Baby on the Way

by Lois Richer

  “Jordan, will you listen to me?” Caitlin tugged on his sleeve, forcing him to abandon the jumbo box of rice cereal he was trying to juggle into a cupboard that was just too small.

  “Jordan!”

  “Yes, dear.” He sounded like some wife-weary husband who added the appropriate comments but heard nothing that was said.

  “Would you please stop that and listen to me?” He turned a blithe, unconcerned face toward her. “I cannot possibly eat a whole entire turkey myself. You’ll have to take it back.”

  “In this snow?” He shook his dark head. “I don’t think so. You can invite somebody over or something, couldn’t you? Like me?” There was a twinkle in his eyes that should have alerted her.

  “Not even you with your gigantic appetite could eat this thing,” she muttered, poking the frozen bird with one finger. “It doesn’t seem in very good condition, either.” Caitlin pointed to the torn packaging in the inner covering.

  “Oh, I had it sawed into four pieces,” he told her smugly. “That way you can have four smaller meals instead of one big one and it will still be fresh. I’ll roast some for you if you like.”

  Caitlin held the freezer door open for him and shoved the ice cream out of the way as she groaned. “Oh, no. Not in my kitchen. No way. I’ve seen you cook Jordan. It is not a pretty sight.”

  He chucked her chin with his forefinger as his dark head shook sadly. “Oh, ye of little faith. I’m a wonderful cook. I can cook the socks off my mother, if you want to know. You’re going to be sorry.”

  “Oh, no I’m not,” she retorted smartly. “I’ve seen the kitchen when you’ve finished one of your so-called specials.” Caitlin raised her eyebrows scornfully. “I can’t afford to hire cleaners for the next month. The last time you cooked, your mother said it took three weeks to get the spaghetti sauce off the ceiling. And I saw the pot you forgot to turn off.” She shook her head. “Uh-uh. No way.”

  He smacked the bags together smartly and stuffed them into a drawer with resignation. “Fine, if that’s the way you want to be.”

  “It is,” she assured him, grinning as she bit into another piece of cheese. “I like the simple things— clean cupboards, shiny floor, laundry done. You know, the normal stuff.”

  “Anybody can be normal,” he muttered. “It takes talent to make something really spectacular. Hey!” His face brightened. “You’ve never had my black forest cake, have you?”

  “Down, Jordan. It’s too late to start baking now. Did you have something to eat already or would you like a sandwich? For some odd reason there’s a package of corned beef here. I hate corned beef. Too fatty.”

  He smiled from ear to ear. “That’s just your professional nutritionist side talking. I had some at the store, samples you know. It really is very good. Especially with sauerkraut.” He watched her shudder. “Some people have no taste,” he complained sadly.

  “That’s for sure.” Caitlin handed him a check, stuffing it in his shirt pocket when he didn’t immediately take it.

  “Thank you very much, Jordan. I really appreciate all of it. Are you sure you don’t want to take some home with you?” she asked, holding the deli bag with his corned beef daintily between two fingers.

  “Naw,” he grinned smugly. “Keep it for the next time I visit. Instead of tomato soup. I didn’t buy any of that.”

  “I noticed.” Caitlin longingly eyed the succulent golden-brown butter tarts he’d purchased. They were large and oozing with calorie-laden sweetness.

  “Let’s see,” she murmured, mentally adding up the calories. “If I just had one slice of toast…”

  “I’m leaving,” he interrupted her. “I think I’d better get going before I have to shovel my way home.” His eyes narrowed as he watched her pick the tarts up and then put them down. “Why don’t you just eat one if you want it?” he muttered curiously, when she finally slid the package into the cupboard and closed the door firmly.

  “I’ve already overindulged with the cheese,” she told him. “I can’t have one of those, too. Besides, too much fat. I have enough already.”

  “You’re not fat. You’re pregnant.” Jordan laughed at her as he studied her rounded figure. “Besides, you’ll lose it all when the baby comes.”

