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“I can do that,” the little girl proclaimed.
“Yes, she can,” Melissa confirmed. “Dawn has more experience with diapering than Edmond or me.”
“I used to help our neighbor,” the child said.
“Then please join in!” Karen beamed as guests from the living room crowded into the den. “Ah, more players. Great!”
Among the group was their former roommate Anya, her arms around the daughter she’d delivered a few weeks earlier. “Nobody’s diapering Rachel for a game.”
“Certainly not,” Karen agreed.
“However, volunteers are welcome to stop by our apartment any night around two a.m.,” put in Anya’s husband, Dr. Jack Ryder.
Rachel gurgled. A sigh ran through the onlookers, accompanied by murmurs of “What an angel!” and “How darling!”
“I’d be happy to hold her for you,” Betsy said. “You can both relax and enjoy the food.”
“Thank you.” Anya cheerfully shifted her daughter into the arms of the nursing supervisor.
When Zora hugged herself protectively, Lucky felt a twinge of sympathy. She’d refused to consider adoption, declaring that this might be her only chance to have children, but the sight of little Rachel must underscore the reality of what she faced.
Children required all your resources and all your strength. How did this woman with slim shoulders and defiant ginger hair expect to cope by herself?
He reminded himself not to get too involved. Lucky didn’t mind changing a few diapers, but he might not be here long, unless Dr. Rattigan brought good news. Now where was the doctor?
Waving a newborn-size doll along with a package of clean diapers, Karen detailed the rules of the game. “You have to remove and replace the diaper. I’ll be timing you. Fastest diaper change wins.”
“That doesn’t sound hard,” Laird scoffed.
“Did I mention you have to do it one-handed?” Karen replied, to widespread groans. “If you drop the baby on the floor, you’re automatically disqualified.”
“For round two, contestants have to diaper the doll blindfolded,” Rod added mischievously. A few people laughed, while Dawn’s jaw set with determination. That kid would do it upside down and sideways to win, Lucky thought. With that attitude, she’d go far in life.
Then he caught the sound he’d been waiting for—the doorbell. His pulse sped up. “I’ll get it.”
Someone else reached the door first, however, and friends rushed to greet the Rattigans. Despite his impatience, Lucky hung back.
With her friendly manner and elfin face, Stacy had a kind word for everyone. Her mild-mannered husband said little; Cole’s reticence, Lucky knew, stemmed partly from the urologist’s discomfort in social situations. It was also partly the result of having a brain so brilliant that he was probably carrying on half a dozen internal conversations with himself at any given moment.
Lucky could barely contain his eagerness to speak with the great man privately and find out if the device lived up to its promise. However, he drew the line at elbowing guests aside.
Stacy oohed over Anya’s newborn and hugged Betsy, her former mother-in-law. The room quieted as the first Mrs. Andrew Raditch came face-to-face with the woman who had cheated with him before being discarded in turn. Most of the staff had cheered at Zora’s misfortune, believing she was receiving her just deserts. Lucky was ashamed to admit he’d been among them. Now he wished he could spare her this awkwardness.
“Wow! Look at you.” Stacy patted Zora’s belly. “Have you chosen names yet?”
“Still searching,” she said with a tentative smile. “For now, Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”
This light exchange broke the tension. With her new marriage, Stacy had clearly moved on, and with her courtesy toward Zora, she’d brought her old nemesis in from the cold.
Silently, Lucky thanked her. Cole had chosen a worthy wife.
The game began, with guests lining up to participate. Seizing his chance, Lucky approached his boss, who spoke without prompting.
“I know you’re anxious for news, Luke.” Cole used Lucky’s formal name. “Let’s talk.”
“We’ll have more privacy in here.” Lucky led the way into the now-empty living room.
* * *
ZORA HAD NO interest in diapering a baby. She’d be doing more than her share of that soon.
Stacy’s display of friendliness left her both relieved and oddly shaky. Having been treated as a pariah by much of the hospital staff for several years, Zora still felt vulnerable as well as guilty.
Also, Stacy’s question about the names reminded Zora of her idea to leave the decision until they were born. She’d figured that if Andrew had a chance to choose the names, it might help bond him with the little ones. Today, however, the prospect of what lay ahead was sinking in.
For starters, what was she planning to do, call him from the delivery room and break the news of his paternity over the phone while writhing in agony? This kind of information should be presented in person, and she ought to get it over with now. Yet being around Andrew brought out Zora’s weakness for him; the ease with which he’d seduced her when she dropped by with their divorce papers proved that.
If only Lucky would stop poking at her, she’d be able to think clearly. It might be unfair to focus her anger on her housemate, but this was none of his business. And why had he, one of the party’s hosts, hustled Dr. Rattigan off in such a hurry?
