The Would-Be Mommy Read online

  Still, she was glad she’d yielded to Sunny’s urgent request, for as long as it lasted. Often in the middle of the night like this, loneliness squeezed Jennifer’s heart. Not tonight. For this brief reprieve, she had a baby to hold. And she was grateful.

  This evening, too, she’d felt painful stirrings while she was around Ian Martin. He was exactly the kind of man that used to attract her—intense, amusing, volatile. Men like that always let her down, though. And they always would, if she gave them the chance.

  So she wouldn’t.

  Jennifer returned the baby to the crib. She had a job she loved, along with two very dear new friends. And she’d better get to bed so she didn’t oversleep and miss their regular Saturday outing.

  At nine o’clock the next morning, having polished off the remaining brownies and cheesecake bites, she threw on jeans, a tank top and matching sweater and tucked Rosalie into the borrowed stroller. In front of the complex, they found Lori waiting, and together set out on their power walk.

  “How’d the baby do last night?” The nurse peered into the carriage as they strode. “How about you? I heard the reporter loaned you the furniture he won. Did that go all right? He didn’t stay too late, did he? You look well rested.”

  Although accustomed to her friend’s bubbly nature, Jennifer rarely saw her this chatty. “It was fine. And what did you OD on this morning?”

  “Jared came over late last night. He just left a few minutes ago.” That explained the flyaway state of Lori’s reddish-brown hair.

  She and Jared Sellers, a staff neonatologist, had been dating for several months. Although hospital policy discouraged courtships at work, there were no rules against dating in one’s private life. Besides, technically the two didn’t work together. Lori assisted Mark Rayburn with his infertility patients, while Jared treated newborns. In fact, he was the doctor who’d examined Rosalie last night.

  At the hiking trail, they found Samantha Forrest jogging in place as she awaited them. The pediatrician might be a few years older than Lori and Jennifer, but she kept in tip-top shape. “Whose baby is that?” she asked, angling for a better look.

  “You didn’t see us on the Internet?” Jennifer joked. “For all I know, it made the eleven o’clock news, as well.” Ian hadn’t been the only reporter present.

  “What made the news?” Samantha asked as they set out abreast. Luckily, no one was around to object to them blocking the path.

  Jennifer explained about the evening’s events, with Lori throwing in excited comments. Her enthusiasm seemed excessive, since the nurse claimed not to be crazy about babies. The oldest of six girls, Lori had helped raise her younger siblings, and that, she’d declared, was all the parenting she ever cared to provide.

  “She relinquished the baby in front of the cameras?” Samantha queried as they passed a bougainvillea-draped wall that obscured their view of expensive bluff-top homes. “I’ll bet Mark and that executive gave her the bum’s rush.”

  Sam made no secret of her dissatisfaction with the hospital administration. She’d risen to director of pediatrics a few years ago when the facility served many poor families. It still accepted maternity patients on a sliding scale, but a clinic offering low-cost care had been closed.

  “Dr. Rayburn was very supportive,” Jennifer corrected.

  “And Ms. Yashimoto?”

  “The less said, the better.” She adjusted the stroller’s hood to keep the sunlight off Rosalie’s face. The baby returned her gaze contentedly.

  Don’t get too attached, sweetheart. I can’t keep you, she thought, and then wondered if she was aiming that reminder at the baby or at herself.

  “Did you tell Sam about the reporter who won the contest? He’s cute,” Lori prompted, and hurried on to describe Ian’s rangy good looks and the generous loan of his winnings. Jennifer hardly had a chance to say anything, which was just as well.

  She hadn’t told her friends of her reluctance to get involved with a man, because that might lead to revelations about her troubled past. Eventually, she supposed it would come up, but better later than sooner. Much as she longed for complete acceptance by these women, she knew that relationships took time to grow. For now, she preferred to tread carefully.

  A breeze carried the scent of salt air, and she spotted a couple of gulls wheeling overhead. As the path turned downhill toward the harbor, Jennifer slowed to avoid jostling the baby. Lori trotted ahead, stopped and began hopping up and down impatiently.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Samantha asked.