  “I wish.” Caitlin turned her mouth up. “A twentyfive-pound baby would be just a little big, don’t you think? No, as it is I’m going to have a tough row to hoe to get back into my clothes after Junior shows up.” She turned her back resolutely on the tempting bits of pastry sheltered behind the oak door. “I can’t afford that.”

  “Can I have one for the road, then?” he asked grinning. “I need to keep up my energy.” When she waved at the cupboard, Jordan helped himself to two of the confections. “It’s really, really cold out,” he told her wide-eyed stare.

  Caitlin giggled and wrapped two more of the tarts in a napkin, then followed him through the living room.

  “Thanks again,” she said as he shrugged into his jacket. “I appreciate it.”

  The snow had blown up against the house when she tugged open the door. A little pile fell inside.

  “See you tomorrow,” he murmured, brushing a hand across her hair.

  “Don’t bother,” she told him firmly. “It might be too slippery. I’ll stay indoors and have a lazy day. I’ll be fine. Good night, Jordan,” she said when it seemed he would argue.

  “Good night, little mama. Sleep well.” Then he was gone.

  “Sleep,” she muttered to herself as she wandered back into the kitchen. But it was no use. She couldn’t ignore the tarts.

  Ten minutes later Caitlin sank into the big armchair in her living room with a pot of tea and a tart nearby, the television turned on low.

  “As if I could sleep with those things calling my name. I don’t know why he wanted a list. He replaced tofu with turkey, low-fat cottage cheese with cheddar, and turnips with tarts.”

  Caitlin closed her eyes and sank her teeth into the creamy smooth sweetness, letting it fill her mouth with that delectable taste.

  “Do lots of push-ups, Junior,” she ordered. “You and I are off turnips for the next few days and we need all the calorie burn we can get.”

  Caitlin tugged her notepad closer, ignored the pastry crumbs dotting her shirt and set about planning her housewarming party. It would be a quiet evening. A little conversation, a little food, maybe even some romance for her friends.

  What could go wrong?

  Chapter Eight

  “It’s just an evening with some friends, Clayton.

  Nothing to worry about. Come on! We’re waiting for you.” Exasperated, Caitlin hung up the phone before the man could ask her the one question she’d avoided at all costs during the past week.

  “He’s not too thrilled about coming, is he?” Jordan’s lip sloped up when she turned her head away. “Wants to know if Maryann is here, I’ll wager.” He laughed when Caitlin turned her back. “I thought so.”

  “What are you doing out here anyway?” she demanded, bending to check the tiny puff pastries in the oven. “You’re supposed to be in there, keeping the conversation going!”

  “Hah! What conversation? Gar, as I’ve been told to call him, sits there like a bump on a log, staring straight ahead. Beth is on the other end of the sofa, glaring at the fireplace. They won’t even look at each other, let alone speak.”

  “And Maryann?”

  “Maryann went upstairs, ostensibly to check on her daughter.”

  “What? You’re not supposed to let her go up there!” Caitlin whirled around, hands on her hips. “Some host you turned out to be.” With a flick of her wrist, she opened the oven, emptied the pan of shrimp hors d’oeuvres onto a plate and shoved them at him. “Here.”

  Obligingly, Jordan reached out and took one.

  “They’re good,” he murmured in obvious surprise.

  Caitlin sighed. Nothing was going right tonight.

  “Of course they’re good.” She chuckled, whooshing a puff of air over her heat
ed forehead. “And they’re supposed to be for our guests, the ones you are supposed to be serving.”

  “Oh.” He took the platter and moved toward the other room. “How long do I have to stay in there this time?” He looked like a little boy who had just been sent to his room.

  “Until I come in and tell you otherwise. Now get them talking. You can do it, Jordan. You can talk about anything.”

  A man forced to walk to his own execution couldn’t have looked more pathetic. Caitlin grabbed the tray of glasses from the counter and headed in after him.

  The scene before her was pathetic. The other two inhabitants refused to look at each other, deliberately focusing their sights on some faraway spot. Maryann eventually returned to the room and took her seat, glancing worriedly from one to the other of her friends. Jordan shoved the platter in front of each of them in turn and then almost dropped it when the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” he called, rushing toward the entry in jubilant relief.

