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Next door, the six-story hospital rose in front of him, a lovely sight with its curved wings. Remodeled half a dozen years earlier to specialize in fertility and maternity services, it had established a national reputation by hiring distinguished doctors such as Cole and Dr. T, and by adding state-of-the-art laboratories, surgical suites and equipment. As a result, the side-by-side buildings were bursting at the seams with staff and patients.
Lucky glanced across the circular drive at the vacant dental building that had been mired in bankruptcy proceedings. Once the bankruptcy judge allowed a sale, it would be snapped up fast. The corporation that owned Safe Harbor Medical Center had expressed interest in buying it, but had balked at the high price.
When Vince Adams had expressed interest in funding the growth of the men’s program, he’d seemed a gift from fate. Since then, Vince had demonstrated mood swings and a knack for throwing everyone off balance, but his donation remained the hospital’s best chance of acquiring the building and boosting the men’s fertility program to the next level.
Lucky entered the hospital via the staff door. Instantly, his senses registered tempting aromas from the cafeteria. Also nearby, the chatter of childish voices drifted from the day care center, to which he presumed Zora would soon be entrusting her babies.
As he shoved open the door to the stairs—Lucky seized any chance at exercise—he wondered how long he could go without nagging her. Somebody had to advocate for those kids, who deserved their father’s financial support even if he was incapable of acting like a real dad.
What about this Zady character? If she was a family member, Zora could sure use the help.
On the fifth floor, Lucky passed the executive offices and entered a smaller suite. The receptionist had apparently gone to lunch, and an inner door stood ajar. The placard read, Edmond Everhart, Family Law Consultant.
Lucky listened in case a client remained inside. Hearing no one, he rapped on the frame.
“Come in.” From behind the desk, Edmond rose to greet him. In his early thirties, like Lucky, and also about five-ten, the guy was impeccably dressed in a suit and tie. Only his rumpled brown hair revealed that he’d had a busy morning. All the same, there was nothing glib or calculating about him.
After shaking hands and taking a seat, Lucky went straight to the point. “I understand Vince Adams was souring on Safe Harbor until he talked to you. You spoke with him in public, so I presume client confidentiality doesn’t apply.”
“That’s true.” Leaning back, the attorney removed his glasses, plucked a microfiber cloth from the drawer and polished the lenses.
“I’m curious how you won him over, because—” Lucky couldn’t go into detail, since it involved Vince’s treatment “—just in case he changes his mind again. What upset him in the first place?”
“He felt disrespected because the whole hospital is aware that he has fertility issues,” Edmond said.
“A fact that he’s publicized with his own...statements.” Lucky had nearly said big mouth.
“Be that as it may, he believed people looked down on him because he can’t father children.”
“How’d you reassure him?”
“I shared a few personal details that put us on a par.” After a hesitation, Edmond continued, “I explained that I’d had a vasectomy and later regretted it.” His wife, Melissa, was carrying embryos donated by another couple. “I also asked his advice as a stepfather about parenting my niece while her mom’s in prison. I’m not sure why, but the conversation eased his mind.”
“My guess is that he felt you respected him,” Lucky mused. “Did he bring up anything else?”
Edmond reflected. “Yes. He’s frustrated with his wife’s refusal to consider in vitro. She wasn’t present, so I have no idea how she views the matter.”
Lucky recalled Zora’s comments. “And he rejects hiring a surrogate?” The hospital maintained a roster of screened candidates.
“That’s right.”
Wheels spun in Lucky’s head. “If we persuaded Mrs. Adams to change her mind, that ought to solve the problem.”
“It might,” Edmond said. “But is it wise to try to manipulate a woman into having a child she might not want?”
“I believe she’s worried more about the medical risk than about having another child.” At a previous office visit, a successfully treated patient had arrived to show Cole his newborn son. In the waiting room, Portia Adams had reached out to touch the baby’s cheek and studied the child wistfully. Catching Lucky’s eye, she’d murmured something about missing those days now that her girls were growing up.
“Perhaps there’s a compromise position that might satisfy them both,” Edmond said. “What if his wife provided the eggs but didn’t carry the pregnancy?”
Lucky hadn’t thought about separating the two aspects of in vitro. “It’s worth a try.”
“Good,” Edmond said. “Any other questions?”