  Instead of answering, Lori waved her left hand.

  “Drying your nail polish?” Jennifer guessed.

  A flash of light refracted from a diamond on Lori’s finger. Sam halted in her tracks. “Oh, my gosh! She’s wearing a ring!”

  “Jared proposed last night. Doesn’t he have fabulous taste?” Lori cried. “I mean the ring, not me. Although he’s got good taste there, too, I guess!”

  Jennifer wished this couple every happiness. Yet the thought of planning a future with a man she loved was almost too painful to contemplate.

  Until last night, she’d believed her crushed dreams were safely locked away. Then Ian had filled her home with the deep rumble of his laugh and the challenging glint in his eyes. A reminder of what she’d dreamed of and lost.

  With an effort, Jennifer broke through her memories. “That’s great,” she told Lori.

  “Have you set a date?” asked Samantha, who’d already offered her congratulations.

  “I’ve always dreamed of a Christmas wedding.”

  “That’s only a few months off.”

  “We’ll have a simple church ceremony,” Lori assured them.

  “What about the reception?” Sam inquired as they descended to the quay bordered by quaint shops. “How’re you going to find a place on such short notice?”

  Lori beamed. “Esther offered to host it at her house. She’s my matron of honor. Have you seen their place? It’s like something out of a magazine.”

  Jennifer had met Esther Franco, Tony’s wife, a couple of times. A deputy district attorney, the woman exuded confidence, but much as Jennifer wanted to like her, she’d noticed that Esther always seemed to be gazing past the person she was talking to, as if seeking someone more interesting.

  To be fair, they’d met at crowded social events. Perhaps Tony’s wife had been expecting someone else.

  “That was generous. Maybe she’s not as self-centered as I took her for.” As usual, Samantha didn’t bother to soft-pedal her opinions. “And they do have a gorgeous house on the bluffs.”

  “She was the second person I called, after my mother. We’ve been best friends since high school,” Lori said as they neared their favorite coffee shop.

  “I’m glad to hear she’s got a warm side,” Samantha told the bride-to-be. “First I’ve seen of it, though.”

  “She is hard to talk to,” Jennifer ventured.

  Lori shrugged. “She’s ambitious, and she can come across as abrasive. But she was thrilled that I asked her. Considering that they’ll have a new baby in the house, I couldn’t believe she offered to have the reception there.”

  A new baby, and not even pregnant. At least Esther and I have that much in common, Jennifer reflected ruefully. Although the staff tried not to gossip, there’d been a lot of curiosity when the news spread that the Francos had contracted with a surrogate to carry their child.

  “She probably already has a nanny lined up,” Samantha mused. “I hope two high-powered attorneys can manage to spend enough time with their kid so it recognizes their faces.”

  Jennifer smiled at her friend’s exaggeration. “I bet they’ll both melt the moment they see that baby. How could they help it?” As Lori held the coffee shop door, she eased the stroller over the threshold. “Oops-a-daisy,” she cooed to Rosalie.

  “Have a seat,” Sam said. “I’ll pick up your usual. My treat, since you’re being such a good mom.”

  Jennifer thanked her and foun
d a table with a view of the harbor. Along the wharf, boats bobbed at anchor, while farther out sails dotted the water. Sitting indoors, she missed the sounds and smells of the sea, but the fall air was a bit cool for the baby.

  An older woman paused to beam at Rosalie. “Oh, how adorable!”

  “Thank you.” It seemed simplest not to bother with explanations.

  The woman gazed down wistfully. “Brings back such sweet memories.” With a sigh, she tore herself away.

  A few minutes later, Samantha arrived with coffee and biscotti, followed by Lori with a cup of chai. Once again, Jennifer felt a wave of gratitude for her new friends. At her previous job as assistant PR director for a medical center, she’d occasionally gone to a movie or club with other women, but no one had clicked.

  These two had accepted her at once. Their personalities seemed to blend, and they all enjoyed taking weekly walks that balanced exercise with self-indulgence.

