“Morning, ma’am. Would you mind pushing for the third floor for me?”
One of the nurses stepped forward and pushed the button, grinning at Beckett. “Sure thing. Nervous first-timer?”
Murphy offered a lop-sided smile. “Second time uncle, first time labor participant.”
“There’s really no reason you have to keep holding me. I’m perfectly capable of walking.”
The nurse’s grin widened. “She’s right, honey. Women in labor can benefit from walking. Helps speed things up.”
Murphy’s eyes narrowed. “I want to slow it down, not speed it up. No babies being born in elevators or hallways. Not on my watch.”
Beckett resigned herself to continued embarrassment. She sighed as the door slid open and Murphy strode out, heading directly toward the desk. A nurse looked up, his eyes widening at the sight of Murphy holding Beckett.
“Hey there, Beck. We were wondering when you’d be coming in. Did the contractions hit five minutes?”
“Hi, Chris. Yeah, it’s getting close to time. This is my brother-in-law, Murphy.”
Chris nodded to Murphy. “You’re gonna be in room two. Follow me.”
Murphy followed the nurse to the delivery room, depositing Beckett onto the bed. Beckett leaned down and unzipped her boots, kicking them off while the nurse got a gown out of the closet.
“Why don’t you get changed and settled in the bed? I’ll be in to check you in about five minutes. Feeling any need to push?”
“Not yet. I think we’ve got some time left.” She looked at Murphy. “Do you mind stepping out?”
“Sure.”
Close to ten minutes later, lying in the bed with the universally unflattering gown tied around her, Beckett waited for Chris to determine her dilation.
“Six centimeters. You’ve got a ways to go yet. Are you going to have an epidural? I can get it called in if you want one.”
Beckett shook her head. “Not unless I need to. I had one at the end with Rhys, but I’d like to be able to get up and walk.”
“Sure thing. I’ll send your support person back in.”
Beckett walked, she took a shower, walked some more, and only after Murphy threatened to call his mother did she climb back into bed to be checked. Declared to be at eight, they began the process anew; walking, bouncing on a large rubber ball, and leaning over the bed so Murphy could rub the painful knot the contractions had caused in her back.
Thirteen hours after checking into the hospital, Beckett felt the first urge to push.
“I need to get in bed.” She glanced at Murphy, who was holding her arm. “How far are we from my room?”
“It’s on the other side of the floor. What’s wrong?”
“Don’t freak out, but it’s time. I need to push. Murphy!”
Whatever else she had been about to say was extinguished when Murphy scooped her up in his arms and strode quickly and purposefully in the direction of her room. As they passed the nurses’ station, he slowed long enough to be heard.
“Call the doctor! It’s time!”
Anna, a petite redhead who’d replaced Chris at the end of his shift, bit her lip to stop from laughing. “Put her down. I don’t know how many times we’ve told you this is going to take time. It’s not like the baby’s just going to fall out. She could be pushing for hours.”
Beckett cleared her throat. “I think it’s closer than that.”
“Well, let’s get you into bed and check.”
Anna led the way to Beckett’s room, directing Murphy to help her into bed while she pulled on gloves.
“You know the drill. Feet apart, knees loose.” Anna sat on the end of the bed, experienced fingers checking for dilation. “Okay, Mama, you’re at ten. When you have the next contraction, I want you to bear down just a little to help me gauge where baby is.”
“Shouldn’t you call the doctor?” Murphy paced next to the door, his gut twisting with panic.
“Not until we know how long this is going to take. Doc catches. I do all the real work.” She grinned and nodded to Beckett. “Push, honey.”
Beckett bore down, pushing. She counted to ten, then relaxed, the contraction ebbing away. “How’s it looking?”
“Won’t be too long. Baby’s head is right there. Hang tight, try not to push, and I’ll call the doctor.”
Murphy watched the nurse leave and took a hesitant step toward the bed. “Beck? Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?”
