“Believe me, I’ll be careful. I’m not going to take any risks. Why would I take chances with my baby?”
“You’re a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
Every sound in the pub was suddenly magnified. Voices were shriller. Silverware rattled and crashed together. Clinking glasses were unbearably high-pitched.
Sierra pressed her hand to her abdomen. The potato hadn’t been a good idea, after all. Walker wasn’t going to hire her. Her fingernails cut into her palm and her chest tightened. All her plans had revolved around working for Walker and Jen. Of having a job far away from Chicago.
Who else would hire her, once they found out she was pregnant?
“I’ll have an attorney write up a document that completely absolves you of liability,” she said, her mouth almost too dry to speak. “I want to help build your house, Walker.”
He shook his head. “I love your ideas. I love the preliminary designs. But I just don’t see how this can work. It’s too dangerous.” He pushed the project report across the table. Back to her.
Jen put her hand on his arm. “Hold on a second,” she murmured to her husband. “Maybe you should tell us more about your personal situation, Sierra. Is your baby’s father with you?”
Her words were like a slap in the face. “That’s not your concern. It’s irrelevant.” Sierra glanced at Walker. “And you’ve clearly made up your mind already.”
“You’re here in Otter Tail by yourself.” Again, it was not a question. Walker’s voice was even. No inflection. Impossible to read. No wonder he was such a successful businessman.
Just like Nick.
“Yes.”
“I can’t hire you, Sierra.” Walker’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, but I can’t have a pregnant woman on a construction site. Maybe I can find some other job for you that won’t involve the house.”
“No, thank you. I’m an architect. I don’t want some make-work job.” She hated the pity in his voice. “If I can’t work on your project, I’ll find another one.” She fumbled in her purse for the money to pay for her ginger ale and potato. Her fingers shook as she tried to remove some bills from her wallet.
Finally she pulled out a ten and dropped it on the table. “I’ll make sure you get the rest of the material I’ve put together for your house,” she said as she stood up. She hurried toward the door, tears blurring her vision. Delaney swiveled on the stool behind her drums and watched her leave.
Sierra was unlocking her Honda Civic when someone touched her arm. “You forgot your coat,” Jen said.
Sierra yanked the door open, tossed the spring jacket on the passenger seat, then slid in. “Thanks.” She tried to pull the door closed, but it wouldn’t budge.
Jen was holding it open. “I’m pregnant, too,” she said quietly. “We just found out. No one else knows, and Walker is…he’s acting like an idiot.”
“Congratulations.” Sierra started the engine. “Let go of the door, please.” She had to leave before she broke down in front of Jen. That would complete her humiliation. She tugged on the handle, but Jen tugged back.
“Listen to me. He’s completely overreacting to this. He wants me to stop working at the restaurant. He expects me to sit at home for the next eight months and twiddle my thumbs.”
“What your husband wants for you has nothing to do with me.” Sierra pulled on the door again, and Jen jerked it out of her hand.
“Yes, it does. There are reasons why he’s being so overprotective, reasons that have nothing to do with you. But you’re getting the blowback. I’ll straighten him out.” Her voice softened. “We’ll figure out a way to hire you.”
A tear dripped onto the steering wheel, and Sierra wiped it away. She’d cried more in the last few months than she had during the rest of her life, and she was sick of it. “I’ll find another job.”
“I don’t want you to find another job,” Jen said softly. “I want you to stay in Otter Tail and build our house.”
“Yeah, well, your husband doesn’t. I’m not going to get in the middle of that.” Sierra wrenched the door shut, and when Jen reached out her hand, she stared at it until the woman stepped back. Then Sierra accelerated out of the parking lot.
It was too late to check out of the motel tonight. Her weariness went all the way to her bones. She’d sleep tonight, and tomorrow she’d leave.
But she had no idea where she would go.
CHAPTER FIVE
SIERRA HADN’T UNPACKED more than one small suitcase, so it didn’t take long to get ready to leave the next morning. As she walked from her room to the motel office, the sky was bright blue and the air smelled fresh. Full of promise. The trees were getting ready to bud out, and everything was waiting, poised on the brink of new life.