Hungry as usual these days, Zora munched on a peanut butter–filled celery stick from the snack table. Keely drifted alongside, following her gaze as Lucky vanished. “Nice build,” the older nurse observed in her nasal voice.
Amused, Zora said, “I don’t believe he’s dating anyone. Interested?”
Keely snorted. “Not my type.”
Zora didn’t dare ask what that was.
A hint of beer breath alerted her to Laird Maclaine’s approach. The psychologist must have downed a brew before arriving, because they weren’t serving alcohol.
“We’re discussing Mendez?” He addressed his question to Zora, ignoring Keely. “If he snags a better job with that new master’s degree of his, I’d love to rent his room. I hear it has an en suite bathroom.”
“En suite?” Keely repeated. “What a pretentious term.”
Laird rolled his eyes.
“He isn’t leaving.” While Zora understood Lucky’s desire for advancement, she couldn’t imagine him abandoning his friends.
The psychologist shrugged. “Either way, this is a fantastic party house. I’m expecting to move in next weekend.”
Astonished, Zora slanted an assessing gaze at the psychologist. From an objective viewpoint, Laird wasn’t bad-looking, although bland compared to Lucky, and she respected him for initiating and leading patient support groups. But it would be annoying to have to run into this conceited guy every morning over breakfast and every night at dinner.
Impulsively, she addressed Keely. “We have an empty room that used to be Melissa’s. Any chance you’re interested?”
“It’s taken, by me,” Laird rapped out.
“Nothing’s settled,” Zora said.
“Don’t you already have two men living here?” Keely inquired. “You and Karen should bring in another woman. I’d join you, but I couldn’t do that to my roommate.”
“You wouldn’t fit in, anyway,” Laird growled.
That remark didn’t deserve a response. “Who’s your roommate?” Zora asked Keely. “Do I know her?”
“Oh, she doesn’t work at the medical complex,” the nurse responded. “She’s a housekeeper.”
“I admire your loyalty to her.”
“Anyone would do the same.”
A stir across the den drew their attention. It was Dawn Everhart’s turn at the game. Deftly, the little girl rolled the doll with an elbow, tugged on one diaper tab with her fingers and caught the other in her mouth, all while onlookers captured the moment with their cell phones.
“Unsanitary,” Laird protested.
“But clever,” Rod responded from his post beside Karen. “Besides, it’s a doll.”
“And she’s beating the pants off everyone else’s time,” Edmond observed, beaming at his niece. “Literally.”
Her feet having swollen to the size of melons, Zora wandered into the kitchen and sat down. Through the far door, she detected the low rumble of masculine voices in the living room.
What were Lucky and his boss discussing so intently? Had Cole made job inquiries at the conference for his nurse’s sake? Although she’d instinctively dismissed Laird’s comment about Lucky moving, the man couldn’t be expected to waste his master’s degree.
If Lucky departed, who would run out for ice cream when she had a craving? Lucky had promised to haul two bassinets and a changing table to the second floor as soon as she was ready for them. Without him around, who would cart her stuff up and down the stairs? She certainly couldn’t count on Laird pitching in.
Well, she’d survive. In fact, she shouldn’t be relying on Lucky so much, anyway. Zora hated to depend on others, especially someone so controlling and critical and arrogant and judgmental. She might not have the world’s best taste in men, but she knew what she didn’t like, and Lucky epitomized it. Now what were he and Dr. Rattigan talking about so intently?
No matter how hard she strained, she couldn’t follow the thread of conversation from the living room. Just when she caught a couple of words, a burst of cheering from the den obliterated the rest of the doctor’s comments.
Judging by the clamor, Dawn had edged out Anya’s husband, Jack, by two seconds. “I can visualize the headline now—Seven-year-old Defeats Obstetrician in Diapering Contest!” roared Rod, who, as Jack’s uncle, had the privilege of ragging him mercilessly. “I’m posting the pictures on the internet.”
“You do that and you’ll never see your great-niece again,” Jack retorted. He spoiled the effect by adding, “Will he, cutie?” apparently addressing the newborn.
Zora lumbered to her feet. She was missing all the fun and worrying for nothing.
Probably.
Chapter Three (#ub2072629-c39b-52c4-9a7c-13fa558b95bb)
Feeling miles from the festivities in the den, Lucky struggled to concentrate on Cole’s account. He kept wishing that, if he focused hard enough, the results would be more encouraging.
“The new stent won’t fix what’s wrong with Vince Adams.” The slightly built doctor ran a hand through his rumpled brown hair.
“Are you certain?” Lucky pressed.
Cole nodded. “It won’t do anything for a patient who has that much scar tissue.”
