Kate preferred to concentrate on Thanksgiving. What a glorious diversion, with endless details to review with Tony. Should they serve outside, relying on heat lamps and the fireplace if the weather turned chilly? That might be fun, but common sense won out. Why risk a breeze blowing the linens around or sending some of Esther’s good china crashing to the ground?
Finally, that special Thursday dawned. Kate got up early and drove to the clifftop home to stuff the turkey. While she worked, Tony and Brady conducted an earnest discussion of the merits of fresh yams versus canned, and pineapple versus marshmallow topping. Unable to narrow their choices, they checked out recipes on the Internet and made a last-minute trip to the supermarket to buy enough ingredients for two yam dishes.
Thank goodness for ample counter space and duplicate appliances, because, if they’d gotten in her way, Kate would have beaned them with the turkey baster she’d brought from home. Instead, their intent conversation and almost comical distress when they dropped things distracted her from the inconvenient positions dictated by her large abdomen.
With the turkey in the oven and the other dishes in good shape, she collected her yawning son for a nap. On the way out, she admired the decorator’s work, which, in her eagerness to start cooking, she’d barely glanced at earlier. An elaborate cornucopia sprawled across a side table, sprays of rust-and-gold flowers highlighted the entry hall and, on the front door, cute stuffed-animal faces peered from a harvest garland.
The weather cooperated, too, sunny but brisk. En route home, Kate reflected that she couldn’t have wished for a more perfect Thanksgiving.
Over an hour later, she awoke from her nap to feel her entire body tightening. An invisible hand seemed to clamp her bulge, squeezing until she felt like a tube of toothpaste.
No, no, no. Not today.
False labor, Kate assured herself. She’d felt a few random contractions before, although never this strong. Her body must be practicing for the big day. True, babies sometimes came a few weeks early, but Brady had been late, and so had her sister’s two kids.
Feeling no further contractions, she relaxed after a while and put on a loose-weave dress with vertical stripes in autumn hues. Nothing could minimize her bulk, but she loved the festive colors.
Although the guests weren’t scheduled to arrive until three, she and Brady returned at one for the countdown of final preparations. She consulted the chart she’d taped to a cabinet, and dug in.
“This is like a military operation,” remarked Tony, busy peeling potatoes to boil and mash.
“That’s for sure.” Kate opened cans of cranberry sauce, transferred the contents into small bowls and put them in the fridge.
Twice more, her muscles squeezed, but the contractions weren’t cutting closer together as with true labor. Still, they did feel strong.
While she was debating whether to mention them, Irene and Mary Beth put in an early appearance. Junior and Johnnie, who carried toy robots with flashing lights, raced to join Brady in his cave, which he’d discovered ran for quite a distance beneath the built-in window seat.
“We couldn’t let you do all this work alone,” Irene informed her younger daughter.
“Besides, we miss being part of the action,” Mary Beth admitted. “And the boys were driving us crazy.”
“Where’s your friend?” Kate asked her mother. Irene had invited a lady from her knitting class.
“Her niece and nephew asked her to join them at the last minute.” Irene set down her trademark potato-chip-and-onion casserole, still in its insulated sleeve. “I was looking forward to her company.”
Mary Beth was unabashedly opening and closing drawers. “You weren’t kidding about this kitchen. I feel like I died and went to heaven.”
“Does that mean I’m no longer on a par with Lucifer?” Tony asked, checking the temperature on the turkey.
Kate didn’t hear the answer. She had to turn away to hide the strain of another contraction.
Not today. Oh, please, please don’t let Tara come today.
“Turkey’s done. A hundred and eighty-five degrees, right?” Tony went for the potholders.
“It needs to sit for a while before I carve it.” Mary Beth hovered.
“Before who carves it?”
“Oh, you’re volunteering? Super.”
For the next hour, the pair of them fussed at each other cheerfully. Potatoes were boiled and mashed, gravy thickened, brown sugar melted on the yams, and Tony, under Mary Beth’s supervision, carved the bird with precision.
