Expectations

by Brenda Novak

  Then it occurred to him that something was different.

  Pivoting to scan the anteroom that served as Cheryl’s office, he realized immediately what it was: her workspace was cleaner and emptier than the receptionist’s desk out front. No neat printouts in the plastic cradle of her printer. No case files stacked next to the phone. No personal items whatsoever. The picture of Cheryl’s son in his baseball uniform was gone, along with her glass jar filled with Hershey’s Kisses and the pathetic plant he usually watered because she never remembered to do it herself.

  What had happened?

  Leaning Jenna’s framed window carefully against the wall, he crossed to Cheryl’s desk and checked the drawers to find nothing more than a few paper clips, a box of staples and blank paper with the company letterhead.

  “Hi, Adam. I thought it was you.”

  Adam glanced up to see Roger standing in the outer doorway. Wearing his tie loose and a wrinkled shirt unbuttoned at the collar, he looked like he’d spent the night at the office and worked all day, besides. “What happened to Cheryl?”

  Roger squeezed the back of his own neck. “You’ll have to talk to Mike about that.”

  “Mike’s not here. And I want to know now.”

  Roger’s brows rose almost as high as his receding hairline. “I think she quit. That’s my guess, anyway.”

  “Guess, my ass.” Adam slammed through the rest of Cheryl’s drawers, but saw nothing to indicate what had happened to his secretary of nearly ten years. “You keep track of everything that goes on around here. What happened? Did Mike fire her?”

  The smaller man shrugged narrow shoulders. “You know how Mike can be, Adam. Maybe she wasn’t doing her share. She was always the first to head home come five o’clock.”

  “That’s not true, but even if it was, she’s a single mother. She needs to spend time with her kid.”

  “Still, it’s been a long time since I put in a mere forty hours. I’m married to this shit.”

  “And you’re compensated for doing it. Cheryl wasn’t.”

  “Maybe, but now that I’ve got the Whitehead case on top of everything else…”

  Adam heard the accusation in Roger’s voice, despite the false humility, and felt his muscles tense. “Don’t play games, Roger. You wanted the Whitehead case. It was one more way to score some points with Mike. What I don’t understand is where you think you’re going with all your ass-kissing. If you’re looking at partner, you should know there are no empty seats. By Mike’s own decree, the limit is four. We won’t take on anyone else until someone either dies or retires.”

  For a moment Roger let the congenial facade slip, and Adam glimpsed raw ambition. “Or is asked to leave,” he said calmly, and walked away.

  Adam stared at the empty space beyond the door for several seconds, his hands bunched into fists. He wanted to chase the little prick down and kick his ass the way he deserved. But the other man didn’t have the brainpower to be much of a threat, and Adam wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of provoking a fight.

  Glancing back at Cheryl’s empty desk, he sighed heavily and remembered the note he’d retrieved from the receptionist’s desk. Taking it out of his briefcase, he tore open the envelope and pulled out a sheet of his secretary’s monogrammed stationery. It said simply, “Call me.”

  IT WAS DARK before Adam looked up from the Thompson file to check his watch. He’d put in a good eight hours of reading correspondence and preparing court documents, and he was hungry and tired. He glanced at the telephone, considered trying to get Cheryl again, then decided eleven o’clock was too late to bother her. He’d left several messages on her answering machine already.

  Rolling back in his chair, he stood and stretched his aching muscles. The stained-glass cove faced him from where he’d propped it against the coffee table not far away, and in the quiet of the near-empty building, he could virtually hear the splash of the ocean as he stared at the blue and green of the waves. Did Jenna have talent?

  Adam wasn’t a stained-glass expert, but to his untrained eye, she did.

  He was surveying his own tall windows, trying to decide where to hang Jenna’s work, when the telephone rang.

  He leaned over and snatched up the receiver. “Bernstein and Lowe.”

  “Adam? It’s Cheryl.”

  Adam sat on the corner of his desk. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

  “I know. I just got back. I took my son to see his grandparents in Santa Clara.”