Beckett turned her head and offered a smile, her eyes wet. “I keep thinking how Ryan would have wanted to be here. He didn’t get to see either of his children born. It’s just not right.”
Murphy crossed the room, perching on the side of the bed and taking her hand in his own. “I know. He’d be handling it way better than I am.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder and squeezed his hand. “You’re doing just fine. We’ll be all right. This baby might not get to know her daddy, but she’ll have three wonderful uncles and the best grandparents a kid could ask for.” She gripped his hand as another contraction tore through her. Her body clamped down, urging her to push and taking away her ability to focus on anything other than her labor.
Fifteen minutes later, just moments after the doctor entered the room and with only three pushes, Beckett’s baby slid from her body and into the waiting hands of the doctor. Not knowing the situation, the obstetrician smiled at Murphy.
“Does Daddy want to cut the cord?”
Murphy glanced up from where he was stroking sweaty hair off Beckett’s forehead. “What? Oh, I’m not—”
“It’s okay. If you want to.” Beckett smiled at him and nodded. “You can.”
Looking uncomfortable, Murphy took the scissors offered to him and cut where he was told. The baby was washed off, wrapped in a blanket and laid on Beckett’s chest. She cradled her daughter, tears stinging her eyes as she looked down at the crying baby.
“She’s perfect.” Murphy stared at his niece in awe, hesitantly reaching out to touch her with one finger. “I’ve never seen something so small.” He jumped when the baby started crying. “What’s wrong with her?”
Anna grinned. “She’s hungry. Mama, do you want to try to nurse, or should I send for some formula?”
Beckett adjusted the baby in one arm, expertly slipping the hospital gown down to expose one breast, laughing when the baby immediately latched. “Wow! She’s way better at this than Rhys was.”
Murphy’s eyes widened and he averted his gaze to avoid looking at her when she was exposed. “I should go call Mom and let her know.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed anything so amazing. You were brave and strong and beautiful. You’re incredible.”
Anna lifted her eyebrow at Beckett when Murphy left. “Girl, you have a winner there. I wish I had a man who would talk to me like he does.”
Beckett’s eyebrows drew together. “Murphy? Murphy’s my brother-in-law. I was married to his brother.” She blinked back tears. “He died four months ago.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” The nurse patted Beckett’s foot. “There I go commenting on things I know nothing about. Well, you’re lucky to have such a good relationship with him. Do you have a name for the baby?”
Chapter 1
“Harlow Elizabeth McKenzie! Let’s go! You’re going to be late for school!”
Rhys looked up at his mother with all the wisdom of a nearly eight-year-old. “Harlow’s still a baby. Why does she get to go to school, too?”
“Because it’s pre-school. You went when you were her age.”
“I was never as silly as you.”
Beckett smothered the urge to roll her eyes, but just barely. She heard the tromping footsteps of her daughter, and smiled despite how late they were. A honking horn outside her door punctuated the time.
“Uncle Murphy is waiting!”
Harlow bounded down the stairs, pink zebra backpack over her shoulders and her sunny blonde curls bouncing.
“I was feeding the kitten. She was hungry.”
“The kitten is just fine. Come on, out the door.” Beckett laid a hand on each child and ushered them toward the door, pulling it closed behind her.
Murphy McKenzie hopped out of his truck when he saw them coming. He scooped up his niece and nephew as they ran toward him, pressing kisses to offered cheeks and carrying them easily toward the passenger side.
“How are my two favorite monsters this morning?”
Harlow batted her eyes at him. “Will you walk me into school?”
Murphy glanced over his shoulder, his too-long hair hanging into his eyes. “She’s gonna be a heartbreaker, Beck.” Opening the door, he deposited first Rhys and then Harlow into the backseat. “Buckle up, kids. Yes to the walking you in. We’re on the clock.” Grinning, he slammed the door and rounded the front of the car, stopping to snake his arm around Beckett and press a chaste kiss to the side of her head.