Kate kept a low profile. She had one more contraction, but amid all the bustle, no one noticed, not even her mother.
On the dot of three o’clock, the chimes rang out musically. In barreled Leo with four pies and what looked like a lifetime supply of whipped cream. A few minutes later, Eve and Hilda appeared, laden with a corn soufflé and baked acorn squash redolent of cinnamon.
“Hilda! I’m so glad to see you,” Irene greeted the woman. To the others she said, “Hilda was the real estate agent who sold my house. I’ve been concerned about her.”
“That was shortly after my husband died,” Hilda explained. “Irene, have you met Eve? She used to be my foster daughter. Now she’s carrying my foster granddaughter, if there is such a word.”
“If there’s not, there should be,” Irene said.
Leo cast a dubious glance from Eve’s burgeoning shape to Mary Beth’s maternity T-shirt. “Excuse me, how many pregnant women are here?”
“Three,” Kate told him.
Leo surveyed the group gathering in the kitchen. “Man, I’m glad I didn’t bring a date. It might be catching.”
Tony clapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry, little bro. I should have explained the facts of life. After dinner, I’ll clue you in.”
Everyone laughed except the kids, who were still playing in the storage space. Kate could hear them conducting a mock battle, with Junior giving commands.
The adults carried platter after platter to the dining table. No one could possibly eat that much food, Kate mused.
Her muscles contracted. Not again!
Frantically, she tried to remember what Tina had said about eating and drinking during labor. It was safe in small amounts, but best not to overindulge in case an operation became necessary.
Much as she’d love to believe this would pass, the contractions were coming with greater frequency, about twenty minutes apart. She didn’t need to go to the hospital until they reached five minutes, and that might not be for hours.
After the blessing, serving spoons clattered and platters journeyed from hand to hand. The initial confusion subsided once Leo, playing traffic cop, declared that everything be passed clockwise.
Kate put a small slice of meat on her plate. “Is something wrong?” Irene inquired beside her.
Before answering, she glanced around the table. Tony and Leo were debating the comparative merits of the two yam dishes, Mary Beth was dabbing gravy off Johnnie’s shirt, and everyone else seemed busy serving or eating.
“I’ve had a few contractions,” Kate murmured. “Rotten timing.”
“Might be false labor.”
“Doubtful, but it’s early. Don’t tell anyone.”
Her mom nodded. Clearly, she agreed about not spoiling the occasion.
Kate took enough food to avoid further attention. Despite the fabulous scents, though, she didn’t have much of an appetite.
Not because of the labor. But because this precious, happy time of her life was ending much too soon.
AFTER DINNER, TONY INSISTED on handling the necessary cleanup, with Leo’s help. He shooed most of the group upstairs to inspect the nursery. The decorator’s finishing touches included a surveillance camera disguised in a magical forest mural. Kate, too weary for the steps, retired to the family room to keep an eye on the boys, who’d taken over the video game system.
“Never saw this side of you before,” Leo said as they divided the food into care packages for their guests
.
“Which side?” Tony wondered how much turkey Eve and Hilda would eat. Surely not as much as the Ellroy family, with two growing boys and a dad.
“You’re a different person around Kate.” His brother stuffed the last spoonful of corn soufflé into his mouth.
“You like her?”
“What’s not to like?” Leo responded. “Now, Esther was a piece of work.”
“Meaning what?” He had no illusions about the pair being friendly, but he’d never noted any antagonism.
“At your wedding reception, she told everyone I was a detective. Apparently patrolman isn’t snazzy enough for her.”
That seemed unfair. “Probably a mistake.”
“Mind-like-a-steel-trap Esther? Unlikely.”
On the point of defending her, Tony subsided. Esther was a snob. He’d enjoyed celebrating this holiday without her and her aristocratic parents. “Well, she’s gone now.”
“Didn’t take you long to replace her.”
“Excuse me?” He stopped tucking rolls into plastic bags.
“You and Kate have a thing going, right?”
“Only the baby,” Tony said. “And once Tara’s born…” Suddenly, he wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence.
