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R ebecca bought a two-year-old black Audi in Portland the next morning.

It wouldn’t stand out and would get her where she wanted to go.

An SUV that was roomy and not too big, but most importantly, it was a very safe car.

Her father had offered to go with her, but she wanted to do this on her own.

She bought the car without anyone’s aid.

There was something she enjoyed about negotiation, especially when it came to things like cars.

The main thing was, she didn’t care. If they couldn’t come to an agreement, she didn’t mind walking away.

Thankfully, they wanted to sell it to her at a price she wanted.

Despite the comfort she had once gotten from knowing Mitch was going to be her partner in life, she was slowly digesting the reality that he wasn’t going to be there. She was going to raise their child, and she was going to do it on her own.

Her parents had almost an entire floor to themselves at The Stark Hotel in Portland.

She knew her mother wanted a house, but her father enjoyed this kind of urban living.

Besides, he always countered that they had the house in New York and the beach house.

Her mother wanted something with grass and rose bushes, and the rooftop garden at The Stark didn’t do it for her.

Rebecca would have to start thinking where she wanted to live.

Rebecca pulled the Audi into the valet area of the hotel.

“Would you like us to park it, Miss Stark?” they asked. She could see their eager, wide eyes to try the new car. She hated having to valet park.

She turned and said, “It is actually Mrs. Wilder.”

The valet almost turned himself inside out with embarrassment, but she held up her hand and said, “It is okay, no worries. I will be leaving in an hour. Please keep it close, like right over there.”

Ten minutes later, she was piling her luggage by the front door of her parents’ foyer.

Included in the mix were Mitch’s boxes. They had arrived from London quickly, and she wanted to take some time to go through them.

The baby would want mementos of their father, and she was hoping for some extra photos she could enjoy and, no doubt, cry over.

There were some things she wanted from where her New York apartment had been set up, but she figured she could ask her mother later. It was too soon to see all her things and remember how she and Mitch had spent a magical week in her New York apartment.

Her father rushed to help her with a horrified look on his face.

“Rebecca, please be careful with yourself.”

“I’m fine, Father.”

“Please be reasonable. Who is going to help you unload when you get to the house? Let one of us follow you down there and get you settled in.”

“Thank you, but none of the luggage is over thirty pounds. I was very careful when packing.”

Her mother appeared from out of nowhere. “Garrison, I’ve got this.”

Rebecca did a double take at her mother, who was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater set in turquoise blue.

Victoria said, “I’m following you down. I’ll get you unpacked, make sure the house is fine, and then drive back to Portland.

I probably won’t stay an hour. Take it or leave it.

I changed the alarm code remotely this morning. You can’t get in without me.”

Her mother played dirty, and she didn’t mess around. Victoria Whitlow Stark just took action. Although it annoyed the hell out of Rebecca at times, today she respected it.

She also knew when she was licked. And she knew this was important to her mother. “Okay,” she said. “Pack a bag so you can spend the night.”

“Already in the trunk of STARK 7. I like that hotel Mercedes, number 7. It has a little extra something.”

“Am I that predictable?” Rebecca asked, ignoring her mother’s thoughts on the car. “How long has your bag been in the trunk?”

“Oh, only about an hour. You are just so much like me.”

“Fine, but I want to stop at Luna Sea for fish tacos in Seal Rock.”

“I think that sounds great,” her mother agreed.

“There are a few items I’d like from my New York apartment. Would you mind getting them for me? I really don’t want to see everything. They have too many memories.”

“I understand. I don’t mind getting them for you.”

Rebecca gave her a list of items, from the red bed sheets to clothing to books.

They arrived in the early afternoon at the beach house Rebecca’s parents purchased while she was in college.

Her mother, who had excellent taste, had gone a bit crazy hiring an interior decorator from San Francisco, with whom she spent weeks collaborating.

They decided the inside should only be decorated in the colors of the beach and ocean, which were sand, mauve, and aqua.

The result was a stunning yet calming interior.

Rebecca had spent two weeks there every summer for the last five years with her parents and sometimes her brother, if he wasn’t visiting some far corner of the world.

