Merry Christmas, Babies

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “Or a live-in caregiver.”

  The hesitant way she spoke gave him pause. And with years of practice of communicating with Elise, if not reading her expressions, he filled in the blanks.

  “She told you it wasn’t safe for you to be here alone.”

  “She said it wasn’t wise.”

  Damn. Joe lost all appetite for a picnic lunch on the water.

  “Not so much because of the morning sickness,” Elise continued as he barely bit back the reprimand he needed to utter. “With four babies there’s the possibility of some complications—I told you this before.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered. What could possibly have driven her to do this to herself? Remembering that night more than a month ago when he’d met his longtime friend for the first time, he answered his own silent question.

  “That’s not to say there’ll be any,” she added quickly. “I could have a perfectly normal pregnancy.”

  “What are the odds?”

  She hesitated.

  “Of a perfectly normal pregnancy?”

  He nodded.

  “Three percent.”

  “Three percent?” Joe jumped to his feet and glared down at her—until he realized what he was doing. He sat down again, this time beside her on the sofa, and studied the class ring he’d worn since college.

  “Did she tell you this yesterday?” he asked more calmly, though inside he was still bouncing off the walls.

  He wasn’t going to lose her over this. Couldn’t she see that their lives were irreversibly linked?

  Elise peered at him as though assessing his emotional weather. “Two weeks ago,” she finally said quietly.

  This wasn’t like her. Not at all. Elise faced challenges head on. She always had a plan. She never procrastinated.

  “Were you planning to wait until you had a ‘complication’ before you did something about having a live-in caregiver?” he asked. He instantly regretted his sarcasm. She was an adult with a right to whatever life she wanted.

  His role was to support that just as she’d supported him all these years. Somehow.

  “I’ve been reviewing potential applicants for ten days.”

  Joe felt relieved. “And?”

  “I can’t afford anyone without a police record.” She chuckled as she spoke. Joe failed to see the humor.

  “The down payment on the office suite put you in a tight spot, didn’t it?”

  “That and the mortgage on this place,” she admitted. “A couple of years ago I tied up most of my funds in an IRA. I’d lose half of it to penalties if I cash in early.”

  A couple of years ago they’d seen their first sizable profits in the company. He’d invested a chunk, as well. “If you’d told me that buying the suite would be a hardship we would have held off.”

  “Look, I’m perfectly comfortable as long as I don’t see a huge increase in monthly expenses. Besides, we needed to move if we were going to continue to grow. Not only was there not enough space in the old offices for more staff, but with the kind of clients you’re bringing us, these millionaire business owners, we needed an office that would instill confidence.”

  They’d had several conversations to that effect, he knew, mostly at her instigation. They’d both taken a risk, expecting a payoff within the next eighteen months.

  “I could sell this place.” She glanced around, her eyes wide and unexpectedly childlike, but when she looked at him again she was her usual practical, calm self. “But not in time to hire someone immediately. I’d have to list, sell, close and move. And in another five months or so, I’m going to need the room. Anyway,” she added, her chin lifting, “I can afford this house. I make enough to provide everything I’m going to need for the babies. I just can’t afford a full-time nanny. Or a full-time companion for myself while I’m pregnant.”

  She’d been expecting one child, not four. A normal pregnancy, not one that was going to tax her body to the limit—and possibly beyond.

  “What about someone from the office? They all love you. Have you asked if anyone wants to move in here—just until the babies are born and you’ve got a routine established?”

  “Would you want one of your employees living with you? Hearing you puke by night and taking orders from you by day?”

  The sarcasm wasn’t like her.

  “No.”

  “Besides the obvious conflict of interest, there is no one.” Her tone softened. “Mark and Sam are out.”

  “But Angela and Tamara are both single.”

  “You need to spend more time in the office, Joe, if you want to keep up on the staff’s personal lives.” Her chiding was playful. “Angela just moved in with Richard last weekend, and Tamara’s mother fell and broke her hip—she’s staying with Tamara indefinitely.”

  Joe got up and crossed to the window looking out on the sizable expanse of thick green grass that ran from house to road. He could see three huge old trees surrounded with colorfully blooming flower beds and knew there were more around back. The lot Elise’s house sat on took up a city block. There were no sidewalks, just lush green space with quiet streets bordering three sides.

  A perfect yard for growing kids. They could have a softball game on one side of the house, play regulation croquet, play hide-and-seek, swing as high as the sky. So why did he feel, as he stood there, that the place was a trap, imprisoning him?

  His car was there—at the end of her drive. He could leave any time. Would be leaving soon for a day on the river.

  He was a free man.

  “I’ll do it,” he said.

  FOR ONE SECOND Elise felt enormous relief. She’d never considered such a solution and it was so perfect, so right. This was about money and Joe had as much interest in her financial status as she did.

  To a point.

  And then he turned around. A man with a great body, wearing an old pair of denim shorts and white tank top. A man who oozed sexuality. And he was her business partner.

  “It would never work,” she said.

  “Of course it would.” His face was serious, his hands were shoved in his pockets and his feet were planted slightly apart. “It’s the obvious answer.”

