Page 42

Finding Jenna’s baby and her lover had to take a back seat as we really rolled into high gear with reassembling the kitchen and finalizing the cellar wine room. I followed up on my liquor license and found it might be weeks before we could sell wine, but at least it was in the pipeline.

Margaret’s dig was delayed a day or two, so she’d remained at the bakery, and my new workers, Meg and Tim, showed up right on time. Tim was grinning, and though Meg had a smile on her face, I sensed worry as they came into the shop and inspected the setup.

“Hi, Meg,” I said.

Rachel grinned. “The cavalry has arrived.”

The welcome seemed to allay Meg’s tension. Her smile widened. She’d been worried the job might not come through. The kid was used to disappointment, which made me more determined to make all this work so we could afford to keep them.

While Rachel schooled Meg on the finer points of mixing dough, Tim sat on a stool and watched.

He seemed content to wait until a job was handed to him.

When Jean Paul asked if he could help move a piece of equipment, I had my doubts.

But Tim stood right up, grin broadening, and hurried to help Jean Paul.

The kid was strong as an ox and quickly proved to be a real help.

Several times he helped Jean Paul move equipment that would have been impossible otherwise.

By the end of Meg and Tim’s first day, the kitchen had been fully restored, the basement was cleaned, and Jean Paul had begun to frame off a corner of the basement for another office for me.

Though I didn’t love the idea of working in a basement, I really didn’t like the idea of working in my apartment.

That night when I crawled upstairs to my room, exhausted, Jenna was not far behind me, dogging me up the stairs, tapping me on my shoulder, and reminding me that I’d said I’d find her baby and lover.

Find him. Find him.

I flopped on my bed and lay back against the pillow. “I know what I said, Jenna. And I’ll find your men. But right now, I can barely see straight.”

The energy in the room shifted, and some of the tension melted way. I wasn’t sure if Jenna was chilling or I was too tired to care.

My eyes closed as soon my head hit the pillow, and I was swept up into darkness.

Sleep came so hard and fast I didn’t dream.

Blissful blackness washed over me like a wave, which I gladly rode.

A year ago, I’d have fought the wave but now understood the kid needed it as much as I did.

Somewhere along the way I’d stopped being number one in my life.

The kid had nudged to the front of the line.

How many times had I seen Rachel put herself second to the girls?

I’d thought she was nuts. Now, not so much.

When I woke, the room was dark, save for the slash of moonlight cutting the room in half. Drool trickled from my mouth, and I swiped it away as embarrassment had me glancing around the darkness. I half expected to see Margaret staring at me, laughing. But she was nowhere in sight. I was alone.

Gordon had once said he liked watching me sleep. He liked that I looked so relaxed and didn’t have a white-knuckle grip on life twenty-four seven.

“Shit, I don’t have a tight grip on life right now, Gordo. I’m an out-of-control mess.”

I swiped my hand over my mouth one more time and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I stared at the rumpled sheets of Margaret’s bed and couldn’t tell if she’d come and gone or if she’d not spent the night here. I’d been so out of it when my head hit the pillow that I had no way of knowing.

Never had I slept so hard. Mom said as a kid I’d never been a good sleeper. She’d said she’d had to sneak upstairs on her belly because she knew I’d be in my room, hanging over the baby gate barricading me in my room, searching for her. But last night I’d slept like the dead.

I rose and moved to the bathroom, filled a tumblerful of water, and drank.

Find him.

Jenna might have allowed me to sleep, but she’d not forgotten her request.

“You’re a pushy broad, Jenna,” I said. “I’ve feelers out. What more do you want?”

I refilled the glass and moved to my computer to see if there was any bit of news that might have popped up. I scanned emails from suppliers and spotted one from a friend of mine I’d worked with in DC.

Brenda. She and I had been in tough competition at the company.

We both were ambitious, and we both wanted the corner office.

Plenty of times we’d gone head to head, and she’d made me so mad I could scream.

But knowing she was chasing me in the corporate world had made me better and sharper at what I’d done.

Big D.

How goes the new Betty Crocker life? Last I heard you couldn’t use an Easy-Bake oven and now you’re churning out cookies and pies.