  Caitlin frowned at his retreating back, drew a deep breath and plunged in.

  “Beth, how’s your sister enjoying school in Oakburn? Does she get into as much trouble as we did?”

  “She loves it.” Beth’s voice warmed. “She a real clown and the drama teacher wants her to audition for the spring play.”

  “That’s great! Remember how you and Gar played Romeo and Juliet…?” Maryann’s voice died away, her face flushing painfully as she realized that she’d just linked the two of them when it was obvious neither wanted to remember the past.

  Thankfully, Clay chose that moment to come through the door.

  “Clayton! How lovely to see you.” At last, Caitlin added under her breath. “Would you like some punch?”

  “I’ll get it,” Jordan offered.

  “I’ll help him.” Gar got up and sauntered away, his icy gaze almost freezing Beth out.

  “I, uh, that is, I think I should go with them,” Clayton blurted.

  Caitlin could have groaned. This was exactly what she hadn’t wanted! Boys on one side, girls on the other. It was just like a junior high school dance. How could this matchmaking idea have gone so wrong?

  When the doorbell rang again, Caitlin couldn’t help rushing to answer it. The tension in her living room was thick enough to slice with a knife and she was at her wit’s end.

  “Please let it be someone who can help,” she whispered and then realized that she’d just prayed to a God she wasn’t speaking to. Who was she trying to fool anyway? She needed God in her life more than ever.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” Eliza said as she came inside. “Stan and I thought we’d drop over and see what you were doing. I saw Jordy’s car here and figured you might like help.” She peeked around the corner into the living room. “A party? Oh, honey, should we stay?”

  Well, why not? Maybe Eliza and Stan could infuse a little warmth into the room. Caitlin certainly wasn’t having much success.

  “Of course! Come on in.” She took their coats and hung them up, then ushered them into her living room. “What’s that?” Caitlin motioned to the boxes under Stan’s arm.

  “Oh, he bought more games!” Eliza sighed heavily, but her eyes twinkled with love. “They’re for four or more players so, naturally, we thought of you and Jordy.”

  Introductions were performed all around. Caitlin didn’t know when or how it happened, but suddenly the room was filled with laughter. True, neither of the couples really looked at the other, and they sure weren’t seated together. But it was a start, and it was far more fun than it had been.

  The games Stan had picked up enlivened the evening immensely, especially the murder mystery. Two hours later they sat around sipping coffee and discussing it.

  “I might have known I wouldn’t guess.” Beth giggled. “I never do and I love to read mysteries. But no matter how many I finish, the ending always comes as a complete surprise.”

  “Hey, Caitlin, you certainly picked the perpetrator out quickly. You and Jordan seem to have the same criminal mind-set.” Stan cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. “Anything you want to tell us about?”

  Six sets of eyes focused on them, a question mark in each one. Caitlin felt herself flush.

  “You don’t need to look at me as if I’ve robbed a bank of something! It was a perfectly logical assumption. The old man would have had longer to learn about toxins, wouldn’t he?”

  “Uh-huh.” Maryann sipped her coffee slowly, eyes pensive. “And I suppose you know all about semiautomatic weapons and poisons, too. Right, Jordan?” She snickered. “Folks, we’ve got us a regular Bonnie and Clyde here!” She winked at the others.

  “They know now, Lyn,” Jordan boomed, dropping a casual arm around her shoulders. “That means we can start spending the loot we lifted from that last heist. What do you want to spend it on first?” His pinch on her waist told her to play along.

  Well, she’d prove to him that Caitlin Andrews wasn’t the dowdy old stick-in-the-mud he remembered from school.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she sighed, tapping a forefinger against her chin, fully aware of his hip pressed against hers on the crowded sofa. “It’s all so difficult. Perhaps the tiara. Of course, they’re very passé these days!”

  His warmth and closeness were doing funny things to her blood pressure and she eased away from him on the pretense of checking the food. A few moments later she balanced on the arm of Stan’s chair. Jordan noticed and frowned at her.

  “Oh, a tiara is so boring.” Maryann pooh-poohed the idea. “What else?”

