by Tamie Dearen
“So what do you want me to do? Pay for private nurses for all those other women?”
“No. If I’m going to have my p-picture plastered all over, I might as w-well be a poster child for this thing.”
She took a deep shuddery breath. “There’s probably a foundation or a society or something. We can raise awareness and help people understand and raise money for research.”
Anne felt humiliated, but she also felt militant. She hated losing. Ever! This seemed like the only way to win.
“Wow. Okay. That’s not the response I expected. But then again, I never seem to be able to predict anything you’re going to do.”
“So, will you do it?”
“I’ll do anything you want. But you’d better be sure. There’s no going back with something this big. We’re talking television interviews, magazine interviews, public speaking. Do you really want to do that?”
No. She didn’t want to do any of those things. None. Not a single one. She wanted to be anonymous. Her tears began to flow again.
“Yes. Just do it.”
*****
Emily wondered why Steven had called her into his office. When she arrived, his office looked as if a bomb had gone off. He must have thrown an awful tantrum.
“What happened in here?”
He looked around as if noticing for the first time the books and papers he’d flung across the room. “Oh. I must have lost my temper. I’m okay now.”
He strode quickly across the room to grasp her shoulders. “I need to warn you about something.”
“What?” Emily couldn’t even imagine a scenario that would cause Steven to lose his temper and then require her to be warned.
He started pacing as he pushed his hand through his hair repeatedly. “It’s a long story. But, basically, the press has gotten wind your mother is sick. Actually, they’ve got two pictures and a lot of speculation.”
He stopped in front of her, his hair askew. “And we’re going on television tonight to explain everything.”
“What? Mom agreed to this?”
He shook his head. “I know. I can’t believe it either. It was her idea. Her way of making lemonade out of lemons.”
“Tonight? But Mom looks terrible.”
“Personally, I think she looks beautiful, but she agrees with you. The news crew is sending over a makeup artist right now. I’m mostly worried the stress will be bad for her. Our doctor’s agreed to be interviewed as well.”
“Why are you doing this? Isn’t this going to make everything worse? I thought Mom hated being in the papers, much less on TV.”
“I know. Believe me, I know. I hope she doesn’t regret it. She’s planning to raise awareness for women suffering from hyperemesis gravidarum. She says it’s the only way something good can come out of this.”
“Okay, thanks for the warning.”
He rubbed his forehead with his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell people about the baby. I wanted to announce it some fun way and hand out cigars.”
“Well, it’s not too late.”
“For what?”
“It’s not too late to announce it and hand out cigars. You’ve got an hour and a half before five o’clock. I’ll go buy cigars or candy or whatever you want. You call a meeting for the whole company.”
His face brightened. “You really think I should? It could be fun, I guess.”
“Let’s do it!”
*****
Spencer was nervous when he got the notice about the company-wide emergency meeting at four thirty, with only an hour’s notice. Did this have something to do with the newspaper story? He was relieved Gherring hadn’t blamed him, but he still felt responsible. Gherring had been angry, as expected. What he hadn’t expected was how frustrated Gherring was. He thought someone as rich and powerful as Steven Gherring would’ve been able to fight the paparazzi and send some heads flying. But evidently that wasn’t the case.
Sam found Spencer, and she pulled him to the side. “This is really weird. We’ve never been called together for a last minute meeting before. Maybe he’s going to close down a branch and lay some people off.”
“Why would he do that? Is the stock doing badly?” He wondered if the tabloid speculation could actually hurt Gherring Inc. financially.
“No. No the stock’s up, actually. I don’t know—I’m worried because this isn’t normal.”
The noisy group fell completely silent as Gherring entered. His face was stern as he looked over the large group, standing awkwardly and craning to see. He motioned to the side. Emily and Gherring’s secretary approached him, carrying two large boxes. Gherring stood up on a chair.
“I’m sorry we don’t have a conference room large enough to accommodate all of you. I have a very important announcement to make.” He paused, and the audience waited in uneasy silence.
“The timing on this is a bit awkward. We didn’t really want to make this announcement until we were closer to the actual time, so we’d be sure it would actually happen.” He paused again, and the group began to murmur. Suddenly Gherring’s face changed. His dimples flashed, and mouth stretched in a huge grin.
“I’m going to be a dad!”
There was a moment of shocked silence, and then the whole group started cheering and clapping, sending out shouts of congratulations. Spencer could tell the employees really liked Gherring and were genuinely happy for him.
“And!” Gherring shouted over the crowd noise, “I’ve got cigars and candy for everyone so we can celebrate. But please, remember no smoking at the office.” He chuckled with the employees.
“But… there is more,” he added, with a more somber expression. “Anne’s having some serious complications, and the media got possession of some pictures... To make a long story short, we’ve got a television interview about it tonight. But we didn’t want you to be the last to know.”
Sam whispered, “I thought she didn’t look well this week. And she’s so thin—that can’t be good.”
“She’s already considered a high-risk pregnancy,” Gherring continued, his face lined with worry. “And she has a condition called hyperemesis gravidarum. Anne and I would both really appreciate your prayers.”
