Chapter Eight
Hunter strolled down the hall toward his father’s office, head bowed, filled with thoughts of his wife. For two days, he’d been holding his breath, wary of doing or saying the wrong thing. If he could go back in time and not have had sex with Sara that day, he would. That was saying a lot, because never before had he wished for such a thing.
He hated the fact that, after many weeks of abstinence, their first time together had ended on a sour note—another unpleasant first for them. So he’d refrained from making more overtures, instead choosing to make the calls to their family members, all of whom had offered heartfelt condolences. Each time he’d passed along their love, Sara’s face had turned splotchy, and her eyes filled with tears.
He’d brought her flowers and her favorite chocolates, and remained holed up with her while she got herself together, all the while stuffing his own feelings of loss down deep, to be dealt with later.
This morning, when he’d returned from a vigorous bike ride that hadn’t quite lowered his stress, she’d announced she wanted to go to the Angel House for a couple of hours. He resented that that place comforted her when he could not. But when his attempt to discourage her from going failed, he’d come to the office.
Now, strolling the halls of this business where he’d worked side by side with his dad for so long, he had to face a reality he hadn’t before allowed himself to imagine. He might never be working in that corner office with his own son. He might never have any progeny to take over the legacy that had meant so much to him.
His sisters might have children, but those kids would take their fathers’ last names. The idea that he might be the last male Cabot in this family—the end of the line—seemed incomprehensible and vast, like the sadness swelling inside.
Things looked bleak today, but as long as he didn’t quit, there’d be hope for the future he’d always believed in. If he was to be the last Cabot, then he’d make damn sure the legacy of the name endured. He looked up as he approached his father’s office, shaking off all sense of defeat.
“Was that Gentry?” Hunter asked his dad’s assistant, Cindy, while staring at the closing elevator doors. His sister’s auburn hair and vibrant clothing were hard to miss, but she rarely visited CTC.
“Yes,” Cindy replied, as if it was perfectly normal for Gentry to be in the building.
“Why was she here?” He suspected Jenna had been courting Gentry’s vote. Bitterness festered, but he refrained from growling. Although Cindy had always liked him, she remained loyal to his dad. Hunter wouldn’t allow her to see him as anything less than calm and collected.
“I don’t know, but it got a little loud. She just whipped out of there and stormed off.” Cindy returned her gaze to the computer screen, unfazed by (or perhaps just accustomed to) Gentry’s antics.
Interesting tidbit, though, about the argument. Perhaps Gentry was giving Jenna a hard time, as Colby had predicted. For a split second, he thought maybe all was not lost. He couldn’t do anything about the failed pregnancy, but he could still save CTC.
“Can I go in?” he asked.
Cindy smiled. “Enter at your own risk.”
With his hand on the knob, he could hear Jenna through the closed door. Her brittle voice sounded even shriller than usual. “How could she do this? So foolish! What do we do now?”
Admittedly, Hunter savored a smug sense of satisfaction, guessing that Gentry had told them that she couldn’t be bought. He opened the door and waltzed into his dad’s office with a spring in his step, but almost immediately he lost his composure.
Whatever had transpired must have been something bigger than he’d guessed, because he’d never seen his father or Jenna look so pale. He almost joked but sensed it wouldn’t be appropriate.
His father’s expression turned even graver when their gazes met. “Hunter.”
Oddly, something sounding a lot like compassion laced his father’s voice in spite of his obvious angst. Not at all what Hunter expected in that moment. That tone reminded him of all the reasons he’d loved his dad. Of why he’d spent his childhood in these offices, trying to impress and please the man.
“Why do you two look like you just lost your best friend?” He paused, then ventured his original guess. “Did Gentry threaten not to vote for the sale?”
“You have a one-track mind. Not everything revolves around CTC. I’d think you’d realize that by now,” Jenna barked, her brows drawn. Hunter opened his mouth to snipe back, but she rubbed her forehead and looked at his dad. “This will ruin her life.”