Leo didn’t give him a chance, anyway. “Your daughter’s name is Tara?”
Of course. He hadn’t mentioned it. “You have a problem with that?”
“It surprises me, that’s all.”
They never talked about their sister, Tony realized, but then, they hadn’t talked about much of anything beyond the superficial in years. Hadn’t celebrated a Christmas or Thanksgiving together, either. He’d attributed that to Leo’s shift schedule, but now he supposed it had something to do with his brother’s aversion to Esther. “The name felt right.”
“Good. It’s time you got past that.” Leo carted a stack of dishes to the sink. “You want me to load the dishwasher?”
“Rinse them and leave them. My cleaning crew’s coming in tomorrow.” There’d been something else he meant to say, before his brother’s question about the baby’s name. Now, what had they been discussing?
Before he could finish probing the recesses of his brain, his guests trooped in exclaiming over the nursery. “I admire your decorating,” Mary Beth told him. “Wish I had a nursery like that. Or, better yet, an extra bedroom. I’m still debating where to put the baby. I’m afraid if I squeeze two boys into the same room, I’ll start World War III.”
From the den boomed simulated gunfire. “Sounds like you’re too late,” Hilda said dryly.
“Install bunk beds and tell them they’re living in barracks,” Leo advised. “Dress them in camouflage, and if they give you a hard time, make them swab out the latrine.”
“I love it!” Mary Beth declared. “Hey, even if Tony wants nothing further to do with us, you’re welcome at our house anytime, Leo.”
“Thanks.”
Now Tony remembered what he’d been thinking earlier. After these last few weeks, seeing how smoothly the families blended today, he no longer considered it necessary for him and Kate to avoid each other entirely. He’d draw up a codicil to the surrogacy agreement, allowing her to be involved at some level, perhaps even nurse the baby. Subject to his retaining full custody, of course.
She ought to be thrilled at the idea. He certainly was.
“Where’s Kate?” her mother asked.
“In the den.” Tony nodded in that direction. “I think she’s resting.”
“Is she feeling okay?”
“Tired.” He shouldn’t have left her unattended so long. Perhaps later he could give her a massage, as they’d learned to do in class.
“I’m not leaving this place without seeing the view,” Eve announced. “I mean, more than that.” She waved toward the sunroom’s bay window, which provided a glimpse of the backyard and, beyond, a sliver of blue water.
“Fresh air—great idea,” Tony said. “I’ll switch on the heat lamps and the gas log in the fireplace. Did the boys bring swimsuits?”
“You bet,” Mary Beth said. “They can’t swim this soon after eating, but I hear tell you have a spa.”
“Also a cool collection of miniature sailboats,” Tony advised. “We’ll leave off the water jets so they can play.”
Within minutes, the boys had been rousted and sent to change, while Kate rejoined the group. “You okay?” Tony asked.
“Much better. Tons of energy.” She headed into the kitchen before he could stop her. “I’ll put on coffee. Leo’s working tonight, so he’ll need some, and I’ll fix a pot of decaf, too. We can eat our pie outside.”
Everyone scrambled to help slice the pies, add whipped cream and carry plates and silverware outside. Within minutes, the stone hearth glowed through the gathering dusk. The boys, more interested in the boats than in dessert, plopped into the spa, while the adults lounged about the deck, enjoying the view of harbor lights and the soothing warmth of heat lamps against the cool evening.
Seated between Hilda and Irene, Leo joked with the two older women. Mary Beth gave Eve practical nursery advice—“You can put a pad on top of the washer-dryer and save the cost of a changing table”—while, next to Tony, Kate stretched out beneath a woven throw.
The murmur of conversation rippled over Tony, enveloping him with a sense of deep satisfaction. This was how he’d imagined this place when he and Esther bought it, as a gathering spot for friends. He’d rather be here right now, with these people, than anywhere in the world.
Beside him, Kate stirred. “Tony?”
He reached for her hand. “Sorry for neglecting you. Feeling better?”
“Well, I hate to bring it up, but…”
The French doors from the house scraped open. Who was left inside? he wondered as he turned.
