Family Be Mine (6 page)

“A technical term. I'll enlighten you later,” Hunt said.

“Anyway, as to the lady in question, my partner—” the term sounded strange but surprisingly not unwelcome “—from what she said, I'm not sure if there was ever one on the scene.”

Ben whistled. “An unwed mother, huh?”

“Single parent is the politically correct term these days,” Hunt corrected.

Fred turned his head and mouthed furiously on a button along the bottom edge by the left rear wheel.

“There didn't have to be a guy, you know. It could have been a sperm bank donor,” Ben suggested hypothetically.

“Who knows? She made it pretty clear she wasn't into men,” Hunt replied.

“She's gay?” Ben asked.

“She didn't say that, and I didn't ask.”

Fred bit down, and the cord suddenly sprang into action, retracting on command. It snaked in quickly and the plug smacked Fred in the butt. The dog seemed stunned, then gave a delayed bark.

Ben shook his head. “How do you like that? We're actually stupider than that dumb dog of yours. Forget your average female.” He made a face back at Hunt. “So, was she okay to look at?”

Hunt watched Fred lick his fur. He exhaled. “To tell you the truth, it wouldn't have mattered if she were only attracted to hedgehogs. And the fact that she's pregnant? Weird maybe, but
so
not a problem. It just made her all the more womanly. In fact, everything about her turned me on.”

A
FTER
S
ARAH'S SPEEDY RECOVERY,
the three pedicures, and, luckily, no further dramas, Julie drove them all to Katarina's. She pulled into the driveway, and Katarina glanced over her shoulder to the backseat of the Honda CR-V. “She's asleep. Is that a bad sign?”

Julie turned off the engine. “I think it's perfectly normal for a woman in her thirtieth week of pregnancy to fall asleep at the end of a long day. It's other things that have me concerned,” she said in a low voice. She glanced behind, then pointed outside, out of earshot.

Katarina nodded and, wincing as she opened the door as quietly as possible, tiptoed out. They huddled together by the driver's-side headlight, their backs to the car.

Katarina began, “I thought you said that dizziness happened occasionally when you're pregnant, especially if the mom-to-be is overheated or hasn't eaten in a while.”

Julie shook her head. “I know what I said. That Sarah was sitting down, allowing the blood to collect in her lower limbs, and when she stood up, not enough blood returned to her heart and her blood pressure dropped, causing her to faint. That part's simple.”

“Are you worried about something else?”

“She comes in every two weeks at this stage, but I'd
like to see her sooner. I don't think it's something more serious, but I don't want to take any chances.”

“So there's no need to worry then, right?”

“Wrong. There's every chance in the world that her fainting could happen again.”

“But if she takes precautions—you mentioned getting up slowly, lying on her side instead of her back, eating a bunch of small meals.”

“That will help, but what if she faints while she's driving? What then?”

Katarina covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God. That could be serious.”

A noise came from the car.

They turned around guiltily.

Sarah stood by the open door of the backseat. She was holding on to the edge of the door, appearing none too steady on her feet.

Katarina moved quickly. “Hey, kiddo, how are you feeling? You were out for the count, so we thought we'd let you sleep some more in the car.”

“Good thinking.” Sarah tried to look at her feet and frowned. She was still wearing flip-flops after having her pedicure, with a long piece of tissue woven between her toes to keep the polish from smudging. That's right, her shoes were in her small nylon knapsack. She turned around to find them, wobbling a little. “Maybe I'm not quite up for this baby-shower thing.”

Julie came over by her side. “Don't worry. No one should be here for another half hour or more. Besides, it's not like it's such a big deal. We just invited a few people to make it festive. Rosemary from work and some of your clients and neighbors.”

Katarina circled around Sarah and lifted the knapsack
off the backseat. “Here, let me get your stuff. Julie can get my bag along with hers.”

“At least let me carry the pie. I'm not a complete invalid, you know,” Sarah insisted. She took a few steps along the gravel drive and felt a bit dizzy again. Maybe carrying the pie wasn't smart after all. She stopped and breathed in slowly. No, she could do this. A question of mind over matter.

