Page 11 of Conail (Members From Money Season 2, #150)

"Do you want to give up?" Madeline asked the question quietly as she turned to look at her friend.

Summer was passing and the leaves of the trees were changing.

The brutal heat was giving way to chills and soggy weather.

But even through that, the humidity could be felt. There was a murmur of storms ahead.

"It's been only two months," Yasmine pointed out.

Half of the money had already been deposited into her account and was spent.

The greenhouse was under construction and two local men had been hired to help till the soil.

Repairs were being done on the roof, in case the report and rumors were true about the storm.

The doctor and his nurse had been to the farmhouse four times already to check on the status.

They had left this morning without saying a word.

She had been examined thoroughly with the assurance that nothing was hindering her from getting pregnant. Yet, she wasn't.

"And you're exhausted," her friend pointed out.

They were inside Yasmine's room where her mother had brought up a tray of hot chocolate and slices of pecan pie.

"Mama looks happier and daddy—well, you never know what that man is thinking. And you should see the look on Colin's face. He loves playing boss. He's in his element."

"And in the meantime, you're worried that if you don't conceive, it will all be over."

Picking up her cup, she cradled it between her hands. "No. We get to keep the half we already received."

"But that's not enough. You need the other half to finish what's started.

" Maddy rose and went to the window. She had a vested interest in all of it.

Not because she had signed on as their lawyer, but the family meant the world to her.

Especially Colin. He was warming up to her, or at least she would like to think so.

She wanted so much more. She was longing to feel his arms around her, his body against hers, but she was being patient.

"The third time is the charm."

Madeline turned to look at her. "Eleanor is a constant visitor. I like her. For someone of her station in life, she does not put on airs."

"She's all right. And she keeps giving me reassurances. But I can see she desperately wants a positive result."

Maddy turned back to the window and felt her heart turning over inside her chest. The sun was just going down and there he was, manning the brand-new tractor that had been part of the agreement. She could clearly see him and felt her skin going hot at how handsome and manly he looked.

She was so absorbed in the scene below her—she never noticed that Yasmine had left the bed and had come up to stand next to her.

"You could always go out and talk to him."

"Oh!" Jumping slightly, she placed a hand over her heart.

Yasmine's soft smile brought a fleeting comfort to Madeline's troubled mind. The two women stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken emotions and the weight of the future they were trying to secure.

Madeline watched as Colin maneuvered the tractor with precision, his muscles flexing under the strain. She admired his determination and the silent strength he exuded. It was moments like these that made her feel hopeful, despite the uncertainty that clouded their efforts.

"He's really something, isn't he?" Yasmine's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried a sense of pride and admiration.

Madeline nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene outside. "Yes, he is. I just hope we can make all of this work. For him, for you, for everyone."

Yasmine placed a gentle hand on Madeline's shoulder, offering silent support. "We will," she assured her friend. "We have to believe that everything will fall into place. Sometimes, faith is all we need."

A slight breeze rustled the leaves outside, hinting at the approaching storm.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the landscape, Madeline felt a renewed sense of determination.

Together, they would face whatever challenges came their way, and she knew she had the strength to persevere.

Madeline took a deep breath, releasing her worries into the evening air. "Maybe you're right," she said, turning towards Yasmine. "Maybe we just need to keep believing and pushing forward."

Yasmine nodded. "And who knows? Perhaps the third time really is the charm."

*****

"Mother, what's the emergency?" There was more than a hint of impatience in his voice as he came down the stairs, his attention on the bow tie he had been trying to get right for the past five minutes.

Blasted annoying necessity. It was a black-tie event, and he had promised Margo to be her date.

All he wanted to do was work on the contract that had been sent his way by the lawyers.

Gliding forward, Eleanor brushed his hands aside and quickly and competently tied the bow. "There."

He rewarded her with a slight smile. "Now what's this about?" He glanced at his watch and wished more than ever that he had not promised to accompany the actress to the premiere. He was running late.

"Yasmine's pregnant."

He shot her a distracted look as he went to get his overcoat from the hallway closet.

"Who?"

Tamping down the frustration, Eleanor followed him down the hallway as he shrugged into the jacket. "Your surrogate."

That gave him pause and for a second, he had no idea how to feel. He had never met the woman and that was what he had specifically told Errol. He had, however, received reports about the failure of the process, which he had barely glanced at and tossed aside. "I see."

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"Why don't we wait to see if the pregnancy will last the full-term before we break out the champagne?" he suggested dryly. "This is just the initial stage and anything can happen."

She followed him as he made his way to the heavy oak doors.

"She's going to need our support."

Grabbing his keys from the foyer table, he turned to look at her. "I'm assuming we already deposited a sum of money into her account."

"Darling, she's carrying your baby."

"It's not a baby, yet is it?" He broke off a sigh at the look on her face. "Mother, I cannot share your enthusiasm, and I would like to advise that you be careful how excited you get. Anything can go wrong."

She followed him outside. As soon as she heard the news from the doctor, she had come straight here to let him know. And could not help but feel let down at his noncommittal response. Not that she did not understand. He had been burned before and was playing it cool.

"I have every confidence that this will turn out to be a wonderful thing." She touched his arm briefly as they made their way to the parking lot. "You might want to limit your social appearances with the women you've been seeing."

His mouth tightened, his expression turning ominous. "That's none of your business. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm running late."

But he could not shake the conversation or the look on his mother's face.

Nor could he stop the horrible memories from resurfacing.

The dazzle of lights, the flash of cameras as they walked the red carpet was more annoying than entertaining and at some point, he felt like growling to the paparazzi that came rushing towards them with shouted questions.

"Darling, you look like you're about to go to war," Margo whispered in an undertone.

"I'm about to start using my fists if another of those bloody things are pushed into my face," he growled. "And I'm ready to leave."

Without a word, Margo followed him, realizing that he was in a bit of a mood.

"Why did you come if you didn't want to?" she demanded as soon as they were in the limo, the glass shut to give them some privacy.

Loosening the tie, he tugged it off and unbuttoned the two top buttons.

Sighing in relief, he stretched his legs and made himself comfortable.

For the first time since he boarded his plane, he felt himself relaxing.

He had decided to leave from here to his club and would spend the weekend there.

Margo was going to be very disappointed that he wasn't going to end up in her bed.

"I was doing you a favor."

Her coral painted lips pouted. "You did me no favor when you told that photographer to shove his camera into any orifice he prefers. Darling, your bad mood is going to be showcased on camera all over the world."

He relented a little, recognizing her distress. She certainly did not deserve his grouchy mood and had nothing to do with it. And he was the one who had agreed to accompany her. He could have said no.

"I apologize," he said abruptly. Scooting forward, he touched the button, and the cabinet popped out. Plucking the iced bottle of champagne, he worked the cork out and poured the expensive bubbly into two glasses, handing her one.

"To your award." He clinked his glass to hers and settled back to drink and forget. "The driver will drop you off at your place."

Blue eyes blinked in confusion. "Drop me off? You're not staying?"

"No." He was prepared for the theatrics but not looking forward to it. "I have someplace else to be."

"You really are a bastard, aren't you?" she asked bitterly. Tossing back her honey blonde hair, she glared at him. "Do you know how many men I could have invited?"

"Quite a few, I would imagine."

"Yes," she spat. "And I chose you."

"I'm flattered."