Jenna thought every decision Gentry made would ruin her life, whether it was dropping a class or dating a street vendor. With everything going on in his life these days, Hunter didn’t have much patience for her histrionics. But considering the deepening lines of his father’s expression, he decided to keep quiet.
In fact, he started to worry about what kind of trouble his sister might be in, and if he could help. He would feel better if he could fix at least one thing in his family now.
“Jenna,” his dad said in a way that indicated he didn’t want to discuss the matter in front of Hunter.
Of course, that only piqued Hunter’s interest.
“What?” she snapped. “He’s going to find out, anyway.”
“Find out what?” Hunter rested his hands on the back of a chair in front of him. The tension in the room worked its way under his skin, locking him in place, muscles tight with anticipation. His mind was ruled by logic, so it couldn’t begin to predict what someone as impulsive as Gentry might’ve done.
Following a heavy sigh, his father rested his chin on his fist.
“I’m sorry, son. I wish the timing were better, given what you and Sara are coping with, but your sister’s gotten herself pregnant.” His father held his breath, his eyes a study in both disappointment and empathy.
It took a minute for the words to sink in, though. Hunter had heard about out-of-body experiences before but never experienced one until that moment. When the room came back into focus, he noticed that his fingertips had dug into the chair.
Gentry was pregnant? By whom? And for how long? The injustice of the fact that someone so careless became pregnant by accident, when, despite medical intervention, his wife could not, prompted a sudden wave of nausea.
“Son?” Hunter only vaguely registered his father rounding his desk, so he flinched when his father’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?”
“No.” He shook his head, wishing Jenna wasn’t there to witness any sign of his weakness. “No, I’m not. This news couldn’t have come at a worse time for Sara.”
“Or you,” his father quietly added.
He’d been suppressing his own feelings for so long it hadn’t occurred to him to consider how he felt about it. Gentry was having a baby. He’d be an uncle in several months. Uncle, not father. Jealousy reared, making him twitch. Would this same hostility crop up if Colby were pregnant? Did that even matter? My God, nothing made sense.
“Sara doesn’t have to know—not if Gentry quietly terminates the pregnancy.” Jenna kept her eyes on her husband. “She’s not ready to be a mother. She can’t even take care of herself.”
“Jenna.” His dad waved, trying to cut her off, but it was too late.
“What?” Hunter turned on her. “Did you actually just say that in front of me?”
She looked perplexed by his snappish tone, so he clued her in.
“Sara’s been curled in a ball for almost three days because her last hope of pregnancy went up in flames, yet here you are, cavalierly suggesting my sister get rid of her baby? Are you kidding me?” He pressed his palms to his temples in order to keep his head from exploding. “I don’t know what Gentry’s planning to do, and she’s your daughter, so I get you having opinions about this situation, but do not encourage abortion in front of Sara.”
He heard his voice rising, but he didn’t care. He imagined that when Sara heard about Gentry’s pregnancy, she might literally lose her mind. And if Gentry terminated it, Sara might never forgive her. He understood that it was Gentry’s choice. Under other circumstances he’d have less judgment about that, but the timing made it impossible for him to feel anything other than disdain and rage for that option now.
He needed to get away from his dad and Jenna before he said something unforgivable, so he turned to go.
“Where are you going?” his dad asked. “Take a seat and let’s talk more until you calm down.”
“No time. Gentry’s on the loose, which means I need to find Sara before she hears about this from someone else.” Hunter almost broke into a sprint to get to his car while simultaneously shooting Bethany a text to postpone their meeting. Sara would be shocked to see him home in the middle of the afternoon, but this conversation needed to take place in person.
Sara smiled at Ty, who sat so close to her today that their legs touched. She wanted to give him a little hug while she read to him but thought at best it would make him uncomfortable and at worst could be crossing a line. She closed Sheep in a Jeep and went to pick out another book.
“Seep!” Ty exclaimed, reaching for the book.