Now that she was back in the United States, in a world that didn’t contain Mitch, the beach house was an oasis by default, as she had never been there with him.

And the beach house felt like home. Well, at least until she could figure out where she wanted to raise her child. It would be a girl, she thought. It felt like a little girl, with Mitch’s dimples and her green eyes.

Victoria wouldn’t let her carry anything inside.

“Mom, I’m not handicapped.”

“No, but you are pregnant, and I want you to give that baby the best chance possible. You are my daughter, and I loved Mitch like a son, so this baby, my first grandchild, is very important to me. That means I will do the heavy lifting. Absolutely do not think of arguing with me, Rebecca Alexandra Stark.”

Rebecca did as she was told. If her mother knew about the first pregnancy she’d had, she would have never let her come to the beach.

Rebecca sat on one of the plush, overstuffed, sand-colored couches with light aqua silk pillows and watched her mother unload the Audi and then the Mercedes.

In the end, Rebecca hadn’t packed light.

The important contents from Mitch’s condo and what she asked her mother to pack from her New York apartment had boiled down to about ten boxes.

“Which room would you like to be your bedroom?” her mother asked.

“The bedroom I always use upstairs?”

“That is probably alright for the first few months, but if you stay here into your second trimester, you will not want stairs. I’d go for the first-floor master if I were you.

Your father and I redid all the bathrooms two years ago, but there is something about that shower.

It is heavenly. And the master has a lovely view down the beach. ”

“But don’t you want to stay there tonight?” Rebecca asked.

“Darling, I’m your guest tonight. There are four other bedrooms for me to settle into.

I might take the bedroom across the hall on the first level or your bedroom on the second.

They are all beautiful because I decorated them.

I’d prefer not to think about you running up and down the stairs. One slip could be devastating.”

“Okay, the main floor for me,” Rebecca agreed.

“Have you been to the doctor yet?” her mother asked.

“No, there wasn’t time in London, and I’ve only been back in the country for two days. Heck, I’m still dealing with jet lag. I thought I’d ask around here and see who people suggest. I mean, there have to be women having babies in this area.”

“You might have to go to Florence or Newport. Maybe you will want to have the baby in Portland,” her mother suggested. “I’m sure we could find the best for you.”

“I’m only about four or five weeks along, if that far. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Take your time,” her mother said.

Rebecca ended up driving to Newport to have her first obstetrician appointment the following week.

Dr. Bates was a no-nonsense man, with no bedside manner that Rebecca could find. She didn’t care. She just wanted the best care for her baby.

“Mrs. Wilder, does the father want to be part of the birth process?” he asked once she’d had her exam, was dressed, and sitting in his office.

“My husband, Mitch, was killed a few weeks ago in Iraq. He worked for a security company and was delivering helicopters to a military contractor. His helicopter was shot down with no survivors.”

It was the most tender spot in all of this. Was there anything left of Mitch to send home? Alex and her parents had encouraged her to do a memorial service to say goodbye. But she hadn’t come close to even thinking about it. Was it denial? No, it was self-preservation.

“Mrs. Wilder, I’m so sorry,” the man said, breaking the cool reserve she had noticed over the last half hour.

“Thank you. Now you understand why this baby is so important to me. The baby is the last part of my husband that I have. Help me to have a healthy baby, please.” She didn’t realize she was crying until he handed her a tissue from a box on his desk.

Why had she thought he was cold? Now, she saw the caring in his eyes.

“We have no reason to believe you will have anything but a successful pregnancy, but we want to be careful. Stress isn’t good.

We have a lot of literature we can give you on meditation.

And we will want you to eat a healthy diet.

We will monitor you closely, and all of those things should help to improve your chances of delivering a healthy, happy baby. ”

“How about the fact I’ve had an ectopic pregnancy in the past?”

“I read that in your chart, but I want to have you tell me about it.”

She did.

“The chances of having a second ectopic pregnancy if you’ve had one before are greater, but the risk, overall, is still very small. We will schedule an ultrasound just to be on the safe side.”

“When?” Rebecca asked.

“Due to the nature of the situation, let’s get you in as soon as possible. I don’t want you to stress over it.”

“Thank you,” Rebecca said.