  “I got your note. And I saw your desk. If Mike fired you, Cheryl, I’ll make arrangements to hire you back. You don’t have to worry about anything—”

  “No, Adam. No one fired me.”

  “What?” Adam changed the phone to his other ear.

  “I left on my own. I just couldn’t take it anymore—the long hours, Mike’s short fuse, the office politics. Life’s too short, you know what I mean?”

  Adam fingered the crease in his khakis. “What if I promised you things would be different, ensured a strict forty hours and gave you a raise?”

  “I knew you’d offer to make things better, but I’ve thought it all through and decided I’ve already waited too long to tell you something you ought to know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I only stayed at Bernstein and Lowe the number of years I did because of you. I watched you date other women, but nothing long-term ever developed—” she drew what sounded like a bolstering breath “—and I hoped one day you’d think of me.”

  Adam ran a self-conscious hand through his hair. “You mean, in a romantic sense?”

  She laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised. You’re attractive, available, intelligent, and you’re great with my son. He still talks about you from the last office party we had, and while I may not be a raving beauty, I know I’m not bad. I think we have a solid foundation for a relationship. We like each other, respect each other. So I decided I was being stupid to hang on at Bernstein and Lowe when it wasn’t really what I wanted. And as long as I sat behind that desk outside your office, I knew you’d continue to look right past me. So I did what I’ve wanted to do for a long time and quit.”

  Adam struggled to think of an appropriate response, but it took a few seconds for the pendulum of his emotions to swing all the way from blaming Mike for Cheryl’s dismissal to believing his secretary had actually abandoned her post for very personal reasons, reasons that centered on him. “Cheryl, I never had a clue.”

  “I left tons of clues. I baked your favorite cake every year for your birthday, bought you ties for Christmas, shopped for your grandmother’s Mother’s Day gift, picked up your dry cleaning…”

  “You said you were going there, anyway.”

  “That’s not the point. The signs were there if you wanted to see them.”

  Letting his breath seep out, Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. What could he say to avoid hurting someone he cared about? “I’m sorry, Cheryl. I think you’re a smart sexy woman…”

  “But? And don’t tell me you’re gay. I’ve seen you with too many women to believe that.”

  “No, I’m not gay. And you’re great. I’ve just never thought of you in that light.”

  “Because I’m a single mother? Does the responsibility of my son frighten you?”

  Adam thought of Jenna and Ryan, and the new baby in Jenna’s womb, and knew he answered honestly when he said, “No. I love kids. I’d like to have a few of my own someday.”

  “Then if you’re okay with my situation, why don’t you come over?”

  “Tonight?” His voice cracked on the word and he had to clear his throat because something about Cheryl’s tone told him she wasn’t interested in watching television together.

  “It’s not like we don’t know each other, Adam. We’ve been friends for longer than most marriages last. What do you say?”

  That I feel like you just leveled a shotgun at me and fired both barrels. “It’s late. I don’t think that would be a good idea, Cheryl.”


  “We don’t work together anymore.”

  “True, but—”

  “Adam, if you’re not interested, then come over for me, all right? I’m feeling like a fool after confessing what I have. Don’t reject me on top of it.” She drew another audible breath. “God, listen to me. I’m not that repulsive, am I?”

  “No. Of course you’re not. That’s the last thing I want you to think.”

  “Then come over. Please. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  RYAN PRESSED a cool rag to Jenna’s neck as she slumped dejectedly over the toilet. The nausea was back. She’d tried crackers, pickles, ice cream—any and all food even jokingly recommended for pregnancy—but it was no use. Nothing stayed down and everything tasted worse coming back up.

  “Mom, what’s wrong with you?” Ryan’s eyes reflected his worry as he stood over her, wearing his pajamas. The two of them had fallen asleep on Jenna’s bed while reading together around ten o’clock, and a couple of hours later, when Jenna had had to make a dash to the bathroom, Ryan had stumbled after her. Now he looked wide awake and positively frightened.