Another word. Hunter had worried that her spending time with Ty would be depressing. When she’d first seen his tiny face that morning, it had shot an ache straight to her heart. But then Ty spoke to her—not once, but three times—and her heart had expanded and floated up like a luminary lantern in a Thai festival. Granted, the sum total of words he’d used had been six, but that was a 600 percent increase over her prior visit. She’d felt proud of herself, and of him. For the first time in days, she gained a little perspective on her broken dreams.
She opened the book again. “Okay, Ty. One more time.”
Sadly, Pam breezed through the front door, chewing gum. Sara admired her for going to meetings and seeking to improve her circumstances, but she had yet to establish any connection with the younger woman.
Pam wandered into the living room, head tilted to the right. “Why are you so into hanging out with my son?”
The unexpected question startled Sara and, like an open window in January, sucked all the warmth out of the room. She handed the book to Ty and stood to avoid giving Pam the advantage of looking down, literally, on her.
“Aside from the fact that he’s adorable?” When Pam didn’t smile, Sara said, “I’m only here to help so that you and your son, and others, can get back on your feet.”
Pam’s eyes roamed Sara’s body, checking out her clothing. Unlike Gentry, Sara never wore couture, but the price tag of her simple slacks and sweater could probably feed Pam and Ty for a month or more. The soft cashmere suddenly seemed as itchy as coarse wool.
“Don’t you got your own kids and family to worry about?” Pam cracked her gum, one hand on her hip.
“Not yet.” Sara paused, surprised by the hopefulness of that answer.
“Ain’t you old not to have no kids?” Absurdly, the forthright observation was less painful than silence or pity would’ve been.
“I’m thirty-four,” Sara countered, but one look in Pam’s heavily made-up eyes proved that had only confirmed Pam’s suspicions. The young woman might be Gentry’s age at most. What kind of life could Pam—a homeless, uneducated recovering addict—realistically build for herself and her son? A renewed sense of despair filled Sara.
“Well . . .” Pam paused, hoisting Ty onto her hip. “Good luck.”
Pam sashayed out of the living room, disappearing up the stairs that led to the bedrooms. One of these weeks, Pam would disappear with Ty altogether. That acknowledgment turned over in Sara’s stomach like sour milk.
Maybe Hunter’s concern about her time here at the Angel House wasn’t completely misplaced. Still, nothing would make her give up another chance to experience the joy she’d felt when Ty spoke or sat so close it had almost constituted a snuggle. He wouldn’t remember her in the future, but if she helped make a few of his days just a little more interesting and bright, it would be enough. That made her smile, inside and out.
Instead of returning home to her empty house, she decided to pop in on Colby to persuade her to share a quick lunch. She’d been ignoring her calls for days, preferring not to have her bruises poked by well-intentioned sympathy. Now that she knew she wouldn’t be having a baby, let alone three, Sara would get more involved with the foundation. She could help dozens or hundreds of kids like Ty that way. That would be a legacy worth leaving.
A CertainTea was nestled on a wooded lakeside lot at the end of a long driveway. The renovations gave the old stone-and-glass building a modern facelift. In the distance, a gazebo sat near the water’s edge, where one could gaze upon the homes and activity on the lake.
Inside, the soothing cream-and-gray palette provided a sophisticated environment for fine dining with a twist. The floor-to-ceiling glass wall also afforded patrons year-round views of Lake Sandy.
Sara crossed through the dining room, listening to sounds from the kitchen as she headed toward the back office. She rapped on Colby’s door and then peeked inside, pasting a smile on her face and bracing for Colby’s pity. To her left, Gentry’s yellow tights, red boots, and Moschino dress caught Sara’s attention. “Oh, Gentry! I didn’t expect to see you today, too.”
Gentry’s sober demeanor offered the first hint that something that had nothing to do with her and Hunter was way off. Sara glanced at Colby, whose jaw had gone slack beneath wide eyes.
“Sara!” Colby stood, smoothing her long, straight hair; then she froze, her fingertips pressed to the desktop. Hint number two . . .
The odd reception and subsequent silence waved a red flag in Sara’s subconscious. Questions about what they were hiding—and why—arose, heedless of all warnings.