Myrtle Sanders, the owner of the Bide-a-Wee Motel, looked up when she walked in the door. “Hi, Ms. Clark,” the woman said in a raspy voice. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m checking out,” Sierra answered.
Myrtle’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you were going to be here for a while. What happened?”
“Things changed,” Sierra said. She put her credit card on the counter. “Your motel was very nice.”
The older woman swiped it through the machine. “Saw you at the Harp last night. Did you enjoy the music?”
“I didn’t stay long enough to hear them.”
“Too bad.” Myrtle put the credit card on the counter, along with the receipt to sign. “If you’re staying in the area, make sure you come back to hear them next Friday.”
“I will. Thanks, Ms. Sanders.” Sierra’s face felt as if it would crack when she smiled. She scribbled her signature, then tried to take her credit card back. Myrtle had her hand on it, holding it in place.
“Call me Myrtle,” she said, studying her. “So where are you headed?”
“I’m not sure.” Sierra tugged at the credit card, and she let it go.
“You in trouble, hon?” she asked softly.
Sierra jerked her head up to meet Myrtle’s eyes. Did she know? Had the gossip spread already? “I’m… I’m fine,” she finally said. “But thanks for asking.”
“I could reduce the rate on the room.” Myrtle watched her shrewdly. “Not much business yet. I’d like to keep the place full.”
“I don’t know where I’m going,” Sierra answered.
“Have something to eat at the Cherry Tree before you make up your mind,” Myrtle said. “They do a nice breakfast.”
Myrtle needed her money, and where else was Sierra going to go? “I’ll think about it,” she said.
“Hope to see you again, hon,” the motel owner said as Sierra opened the door. “Thanks.”
THE CHERRY TREE WAS ALMOST full, but she got a booth along the wall. She opened the Green Bay newspaper she’d bought from the box outside the diner, but when she found herself starting the same article three times, she closed it again.
After ordering oatmeal and fruit, she opened to the classifieds. There were jobs for administrative assistants, for accountants, for bookkeepers. Jobs for salesmen.
Nothing for architects. She pushed the paper away when her oatmeal arrived. She’d go online. It had been foolish to look at a newspaper, anyway. Architectural firms didn’t advertise openings in newspapers. They did it in professional journals and newsletters. Online specialty job sites. Word of mouth.
She let the spoon drop onto the plate beneath her bowl. Word of mouth wasn’t going to get her a job. She’d walked out on Nick and taken his client.
She stared out the window blindly as she sipped her herbal tea. She put her hand over her abdomen, imagined she could feel life beneath it. We’ll be fine. I’ll find a job. Even if I don’t, we have enough money to last for a little while.
“Mind if I join you?”
She looked up to see Jen standing next to her table. “Help yourself.”
“Hey, Jen,” the waitress said as she hurried over with a pot of coffee. “We were at your place the other night. Great food.”<
br />
Jen put her hand over her mug. “Thanks, Sandy. No coffee today. How about some herbal tea?”
Sandy frowned. “Sure, if that’s what you want. You off coffee?”
“Stomach’s a little upset,” Jen answered. “I thought herbal would be better.”
“No problem.”
When the waitress left, Jen said, “Myrtle told me you were heading out of town.”
Sierra pushed her bowl away, and the spoon clattered to the table. “My God! Is there some kind of network that keeps track of everyone in this town? Do you twitter people’s locations every fifteen minutes?”
Jen laughed. “No, but thanks for the suggestion. Some people would be all over that idea.” Her smile disappeared. “I stopped by the motel to see you, and Myrtle told me you’d already checked out. I’m glad you decided to stop for breakfast.”
Sierra raised one shoulder. “It’s better if you eat, even if you don’t feel like it. In case you’ve been sick.”
Jen leaned across the table and her blond ponytail swung over her shoulder. “The walls have ears in this place,” she said quietly. “They all know me. I used to work here. Okay?”