  Elise suddenly wished that she’d showered, put on makeup. Washed her hair.

  She wanted to stand, too. Face him eye to eye. Knew it was important. But she couldn’t do it. Not in old sweats and a sleeveless pajama top. She settled for sitting upright with her feet on the floor. Then, crossing her arms, she reminded herself that she was alone, free, boss of this house. Of her life.

  “You and I are so good together because we’ve always managed to keep our private lives separate from our work partnership.”

  Not entirely true, she knew, but close enough. His expression didn’t change.

  “Can you imagine what we’d do to each other if we attempted to share living quarters?” she asked.

  “Isn’t that what we do every day?” he countered. He stepped closer. “For the past ten years we’ve been together at the office for more waking hours of the day than we’d be home together at night.”

  “But that’s because we were working. And you were out on sales calls a lot.”

  “We co-own the office, Elise. We’ve managed to decorate, furnish, coexist without ever arguing.”

  “We argue all the time.”

  “We debate. And not about the office. Not about anything that matters.”

  That was true. But—

  “Let’s not make a major event out of this, okay?” he said. Not since his mother had been diagnosed with kidney disease had he looked this serious. “It’ll only be for a few months—until the babies are born and you’ve got a routine established. You can bring people in to help with feedings. At the end of the year, assuming I do my job, there should be enough of a profit bonus to enable you to hire a full-time nanny until the kids are old enough to go to day care. If that’s what you plan.”

  Elise was impressed that he’d thought her life through with such detail. Still… />
  “No. I won’t risk our working relationship because I made a choice that had unexpected consequences.”

  “It’ll be more of a risk if B&R loses you.” He was really worried that might happen.

  “I told you, I won’t let this affect—”

  “Cut the crap, Elise,” Joe said, his face flushed. “When are you going to get it? You aren’t in control here. You have no way of knowing what the next months are going to bring. And if you don’t start facing reality, the results could be a lot worse than they need to be.”

  She released a breath. “I won’t let you down,” she told him, every word filled with conviction. “That I know for certain, Joe. You’re as much a part of my life as my arms and legs. Without you—without B&R—I have nothing. B&R gets me up in the morning. It gives me confidence and security. It challenges me. It consists of most of the people I know well in this world. I won’t lose it.”

  “Then face facts,” Joe said. “You’re taking a huge risk being here alone. And I have absolutely nothing at my condo that won’t do just fine without me for the next several months.”

  That was an understatement. She’d bought him a kitten once—he gave it to one of his sisters. She and everyone in the office had bought him a fish tank for Christmas the following year. He’d let Kelly take it in the divorce. She’d bought him plants—he’d left them at the office for her to water.

  “I know your habits,” he continued. “And that’s half the battle of living with someone. You’re an early riser, you don’t stay up past eleven and you hate having the news on right before bedtime.”

  Elise’s surprise must have shown on her face because he said, “You’re at work before the cleaning crew. If I call you past eleven you’re asleep and one time when Kelly and I were over for dinner, the two of you talked about watching the shopping network at night because it put you to sleep.”

  Elise remembered Kelly had started the conversation by enlisting her help in a battle for the bedroom TV, claiming that Joe insisted on having the news on but always fell asleep as soon as it started, leaving her to lie there in the dark and hear all kinds of horrid things.

  “You don’t like pizza for breakfast,” he said with a completely straight face. “You eat frozen dinners, but prefer salad, and you’d rather stay in than go out at night.”

  Not really. But when you were a woman alone…

  “It would make most sense if we eat together when we’re both here,” he said now. “We could share grocery costs, cooking and cleanup. But if you’d rather not, I’m okay with that, too.”

  “No, that’s fine,” she said, slightly woozy again as she filled in the pause he’d left.

  “I’ll pay half the utilities. Personal incidentals we’ll buy separately.”

  “Right.”

  “If you show me which room I’ll be using, I’ll go home and pack and get moved in by tonight.”

  He really meant to do this.

  “Joe.” She reached out and grabbed the material of his shorts as he turned to head for the formal dining room and the short hall off from there that led to two of the three bedrooms. The third, hers, was directly off the dining room. “We can’t do this. You can’t move in here.”

  “I already have,” he said. “I just haven’t brought my stuff over yet. Now which room would you like me to use?”

  It was impossible to argue with Joe when he was like this—especially when she was coming off an entire night of nausea and vomiting. At the moment, he made a doom-impending sort of sense.

  He made it to the hallway before she did and had already figured out which of the two extra bedrooms he’d use. The largest had four sandalwood cribs and two white, pink and blue dressers. Darin was sleeping on top of one of the dressers. Samantha was nowhere in sight.

  “I’ll switch with you,” Elise blurted, coming into the smaller room behind him. “Once the babies come, if you’re still here, I’ll need to be next to them.”

  He looked as if he was going to argue that, too.

  “Plus, I’ll be closer to the bathroom.”

  One of the few downsides to owning the older home. She and Joe were going to be sharing the one bathroom.