He reached out to Emily and caught her hand, giving it a squeeze.
“But we’re not going to let that stuff take away from how excited we are.” He grinned sheepishly. “We’re pregnant!”
*****
“I saw your mom and dad on the news tonight,” said Grace as she and Emily made their way toward the art class. “It sounds really scary. Are you worried about her? I thought she was really brave to go on television like that, but she looked really thin. Has she gained any weight at all?”
Emily giggled as Grace prattled on. How on earth would she ever answer a question? Grace never stopped talking long enough for her to say anything. But she enjoyed her new friend’s enthusiastic chatter.
“I’m so excited you’re going to this class with me. Just wait until you see the art teacher. He’s so hot! And he’s mysterious and sort of, I don’t know, sultry.” Grace gave a little shiver to emphasize her words. “But he’s got this strict policy of not dating students. Which is too bad, because I’d love to lock lips with the guy. His voice is even romantic, and he talks so... You’ll have to meet him to understand.”
“How old is he? I pictured the art teacher as being about fifty for some reason.”
“Oh, he’s older, but not that old. He’s like thirty-two I think. And the whole class is girls. I think there’s maybe one guy out of twenty. And the girls all flirt with him and try to get his attention, even though he says he won’t date a student.”
“Well I won’t flirt with him—I’m going to this class to improve my technique.”
“Me, too. But I’d like a chance to improve my technique with him in other areas in addition to art.”
“My, oh my! What would your brother say if he heard you talking like that?”
�
�Spencer? He’s already got his technique down pat. He can’t fault me for getting in a little practice.”
For some reason the topic of Spencer’s love life irritated her. How many other girls had there been? She decided to change the subject.
“Are you sure I can join the class now? Isn’t it the middle of the course?”
Grace shrugged. “It doesn’t matter because it’s not for credit or anything—they’ll prorate your fee. He’s the most popular teacher at the Art Academy. You’ll understand why when you meet him.”
Emily decided she wouldn’t mind a little eye candy. But she wasn’t going to be swept off her feet by any guy, no matter how suave and debonair. At least that’s what she told herself before she actually met Asher Denning.
He greeted each student by name as they entered the classroom. His blond hair was a bit too long, but it suited his face, which could only be described as beautiful. His eyes were a brilliant blue and his jaw was strong. Emily couldn’t stand a guy with a weak jaw. His face had a few days of stubble on it, giving him a laissez faire appearance. He was about six feet tall and tanned, with the broad shoulders and chest that came only from hours of lifting weights. His athletic build was at odds with his artistic bent and smooth mannerisms. He looked good, and he knew it. No wonder he didn’t date any girls in the class, he was probably in love with himself. Then he spoke to her and she was lost. He had an English accent—he was her dream guy.
“Hello. Who have we here? I know we haven’t met, for I could never forget such a lovely visage.”
She felt her face heat up. “I’m Emily Best. This is my first night, but I’ve painted before.” That sounded so stupid. Why hadn’t she thought of something clever to say?
“Well, Emily Best, I can’t wait to see the results of your efforts tonight.” He raised her hand and turned it over to examine her long slender fingers. “Such beautiful hands must do beautiful things.” He pressed his lips to her hand before releasing it, and Emily giggled nervously. What was wrong with her? He was way too old for her, and she didn’t trust him. But as he gazed at her through half-lowered lids, she felt a little thrill. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy a little flirtation. After all, he didn’t date his students anyway.
Grace elbowed her. “Told ya.”
As the two-hour class progressed, she was engrossed in her work. There was a lamp burning on a table in the center of the room. Each student was painting the lamp, with particular attention to recreating the glow emanating from the bulb behind the silk shade. Emily jumped as she felt someone touch her elbow.
“That’s absolutely smashing.” Asher breathed the words into her ear. “You’ve not only captured the glow, but you’ve revealed how the light illuminates the objects nearby.”
Emily couldn’t help but preen at his praise. “I’ve been painting for a long time.”
“It’s obvious. This class may be a waste of your time. I do provide private lessons as well.” Then he leaned to whisper in her ear, “Perhaps we could meet for coffee and discuss the possibilities.”
“But, I thought you didn’t date your students.” She spoke in a low voice, glancing to see if anyone could hear their conversation.
He raised his eyebrows in feigned innocence. “I only want to discuss your future educational opportunities, but I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
He moved closer to her ear. She could feel his warm breath on her neck. “I only say that so I don’t hurt anyone’s feelings. There’s no policy here against socializing with students. I’ve simply not met a student who captured my interest before.”
Emily blushed as her heart sped up. Asher Denning had turned down every other girl, but he was interested in her. She couldn’t help but thrill at his attention.
“What do you say? Thursday night?”
“I don’t know...”
“I promise I’m not a dodgy chap—totally above board. We’ll just have a friendly chat.”