  Recalling her hesitant reaction to Lori’s good news, Jennifer felt a twinge of guilt, even though she doubted the others had noticed. To show interest, she returned the discussion to the wedding plans. “Have you chosen your colors yet?”

  “I want to get Esther’s opinion first.” From Lori’s spiced milk tea, Jennifer caught a whiff of cinnamon and cloves. “I nearly forgot to ask! Would you two be my bridesmaids?”

  “I’d love to,” Samantha said.

  “I’m honored.” Jennifer meant that from the heart. “I’ve never been in a wedding.”

  “Seriously?” Lori asked. “I’ve been in four. Esther’s, of course, and three of my sisters’. The other two aren’t married yet.”

  Samantha rested her chin on her hand. “With five sisters, you’ll have a lot of bridesmaids.”

  Lori shook her head. “Just you two and Esther. My sisters have been total snots the past few years. We have this love-hate thing, because I was always disciplining them, growing up.”

  “But family’s important,” Jennifer protested.

  “Yeah, when they aren’t being a pain in the butt.” An uncharacteristic scowl darkened Lori’s face. “I’m almost tempted not to invite them, but I’d never get away with that.”

  “You’d regret it if they didn’t come,” Sam advised. “Now, let’s talk about happy stuff. Weddings ought to be pure bliss.”

  That remark from the usually hardheaded pediatrician surprised Jennifer. “I’m sure they should be fun, but isn’t preparing for marriage the most important thing? Talking about your goals and making sure you’re on the same page?”

  “Jared and I don’t need to do that,” Lori told her. “We’re perfect for each other.”

  “I can tell.” Samantha nodded approval.

  A quiver of doubt ran through Jennifer. Relationships always had issues, didn’t they? “I realize you guys have a high level of compatibility, but…”

  “Ooh, there’s a romantic phrase! ‘A high level of compatibility,’” Sam murmured.

  “We have to compromise on some stuff,” Lori agreed. “Like, we alternate picking movies. When it’s his turn, I wear earplugs to block the explosions, and he teases me about my three-hankie tearjerkers. But on the big issues, no problem.”

  “Lucky you.” Jennifer would consider herself incredibly fortunate to find a man she cared about who loved her in return. As for the issues, she’d be satisfied if they could meet each other halfway.

  “I was a little worried when I told him I absolutely don’t want kids,” Lori conceded. “But he feels the same way.”

  “Really?” Jennifer dunked her biscotti into the coffee. It was messy but delicious.

  “You know what medical school and residency are like. After putting in those long hours, he loves the freedom to just loll around on weekends with me.”

  “It’s good you both know your own minds,” the pediatrician said.

  “We’ll be best friends and lovers, forever.”

  Surely Lori and Jared ought to at least talk to a premarital counselor, Jennifer thought. On the other hand, perhaps her own mother’s series of failed marriages had made her too cynical.

  The chime of her cell phone sent her digging into her pocket. The name on the readout was Mark Rayburn. Hearing from the hospital director on a Saturday didn’t bode well.

  “Hello, Dr. Rayburn,” she answered.

  “Sorry for interrupting you on the weekend,” he said. “How’s the baby?”

  Judging by the edge to his voice, he hadn’t called simply to check on Rosalie, but Jennifer appreciated his concern. “She’s fine. We’re down at the harbor.”

  “We could really use you here.” He released an exasperated breath. “That video’s all over the Internet. We’ve had two more babies relinquished this morning.”

  “Really? Oh, my goodness.”

  “Social Services can’t send anyone out yet and—excuse me?” He broke off, and she heard him talk to someone in the background. Then, into the phone: “Number three just arrived.”

  “Three safe haven babies in one day?” That was unheard of. “I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

  “Tell him I’m coming, too,” added Samantha, who’d obviously picked up the gist of the conversation.

  Jennifer relayed that information over the phone.

  “Good,” Mark responded distractedly. “Mostly I’m worried about the press showing up.”

  “I’ll do my best to keep a lid on things.” They needed to get the babies settled into the nursery quickly. She doubted she’d be able to exercise much control if the wrong person got wind of this.