She stared straight ahead and squared her shoulders. It wasn't more than ten feet into Katarina's house, even if she did have to step around a sexy black Porsche that blocked the direct route.

Julie ran her fingers over the sleek fender. “Has Ben traded in his motorcycle for this little beauty?” she asked.

“Uh, no…” Katarina replied. “It's—”

Sarah didn't bother to wait for Katarina since she knew the back door to the house was always unlocked. Grantham was preternaturally safe by the world's standards. Anyway, Katarina had once explained that if any thief could possibly find their little stone cottage off a hidden country road that snaked along the canal, let alone make his way up their long, dark driveway, she would personally direct him to Ben's supply of fly-fishing paraphernalia. She had been trying to clean the mess up for months to no avail.

So, without waiting, Sarah turned the knob and with accustomed familiarity stepped into the kitchen and placed the pie on the countertop by the sink.

She had barely turned to make way for the others when she heard a frantic scurrying.

Pounce!

Whoosh!
The air went out of her lungs.

Twice in one day, Sarah hit the deck, though this time safely on her rump. Even with extra padding the terracotta tiles hit hard.

But they were nothing compared to the two paws pressed on her shoulder blades. Or the wet tongue attacking her nose.

She winced and tried to turn away.

The dog lavished a kiss on her ear, and Sarah couldn't help but laugh. “So, don't tell me. Is this a surprise guest?” She grabbed on to Fred's neck as he continued to slobber her cheeks and nose. “Is it my imagination or is this dog seriously excited. I mean, take a look down there.” She couldn't stop laughing.

“Sarah!” Katarina shouted. She stormed across the kitchen. “Are you okay? Ben what's going on here?”

Julie stripped off her coat and draped it across one of the wooden chairs around the kitchen table. She crossed her arms. “Here—” she stepped toward Sarah “—let me pull him off you.”

At the sound of Julie's words, the dog collapsed directly on Sarah's chest. “Easier said than done,” Sarah said. At a loss for a better solution, she lay down on the hard tiles, and the dog went with her. His back legs spread-eagled, his body forming a convex shroud over Sarah's ballooning stomach. He rested his snout between Sarah's breasts, his wet nose burrowing against the hollow between her collarbone. “It's always nice to be wanted,” she said good-naturedly.

Katarina stomped down the hallway. “Ben! I know you're here somewhere!”

Sarah heard the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen and expected to hear some major groveling from
Ben.
This should be good,
she thought, and angled her neck to deprive the dog of a clear shot at her mouth.

Only it wasn't Ben.

First, she saw long legs in loose-fitting chinos that creased informally around a pair of well-worn boat shoes. She angled her chin up and got an upside-down view. Of a blondish man with wire-rimmed glasses and wearing a baggy crewneck sweater that looked like one of those old L.L.Bean black-and-white Norwegian numbers. From this perspective, she couldn't get a really good look at his face, but she could see plainly that the sweater was raveling at the cuffs and had a patch on one elbow.

First impressions might indicate someone down on his luck, but Sarah knew better. She had lived in Grantham long enough to recognize the trappings of Old Money. Except for a few of her physical therapy clients, she didn't mix with the old guard. Not that they weren't unfailingly polite. It's just that invitations to join the exclusive tennis club on the west side of town, where the clay courts were always immaculately groomed and white tennis clothes were mandatory, had never reached her—not that she could have afforded it or particularly yearned for it.

But the weird thing was, his legs had a certain familiarity to them. Sarah squinted and shifted the dog to get her shoulders around and get a more upright view. And then it hit her.

“Fred, buddy, I know you're a ladies' man, but do you think you could be a little more subtle about it?” He bent over and grabbed the dog by his collar and lifted him off Sarah. He roughed up the fur around his collar
even as the dog danced about his feet. “It's okay, calm down. Sit.”

If anything the dog pranced more.

He pushed its rump down with his hand and the dog finally sat, his tail still wagging in double-time.

Still petting the dog, he spoke without looking over. “I'm sorry about that. He's usually afraid of strangers, but it seems you made a rather large impression on him.” He looked up.

“Hunt? You're Hunt, right?” Sarah asked with surprise. Only now did she again see how hollow the flesh was beneath his jutting cheekbones.