Grinning up at him, she rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him soundly. “Thanks for taking them to school. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Call if you need one of us to pick them up.”
Beckett stood watching until the truck disappeared down the street. Running her hand over her hair to check for displaced strands, she darted back into the house for her purse and keys before sliding into her car and heading to the salon she managed.
Before she even got to her office, the receptionist was cramming a stack of notes into her hand and two of the hair stylists were arguing over scheduling. Fumbling to get her office door open, she flipped on the light, dropped her purse to the floor, and pivoted, placing her hands on her hips.
“I don’t care whether the two of you work ten hours or fifty, so long as your chair rent is paid on time. Emma, if you want to work seven days a week for twelve hours, it’s your prerogative.”
When the second woman, a middle-aged blonde named Paulina, started to speak, Beckett levelled a glare at her.
“Not a word. One of the reasons things run so smoothly around here is because we keep it simple. I’m not going to punish her for working more hours any more than I’ll yell at you for charging twice as much. I’m not a referee.” Beckett glanced purposefully at each stylist. “If you want to be employees and have me tell you when to come to work and how long to stay, I can certainly accommodate you, but I have a feeling you’ll end up pocketing a whole hell of a lot less with me paying you fifteen bucks an hour. Is that what you want?”
Sullenly, Paulina shook her head. “No, ma’am. But I also don’t want her scheduling my regular customers for appointments because she’s willing to work around the clock.”
“Emma, make it clear when you schedule an appointment that it’s a one-time thing and leave the other stylist a note explaining why you scheduled one of their clients. If I have to hire someone to manage which client belongs to whom, I’m going to be very pissed off, and I’ll charge all of you for their salary. No one wants that.” Firmly, she gestured to the door. “Now get back to work, both of you.”
Soon after the sound of the door slamming echoed through the lobby, the receptionist poked her head in.
“What a hell of a way to start the morning.”
Beckett looked up and smiled at the young woman. “Good morning, Halle.”
“Good morning, Beckett.” Halle grinned. “Need some coffee?”
“I’d die for some. Thank you. What’s the day look like?”
“You have a few interviews for the open manicurist position, and Sarah walked out last night after old man Winter showed her his penis. Said she’s not coming back, either.”
Beckett scowled. “That old pervert wasn’t supposed to be allowed in here. Dammit. Sarah was good, too. Okay, I’ll tweak the schedules to move her clients around until we can hire someone else. Do we know how old man Winter managed to get an appointment?”
Halle chuckled. “He was a walk-in as she was closing up last night, and she’d never met him.”
“Post a fucking list of clients we don’t serve. I believe it’ll have, what, two names on it?”
“Something like that. I’ll write something up.” Halle started toward the door, then abruptly turned around. “Oh, Mrs. DeLaurentis called this morning to schedule an appointment for a meeting with you this afternoon to do a walk-through. It’s taking over your budget time, but I pushed it to tomorrow and changed the supplier contract meetings to the end of the week.”
“What does Gwen want?”
“She didn’t say.”
Beckett nodded and glanced at the stack of messages in her hand. “I suppose I’d better return these calls. Oh, before you go, how is the reservation book looking?”
“Pretty good, actually. September is stacked because it’s still wedding season. I checked with the hotel, it’s booked every weekend from now to Halloween with wedding parties, the vast majority of which end up here for stuff.”
“As it should be.” Beckett sank into her office chair. “I’m putting together a couple packages for the holidays. I’m going to increase our advertising budget for next year, and I think we oughta start moving toward an employee model instead of independent contractors. That way we wouldn’t have what happened in here this morning.”
“Has Mrs. D signed off on it?”
“No. If we have time I’ll talk to her today. I’d planned to wait until after I meet with the accountant, but we’ll see. I’d also like to be able to hire some massage therapists to do home appointments. We’ve been profitable for two years, but the margins are still razor thin.”