“Yes, although it’s unrelated.” While Lucky had promised not to pressure Zora, he hadn’t promised not to encourage others to do so. “Zora hasn’t broken the news to her ex about the twins. You’re her attorney. How about pointing out that the man has legal obligations?”
The attorney laced his fingers atop the desk. “I assure you, I already have.”
“You may have to get in her face, so she can’t brush you off.”
Edmond tilted his head. “May I share something with you that I’ve discovered about relationships?”
“Sure.” Lucky admired how much Edmond had grown and changed while reconciling with Melissa. “Lay it on me.”
“It’s important to respect her choices,” Edmond said.
“Even if you disagree with them?”
“Especially if you disagree with them.” Thoughtfully, the lawyer added, “And especially when she’s the person who has to deal with the consequences.”
“But Zora keeps repeating the same boneheaded mistakes,” Lucky protested.
“I suspect she understands her ex-husband better than either of us,” Edmond said. “Legally, she’ll have to inform him about the babies once they’re born, but until then, she might have reason to be cautious.”
Lucky only knew Andrew by reputation. “I suppose it’s hard to predict how a guy will react to that kind of news.”
“Exactly.”
The circumstances might not be perfect, but this was a situation of Andrew’s own making. Any decent guy would accept responsibility. However, the man had proven repeatedly that he didn’t care about honor or decency. “Thanks for the words of wisdom.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Lucky said as they both rose. “Does Zora have a sister named Zady?”
“I believe that’s her twin,” Edmond said.
“Thanks.” A twin. Damn! By applying for the job, Zady had put Lucky in a delicate position. He felt as if he ought to alert Zora, but her sister’s application was confidential.
He set off for the cafeteria, anxious to arrive before Zora finished eating so he could get her opinion about his discussion with Edmond. As for her mysterious twin, he’d better leave that hot potato alone.
* * *
BEING AROUND PERFECT people filled Zora with a sense of inadequacy. It was balanced by a fervent desire to figure out how they did it.
Take her obstetrician. Six feet tall with dramatic red hair and green eyes, Paige Brennan was a doctor, mother to an eighteen-month-old daughter and wife of the head of a detective agency. Everyone admired and adored her, including her nurse, Keely, who could barely stand most people.
Busy as she was, Dr. Brennan had fit in Zora’s exam during her lunch break. The woman was a step from sainthood.
As she sat on the examining table, Zora doubted she could ever develop such an air of confidence. As for inspiring others, she’d settle for earning their good-natured tolerance.
“Surely you have some questions,” the doctor said after listening to the babies’ heartbeats and reviewing Zora’s weight gain and test results. They were fine considering her stage of pregnancy. “You never mention any problems.”
“Am I supposed to?” Zora had been raised to consider complaining a sign of weakness.
“Frankly, yes.” The tall woman draped her frame over a stool. “At thirty-two weeks with a multiple pregnancy, you must be having trouble sleeping, and your ankles are swollen. As I’ve suggested before, you should be on bed rest.”
“I can’t afford it,” Zora said. “I don’t have a husband to wait on me.”
“What about the rest of your family?” the doctor asked.
“My mom and stepfather live in Oregon.” She’d rather not have either of them around. And there was no sense bringing up her twin, perfect Zady with her ideal husband and kids, whom their mother never failed to mention when she talked with Zora.
The doctor’s forehead creased. “Is your mom flying down for the birth?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Her mother would expect to be catered to, regardless of the circumstances. She’d be no help with a baby. At home, Mom waited on Zora’s surly, demanding stepfather, but her attitude toward her daughters—toward Zora, at least—was just the opposite.
Dr. Brennan regarded her with concern. “Have you chosen a labor partner?” At every visit, she’d recommended Zora sign up for a birthing class.
“I won’t need one for a C-section.” Although twins didn’t always have to be delivered surgically, Zora preferred to play it safe.
“If that’s what you want, okay.” The physician nodded. “But remember that what we call bed rest doesn’t necessarily require staying in bed. You can relax at home and perform routine tasks as you feel capable.”
“I feel capable of working.” To forestall further objections, Zora added, “And providing ultrasounds doesn’t harm the babies. It’s not like X-rays or mammograms.”
“But it does require standing on your feet all day. And for safety’s sake, you should stop driving.” Paige raised her eyebrows commandingly.