Thursday night. She was supposed to go to a jazzercise class with Becca. And she’d told Spencer she’d get pizza afterward. She could go with Becca the next Thursday and make up some excuse for Spencer. She felt a little pang of guilt. It’s not like she was doing something wrong. She and Spencer were only friends—they weren’t dating. But she couldn’t tell him about going out with Asher, since she’d declared she wasn’t interested in dating anyone. She’d better not tell Grace either. Anyway, it was merely a chance to discuss her artwork. Ha—it was a chance to ogle Asher Denning and let him stroke her ego a little. She knew she was playing with fire, but she could handle it.
“Okay. But only coffee, right?”
“Yes, well it’s a little place that has coffee and other beverages as well. There’s a great new jazz trio playing on Thursday. I think you’ll love it.” He spoke a little louder. “Yes, that’s great work with the light, Emily. Outstanding!”
“So what was Asher Denning saying to you during class tonight? I saw you turn red.” Grace questioned Emily as they walked together toward the subway station. Her voice was teasing, but insistent.
She was grateful the darkness hid her fresh blush. “He was complimenting me on the way I used light. That’s all.” She felt a little bit guilty over the partial lie. It was true he’d been complimenting her technique. Grace didn’t need to know he’d flirted with her and asked her out as well. Anyway, it was nothing. Just coffee. She wasn’t really hiding anything, was she?
“I have to admit you’re really good. Have you had a lot of lessons?”
She laughed. “No, not at all. But I read a lot of books about it and practiced religiously. I had a lot of finished watercolor paintings that looked like mud, but I kept plugging away. It’s an escape for me.”
“Wish I’d known about that when I was younger. With a bossy big brother and three whiney little sisters, I could have used an escape.”
“But I think you’re pretty good. Haven’t you been painting for a while?”
“Only since last spring, when I took my first class with Denning. But I’ve been practicing a lot, just so he’ll come by and exclaim about how expressive my paintings are.” She chuckled. “I think expressive is code for tries hard but not very talented.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. I think you’ve got talent.”
“Well, I’m not as good as you. You’re amazing! Have you ever tried to sell anything?”
“No way. I’m not that good. And really, I only paint for myself.”
“You must be pretty awesome to get Denning’s attention your first night. Several girls were giving you dirty looks. Better watch out they don’t slip some poison in your water bottle. Especially the way he was cozying up to you, like he wanted to see more than artwork.”
Emily’s cheeks burned furiously. “Grace, he wasn’t—“
“Settle down—I’m kidding. I forget you don’t know me that well yet. Our family teases all the time. But just for curiosity’s sake… Are you and Spencer really friends?”
“Is this question an example of you teasing me again?”
“Oh, no. I really want to know the answer because I’m nosey. So, are you friends? Really?”
“Of course we’re friends.”
“No, I mean are you only friends?”
“We’re only friends. Neither one of us wants to date anyone right now.” That was true, wasn’t it?
“Really? Spencer said he didn’t want to date anyone?”
“That’s what he told me. Why? Is he dating someone else?”
“That’s just it—I can’t figure him out. He’s with girls all the time. But when he’s around the family, he never lets us in on who he’s actually dating. I’m itching to know what he’s really up to. You two seem pretty close, so I thought you might be secretly dating.”
She opened her mouth to deny the statement, but Grace cut her off before she could protest.
“No, it’s okay. I believe you. But you still might be an inside source. I was hoping you could find out who he’s datin
g. I’m pretty sure one girl’s really after him, but I don’t know if the feeling’s mutual.”
“Really? How do you know?”
Grace looked around as if someone walking beside them might be listening. “He forgot his cell phone at the house last night. And during the two hours before he came back for it, he got about ten phone calls from some girl named Becca.” She smiled smugly.
She tried to keep her face neutral. Becca? Why was she surprised? She’d seen how aggressively Becca had pursued Spencer on the hike. He’d said they weren’t dating, and claimed they were only friends from the hiking club. And Becca had been so friendly to her, even calling her Saturday night to ask her to go to Jazzercise this Thursday. Could she have an ulterior motive? Now she thought about it, she remembered Becca asking a lot of questions about how she knew Spencer. Maybe it was a good thing she was cancelling the jazzercise with Becca.
“I know Becca,” she said carefully. “But I didn’t realize they were dating.”
“Honestly, I don’t know for sure, but he’s acting different. He usually talks about a ton of different girls, claiming all of them are friends. But recently, he quit talking about any girls at all.” She arched her eyebrows. “That’s why I know he’s hiding something.”
“Or maybe he isn’t hiding anything. Maybe he got really busy—he told me he didn’t have time to date anyone right now.”
“Yeah, right,” Grace scoffed. “Spencer claiming he doesn’t have time to date? He always has time for girls. I don’t know why he said that to you, but he knows better than to say something like that to me. I’d call him out in a second.” She looked more determined than ever. “I’m gonna figure this out if it kills me.”
“Well, let me know what you find out. I’m curious, too.”
“Truthfully, I was hoping it was you. Why don’t you want to date anyone right now, anyway? You’re finished with school. You should have plenty of time to date.”
