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She hung up a garment that had fallen, but walked past the stacks of sweaters that needed to be refolded. Her boutique was a long, narrow space squeezed between a bookstore and a glass-and-art studio. What Brynn’s lacked in square footage, it made up for in style. The walls were original brick, the hardwood floors worn smooth more than a century ago when this entire building had been used as a warehouse for the shipping industry.
Much of her summer merchandise had arrived this morning. Normally, Mya would have stayed late to catalog everything. Her mind would have been racing to decide how to best display the trendy skirts and summer sweaters and nautical jackets, the beaded pants and espadrilles, scarves and jewelry. Normally, she would have stayed until the wee hours of the morning, steaming away wrinkles and arranging everything on racks and shelves, in trunks and inside open drawers of antique armoires. Normally, she couldn’t wait to get started. Today, she left everything in the cartons in the middle of the floor, switched on the night-lights, set the alarm and left, locking the back door behind her.
The alley was protected from the ocean wind. Taking a deep breath of air still warm from the sun, Mya reached into her pocket for her car keys. And stopped in her tracks.
Elle was leaning against her car.
A thrill ran through Mya as the girl sauntered toward her. Holding her explosion of pleasure to a small smile, Mya noticed that Elle positioned herself so that her car remained in plain sight, causing Mya to wonder if she was living out of it. The bottoms of her jeans were frayed, her plain black T-shirt tight. She looked less defiant, less confrontational. Her gaze was no less assessing.
Mya proceeded with caution. “There’s an Italian bistro across the street, an English pub around the corner and oyster shacks and fabulous seafood places within walking distance in every direction.”
She swore Elle looked tempted.
“And there’s a little pizzeria past the next alley, and—”
“Pizza?”
“The best pizza in the universe.” Hearing a noise, Mya looked overhead for seagulls. Seeing none, she said, “Care to grab a deluxe with me?”
“I can’t.” Elle was easing away.
Mya wanted to call her back, to beg.
Over her shoulder, Elle said, “Maybe one of those restaurants needs a waitress.”
“Are you looking for a job?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“I could use a clerk at Brynn’s.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Elle was a dozen feet from her car when Mya called, “Do you hear a baby crying?”
“I’ve gotta go.”
“Elle, wait.” Mya practically ran to the car, only to freeze all over again, for the cries were coming from a baby in the backseat.
For a moment Elle looked as if she’d just been caught doing something bad. But her attitude returned, shoring up her chin. “She’s mine.”
Suzette claimed the most powerful sentences contained just two words. She’s mine was proof enough for Mya. Since she didn’t trust herself to speak, all she could do was watch as Elle put the seat ahead and squeezed into the back. Seconds later, she eased out again, the baby in her arms.
“Surprise.”
Mya reeled, which was undoubtedly Elle’s intention.
The baby stopped trying to drag her bonnet over her head, and stared at Mya as if the hat problem was her fault. Mya hadn’t spent much time around babies, so she couldn’t say how old the child was. Her cheeks were round, her eyes blue. What Mya could see of her wispy hair was blond. She wore pink overalls and tennis shoes, one lace trailing. The little Harley-Davidson T-shirt seemed at odds with the delicate bonnet.
“She’s had an earache,” Elle said.
Later, Mya would marvel at how in tune Elle was with what Mya was thinking, but now she said the only thing that came into her mind. “She’s beautiful. I sensed you were hiding something.”
Elle made no comment, leaving Mya to wonder what else the girl was hiding.
“What’s her name?”
“Kaylie. She’s almost ten months old.”
Hearing her name, the baby looked up at her mother, who smiled at her. Instantly, Kaylie’s chubby little face spread into an adoring grin.
“Kaylie what?” Mya asked around the sudden lump in her throat.
“Kaylie Renee Fletcher. I was going to name her Harley, but in the end, I couldn’t. Couldn’t picture an old lady named Harley. I figure if she doesn’t like Kaylie when she’s thirty, she can shorten it to Kay.”
The “old” reference wasn’t lost on Mya. “And her middle name?”
“Renee was my mom’s name. It’s my middle name, too.”
Mya absorbed every last implication, from the quiet reverence in Elle’s voice, to her use of the past tense. “Where did you grow up?” she asked.
Elle’s eyes narrowed.
And Mya said, “Yours isn’t a Down Easterner’s accent.”
“My parents moved to Pennsylvania when I was about Kaylie’s age.” Suddenly, Elle didn’t seem to know where to look.
The girl inspired a curious urgency in Mya, a sense that time was spinning too fast. She wanted to ask her a hundred questions about where Elle had been and what kind of life she’d had, but she settled for asking only one. “Are you going to stay in Portland for a while?”
“I’m thinking about it. It’s not like we have anyplace better to be.”
“Kaylie could come with us to grab that pizza.”
“She already ate.” With that, Elle returned the baby to the car seat. Before she was through, she loosened the ribbon beneath Kaylie’s chin. Immediately, the baby stopped fussing and began the arduous task of trying to remove the bonnet.
Elle left without saying goodbye. After she drove away in her noisy little car, Mya got in her shiny, midsize model and drove away, too.
Time, she thought as she stopped at the light, was an amazing thing. Sometimes an hour seemed to last forever, and then one day you discovered that an entire lifetime has passed. Elle was young and still believed thirty was old. Mya had spent the last nineteen years trying not to remember how it felt to be that young.