“I understand.” No pregnancy talk. “I assume you’re here because of the house. I was going to stop by on my way out of town with the file. I have it right here.”
She dug through her large bag, pulled out the manila folder and set it on the table. “Good luck with it. Nick has the original, but he doesn’t have the work I’ve done since I left. He’d probably like the project back, and he’ll do a good job for you. He’s a very talented architect. If you really like my design, he’ll use it. He won’t have a hissy fit and insist on a new one.”
“Nick Boone, the king of control, throws hissy fits? I’d pay to see that.”
Sierra had seen him out of control only once. “I was speaking theoretically. I’ve hardly even heard him raise his voice.”
“Well, it won’t happen this time, either. Walker and I talked last night. He’s not completely convinced, but we want to give you a chance. He’s going to insist on a couple of things, but we want to try to make it work. We both love the design, and it wouldn’t feel right to take your work and pay someone else to build the house.”
“So you’ll hire me, but with lots of reservations.” She sat straighter on the uncomfortable vinyl bench. She wanted to say no, to stand up and walk away. But desperation couldn’t afford pride.
Jen shrugged. “It’s the best we can do. Walker may be overreacting, but his concerns are legitimate. Construction sites are dangerous. Pregnant women are off balance and occasionally clumsy. We’d feel horrible if you got hurt, and frankly, I don’t want that on my conscience. Even with a letter from your lawyer, absolving us of any responsibility.”
Sierra lifted a large spoonful of oatmeal and watched as heavy clumps dropped into the bowl. “So you’re offering me a pity job.”
“It’s not a pity job. If you weren’t pregnant, we’d hire you without a second thought. But being pregnant changes everything.”
Yes. It did. She tightened her grip on the spoon, then set it carefully on the plate. “What ‘things’ does Walker want?”
Jen relaxed against the back of the booth. “Hard hat at all times. No ladders. You can’t be at the site alone. When you’re on the site, one of the contractors has to be there, too.”
Sierra’s face burned, and she clenched her mug of tea tightly. “I’m not a child, Jen. I don’t need a babysitter. I’ve been on construction sites, and I know how to be careful.”
“Of course you do.” She glanced at the remains of Sierra’s oatmeal, and as the waitress appeared with her tea, she said, “I’ll have some of that, please, Sandy.”
Jen leaned closer to Sierra. “Walker is worried about me, and I laugh at him. As I said last night, you’re getting the blowback. But those are the rules he’s insisting on. If you want the job, you’re going to have to suck it up.”
Humiliation scalded her, and Sierra pressed her lips together. “Any other ‘things’ I should know about before I take the job? Do I have to schedule regular naps? Will he need to make sure I’m taking my vitamins?”
Jen grinned. “I like you. Please take the job. I’ll try to keep Walker off your back, but right now, he’s in his ‘protect the women and children’ mode. He’ll probably hover for a while, but I’m guessing you can deal with that.” She studied Sierra for a moment, her eyes shrewd. “I’m guessing you can deal with just about anything.”
The smell of bacon frying and toast burning made her stomach roll. Sierra ate a spoonful of cold oatmeal. “You do what you have to do.”
“So you’ll take the job?”
“I’ll think about it.” Last night, she’d come too close to begging, and she burned with shame at the memory. Today, she wasn’t going to jump at the offer. Desperation made you vulnerable.
The waitress slid a bowl of oatmeal in front of Jen and walked away. Jen waited until she was out of earshot before saying, “God, you’re tough. How long do you hold a grudge?”
“Grudges are a luxury I can’t afford.” Sierra laid a hand over her abdomen. “I have to think of what’s best for me and the…for me. I don’t want to have to second-guess myself constantly. I don’t want to look over my shoulder all the time.”
“Fair enough.” Jen stirred her oatmeal, and the scent drifted across the table. Sierra took another spoonful from her own half-finished bowl. Even cold, it settled her stomach.
