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“Alicia?” Lucas asked sweetly. “Is there a reason you can’t say her name?”
“Yes. It’s like Beetlejuice. If you say her name too many times, she’ll rise up with horrific powers and do unspeakable things. I’m being cautious.”
“The world thanks you.”
“As it should.”
She finished coating the bread. After slicing it, she wrapped it in foil so it was ready to pop in the oven.
“Expecting anything from Great-Aunt Cheryl?” he asked.
“No. We were friends and that’s plenty.”
She went into the pantry and scooped flour into a sifter, then sorted through her folder of stencils before finding the one she needed. Technically it wasn’t Easter until Sunday, but she wanted something fun for her daughter’s return.
Lucas didn’t speak as he followed her outside. She stopped at the end of the walkway, then put the stencil on the concrete path before straightening and gently turning the handle on the sifter.
Flour drifted down, landing on the stencil. When she lifted it up, there was a perfect set of rabbit footprints.
Lucas stepped around her and headed for his car. “You’re a scary woman, Harper Szymanski. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“With Pomegranate.”
“Persimmon.”
“Does it actually matter?”
He got into his white Mercedes convertible, turned to her and winked. “Honestly, it doesn’t.”
Chapter Three (#u85d27302-be68-5d93-8bf7-c5d87ea4b5ac)
STACEY TOLD HERSELF that everything was going to be fine. The scientific research on the power of positive thinking was extensive. When an outcome was utncertain, focusing on optimistic possibilities relaxed the body and cleared the mind. Otherwise, thinking could be crippled by fear, like hers, right now.
“She’s going to kill me when I tell her about the baby,” she murmured, glancing at Kit as he drove the handful of blocks to her sister’s house.
“Bunny would never do that. You’re her daughter and she loves you.”
“She’s going to be disappointed in me. She’s going to give me that look that makes me feel inadequate and small, as if I’m the most disappointing daughter ever. Then she’s going to tell me there’s something wrong with me.”
Kit reached across the console and took her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Stacey. You’re brilliant, loyal, kind and funny.”
“But she is going to yell at me and be upset.”
It was the latter that would be the most difficult for her to handle. Stacey might not get along with her mother, but she didn’t want to hurt her feelings, either.
“She’s not going to understand why you didn’t tell her before,” Kit said quietly.
She squeezed his fingers as tightly as she could. “I couldn’t. She’s going to say things that I don’t want to hear.” Stacey was terrified enough about the baby as it was—she didn’t need her mother making the situation worse.
Most mothers worried about their child having a problem or about the pain of delivery or if they could handle the reality of juggling their already-busy life with an infant thrown in. She got that and shared some of those concerns, but her real worry—her real fear—was that she wasn’t going to be an adequate mother.
The baby wasn’t real to her. Hearing the heartbeat had brought Kit to tears while she’d simply monitored the rhythm and strength and found it to be within the normal range.
She had no sense of life growing within her. Yes, she understood the biology of what was happening, but that was simply science. Emotions were different. She could see herself as the vessel in which the baby grew, but not as the infant’s mother. She couldn’t imagine holding her daughter or rocking her. Kit talked about how excited he was for her to be born while Stacey had no sense of after.
“I just need to get through this,” Stacey whispered, thinking both of telling her mother and having the baby. “Once I know how she’s going to react, I’ll be fine.”
“Even if you’re not, I’ll be right there, next to you.” He drew back his hand and flashed her a grin. “Harper will provide cover while we’ll be ready to run if Bunny starts swinging.”
Stacey managed a slight smile. “She would never hit you or even say you were wrong. You’re the man and, by default, special.”
“It’s good to be me.” His grin faded. “I know I’ve asked before, but I want to double-check that you’re okay with Ashton moving in with us.”
The change of subject was welcome but the new topic matter confused her. “Why would there be a problem with Ashton?”
Kit pulled up in front of Harper’s house and turned off the engine. He faced Stacey. “You barely know him. He’s going to be living with us through the summer. The baby is due in late June. Any one of these could be considered a problem for most women.”
Kit was a rock-solid guy, but his sister was not. She’d spent most of her life in and out of drug rehab. Every now and then Stacey wondered if she should have specialized in addiction. The brain had an amazing capacity to fixate on pleasure—whatever its source.
Kit’s sister’s lifestyle had played havoc on her son’s life. Ashton had bounced around, living with friends and distant relatives while his mother dealt with her issues. Over the years Kit had tried to bring Ashton to California to live with him, but his sister wouldn’t allow it.
Now that Ashton was eighteen, he was free to do what he wanted. Kit and Stacey had agreed the young man could live with them until he started MIT in the fall. He only had two classes left to complete his high school diploma and he would take both of those online.
“He’s been very responsible and pleasant both times I’ve met him,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll get along.”
Plus, having another person in the house would allow her to be distracted from the impending birth. Not that she would admit that to Kit.
“You’re being very generous,” Kit said.
“I’m not. I like Ashton.”
“I meant about us supplementing his college.”
Ashton had a scholarship that covered his tuition but little else. Kit and Stacey would take care of his room and board, along with whatever else he might need.
“I’ve always been well compensated and the house is paid for. We have money set aside for Joule’s college fund. Helping Ashton is our way of paying it forward.” Perhaps if she put out enough good deeds, the Universe wouldn’t notice that she had no interest in her daughter.
Kit leaned close and kissed her. “You’re the best wife ever.”
“I wish that were true.”
They got out of the car and started for the front door. Stacey paused to study the bunny footprints on the walkway. Inadequacy gripped her with cold, bony fingers.