During the summer, Cole had used the latest microsurgical techniques in an unsuccessful attempt to open the billionaire’s blocked sperm ducts. As the office nurse, Lucky hadn’t assisted at the operation, but he’d read the follow-up report. The procedure hadn’t been able to reverse the extensive damage left by a long-ago infection.
However, Vince continued to press them for options. Cole had told him about a new dissolvable, medicine-infused stent, and Vince had been excited that Cole would get an advance preview of the device. “We have the world’s top urologist right here,” the millionaire had trumpeted. “And I’ll be the first guy he cures.”
The higher the hopes, the harder the fall.
“Do you think his interest in Safe Harbor is entirely based on restoring his fertility?” Lucky asked.
“It’s hard to say,” Cole replied. “His intentions tend to shift with his emotional state.”
A private equity investor, Vince Adams was powerful and rich. But wealth hadn’t compensated for his inability to sire children. Over the years, he’d paid dearly for treatments without success, and others had paid dearly for his desire for fatherhood.
After several turbulent and childless marriages, Vince had wed a woman with two young daughters. Determined to adopt them, he had used his financial clout to overwhelm Portia’s first husband in court.
The man he’d gleefully trounced was Lucky’s housemate, Rod Vintner, who’d faced a doubly devastating loss. First, during his divorce, he’d learned that his daughters were actually the genetic offspring of his unfaithful wife’s previous lover, now out of the picture. Second, Rod had been outspent and outmaneuvered fighting for joint custody.
For years, he’d been forbidden to talk or even write to his daughters, who lived a ninety-minute drive away, in San Diego. Then, earlier this year, the older girl had run away from home. The twelve-year-old had contacted Rod, who’d enlisted the aid of the girls’ maternal grandmother here in Safe Harbor.
Although officially Rod was still banned, Grandma Helen had arranged for Tiffany—now thirteen—and her younger sister to visit her more often. Whenever possible, she let them meet with Rod, and, faced with Tiffany’s threats to run away again, the Adamses pretended not to notice.
Vince’s search for fertility, however, provided him with another avenue for keeping Rod in line. While Vince’s interest in the hospital stemmed in large part from his discovery that one of the world’s foremost urologists had joined the staff, it also ensured that Rod didn’t dare become too much of an annoyance. An anesthesiologist would be a lot easier for the hospital to replace than a billionaire donor.
Lucky hated that the staff had to curry favor with Vince. Still, he felt compassion for a man desperate to produce a baby. The billionaire’s motives might be self-serving, but his comments had made it clear that he would treasure his child. As long as parents offered a loving, secure home, it wasn’t anyone else’s right to pass judgment.
However, if Cole couldn’t help him, it seemed likely Vince wouldn’t follow through on his major donation. “Suppose he drops us,” Lucky said. “Surely there are others we could approach.”
“The world is full of rich people, but Safe Harbor tends to lose out to more prestigious institutions,” Cole responded. “I admit, Luke, being at the conference whetted my appetite for better research facilities, more lab space and money for fellowships. In fact, I received three excellent offers to relocate.”
Lucky’s heart nearly skipped a beat. “You’d take another position?”
Alarm flitted across the doctor’s face. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Nevertheless, he had said it. “If you go, the program will never recover.” Neither will I. On many levels.
At a burst of laughter from the other room, Lucky flinched. His friends had no idea that he was standing here with the ground crumbling beneath his feet.
Cole’s brow furrowed. “I joined Safe Harbor with the intention of building a standout program. Although I’m no longer sure that will be possible, this is my wife’s home, and mine, too. I haven’t given up yet.” But there was no mistaking his distress.
“Nothing else at the conference might be useful?”
“I’m afraid not. Perhaps we should suggest Mr. Adams cancel next Saturday’s appointment and save himself a trip.” The billionaire tended to arrive with plenty of pomp and circumstance by private plane or helicopter. On other occasions, Vince roared up the coast in a high-performance car that cost as much as many houses.
If only Lucky could find a solution, for his sake and for his doctor’s. It would also be important to the medical center to achieve its goal of becoming a major player in the fertility field. Major gifts attracted additional donors; a lack of progress might, by contrast, eventually consign Safe Harbor to secondary status. And this place had been good to Lucky when he’d needed help the most.
“Don’t cancel,” he said. “That’s a week from now. Things could change.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Cole stretched his shoulders. “In any event, my patient deserves to hear the news from me in person.”
To Lucky, it was a reprieve. He had a week to figure out the next move.
* * *
ZORA HAD NEVER seen Lucky abandon a party before. After talking to Dr. Rattigan, he’d spent the next hour in a corner of the living room, fiddling with his phone. Searching the internet or texting people? But why?
