatever it was—and the minute Nick recognized Chloe’s squat, round handwriting, he knew his make-up mission was going to have to wait a little longer.
He ripped open the wrapping and pulled out the heavy notebook inside. Slowly, Nick sank to a seated position on his front porch steps. He started to read.
He was hooked from page one.
But it was the final entry—dated earlier today—that made him thrust the journal in his coat pocket and sprint to his motorcycle. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.
Chapter Thirteen
“Try to get some rest,” the nurse told Chloe, reaching beside her shoulder to affix the call button more securely to the hospital bed’s mattress. She pulled up the crisp white sheet and tucked it in snugly, then smiled and squeaked to the door in her cushioned shoes. “We’ll let you know just as soon as baby Carmichal wakes up.”
“Thank you.” Chloe watched as the nurse pulled the thick hospital room door halfway closed, then left. “I’ll try.”
She’d never felt more deeply tired, more utterly relieved, more proud of herself then she did right now. Looking around her flower-bedecked, private room—arranged for, somehow, by her father’s number-two secretary Lucinda—Chloe had also never felt more lonely.
Because Nick wasn’t coming.
Naturally, the baby looked just like him. Except a little more squashed. Also smaller, pinker, and slightly more adorable. But otherwise, their child looked exactly like his father.
Sighing, Chloe gazed out her window at the velvety, starless night…until suddenly the view blurred and she had to look away. Funny how tears made everything look soft-focused and a little more sparkly.
She sniffed and blinked. Her hospital room came back into focus. It would have looked just like home—if home was a really, really antiseptic log cabin. Okay, concentrating on ambiance isn’t helping. Chloe closed her eyes and thought about the baby instead. She felt pretty sure no one else in history had ever had a more perfect child.
A ghost of a smile quirked her lips. If only Nick were here, everything would be wonderful. Maybe it had been a mistake not to call him. She reached for the phone.
Before she could dial, someone knocked on the door. “Ms. Carmichal?”
Hallelujah! The baby must have woken up, and one of the nurses was bringing him in. Chloe bunched the pillows at the small of her back and sat up higher so she could hold him again.
“Come in,” she called, fiddling with the neck of her gown.
A hospital worker entered, carrying…something that wasn’t the baby. It looked like…
A length of white picket fence, about as high and as wide as her hospital bed, and just as dazzlingly bright. The hospital worker unfolded it, magically erecting a three-sided white picket fence beside her bed.
She blinked. It was still there. Chloe whipped her gown closed again. This situation definitely didn’t call for the football hold the nurse had suggested for breast feeding.
“What’s this?”
“I’m just delivering it like the fella asked.” The hospital worker jerked his thumb toward the doorway. He shrugged. “I guess some folks don’t think flowers are enough. You got plenty of those, though.”
She had, thanks to her father and Tabitha—and her mother and her new bingo partner. They’d all sent gorgeous bouquets. Her mother had even phoned. Twice. At length. With advice. Clearly, grandparenthood hadn’t effected any drastic changes in her family yet. Certainly none that would call for delivery of a white picket fence.
In amazement, Chloe stared at it. Was it from Nick? But Nick was probably in California for his meeting by now. Maybe Red had thought the fence would make a kooky gag gift for Christmas?
“Ms. Carmichal?”
“Yes?”
A tall, thin man entered, carrying a black velvet box on a silver platter. Without a word—but with a grin wider than his waistband—he took up a position beside the bed, just inside the fence.
“Chloe?”
“Red? Do you know what’s—”
“Hang on. You’re about to find out,” Red interrupted, speaking louder to be heard over the sudden murmur of voices coming from the hospital corridor.
Visitors? Chloe pulled up the covers and patted her rat’s-nest of a hairdo. How could she have enough visitors to create an audible murmur?
Red came nearer, followed closely by Jerry. “Don’t kill me over delivering that journal early, neither,” she added.
Chloe was too busy staring at the paper banner they carried between them to question what she meant.