“There’s an apartment above my restaurant,” Jen said. “Let me finish this, then we can take a look at it. Walker and I thought you might like to stay there while you’re here. We’ll give you a good deal, and it will feel more like home than the motel.”
Even after being so reluctant to hire her, Jen and Walker were offering her a place to stay? “I’ll take a look at it,” she said cautiously.
“It’s a little outdated,” Jen warned. “But it’s convenient.” She drank some of her tea and grimaced. “It’s going to be tough to get used to this. So tell me about Chicago. Have you lived there your whole life?”
NICK TOOK ONE LAST LOOK at the CAD screen on his computer, clicked Save and closed it. The client would be pleased. He’d taken the software company’s vision for their headquarters and turned it into a statement of purpose as well as a functional work space. An elegant melding of vision and practicality.
Exactly what they’d said they wanted. His presentation was in a week, and he’d be ready.
He shut down his computer, shoved some folders into his briefcase and grabbed his suit jacket. He didn’t have any plans other than a quiet evening at home, working.
He’d spent quite a few nights by himself in the last couple weeks. The club scene had felt flat and boring lately, and he’d broken things off with Jasmine. A necklace from Tiffany’s had been a preemptive strike against the tears and clinging he hated.
As he was heading out of his office, he heard giggling coming from the other side of the door. It wouldn’t be his admin—Janet was far too dignified to giggle. One of the other administrative assistants must be talking to her.
But when he walked through the door, he saw his all-business, decorous assistant speaking gibberish to a baby she held on the edge of her desk. As the child laughed, drool fell from its mouth onto the leather arm of Janet’s expensive Herman Miller chair.
And Janet was giggling.
“Who stole my admin and left this…this doppelgänger behind?” he asked.
Janet picked the baby up and turned to him, still smiling. “This is my granddaughter, Lily. My daughter dropped her off a few minutes ago. Lily is staying with us tonight while her parents have an evening to themselves.”
The baby turned to him, then reached toward him with both hands. He took a quick step backward.
Janet’s smile faded. “They’re not contagious,” she said. She handed Lily a toy, and the child immediately lost interest in him. “She’s at the friendly stage. Everyone is new and int
eresting.”
“I don’t know anything about kids.”
“Your loss,” Janet said mildly. She shifted the baby to her other arm, and the little one laid her downy head on her grandmother’s shoulder. “I love to babysit for Lily.”
“Your daughter is lucky.”
“No, I’m the lucky one.” She rubbed the baby’s back and the child closed her eyes. “I get an uninterrupted evening of Lily time.”
“And your daughter gets time off.”
Janet’s hand slowed its soothing circles as she studied him. “Time off makes it sound like Ashley is serving a prison sentence. She’s getting a break, something all parents need once in a while. She’s not a single parent, like I was, but she still needs to spend uninterrupted time with her husband.”
“You were a single parent? Frank isn’t her father?” Nick had seen them together at the office picnics, and Janet’s husband and kid were tight.
“Yes, he’s her father, even though Ashley was seven when Frank and I got married. He’s her dad, the man who helped me raise her. Just providing sperm doesn’t make you a father.”
The baby looked as if she had fallen asleep on Janet’s shoulder. Complete trust. “Being a single parent must have been tough,” Nick said. If she kept the baby, Sierra would be a single parent.
Janet bent to kiss her granddaughter’s head, and he couldn’t see her eyes. “You have no idea. When I found out I was pregnant, my boyfriend took off like his hair was on fire. I was terrified, and it was tough for a while, but we made it.”
Each word she spoke found its mark like a sharp arrow, and Nick tried to see her face. She wasn’t talking about him and Sierra. Janet couldn’t know Sierra was pregnant and he was the father. “At least your boyfriend paid child support, didn’t he?”
She snorted. “Please. I didn’t hear from him again until Ashley was a teenager. He gave me some money then, enough to start a college fund, but that was it.”
“How does your daughter feel about him?” Nick asked cautiously. Janet never shared personal information with him. They had a business relationship, and that was the way they both preferred it. But suddenly, he wanted to know.
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