  Such as Ian. Jennifer almost wished she hadn’t encouraged him to stay and chat last night. What if he called her at the wrong moment and she let something slip? She’d have to be very, very careful.

  By the time the administrator rang off, Samantha and Lori were clearing away the cups and napkins. “I’ll take the baby for the day,” Lori promised.

  “But you don’t like kids.”

  “Oh, they’re cute when they’re tiny.” Her friend grinned. “They can’t talk back yet.”

  “I wish I could say the same for reporters,” Jennifer grumbled.

  With her friends, she set off on the return hike. Pushing the stroller uphill got tougher at every step, which, Jennifer figured, was a pretty good indication of how this day was likely to go.

  Chapter Five

  Ian spent Saturday morning working on the celebrity divorce story. It involved a rock idol and his actress wife who were engaged in a vicious and very public child custody battle.

  He had trouble imagining two things: a) that there was anything left to write about people whose every move was targeted by paparazzi, and b) that anybody cared. Okay, so the husband, known by the stage name of Riff, had a talent for playing guitar and singing, and the wife starred in big box office romantic comedies. That hardly qualified them as endlessly fascinating.

  His brother-in-law disagreed. “You’ve got a talent for this sort of thing,” Viktor DeJong said through Ian’s hands-free phone as he drove south from L.A. toward an Anaheim hotel. Riff—real name: Rudolph Farnsworth—was scheduled to sign autographs at a children’s charity event, and there were rumors that Mrs. Riff, aka Lacy Mirabeau, might show up.

  “This is a waste of my time and everyone else’s,” Ian retorted. “What can possibly happen except that two people who once loved each other will hurl nasty accusations back and forth?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m hoping for,” Viktor told him. “By the way, Anni says hi.”

  “Same to her.”

  “Great job on the baby story, by the way. Everyone’s picking it up.” His brother-in-law spoke flawless English, despite being a Belgian native. “Think you can drum up a new twist there over the weekend?”

  “I’ll try.” Ian wouldn’t mind seeing Jennifer again. Okay, if he were being honest, he’d very much like to see her.

  At the hotel, he parked and slung the camera bag over his shoulder. Pierre was busy today chasing an Oscar-winning di
rector and his new girlfriend, an actress barely on the right side of eighteen. Although Ian preferred to focus on reporting, he was capable of taking his own pictures.

  Indoors, he wove through clumps of tourists towing children in Disneyland T-shirts. Near the ballroom, he glimpsed TV lights ahead and quickened his pace.

  There stood Lacy Mirabeau, blond hair gleaming as she posed for an array of cameras. “It’s typical of Riff to let down a children’s charity,” she was saying. “He hardly ever shows up for visitation with his own children.” Beside her, a young man who must have been either her manager or publicist nodded at every word.

  A woman wearing a press badge called out, “Didn’t he call in sick with food poisoning? That’s what his Web site says.”

  “Probably from eating his new girlfriend’s cooking,” Lacy sniped.

  Ian activated his pocket digital recorder and got busy angling to catch the actress on camera. Being tall had advantages in a situation like this, he noted as he peered over his colleagues’ heads.

  The rest of the impromptu press conference proceeded pretty much by rote, from Ian’s perspective. A few quotes and quite a lot of preening by the actress. On his smart phone, a scan of the musician’s Web site revealed that, yes, he did claim to have food poisoning.

  Ian uploaded his pictures to Flash News/Global, along with captions and an article hastily batted out on his netbook. He chalked the whole thing up as another mindless item to titillate a public that, in a bygone era, would have been well enough acquainted with their neighbors to gossip about them instead of celebrities.

  Man, am I getting jaded, he mused as he returned to his car. He visualized baby Rosalie cradled in Jennifer’s arms. What a breath of fresh air they were.

  Political upheaval and wars and natural disasters weren’t the only things that mattered. There were also the quiet, intimate moments that rarely qualified as news, moments that he’d glimpsed on the sidewalks and streets of cities around the world. A bride arriving at a church. Parents bringing a baby home from the hospital. Aging couples strolling hand in hand.