  “Then, of course, there is the villa. Spain’s so lovely this time of year. You probably don’t notice the cold as much as I do, Jordan, since you’ve just come back from the tropics.”

  And truthfully, it did feel cooler without his protective arm around her. But the atmosphere in this room, in her home was warm and friendly, exactly the way she’d always dreamed.

  Caitlin let the others’ conversations whirl around her while she thought about those dreams. She’d always wanted a real home, a refuge where she could feel safe and comfortable. Loved. Perhaps she’d finally found it? She glanced at the smiling faces, stopping on Jordan’s longer than anyone else. What she saw in those golden eyes warmed her heart.

  “Uh-oh! Caity’s deep in a new intrigue!” Stan’s voice finally penetrated her cloud of reminiscence, making her blush furiously.

  “I was just telling them about the Lear.” Jordan’s voice took the focus off her. “Once I get the computer system revamped to my specialized form, we’ll be ready to take off. And no one will be able to follow us.”

  He said it to the others, but his warm brown eyes were on her, a question in their depths.

  “Why, sir!” she drawled, fluttering her fingers at him and adopting her best Southern accent. “I’m about to become a mother! I simply couldn’t fly away just now. Tell me, are there mint juleps in Spain?”

  Everyone burst into delighted laugher at her perfect imitation of Scarlett, There was even a small round of applause. Then Clay’s low voice broke in.

  “I have to go, Caitlin. I’ve got some sick animals at home and I need to watch them pretty carefully.” He got to his feet. “I’ll see you Monday night, right?”

  Why did he have to make it sound like some sort of a date? Caitlin asked herself as she nodded, found his coat and escorted him to the door.

  “Do you think she noticed the ‘Monday night’ part?” he whispered, pulling on his Stetson.

  “Maryann?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m quite sure she couldn’t have missed it,” she told him wryly. She sighed. This matchmaking thing was taking far more out of her than she had anticipated. By comparison, having a baby was child’s play.

  “Good. I don’t want her to think I’m not attractive to other women.” He stood staring down at her, his eyes roiling with emotion.

  “I keep telling you that you’re not unattractive,” Caitlin grumbled. “You’re just rusty. You need some practice. Why don
’t you ask Vivian Michaels out? She’s a nice friendly girl.”

  “A little too friendly for my taste! I asked her out once a couple of years ago and she showed up at my house the next day with a cake.”

  “What’s wrong with that? She was only trying to be friendly.”

  “Friendly? Hah!” His eyes glinted with anger. “She offered to cook my Christmas turkey.” His face tightened into a mask of scandalized outrage. “I knew she was up to no good as soon as the words left her lips.”

  Caitlin choked down the laughter that burbled up inside with a gigantic effort. “Clay, Viv was probably just offering to help you fix Christmas dinner. She’s alone a lot now, with her mother gone. She probably wanted someone to share some Christmas cheer with.”

  “She wanted to share a lot more than that,” he insisted grumpily, shoving his arms into the sleeves. He zipped the coat closed with one motion. “Well, I’d better go.” He stared at her for a moment, then his eyes opened wide.

  Caitlin half turned to see who had come into the hall, but she found her chin grasped. Her head jerked up just in time to receive a kiss that landed to the left of her mouth, close to her jaw. It was anything but loverlike.

  “Oh, excuse me!” Maryann’s breathless voice told Caitlin everything she needed to know. Her heart sank as she heard the sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs to the second floor.

  “Why did you do that, Clayton Matthews?” Caitlin demanded hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Why in the world did you do that?”

  “Exactly what I’d like to know.”

  Sometime in the disaster of the past few moments, Jordan had joined them in the foyer. He stood tall and menacing, his eyes chilly as he glanced from her to Clay.

  “I can kiss a woman,” Clay blurted, obviously completely disconcerted by the other man’s presence.

  “I’m not debating that. I just want to know why it’s Caitlin you’re kissing.”

  “She’s my friend. I like Caitlin.”

  “And she likes you. That’s why she’s trying to help you with Maryann. You remember Maryann, don’t you, the woman you’re supposed to like? The one who just watched you kiss someone else?”