  And, she was afraid, much, much more than that.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JOE INTENDED TO BRING one suitcase—a couple of changes of clothes, some toiletries, shorts to sleep in. It wasn’t as if he was leaving town or wouldn’t have access to his condo every single day. The cell phone charger on his nightstand reminded him that he’d need it to charge the technological wonder every night while he slept so it would be up and running by morning. And there was the book next to it, the one he’d been reading each night for the past week. He was almost through with it and so added it, along with the next in the stack, to the to-go pile on his bed.

  Back and forth to the bathroom a time or two and he’d collected various other necessities such as aspirin and mentholyptic muscle rub for the occasional aches and pains during the night. He wasn’t going to use Elise’s personal care items and there was no reason to buy a second set of everything when he had a perfectly good set of his own.

  And for that matter, he replaced the travel-size shampoo and shaving-cream containers with the full-size ones in his shower. No point in purchasing more of them, either.

  His miniature DVD player landed on the bed—never knew when he’d feel a hankering for a shoot ’em up action movie. He tossed a couple of his favorites on top of the stack. Grabbed a lint brush to deal with her cats’ hair. And headed out to the garage for a bigger bag. Or two.

  ELISE WENT ABOUT the rest of her day the same as usual. By the time she was showered—having taken extra minutes to remove the decorative towels on the second rack in the big bathroom and replace them with a usable set for Joe, scrub the toilet and the tub, throw the rug in the wash, scour the sink and put all her essentials away in drawers and cabinets—both the crib sheets and the changing table had arrived as promised and were waiting in brown-paper-wrapped packages on the small porch connected to her side door.

  Because it would take less time, she made the beds first—interrupted by a couple of trips to the kitchen to see what she had enough of to make for two for dinner.

  Not much of anything.

  Maybe Joe wouldn’t be home to eat. He’d only said they’d take meals together when they were both here.

  Perhaps she should go out. There’d been a movie or two she’d been meaning to see. She was wearing her new denim maternity jeans and white eyelet peasant top for the first time. She should show them off.

  As she made up the cribs, Samantha, taking advantage of one lowered crib rail, jumped up into the middle of the partially placed sheet.

  “Oh, no, girl, these aren’t for you,” Elise chided, hugging the cat to her chest as she gave the reprimand. Adding some behind-the-ear scratches and a kiss or two, she hoped Samantha had gotten the message.

  And furthermore, she added to herself hours later as she put the changing table together, Joe wasn’t coming “home” to eat, sleep or do anything else. This wasn’t his home. It was hers. It was only—

  “Can I help?”

  Elise dropped the screwdriver on her bare toes. And bit back a yelp. “How’d you get in?”

  Darin left the room. Oh, dear. Her cats hated him. This was never going to work.

  “I used my key.”

  Turning, she saw the single key on the small coin chain she’d given him when she’d bought the house. She’d felt safer knowing that someone she trusted had a way in.

  “Oh.” Elise picked up the screwdriver, engaged it and twisted it with a vengeance. “Good,” she said.

  “Can I help with that?” he repeated.

  She finished tightening the bolt and picked up another. “No, I’ve got it,” she told him. “I moved my things out of the drawers in the front bedroom. And the blue towels in the bathroom are yours. I cleared room on the shelf in the shower, and the top right drawer is empty for you.”

 
Another bolt tight. Three more to go, right the unit, slide in the drawers and she was done.

  “Should you be doing that?”

  It sounded as though he was still right behind.

  “It came in parts,” she told him. And she’d moved them from the box on the side porch to the back room one by one. “Nothing too heavy.”

  Elise waited through two long minutes of silence before she turned around.

  He was gone.

  AFTER A THOROUGH SEARCH of the pantry, refrigerator and freezer, Joe made a trip to the grocery store. He might have asked if he could pick something up for her, but wasn’t sure bothering her was a good idea at the moment. He had the experience of fifteen years of lunches, occasional dinners and office chat to go on. He knew what Elise liked and disliked. He hoped. As much to the point, he had to have at least one frozen pizza waiting for a middle-of-the-night emergency—not that he’d ever once risen in the middle of the night to make one—and a bag of freshly ground breakfast-blend coffee for the morning. The rest he could wing and if he bought a lot, she wouldn’t have to shop by herself and lug in the bags.

  Making the best of a good day gone awry, he added a pound of ground beef to the pile. Elise had a built-in grill to the left of her garage. He’d grill dinner tonight. Throwing in a couple of cans of baked beans, he made a point to circle back and collect a couple of bags of freshly cut vegetables and some ranch dip. Elise had a soft spot for carrot and celery sticks.

  The last thing he added to his cart, after the box of cat treats, was a twelve-pack of beer.

  Joe pulled into the drive just after four, careful to park on the side opposite of where her car would be parked in the garage. Whistling, enjoying the light breeze coming off the river across the street, he figured he could do this for a few months. Especially if it meant that life as they knew it at B&R would be secure and back to normal at the end of that time.

  He’d made many sacrifices for and investments in the company over the years. This one was really quite small. Considering.