As they neared the bed, Sun City’s newest retirees-to-be unfurled the paper. And here he is, it said in fancy foot-high block letters. A man who loves yo
u!
Chloe gasped. It couldn’t be…
“Hiya, Blondie.”
Nick.
He came in her room carrying a white-wrapped bundle of snoozing baby. His face was luminous. If joy wore faded blue jeans, it would have looked just like Nick. As he neared the bed and slipped inside the white picket fence, Chloe knew she must look exactly the same way. That radiant feeling shimmered all through her, leaving her trembling beneath his smile.
“I got here as fast as I could,” he said. “I had some things to arrange first.”
A silly, nervous giggle burst from her lips as she looked at the fence, the banner, the man with the silver platter. “I—I—so I see.”
Nick folded back a portion of the blanket and gazed down at the child in his arms. His child. Their child. His smile could have lit the midnight outside her window.
“He’s as beautiful as his mother.” Nick stroked the baby’s pudgy cheek. “Only a little less well-coiffed.”
Laughing, Chloe swept her palm over their baby’s sweet-scented swirls of fine blond hair. “Give him time. He’s just getting started.”
“So am I.”
Nick nodded to the platter-bearer, who opened the hinged black box and displayed its contents to Chloe with a flourish of silver. Glittering back at her was a gold and diamond engagement ring.
“Oh, my!”
Carefully holding the baby against his chest, Nick bent to one knee beside the bed. He reached for her hand. His fingers quivered as they touched hers, then squeezed.
“Chloe, I brought you the white picket fence, the ring, and the man who loves you…that’s me, by the way—”
“I know.” Tears prickled her eyes. Suddenly Nick was all soft-focused and sparkly, but Chloe didn’t care, just as long as he was with her. “Oh, Nick! I love you, too.”
His hand clasped hers tighter. “There’s only one thing left, and the fairytale ending will be complete.” He smiled, kissed the baby’s forehead, and hugged him close. “And that’s you. I need you, Chloe. I love you so much I’m crazy with it.”
“You’re not crazy. You’re brilliant.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Brainiac.”
“Blondie.”
“Beloved,” she murmured, and the tenderness in his gaze sent her smile into overdrive all over again.
“Aww, Chloe. Please say you’ll marry me.”
She looked at him, just long enough to really let his words sink in. Nick wanted to marry her! Then Chloe raised her hand and spread her fingers to get ready for the ring.
“Just try to stop me.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” Laughing, she put her arms around his neck and held on tight, careful not to jostle the baby. “Yes,” she peeped, just in case he hadn’t gotten it yet.
Danny’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Yay! I told ya’ my banner would work!”
The murmurers from the corridor surged inside—all the “N” Steadmans, including Nick’s father Ned, nieces and nephews, friends from the pet shop, and…
“Mom?”
“Hi, Chloe. Sorry I didn’t come earlier.” Her mother swept to the bedside to give her daughter a hug. “I just knew I couldn’t keep Nick’s surprise if I saw you face to face.” She smiled at the baby sleeping in Nick’s arms. “That’s one gorgeous grandchild I have there. But you never told me…what’s his name?”
“His name? Ummm, I was kind of waiting for his dad to help me out with that one, actually.”
“Well?”
Chloe looked at Nick. Nick looked back at her, then grinned.
“Bruno,” they said in unison.
From the Author
Thank you for reading this book! If you enjoyed it, I hope you’ll share your enthusiasm by writing a review online, posting about this story on your blog, Facebook page, or Twitter account, or just telling your friends.
If you’re curious about my other books, please visit my Web site at www.lisaplumley.com, where you can read first-chapter excerpts from all my books, sign up for my new-book reminder service, catch sneak previews of my upcoming books, request special reader freebies, and more.
You can also follow me on Twitter, like my official Facebook page, or circle me on Google+. I’d love to connect with you!
Best wishes,
Lisa Plumley