“Sarah?” he asked, equally startled. He rubbed his hand over the dog's back involuntarily. “You're here for the party? Katarina's party? I never expected…”

The two of them stared dumbfounded at each other, unaware of the others in the kitchen.

“You look different,” he said finally. “You're not wearing a bathing suit.”

“And you're wearing glasses,” she said.

Julie stepped next to Sarah. “Am I missing something here?”

Katarina marched back into the kitchen with Ben in tow. “Would someone mind filling me in here?” she asked.

Sarah twisted toward one friend then the other. She levered her weight on one hand, ready to hoist herself up.

Everyone rushed to help. Hunt was first. Hunt and Fred. He—Hunt, not Fred—placed his hand under her upper arm and guided her up like a tugboat maneuvering a cruise ship. He didn't let go when she was finally standing.

Sarah gulped. An awkward moment or two passed. “I think I can stand on my own now.”

“Oh, right.” Hunt stepped back. He seemed momentarily startled, too, but recovered after a beat to say, “And to think we coordinated all that after only one water aerobics lesson. Imagine if we'd had two?”

Sarah drank in his easy grin. “Yes, just imagine,” she said haltingly.

And she could, only too well.

K
ATARINA HONED IN ON HIM
, Hunt backed away, only to run up against the kitchen counter.

“You have the nerve to turn me down?” She was aghast.

“It's not that, and I really appreciate the invitation. It's just that…ah…I think it would probably be better if I…ah…I didn't stay. I mean, besides, what do I know about baby showers?” Except that the usual decorum probably didn't involve one of the guests harboring lustful thoughts every time he saw the mother-to-be. Hunt cleared his throat. “Then there's Fred. He's not really comfortable around strangers.” He looked down at his dog who chose that second to wag his tail and appear particularly cute.

Katarina smiled at the dog, which didn't stop her from poking Hunt in the chest. “I can't believe it. A grown man hiding behind a thirty-pound dog.”

“He's more like thirty-five.”

“Please, you'll have to do better than that. Anyway, Matt's back from orchestra practice at the high school, and he volunteered to look after Frodo or whatever he's called.

“Fred.”

“Fred? What kind of a name is that for a dog?”

Julie sauntered into the kitchen.

Hunt eyed her nervously before responding to Sarah. “There's nothing wrong with Fred. Many outstanding individuals have been named Fred. Frederick Douglass. Fred Astaire.”

“Fred Flintstone,” Julie added. She opened the refrigerator door. “Hey, you got any half-and-half in here? I want to fill the creamer for the coffee.”

Katarina glanced over but she didn't budge. Hunt was still wedged against the edge of the counter. “You'll have to use the two-percent milk. I'm watching Ben's cholesterol.”

Julie grabbed the half-gallon jug and straightened up. She sauntered over in her bare feet, her newly polished dusky-rose toenails a bright splash of color against the dark Mexican tile floor. She pressed her chin forward and, using all her six-foot-two height, greeted Hunt eyeball to eyeball. “Long time no see, Hunt. But then you probably don't remember me from GHS,” she said, referring to Grantham High School. “Julie? Julie Antonelli? You were a year ahead of me.”

“And you were always an inch taller,” he answered back.

She gave Hunt a withering stare. “Not only does he have to stay, I say we make him demonstrate the pass-the-orange-under-your-chin-without-using-your-hands game.” She flipped her bangs imperiously, pivoted on her heels and made her way out of the kitchen, holding the milk aloft.

Hunt watched her go with an exhalation of relief. “Even in school she was always this scary.”

“You're lucky. You've caught her on a good day. So what do you say? Now that you're here…”

Hunt looked up at the ceiling. Heavy wooden beams,
darkened with age, ran crosswise across the room. They cleared only a few inches above his head. He shifted his gaze back to Katarina. “You don't have to include me just because I happened to be on the premises. I don't know the first thing about baby showers.”

“Not important. Besides, I'm far too uncoordinated to demonstrate the party game, and Julie's already turned me down cold.” Katarina looked at him beseechingly.

“Okay.” He caved. “But only because I happen to like you so much.”