  “It’s nothing, honey.” She knew she couldn’t lie to him forever. She wanted to explain her situation to him and the Durhams, but part of her still couldn’t believe she carried a baby. So she was waiting. For what, she didn’t know. To make sure. To see what happened.

  “With my luck I’d tell everybody and then have a miscarriage,” she muttered to herself. Wincing at the cowardice of that statement, she quickly replaced the negative thought with the tender vision of holding her new baby. This was the child she’d prayed for, the one she’d wanted for so long. She’d just never expected the pregnancy to come at such an awkward time in her life.

  “Did you say something?” Ryan hovered nearby, offering her a glass of water.

  “No, nothing.” She took the water and rinsed her mouth, then pushed away from the toilet to sit back against the wall. She was just over three months along. Many women reported feeling better during their second trimester. She had with Ryan and could only hope she would this time, too. But, God, she was growing to hate the bathroom wallpaper.

  “There’s something I need to talk to you about, honey,” she said. Ryan had school in the morning and needed to get some sleep, but Jenna decided the truth would be kinder than sending him to bed fearing something worse.

  Soberly he put the glass on the tile counter and sat down next to her, cross-legged.

  “Mommy’s not sick, Ryan. I mean, I am sick, but it’s nothing serious. It’s just that I’m…we’re going to have an addition to our little family.”

  “What?” He blinked at her in confusion.

  “I’m going to have a baby.”

  His brown eyes opened wide, and Jenna tried to decide exactly what was going on behind them. She was about to lay a hand on his arm and try to explain just how this amazing event had come to pass, with no man in their lives, when a huge smile broke across her son’s face. “Is Adam the daddy?” he asked excitedly. “Does this mean he’ll be my dad, too?”

  Jenna gulped at the unexpected question. No, Adam is only the man I wish was the daddy. “Adam’s not the father. Adam is only our friend. This baby was made a few months ago. It has the same daddy as you.”

  Ryan slumped as his gaze lowered to her belly. “Is my dad going to come back for the baby?”

  “No. The baby will live with us. Dennis doesn’t know about it, and I don’t want to share the news with him yet, okay? I didn’t realize I was pregnant until I started getting sick. Sometimes moms don’t feel so great when they’re going to have a baby. It was the same way when I was carrying you.”

  “Are you happy about the baby?” he asked, as though trying to decide how he should feel about this new development himself.

  Jenna put her arms around her son and pulled him close. “There’s nothing more wonderful in the world than having a child to share your life with. I found that out with you, right?”

  Ryan nodded, but absentmindedly. “Will it be a boy?”

  Jenna shrugged. “Would you like a brother?”

  “A sister would be just as good. When will she get here?”

  “Not for six months or so, probably sometime in April.”

  “Oh.” He continued to consider her, then finally asked, “How do moms get pregnant?”

  The inevitable question. At least it wasn’t, “How did you get pregnant?” At eight Ryan was just old enough to understand the basics, and Jenna knew it was time she told him. She went through an edited version of human mating, building on the little bits she’d told him in the past and trying not to do such a thorough job that he immediately tied this baby to the last time Dennis had shown up at their rental house drunk.

  But she shouldn’t have worried. When she finished, Ryan merely scrunched up his nose and said, “Yuck.”

  And Jenna smiled in relief.

  ADAM SHOVED HIS HANDS in his pockets and stared at the phone. Cheryl had hung up after telling him to come over, and he’d been left pacing the floor in front of his desk, wondering what to do. Minutes were slipping by. It was now nearly midnight. If he delayed much longer, she’d have reason to be offended even if he did show up.

  What’s my problem? he wondered.

  He hadn’t been lying when he told Cheryl she was an attractive woman. And he knew he wasn’t the only man to think so. He’d seen plenty of clients and other attorneys do a double take when they saw her. He’d teased her about the attention before; he’d just never felt the romantic spark that would cause him to look at her in quite that way.

