The Baby Bonanza

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Lucky wouldn’t show cowardice by retreating from the scene. But he could remove himself from the line of fire on the pretext of assisting the pregnant lady.

“Excuse me.” Springing up, he narrowly restrained the temptation to break into a run.

Behind him, Laird snarled something about Keely being jealous because nobody made passes at her. Whatever the nurse responded, Lucky shut it out.

“Let me help with that,” he told Zora, who had set down her tray as she paid for her lunch. He seized the tray without waiting for permission.

She stepped away from the register. “People are staring.”

“Can you blame them?” Lucky halted as a tableful of volunteers arose, blocking their path. Grateful for the delay, he smiled encouragingly at an elderly lady, a gift shop regular who creaked to her feet at glacial speed. To Zora, he asked, “How’d you hook up with Keely?”

“She glommed on to me at Dr. Brennan’s office,” she explained.

“You had to see the doctor? You aren’t having problems, are you?”

“Routine checkup.”

“You sure?” He searched her face for signs of pain. She had a bad habit of toughing things out, but she looked well enough today.

What a sweet face, he thought, with a full mouth and a youthful sprinkling of freckles. Standing this close to Zora was having a weird effect on him. In light of their new pact, he wasn’t sure how to respond to her. It had been easier when he could drop a comment about Andrew into any conversation and receive a predictably angry retort.

“Did you promise Keely she could move in?” That ought to stir a response.

“Yes, but I warned her Karen has the final say.” Biting her lip, Zora peered toward Keely and Laird, who were continuing to insult each other. They’d lowered their voices a notch, but at this stage it only meant other diners leaned forward in their seats to hear them. One orderly went so far as to cup his hands around his ears. “She’d be a zillion percent better than Laird,” Zora said.

“For once—twice, actually—we agree on something. Let’s not make it a habit.”

“Certainly not,” Zora replied. “Life would get boring.”

“I’m sure we’ll find plenty to squabble about.” Lucky dodged away as the elderly volunteer snapped her cane to the floor inches from his foot. “Hey!”

She ambled out, not hearing him. Another volunteer responded with a quiet, “Sorry.”

“Excellent reaction time,” Zora observed.

“Thanks.”

They resumed their journey toward the table, where Laird and Keely stood with arms folded, as if whoever was victorious in their staring contest would win the privilege of moving into the house. Around them, conversations slowly resumed.

“Isn’t Keely eating lunch?” Lucky murmured. “She didn’t stop to pick up anything.”

“Look on the bright side,” Zora said. “They can’t have a food fight.”

“I’d enjoy a food fight,” he teased.

“Of course you would.”

“I didn’t say I’d participate.” He lowered her tray onto the table beside his. “Guys, how about easing off?”

“Not till we settle this,” Keely said.

“We can’t do that without...” He broke off at the approach of their landlady, who projected authority despite being no taller than Zora. Maybe it was this month’s black hair or the distinctive long skirts she favored, but more likely it was the quelling expression she wore. “Hey, Karen,” he ventured.

Her frosty gaze swept the four of them. “Have a seat, everyone, and stop creating a spectacle.”

They obeyed. “Now, what is this about?” Raising a hand to stop a barrage of words, Karen said, “Starting with Keely.”

As the nurse explained about her roommate departing on short notice, Lucky watched Zora tuck into her food and thought about her twin. How could there be a carbon copy of her anywhere in the world? Surely no one had the same fiery temperament, or the same gift for frustrating the hell out of him while appealing to his masculine instincts. And why was Zady seeking to work near her sister, when the two appeared to be estranged?

Still, twins were supposed to have a special bond, in contrast to Lucky and his older brother. He didn’t even know where Matthew lived now or whether he was still serving in the navy, and he didn’t care.

Best friends during their teens, they hadn’t spoken in sixteen years. Their last fight, after their parents’ deaths, had been too bitter for either of them to forgive. Lucky deeply regretted his mistakes, but that didn’t give his brother the right to make vicious, unfair accusations and repeat them to other family members. As a result, Lucky had distanced himself not only from Matthew but also from his aunts, uncles and cousins.

When Keely paused for breath, Laird jumped in. He insisted he had a prior claim and that the household needed him to liven things up.

“I wasn’t aware we were dull,” Karen snapped. “Frankly, after the behavior I just witnessed, I’d drop you both from consideration, but for financial reasons, I need someone to move in next weekend.”

Laird lifted his chin. “Considering my position as staff psychologist, I outrank this woman.”

Didn’t the jerk realize he’d insulted Lucky, who was an RN on a par with Keely? And Karen herself held the middle-level post of financial counselor.

“This isn’t a promotional position,” she said. “No offense, Laird, but I think having a nurse across the hall from a pregnant woman would be the most sensible choice. However, I won’t approve anyone without the consent of my other renters. Lucky? Zora?”

Nobody wished to become Laird’s enemy. Nevertheless, Lucky tilted his head toward Keely, as did Zora. Turning, Karen pinpointed Rod. The anesthesiologist, who was sitting with his nephew and several other doctors, mouthed, “Kee-lee.”

If Lucky imagined they’d fallen below everyone else’s radar, a rustle of movement proved otherwise as people shifted to observe Rod, then moved their attention back to his table.

“I’m sorry,” Karen told the psychologist. “The group agrees with my rationale.”

Laird scrambled to his feet. “I hope you’ll keep me in mind if there’s another opening. Keely might not fit in as well as you assume.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t fit in,” the nurse sneered.

“You’ll regret this.” Noticing everyone’s reaction to this threat, Laird added, “I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me if they threw you out in a few months.”

He stalked off, leaving his dirty dishes. Nostrils flaring, Keely watched him go before excusing herself to buy food.