Thought I’d let you know I’ve finally landed on my feet after six months of unemployment.

As much as I loved sleeping until ten, eating too much and building a tight relationship with Jerry Springer (we have a date every day at five) I’ve been called back to the corporate world.

I’ll be moving to Seattle to take a job with a financial company.

I think I’m the last of our core group to get back into the real world.

Bill has a gig in San Francisco, Gwen is working in D.C.

and Mike moved to Dallas. And of course, old Roger is in China. (From what I hear he’s still a douche.)

Call me. We’ll grab a drink before I load up the wagon train and move west.

Bigger B.

I sat back in my chair, absently smoothing my hand over my belly. Six months since I’d been in the real world, but it might as well have been a lifetime. Each day took me further and further away.

And of course, old Roger is in China.

Roger. I’d been avoiding thoughts of him like the plague. I was half hoping he’d vanish from my mind and I’d never think about him again. “Gordon, why couldn’t the baby be yours?”

As much as I wanted to ignore Roger, I couldn’t. Roger was my kid’s biological father. And he needed to know. He’d always been a jerk, and I didn’t like him, but none of that mattered.

Dear Roger,

I thought for a moment as I looked at the line and then deleted Dear .

Roger,

Been a while but I needed to touch base with you.

Remember our last night before I left D.C.

? Yeah, well, I don’t remember much, but I do remember the basics.

And the basics seem to have been enough to make a baby.

I’m pregnant and the kid is yours. Baby is due before Christmas.

I’m not looking for money, but I have an obligation to tell you.

If you want to contact me and find out more details I’m here.

Daisy

For long, tense seconds the cursor hovered over the Send button.

The note had to be sent, but I didn’t want to open this can of worms. I didn’t like Roger, and the thought of a lifetime of coparenting with him made me sick to my stomach.

But we had done the deed. And this was about not me but my kid. She deserved her biological history.

“Damn it.” Closing my eyes, I pressed Send, watched as the bar on the send log filled, and listened to the whooshing email sound as it was whisked away into cyberspace. No going back now.

I smoothed my hand over my belly and imagined Gordon wrapping his arms around me. My heart ached as I thought about losing him. “No matter what, you have me, kid. I’m not pulling a Terry. I’m not. We’re in this together.”

I scanned the rest of my emails and almost missed the last, which was from a Teresa Miller. Teresa. Terry.

Daisy,

I apologize for the delay but work and the kids have kept me very busy.

The kids. The ones she’d kept and loved. Tension built in my chest, and for a moment I had to turn away. I reminded myself she hadn’t injected a hidden meaning behind the comment. There was no veiled truth. She was stating the facts of her life.

My pregnancies have all been easy. I was never sick except with my second son and the morning sickness didn’t arrive until about the fourth month.

It lasted about six weeks and then it was gone.

My deliveries were all textbook, and my recovery was quick.

You look so much like me I can’t help but think you’ll have the same luck with your pregnancy as I had with mine.

I know you want more information about your birth father, and I wish I could give it to you. But the truth is I was sixteen when I got pregnant with you and I made a lot of bad choices during that time, including excessive drinking.

I’m not proud to admit this but I don’t know George’s last name. I wish I could give you answers, but I can’t.

You’ve a tough road ahead of you, Daisy, but you’re a tough gal.

You’ve been a fighter since day one. Here’s hoping your baby is a better napper than you were.

I’ve found more pictures that I thought you might like, and I’ve sent them to you Priority Mail.

Knowing your curious nature, I know they will be of interest to you. I wish you the best.

Terry

I sat back in my chair feeling as if the wind had been knocked from my lungs. Tears stung, pooled, and trickled like an endlessly leaky water faucet. I didn’t bother to stop them.

I wish you the best.

She was sorry for failing me, but there was no mention of a future or a relationship with her grandchild or me. The kid and I were part of her past.

By late afternoon, Jean Paul had finished the drywall and spackling of my new, albeit tiny office. As I stood in the rectangular room that measured ten by five, I knew I’d have to be efficient with furnishings. No sprawling or tossing stuff in piles on the floor.