Jeffrey was scribbling on a chart when Mya arrived at the hospital. He smiled when he saw her. It did little to relieve the knot in her stomach. Motioning to a small lounge, he held up five fingers. She knew from experience that although his intentions were good, he would be at least ten minutes, probably fifteen.
The staff lounge was deserted. Decorated in shades of purple and gray, the room was aesthetically pleasing enough, if one liked hospitals. They happened to terrify Mya.
Perhaps she should have waited for Jeffrey at his condo. Conveniently located a few blocks from the hospital, his place had high ceilings and tall windows that made the most of their southern exposure. For all the building’s wonderful character, the furnishings were early bachelor pad. She’d told him that nobody had a water bed anymore. With a shrug, he’d given her free rein to change the decor as soon as she moved in. Mya wanted them to live in her house after the wedding.
One hurdle at a time.
Claire was right. People who were engaged needed to be honest with each other. She had to tell Jeff about Elle.
She paced, leafed through a magazine, then paced again. Her mind wandered, and she found herself wondering where the labor and delivery rooms were in this hospital. They’d been on the second floor in the hospital up in Brunswick, where she’d—
The sound of laughter drew Mya around. The young nurse entering the lounge stopped laughing when she saw Mya.
“Tammy,” Jeffrey said behind her, “Would you mind using the other lounge?”
Although Tammy left, it was apparent to Mya that she did mind.
Jeffrey paused just inside the door, right after he smiled. And Mya wondered what he saw in her. He obviously had plenty of opportunities. Why her?
“Still trying to figure me out?” he asked. “I told you. Men are simple. Sex and supper pretty much covers our needs.”
“So you say. Do you realize I’ve never seen you angry?”
“Why would I be angry? You’re here. Life just got better.”
“You’re very smooth, Doctor.” When he grinned, she was reminded of the first time she’d seen him in this very hospital. The man looked good in scrubs, no doubt about that. She wished she melted at the sight of him.
Where had that come from? What was wrong with her? She was afraid she knew the answer.
“You want to see smooth?” he asked. “Come here.”
She remained where she was. “I have something to tell you.”
He went to her and kissed her. “It must be important to bring you here.”
“It is.”
“If you don’t want to keep my cats at your house, I can move them back to my place.”
“And here I was getting used to all the cat hair.”
“God, you’re gorgeous.”
“You always call me gorgeous when you’re trying to get me out of my blouse.”
“I like the way you think.”
She grasped his wrist when he reached for her top button.
“I’m teasing, Mya. What is it?”
“Perhaps we should sit down.”
He studied her in a manner that caused her to understand why he was so well liked and respected and appreciated in E.R. “In my experience,” he said, “there are three things a woman might say when she looks at a man the way you’re looking at me. One, she’s married. Two, she’s gay. And C, she was once a man.”
Mya couldn’t help smiling a little. “Prepare to add one more possibility.”
She’d suggested they be seated, yet he was the one who drew her to a vinyl sofa on the other side of the room. “Okay,” he said when he’d taken the adjacent chair. “What is it?”
She’d practiced her speech during the drive over. Unfortunately, there was no way to soften the bluntness of what she had to say. Forcing her gaze on his, she said, “I had a baby.”
His eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch.
“When I was seventeen. I held her once, and then handed her to the social worker.” She kept her voice even, her memories locked up. “I never heard from her again.”
He continued to watch her closely.
“Until last night.”
“She called?” he asked.
“No. She came by.”
“So she looked you up. That’s common, isn’t it?” Jeffrey said. “They’re curious. Justifiably so.”
Mya fought an unholy desire to stomp on his foot. “Elle doesn’t strike me as the curious type.”
“Elle?”
“Eleanor. There’s more.” Mya tucked her short hair behind her ears. She missed her long hair, missed the weight of it and the warmth of it. More stable now, she said, “She has a ten-month-old baby girl named Kaylie. I know this must come as a shock.”
For what seemed like forever, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall behind her. Finally, Jeff spoke. “What’s shocking is that all these months I’ve been sleeping with a grandmother.”
Now, she did nudge him.
“Honey, the sounds you make when we’re making love give the word new meaning.”
She jumped to her feet. And as he had dozens of times before, he went to her and put his arms around her. “This doesn’t change the way I feel about you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He slid his hands down her back, drawing her against him. “You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re sexy as hell. Something that happened to you when you were a kid doesn’t change any of that.”
“It wasn’t something that happened to me. I wasn’t run over by an 18-wheeler or struck by lightning. It was something I did, a portion of my life I lived.”
“Potato, po-tah-to.”
“Now you sound like Claire.”
“That hurts. My parents want to meet you.”
She blinked. “They do?”
“I think you’d better find out what Eleanor’s after. She probably just wants to know her medical history, now that she has a kid of her own. No sense getting bent out of shape until we know what we’re dealing with, right?”
Bent out of shape?
For some reason, Mya couldn’t get comfortable in his arms. She couldn’t find that safe place, that warm sense of being home. He kissed a path along her neck. Normally, she responded to the sensation. Tonight, she wondered what he would look like bent out of shape and thoroughly ticked off. She reminded herself of the anger-management classes she’d taken, and the self-help books she’d read. Jeffrey was sane and rational, and this was how sane and rational people dealt with life’s issues. Sanely and rationally.
“Jeff.” She stepped out of his arms. “Someone could come in.”
He released a long sigh, but he followed her toward the door. “What are you going to do?”