In the doorway, a queenly figure in a smart, swirling wool dress surveyed the peaceful scene. “Sorry I’m late,” declared the woman who ought to be in Washington. “Leo! Great to see you. Is everyone having a wonderful time? Glad we’re finally making some use of that fireplace.”
“Esther.” Tony searched for words to smooth over this unwelcome intrusion and remove his wife without shattering the holiday mood. An impossible task, unfortunately. No one moved Esther anywhere she didn’t want to go.
Her glittering eyes skimmed over Mary Beth and Eve, whose maternity tops swelled in the breeze, and fixed on his hand folded over Kate’s. “Isn’t this an explosion of fertility? How lovely of you to stop by, Mrs. Evans. I hope you’re taking good care of my daughter.”
Everyone gaped at her. Thanksgiving had just come crashing to a halt.
And much as Tony longed to toss his wife out on her hard, flat butt, he had to grit his teeth and see this through.
Chapter Fifteen
For about ten seconds, Kate tried to hope that Esther was serious about reclaiming the roles of wife and mother that she’d so heedlessly discarded.
No use. She despised the woman, and the contraction racking her midsection did nothing to ease her annoyance. Yet this was Tony’s wife. He and only he had the right to deal with her.
Despite Esther’s pretense of acting as hostess, none of the adults missed her hostility. Regretfully, they took their leave. The boys toweled off, vocal in their disappointment until Leo bequeathed them each an extra-large portion of pecan and apple pie to take home. Hilda and Mary Beth tucked their care packages into grocery sacks, while Leo set off with two plates of food. One to share with his patrol partner, Kate assumed, but perhaps he planned on eating them both.
Irene took Kate aside. “Are you going to tell him?” she asked.
They both knew that, tonight of all nights, Tony ought to be with Kate. He’d trained as her coach, and she needed his support. But with the contractions still fifteen minutes apart, there was no urgency.
“We can call him later,” Kate told her mother. “Plenty of time. Let him deal with this situation now.”
While Tony bid his other guests a strained farewel
l, Kate quietly arranged for her sister to take all three boys home with her. Mary Beth’s obvious annoyance with Esther only increased after she learned Kate was in labor, but she held her tongue.
Any last-minute exchange with Tony, even to thank him for hosting the celebration, had to take place under Esther’s calculating gaze. How possessive she acted, linking her arm through his and peering down haughtily at “the surrogate.” Her arrogance reinforced Kate’s decision not to tell her what was happening, because Esther might try to impose her unwelcome presence in the delivery room despite her total lack of preparation.
Perhaps it would serve her right to be present during labor. At one point during Brady’s birth, Kate had become so irritable that she’d nearly slapped Quinn. Under the circumstances, no one could blame her if she took a swing at Esther.
Grimly, she pushed aside the idea. The woman was still married to Tony. But the abrupt possibility that Tara might be whisked across the country to a place where Kate would never so much as catch a glimpse of her nearly broke her heart.
Could Esther really still win back her husband? Hard to imagine. Yet Tony had said that, at some level, he didn’t feel their marriage was over.
At the door, ignoring his clinging wife, Tony put a hand on Kate’s arm. “You forgot your leftovers.”
That hadn’t been an accident. “I’m stuffed.”
“It’s not as if we aren’t paying her enough to buy food,” Esther sniped, no doubt emboldened by the fact that everyone else had left.
Tony jerked his arm loose from his wife’s grasp. “That’s incredibly rude, Esther,” he snapped. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Kate.
She didn’t object when he returned with several containers of food. She just hoped he hadn’t noticed Brady’s early departure, and that Irene was lingering outside near Kate’s car.
“See you later,” she said, accepting the plates and hurrying off before another contraction could give away the game. As for the food, perhaps some anxious dad-to-be at the hospital would enjoy a holiday meal.
Tony’s torn expression remained burned in her mind. Surely he’d deal with his wife quickly. Because Kate didn’t know how long she could hold out.
His Hired Baby Page 14