  Still, he cared enough about Cheryl to do almost anything to avoid hurting her. He particularly hated the idea of humiliating her.

  His poor secretary was lonely enough to lay her feelings out on the table. He could certainly give her a little pleasure and security, couldn’t he? What was wrong with him? After his sexually frustrating weekend with Jenna, he should jump at the chance.

  Yet something kept him from leaving the office. He told himself it was the emotional entanglements that were sure to follow, but deep down he knew he had a bigger reason for holding back. He wanted another woman. One with dark hair and blue eyes, breasts just large enough to fill his hands, a warm responsive body—and another man’s baby in her belly.

  Was he a fool? Jenna had more than her share of problems right now, problems that would be his if he pursued any kind of relationship with her. And beyond the issues of Dennis and the baby, Adam wasn’t sure she’d ever be willing to trust him again. She’d made it abundantly clear that she didn’t even want to try, at least not now. So where did that leave him?

  In a damn awkward spot. He cursed and stabbed a hand through his hair. Then Jenna’s stained-glass cove drew his eye, once again evoking the powerful emotions he’d felt that day on the beach. Every moment was engraved on his mind, like the Indian petroglyphs that had survived on cave walls for thousands of years.

  And he didn’t want to forget. He wanted to know the same joy again—with the same woman. Which meant he had to give Jenna some reason for coming to San Francisco and becoming familiar with his life.

  Suddenly Adam rounded the desk with decisive steps. Picking up the phone, he dialed an old friend he’d originally met as a client—an old friend who happened to own a small artsy tourist shop located just off Fisherman’s Wharf.

  “Hello?” Sleep filled the voice on the other end of the line, and Adam felt a flicker of guilt for calling so late.

  “Harvey?”

  “Yeah? Who is this? Is it morning?”

  “It’s Adam Durham.”

  “Durham? As in attorney-at-law? Shit, don’t tell me I’m in trouble again.”

  “You’d know that before I would,” Adam said on a chuckle.

  Harvey yawned. “What is it, then? What would make a sane man drag a poor working bugger like me out of bed at…what time is it?” There was rustling in the background, then Harvey cursed a blue streak. “Shit, Durham, it’s mid
night. I’ve only been asleep for half an hour, and I have to meet a supplier at the store at five-thirty in the morning. This had better be good.”

  “I need a favor, Harvey,” Adam said, then smiled at his friend’s resigned sigh.

  “Fine. Just tell me what the hell it is so I can get back to sleep.”

  “YOU LOOK TIRED this morning, dear.” Mrs. Durham glanced up from her breakfast as Jenna entered the kitchen wearing her running clothes.

  At the end of the table Mr. Durham folded his paper down far enough to verify his wife’s words, but didn’t comment.

  “I didn’t sleep too well,” Jenna said.

  Ryan sat, all dressed and ready for school, across from Mrs. Durham, who still wore her pink bathrobe, bedroom slippers and a net over her hair. “Sometimes moms get sick when they’re going to have a baby,” he announced matter-of-factly.

  He shoveled another spoonful of Rice Krispies into his mouth, then talked through his food. “She’ll be better in a few weeks, when the baby’s bigger. Won’t you, Mom?”

  Jenna coughed to hide her panic. She’d planned to tell the Durhams soon, but she’d wanted to wait for the right opportunity. Launching such stunning news on them without any warning didn’t seem fair, especially because they couldn’t feel free to react honestly with Ryan in the room.

  The newspaper crackled again as Mr. Durham folded it and set it aside. Mrs. Durham’s spoon hung in her hand, suspended between her bowl and her mouth. Would they still want her to manage the Victoriana? Would she and Ryan be faced with another move in the next few months? A lengthy job search?

  “Actually I’ve been wanting to talk to the two of you,” Jenna said. “I only found out myself a few days ago, but I…I…” She felt tears sting her eyes and blinked them back. “It seems I’m going to have a baby.”

  Mrs. Durham’s jaw dropped so fast Jenna almost moved to catch her dentures. “How can you be sure, dear?”