She would never be able to do anything like that, she thought, trying not to panic. She wouldn’t even think to do it, let alone be clear on how to execute the plan. Yes, Kit would be the one staying home with their daughter, but still—she was completely and totally clueless.
Harper opened the front door and smiled. “Hey, you two.” She ran down the steps and hugged her sister before embracing Kit. “I hope you’re hungry. I made lasagna.”
Because it was Becca’s favorite, Stacey thought automatically. Harper always did that sort of thing. She took care of the details of life. Details Stacey rarely noticed.
They went into the house. From the foyer Stacey could see the decorated table, the place settings and the crystal glasses. She thought of the plain dishes she and Kit had at home and wanted to whimper.
“Come on,” Harper said, leading them into the kitchen. “I’m trying a new herbal tea I read about online. It’s supposed to be perfect for pregnant women. It supports both the baby and the mother.” She grinned at Kit. “For you, I have a beer.”
“You’re my favorite sister-in-law,” he told her.
Harper laughed. “Of course I am.”
Stacey watched Harper pour hot tea into a mug. “I’m going to tell Mom today.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure you are. I usually resent you being both the pretty and the smart sister, but right now you do have your issues. I say wait until Joule is born, then hand her over. Mom will get the message.”
Kit got a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. “That’s what I said.”
The back door opened and Bunny walked into the kitchen. “You’re here,” she said, smiling at Stacey and Kit. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
She hugged them both, then looked around at the kitchen. “Do you need help with dinner?” she asked Harper.
“Thanks, Mom, I’m good.”
Stacey sipped her tea. Harper always made everything domestic look so easy. Her house was perfectly decorated for whatever season and always tidy and clean.
Bunny took a mug of tea and sat at one of the counter stools. She looked at Stacey. “So what’s new?”
The room went totally silent. Stacey could feel her husband and her sister both watching her, waiting to see what she would do.
She had to come clean—she understood that. If only her mother would understand. But Bunny wouldn’t. She hadn’t approved of Stacey keeping her own last name when she married Kit, that she still worked full-time, that her job had always been the most important part of her life, at least until she’d met Kit.
Stacey sucked in a breath and opened her mouth. “Mom, I—”
“Knock, knock!”
The call came from the front of the house. Harper walked by and murmured, “Saved by the bell, so to speak. I can’t figure out if you have the best or worst luck.”
“Me, either.”
Harper’s client Lucas walked into the kitchen with a tall, thin redhead at his side. The young woman looked to be maybe twenty or twenty-one. She held a large, fabric-covered box, which she handed to Harper.
“Lucas said this is for you.”
“It’s beautiful,” Harper said as she set it on the counter. “Where did you find it?”
“Etsy,” Lucas said, handing Bunny a bouquet of flowers. “Hello, Bunny.”
Her mother batted her lashes and smiled at Lucas. “Hello, Lucas.” She turned to his date. “And you are?”
“Persimmon,” Harper said with a grin.
“Oh, dear.” Bunny’s mouth grew pinched. “That’s an unusual name.”
“I know, right? I have a sister named Kumquat.”
“I can’t imagine what your parents were thinking.” Bunny gave her an insincere smile. “Let me get these in water.”
With Lucas and Persimmon around, Stacey was able to relax. There was no way she could tell her mother the truth now. Maybe after dinner, when Lucas and his date had left.
Stacey settled on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter and prepared to watch the dynamics of the interactions between Lucas, Harper and Bunny.
Harper got her guests drinks. Lucas took a beer and Persimmon wanted to try the herbal tea. Stacey wondered if she was old enough to legally drink alcohol. Bunny fussed with the flowers, all the while eyeing Lucas’s date.
In a way, Bunny’s dilemma was interesting to observe. She didn’t approve of his young girlfriends, yet he was a man and therefore right by default. Stacey wondered about his preference for dating women so much younger than himself. He was attractive, intelligent and had a very responsible job. By all accounts he should be more comfortable with women closer to his own demographic. Yet he clearly favored young, beautiful but vapid women.
Kit’s theory was that Lucas had had some trauma in his life. Stacey had asked Harper, but she didn’t have any insights.
Lucas settled next to Stacey, then leaned close. “Still not coming clean?” he asked quietly.
“How did you know?”
“There’s no screaming and Bunny isn’t hyperventilating. Want me to tell her? She doesn’t scare me.”
“She doesn’t scare me, either.”
Lucas raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, she doesn’t scare me much.”
He winked at her and she laughed.
Harper pulled her cell phone from her jeans pocket and glanced at the screen. “That’s Becca,” she said, sounding relieved. “They’re pulling up now.”
Everyone walked toward the front of the house. Kit grabbed Stacey’s hand and squeezed her fingers. She looked at him and sighed.
“I know,” she told him.
“You’ll get there.”
Stacey hoped he was right.
They all went out front, careful to avoid the rabbit footprints. A large black BMW pulled into the driveway. Stacey noted that Terence’s girlfriend was driving rather than him, which was unusual, but not as unexpected as the three incredibly large dogs in the back seat with Becca.
The car came to a stop and Terence nearly fell out of the passenger’s side. His face was red, his eyes practically swollen shut and he was coughing and choking. Alicia, his girlfriend, got out and shook her head.
“I guess he is really allergic to dogs, huh?”
Becca was the last to leave the vehicle, followed by three huge Dobermans. The dogs were sleek and muscled, black-and-tan, with alert but wary expressions. Stacey watched her sister stare at her daughter, then at the dogs.
“No,” Harper breathed. “She didn’t.”
“Mom, it’s not what you think!”