Zora was having trouble reaching the pedals in her car. “I could ride to work with my housemates.” Rod, whose car frequently broke down, cadged rides from others, so why shouldn’t she?
Keely chose that moment to step in from the hall. “I can drive her.”
“Excuse me?” Paige blinked at the unexpected comment.
“If I rent a room in their house, Zora can ride with me.” The nurse mustered a faint smile.
“I thought you had a roommate,” Zora said.
“So did I. Can we talk at lunch?”
“Sure.”
The obstetrician cleared her throat. “Keely, would you provide Zora with an after-visit summary and schedule an appointment for her in two weeks?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
The doctor typed a note into the computer. “Zora, call me if you have any problems, such as spotting or contractions, even if they don’t hurt. Okay?”
“Will do.” Zora accepted the nurse’s assistance in rising from the table.
Once she was dressed, she tucked the printed summary into her purse and walked to the elevator with Keely. With her neck thrust forward, the woman’s aggressive stance reinforced the impression of her as a difficult personality. Zora hoped she hadn’t erred by suggesting Keely move in with them.
“What’s the situation with your roommate?” she asked as they descended. The office was only one flight up, but in Zora’s condition, that might as well be ten stories.
“She’s in Iowa taking care of her mother,” Keely said. “She only planned to stay a week but that’s changed. Last night she emailed and asked me to ship all her stuff to her.”
“That was short notice. Your rent must be due next week.” It was the first of the month.
“That’s right. I’m glad you mentioned the vacancy.”
“Everything’s subject to Karen’s approval,” Zora warned.
“I’ll stop by her office later.”
It sounded like a done deal. At least Keely would be an improvement on Laird.
In the cafeteria, the blend of voices and aromas filled Zora with eagerness to share this new development with Lucky. Where was he? Her gaze swept past the food serving bays and across the crowded room.
She spotted him sharing a table with a thin and most unwelcome companion: Laird. The psychologist was talking a mile a minute, oblivious to Lucky’s irritated expression.
Zora would rather not discuss Keely in front of the competition. “Hold on,” she said, turning.
Too late. Keely was stomping right over to the table. Judging by the set of her shoulders, she didn’t plan to be subtle, either.
Chapter Five (#ub2072629-c39b-52c4-9a7c-13fa558b95bb)
Lucky had often heard the flow of gossip referred to as a grapevine, but in a hospital, a more appropriate comparison would be the circulatory system, with its arteries and veins. And its heart, the pump through which all rumors flowed, was the cafeteria.
As a rule, he enjoyed the hum of conversations, among which his ears caught intriguing snatches of news—about hirings and firings, love affairs and broken hearts. Once in a while the drama expanded to include the doctors.
Until today, however, Lucky hadn’t understood the embarrassment of landing in the middle of a scene that drew all eyes. It started when Keely announced, without preamble, “I lost my roommate. I’ve decided to move into your house!”
People peered toward them. The story of Karen’s home, its assorted occupants and the resulting pregnancies and marriages had already set many a tongue wagging.
Laird choked, although Lucky couldn’t figure out on what. The psychologist hadn’t stopped yammering long enough to eat anything. Instead, he’d plopped his butt into a chair at Lucky’s table and begun citing his plans for throwing parties.
He’d also proclaimed that his huge TV screen would transform their outdated living room into game central. Not that Lucky would mind, but the guy apparently didn’t consider it necessary to solicit Karen’s opinion.
“Like hell you’re moving in!” Laird finally blurted in a voice that rose to a squeal. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“I cleared it with Zora.” Keely indicated that red-haired person, who gazed warily from the hot food line before ducking out of sight.
Lucky nearly bellowed, “Get over here!” but more heads were swiveling. Not his doctor, mercifully. Through the glass doors, he spotted Dr. Rattigan out of earshot on the patio.
“It’s a party house!” Laird, his usually pale face reddening with anger, didn’t appear to care who heard him roar. “You’re the last person in Safe Harbor anyone would invite to a party.”
Silence fell save for the clink of tableware and glasses. The chatter of a man talking on a cell phone sounded abnormally loud, and then that too ceased.
“Let’s skip the insults, shall we?” Lucky deliberately employed a soft tone in the hope the others would follow suit.
The effort fell flat. “Oh, really?” Keely boomed. “I was invited to the baby shower, in case you forgot. As for you, Laird, you can take your grabby hands and go live in a brothel.”