“Alone at last,” Lucky teased after Karen, too, departed.

Zora swallowed a mouthful of milk and wasted no time changing the subject. “Did you talk to Edmond?”

He sketched what he’d learned about Vince and Portia Adams. “My plan is to encourage her to donate eggs and him to hire a gestational surrogate.”

“Splitting the difference? Excellent,” Zora said. “I suspect you’re right about Portia’s maternal instincts. During Tiffany’s last visit, she mentioned that her mom’s developed a fascination with her friends’ babies.”

“Any suggestions how to nudge her further in that direction?”

“Talk to Rod,” she advised.

First she’d recommended he consult Edmond, now Rod. “Why?”

“He used to be married to Portia. If anyone can comprehend how her mind works, it’s him.” Having polished off her entrée, Zora tackled her custard.

He should have thought of that, Lucky mused. But a marriage that had ended bitterly half a dozen years ago hardly qualified the anesthesiologist as an expert. “You’re a mom, or soon will be. Put me into her perspective about this pregnancy business.”

“She’s a fashion plate who I’m sure injects stuff into her wrinkles and suctions her flab,” Zora said. “It’s partly ego but I also think she feels she has to compete for her husband’s affection. How’s she going to fend off gold diggers ten years younger when she has a big round pregnant body?”

“But donating eggs might be okay?”

“Better, although those hormone shots and the mood swings aren’t fun,” Zora said.

Lucky sighed. “Well, thanks for bouncing ideas around with me.”

“Glad to do it.” Abruptly, Zora set down her fork. “Something just hit me.”

If it would help bring the Adamses together, he was eager to hear it. “Yes?”

“I—” She broke off as a ringtone sounded and she took out her phone. “This is Zora.”

Lucky could happily have smashed the device for interrupting them. “Don’t lose that thought!”

Frowning, Zora answered. “Yes? Now? Okay. I’ll be right there.” She clicked off. “It’s radiology.”

How frustrating. “Before you go, tell me what occurred to you.”

“No time. We can discuss it tonight.” Hands on the table, Zora hoisted herself upright. “Will you dispose of my dishes? I’d hate to be a slob like Laird.”

“Of course,” he said. “But—”

“It’s a patient of Dr. Tartikoff’s,” she explained. “The tech went home sick, and he’s waiting with her.”

Nobody wished to cross the imperious head of the fertility program. “I understand.”

“Thanks, Lucky,” she said. “I can always count on you.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to note that she ought to be able to rely on the father of her children, but he’d promised to lay off that subject. And Lucky found it rather gratifying that he and no one else was the person she counted on.

* * *

TALKING TO LUCKY was more fun now that he no longer poked at her sore spot, Zora reflected as she lumbered along the sidewalk to the medical office building. And even though she hadn’t planned it, she’d rather enjoyed needling him by withholding information.

On the third floor, she entered Dr. T’s medical suite and headed for the room set up for the ultrasound. Nurse Ned Norwalk, a surfer type with a deep tan, appeared around a corner. “You?” he demanded.

“Me, what?” Zora asked. Although she and Ned moved in different circles, she’d never had any problems with him.

“There wasn’t any other tech available?” He obviously didn’t expect an answer. “Never mind. Fair warning—Dr. T hasn’t eaten lunch.”

Great—he’d be crankier than ever. “I’ll tiptoe around. Where’s the patient’s chart?”

“The doctor has it. The patient has a mass on her right ovary. You’ll be doing a transvaginal ultrasound.”

“Okay.” Sonograms to examine ovarian cysts—fluid-filled pockets in or on the surface of an ovary—as well as other growths were commonplace. While most cysts vanished on their own, some caused pain, and there was the scary possibility that an ovarian growth could be cancerous. The best view of the ovaries was obtained by inserting a probe into the patient’s vagina. “Is she pregnant?”

“No. But—you’re sure there wasn’t anyone else available?”

“If you doubt me, call radiology.”

“Never mind.”

Zora had often assisted Dr. T’s patients. She didn’t understand why Ned was making a big deal of this, but she didn’t intend to question him and keep the great physician waiting.

Ned opened the door and retreated. Near the small ultrasound machine paced a scowling Dr. Owen Tartikoff. Even his russet hair seemed to be sizzling with impatience. “Finally,” he growled.

“Sorry for the delay. The scheduled tech went home sick.” Zora’s gaze shifted to the dark-haired woman lying on the examining table, her lower half covered with a paper sheet.

When almond-shaped brown eyes met hers with a jolt, Zora struggled to catch her breath. The patient was Lin Lee Raditch, Andrew’s third wife.

Although they’d never been introduced, she’d seen the woman with him around town, and judging by the other woman’s reaction, Lin recognized Zora, as well. That explained Ned’s attitude. Either the scheduler hadn’t noticed that they shared a last name, or had no other options.

“Is there a problem?” The doctor’s cross tone slapped at her. He didn’t seem aware of their connection.

Zora darted a glance at Lin. The patient had the right to object to an inappropriate care provider. And for the sake of her own emotional state, Zora wasn’t sure she ought to go through with this.

Lin’s lips pressed tightly. Was she reluctant to offend the celebrated doctor? Then Zora noticed tears glittering in the patient’s eyes. She’s frightened.

In that instant, Lin transformed from the jezebel for whom Andrew had abandoned Zora into a scared woman who might face a terrifying diagnosis.

“This won’t hurt,” she assured the patient, and went to work.

Chapter Six (#ulink_2e1d8183-5bf8-5760-91d2-0d5895ac3d8e)

“These appear to be fluid-filled cysts,” Dr. Tartikoff told the patient as Zora finished her scan. “However, before recommending a treatment plan, I’ll have the radiologist review the images.”