“You’ll figure it out.” Halle studied her nail polish. “You always do.”
Beckett opened her laptop and booted up the machine. “Let’s hope I do.”
****
The morning flew by in a haze of scheduling snafus, ringing phones, and supply orders. When the phone rang and Halle informed Beckett the salon owner, Gwen DeLaurentis, had arrived, it was past two in the afternoon and Beckett felt like she’d accomplished nothing.
Pasting a smile on her face, she strode out to the lobby with more confidence than she felt.
“Mrs. D. What a great surprise.”
Gwen embraced Beckett quickly, drawing the younger woman in for a hard hug. “Beckett. Prettier every time I visit. Let’s go for a walk. I want to look at what we’re doing.”
Smoothly, Beckett took Gwen’s arm and tucked it into her own. “Where would you like to start?”
The tour lasted nearly an hour. Beckett took the older woman through the different sections of the salon, visiting the areas where they provided each of their services, ranging from hair and nails to saunas, massage therapy, and facials to the bar and store where technicians were on hand to do make-up application and sell products.
Once they were settled in Beckett’s office with cups of tea, Gwen folded her hands on her knee and studied Beckett seriously.
“You’ve done a wonderful job with this place. I’m proud of you. It could’ve never been what it is now without you.”
“Thank you.” Beckett smiled fondly. “I couldn’t be who I am without you and Vive. You took me on when I was a scared twenty-two-year-old with a three-year-old and a new baby and let me cut hair. I owe this place everything.”
“We’re a family, Beck. All of us here. That’s the way it’s always been.” Gwen sighed and relaxed into the chair. “Honey, it’s time for me to leave. Frank and I bought a condo in Florida and a time-share in Cabo. We’re packing up and heading for warmth. I can’t take another Maine winter. These old bones won’t take it.”
“Congratulations.” Taking care to keep her voice level, Beckett forced herself to smile. “I’ll be sad for you to go, but I hope you know this place will be in good hands with me.”
“I’m sure it would be.”
“I have a lot of ideas. I’m working on some holiday promotions to keep profit up through the winter. I’m meeting with the accountant next week on a proposal to move toward employees instead of contracto
rs, and I just requested plans from an architect in Portland for some ideas on expanding to include a café. I was planning to present the projected budgets and plans to you in a couple months.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
Panic rising in her throat, Beckett hastily took a drink of her tea to calm herself. “Gwen, if you’re going to fire me, just tell me.”
“Why would I fire you?”
“I don’t know, but unless you don’t want to expand or do anything new, I don’t understand why you don’t want to look at the proposals.”
Beckett stood to pace the office, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what was going on. Giving herself a few moments to breathe, she tried to put her thoughts into something coherent. Running her hands through her hair, she continued.
“Trenton is so close to Bar Harbor it seems we should be taking advantage of the cruise ship crowd and the vacation season. We get quite a bit of foot traffic coming over the causeway, and I’d like to lure in more if we can. I think there’s a lot more we can do.” She stopped and turned to face Gwen, her gaze nervous. “There’s a lot more I’d like to do.”
“I agree. My dream when I opened this place was to have the best all-service salon in Maine, if not New England. We have great staff, a beautiful facility, and every year has been better than the last.”
Gwen leaned forward and gestured to Beckett’s chair. Nodding, Beckett sank into it and crossed her arms, waiting for her to finish speaking. When the elderly woman continued, her voice was tired and soft.
“Nothing trumps the fact that I’m seventy years old and want to retire. I don’t want to worry about this anymore. I’ve been working on Vive for two decades. I’m sick of worrying about budgets and expansions and maintenance. I want to spoil my grandkids and travel around the world. That’s it. In that order. I’m selling the salon, Beck.”
“Do you have a buyer yet?” Her heart sinking, Beckett stared down at her short, neat nails. “I can put a portfolio together for you outlining our profitability strategy and the expansion proposals if it would help.”
The Soldier's Wife Page 2
