Page 26

I left as Rachel, Tim, and Meg pushed through the saloon doors.

Outside, I hurried up King Street and found my way to the city offices.

In the municipal building, sign after sign led me finally to the permit office, where I ended up standing in front of a glass window staring at a woman with graying hair and half glasses.

She glanced up at me. She clearly was not happy I’d skated in at closing. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to file a request for an electrical inspection. Grant Fraser was at my shop today doing a rough-in inspection.”

She glanced at the clock and frowned. “You can file online.”

I leaned a little closer to the glass. “I kind of like that personal touch.”

“Right.” She pushed papers toward me. “Fill these out and return them with the appropriate fee.”

I scrambled for a pen in my purse. “I can fill them out now.”

“We’re closing in thirty seconds.” The last two words carried extra weight. I stopped digging. “Right. But I can drop them off in the morning.”

She offered a curt nod as she reached for her purse. “We open at eight. Or you can file them online.”

“Right. Thank you.” I did everything else online. Why not this?

A whisper of a smile tugged at the edges of her mouth as she glanced at my Union Street Bakery T-shirt. “I like that bakery. Really good chocolate chip cookies.”

“You should come by next Saturday. We’re having our grand reopening and a two-for-one sale. And we’re having a drawing. Winner gets a free birthday cake.”

“I love cake.” She winked. “As soon as that application comes in, I’ll send it through.”

Ah, the allure of fat and sugar. It worked wonders. “You’re wonderful.” On a high note, I knew the time had come to make my retreat while she remembered me in a good way.

I hustled up King and toward the doctor’s office.

I arrived after five and signed in. The room was filled with a half dozen women who appeared to be in varying degrees of pregnancy.

The ones with the roundest bellies shifted in their seats as if no angle was comfortable.

Several had swollen ankles, and one had brown blotches on her face.

Pregnancy mask. Rachel had had the mask with the twins.

The receptionist took my insurance card and gave me a clipboard full of forms to fill out.

I retreated to a corner seat away from the pregnant women and filled out the medical form.

I’d grown accustomed to not being able to fill out the entire form.

My own medical history I could fill in, but family history had always been a big question mark.

I did have some information from Terry, allowing me to fill in a little more than I ever had before. History of cancer: yes . Heart disease: no . Hypertension: no . However, father’s side remained a blank.

Annoyance poked me in the back. Why hadn’t Terry found out more about the man who’d made me? I wasn’t looking for Father of the Year. Any detail would have been appreciated.

After turning in the forms, I sat and searched the magazines on the coffee table.

They all had to do with babies and parenting.

Not even a Newsweek . I longed for any distraction.

I flexed my fingers and drummed them on the chair’s arm before settling them in my lap.

If Gordon and I were in this together, he would have seen I was nervous and made some quip to make me feel better. But we weren’t in this together.

“Daisy McCrae,” called a nurse from a side door.

I grabbed my purse. Smiling, I tried to move as if I were cool with all this, but I was scared stiff. How the hell did I land in this alternate world?

In an exam room the nurse, a tall, thick woman with blond hair, took my blood pressure and pricked my finger for a blood test. “My records tell me you’re about nineteen weeks pregnant.”

“Correct.”

She arched a dark brow as she collected the blood. “And you’ve not seen a doctor yet?”

Feeling a little judged, I sat straighter. “I put the pieces together days ago.”

The nurse glanced up at me. She didn’t have to say a word to put me on the defensive.

“Yeah, I know. I’m old enough to know better, but I’ve had so many life changes recently this detail slipped past me.”

“Periods?”

“A light one a couple of months ago.”

“Light erratic periods usual for you?”

“Yes. And you toss in stress of a job change and a move and it gets worse.”

“Okay. Go ahead and change into the paper gown, and Dr. Westlake will be right in.”

“Thanks.”

Dumping my purse in a chair, I stripped and put on the gown. Seconds later there was a knock on the door, and I said, “Come in.”

A woman in a white lab coat appeared, smiling.

Her name tag read Dr. Westlake . In her fifties, she wore graying hair pulled back in a ponytail.

The salt and pepper might have aged her some, but it contrasted well with olive skin and set off her dark brown eyes.

Silver star earrings dangled from her ears.

“Daisy McCrae?” she said, extending her hand.

Clutching the front of my gown, I leaned forward and extended mine. “Thanks for making time for me, Dr. Westlake.”