Katarina laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek and let go of his arm. “How about you take down the white dessert plates from the overhead cupboard behind you and put them on the dining room table, to the left of the silverware?”

“If I get the coffee cups, too, can I forgo this orange-whatever thing?” He turned around.

“No, but nice try,” she said behind his back and added in an oh-so-casual tone, “So you and Sarah already know each other then? From the adult education class? You know, I still can't believe you're doing water aerobics.”

Hunt grabbed the plates and turned back. “You mean Ben didn't tell you how he practically strong-armed me?”

Katarina let her tongue rest on her top lip. “Oh, right. Ben.”

Hunt looked at her askance. The corner of his mouth twitched up in amusement. “He didn't tell you a thing, did he?”

Katarina held up her index finger. “No, but I'm prepared to get to the bottom of it.” She leaned toward the
hallway. “Hey, Sarah, could you come in here a sec?” she shouted. She crossed her arms and waited.

Sarah waddled into the room, her flip-flops slapping the floor. “You need something?”

“Just some clarification. Did you know that Ben pushed Hunt into taking the water aerobics class?”

Sarah rubbed her chin as she thought. “At the pool he mentioned something about friends signing him up, but no real details.”

Katarina narrowed her eyes. “The plot thickens.”

From outside, the sound of a car engine signaled Ben's return from the caterer's.

Katarina opened the door and didn't waste any time while he carried in the parcels of prepared food. “So, when did you get the idea of having Hunt take the class?” she asked, barely letting him put the overflowing shopping bags on the table.

“I don't know. It just kind of hit me, the wisdom of the whole ‘education as the wellspring of life' thing,” Ben said. He waved sheepishly to Hunt and Sarah.

Hunt stepped toward his best buddy. “Nice try, but I'm afraid not entirely believable. Listen, it's no use trying to save face.” Hunt appealed to Katarina. “Don't give him a hard time. Ben already confessed to me that he fell prey to a force far greater than he—my mother. She was the one who put him up to it.”

Ben sighed. “I admit it. I was beaten down. It
was
Iris's idea.”

“I still don't know what that has to do with me,” Sarah protested. “After all,
my
clients gave me the gift certificate for the class.”

Hunt turned to her. “And who are your clients?”

“Well, let's see. Wanda and Rufus, and oh right, Lena.”

“Babi
cka!”
Katarina exclaimed, using the Slovak word for
grandmother.

“You don't think that your grandmother?” Sarah blinked at Katarina.

“And my mother?” Hunt added.

Katarina beamed. “Conspired to set you two up? You betcha.”

“Well, that's just absurd,” Sarah protested.

“Even if they did, it's irrelevant. After all, we're both adults. We're perfectly capable of forming our own personal relationships without outside interference,” Hunt said emphatically.

“Ya think?” Katarina viewed them both skeptically. Then she turned to Ben. “Come, my strong husband. How about you and I bring the food into the dining room? I've already got platters waiting on the table.” She motioned toward the shopping bags, and he picked them up, cradling the heavy packages in both arms, and followed her out of the kitchen.

Hunt watched his friend shuffle out dutifully. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“On the contrary, I'd say theirs is a relationship based on mutual understanding,” Sarah responded. She cocked her head, her mouth open, as if waiting for him to disagree.

Hunt paused, considering a witty comeback, but no easy retort came to mind. Instead, he found his attention straying to her parted lips.

Sarah nervously dropped her eyes. “Not that
I
want or particularly need something along those lines myself right now.”

Hunt gathered himself. “Of course not. Nor I,” he said emphatically.

“So we're just going to forget about this little match-making stunt, correct?” she asked, raising her head.

“Absolutely. Consider it forgotten,” he proclaimed.

But, in truth, he wasn't sure he really could. Especially when he noticed the way a little vertical line formed between her brows when she frowned so earnestly. he felt his fingers itch with the impulse to smooth it flat.

“So,” he said in a forced upbeat tone, “should we rejoin the fray?”

She seemed to hesitate, then nodded.

“Just one thing?” He didn't want to release her quite yet.

“Yes?” The crease deepened.

He knew he was a goner. “When they call for volunteers to help me demonstrate this party game? Under no circumstances accept.”