“I like your sister Rachel. She and those girls of hers gave us a run for our money. How are they?”

“Five years old and at the beach with my parents. I’m betting the girls wear my folks out by tomorrow.”

Chuckling, the doctor shook her head. “I don’t think I could chase a couple of five-year-olds. God bless them for attempting the vacation.” She glanced at my chart. “So, you had a positive pregnancy test at the clinic?”

“I did.”

“How many weeks?”

“Nineteen. I know the day and about the hour.”

A smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. “Well, that will make picking a due date easy. Let me get my nurse, and I’ll examine you.”

The doctor vanished. I glanced at a picture on the wall taken of Dr. Westlake somewhere in a far-off mountainous country.

A decade younger, she stood with two men who looked like guides.

I’d never been much for exotic travel. I’d always been about work, which now was a good thing because work was what faced me for the next two decades.

The doctor reappeared with the blond nurse, who stood chart in hand by the door.

Dr. Westlake tugged on rubber gloves. “Why don’t you lie back and let me examine you?”

I lay back, slipped my feet into the stirrups, and stared at the tiled ceiling. A small part of me hoped the doctor would tell me it was all a huge mistake, and another growing part trusted she would tell me the kid was fine and doing well.

Dr. Westlake’s exam was brief. She pulled her gloves off before helping me sit up. She thanked the nurse, who quietly left. “Yes, you’re very pregnant. Nineteen weeks is right on the money.”

“It’s really, really official.”

“Yes.”

For a second my thoughts went out of focus. I had the sense of falling while someone from below screamed the net had broken. “I’m guessing a mid-December bundle.”

A smile didn’t dilute a direct and searching gaze as she helped me sit up. “That’s right. How are you feeling?”

“Sick to my stomach. Isn’t the sickness part supposed to come earlier in the pregnancy?”

“It can come at any time.”

“That’s not how it happens in the movies. And aren’t I supposed to be glowing? And what’s with my butt getting bigger? The baby’s in my stomach.”

Laughing, she pulled a prescription pad from her coat pocket. “Pregnancy is different for everyone. I had not one problem during my first pregnancy, and I had gestational diabetes with my second. It changes our bodies in many unique ways. And each pregnancy is different.”

“I’m not a fan of unique. I like to plan. I like my old body, which was nine pounds lighter and could fit into pencil skirts.”

She raised a brow. “Is this baby planned?”

Hysterical laughter bubbled. “Not even close.”

“Do we need to talk?”

“About options?” A cold chill slithered along my spine. “There’s that nice word again. The doctor at the clinic mentioned it. No. The kid stays.” The strength behind my words had me sighing. “What’s next?”

She scribbled on the pad. “You’re to get these prenatal vitamins filled, and I want you back here in four weeks for your next checkup.” I took the paper, not bothering to glance at it as I folded it. Shit.

My head spun. My body numbed. What was I going to do? “Super.”

Her expression softened. “It’s going to be okay, Daisy. Rachel’s a great mom, and she’ll show you the ropes.”

“I know. Rachel is great. I know. This is such a game changer.”

“My game changer was my second child, the one that gave me the diabetes. She came when I was forty-three. Threw me for one hell of a loop. She’s seven now. And I can’t imagine life without her.”

“I don’t have a clue about mothering.” I felt as if I were sharing a deep dark secret. “Not. A. Clue. I never dreamed about this when I was younger. I didn’t carry around baby dolls or make up names for my one-day kids.”

“I never did, either, and somehow I’m managing to raise a seventeen-year-old and a seven-year-old.” She grinned. “And so far, they’re doing pretty well.”

As she studied me, her head cocked. “What’s bothering you?”

“I know the kid will be fine. Healthy, I mean. My birth mother raised me until I was three. And from all accounts I was healthy as a horse.”

“But.”

This part still stung to say out loud. “She bailed on me.”

Frowning, she nodded. “I remember the stories in the newspapers.”

“Abandoned Bakeshop Baby.” Might as well cut to the chase so she could stop fumbling through her memory.

Nodding, she touched her finger to the side of her nose. “There was a big search for your birth mother.”

The details churned up my worries. “I don’t want to bail on my kid.”

Her brows drew together. “You won’t.”

I held my breath tight in my chest. “How do you know for certain?”

“Maybe because you’re so worried about it, and because Rachel told me when you returned home it was akin to the cavalry arriving.”

“I don’t feel like the cavalry.”