“I was on my way home from the Angel House and thought I’d see if you were free for lunch. It’s perfect that Gentry’s here, too.” Sensing their hesitation, Sara added, “I’m sorry for hiding out from everyone, but I needed a few days to regroup. I’m feeling better after a wonderful morning with little Ty and am not ready to go sit alone all afternoon. So how about it? Let’s have lunch.”
Colby and Gentry exchanged an inscrutable glance that ended with Gentry’s apprehensive shrug.
“Something’s wrong,” Sara said, disappointed by their lack of enthusiasm. “Are you mad at me for avoiding your calls?”
“No! We’re not upset with you,” Colby promised, casting another fretful look at her sister. “Not at all.”
Colby’s forced smile and stiff body suggested otherwise.
Sara tossed her purse on an empty chair. “Spill it, then. Something’s obviously going on. I’ve never seen you both so tongue-tied, especially you.” Sara nudged Gentry’s foot. “Is it Hunter? Is he bullying you about your shares or something? No matter what, you’re entitled to vote how you see fit.”
If either sister thought Sara’s remark was disloyal to Hunter, neither one said anything. In her own mind, stating the truth wasn’t disloyal or wrong. “Wrong” was a female body denied the basic ability to reproduce.
“No.” Colby gestured to the chair where Sara’s purse rested. “Maybe you should sit for a minute.”
Sara lowered herself onto the chair, trying and failing to read the wordless messages being passed between the two sisters, which were exactly like the kind she and Mimi might telegraph in some silent choreography of a dreaded conversation. A flush rose up her body. “This weirdness is scaring me now. Please just tell me what’s going on.”
Colby sank back onto her chair and exchanged another look—the resigned “We’ve got no choice” kind—with her sister.
Gentry sighed, then tucked her chin. She stared at her clasped hands as if fascinated by the way her thumbs were rolling over each other. Without realizing it, Sara had begun tapping her foot. That seemed to spur Gentry to talk. “Remember my escapade with ‘Smith’?”
Sara frowned, leg stilled, thinking back. “The Napa fling?”
Sara had kept Gentry’s secret fling to herself, partly because she worried about how the family would react. Colby didn’t appear to be taking the news well.
“Bingo.” Gentry shifted in her chair, her gaze still falling everywhere except on Sara’s face.
Sara leaned forward, looking at Colby. “I wasn’t any happier than you when I learned about it. It wasn’t a safe choice, but it isn’t the end of the world. Nothing bad happened, thank God.”
Gentry cleared her throat, her legs now crossed, one foot twitching. “Actually, something bad did happen.”
“Oh?” Sara sat upright, curiosity piqued. If Smith did something to hurt Gentry, Hunter would go ballistic. He’d be unhappy about Sara keeping it a secret, too. “Did he contact you? Please tell me he didn’t post photos!” When Gentry shook her head, Sara timidly asked, “An STD?”
“No STD! Jeez, chill. And he can’t contact me, remember? We never exchanged names or phone numbers. I don’t remember him taking any photos, but even if he had them, he couldn’t tag me.” She grimaced then, wrinkling her nose. “Guess I’ll never know about that one.”
Colby let loose an exasperated sigh, causing Gentry to lift her chin. That was the only sign of “normal” Gentry behavior Sara had witnessed so far.
“So what happened?” Sara asked, her body now strung tight in anticipation.
Mixed emotions washed over Gentry’s face while her boot-clad foot continued its spastic wiggling. Her sister-in-law still wouldn’t meet her gaze. As scenarios started running through Sara’s mind, one in particular finally dawned. She shook her head to clear the waking nightmare. The words wouldn’t come, either, as if her silence could make it untrue. The tense moment stretched out, ending with her whisper. “You’re pregnant.”
Gentry nodded and reached for Sara’s hand. Without thinking, Sara flinched, bolting from her chair and bending at the waist. The shock of this news—so unexpected and unfair—struck her system like the sharp nerve pain of biting down on a bad tooth. Her sanity might very well be whisked away, too.
Colby approached her and rubbed her back. “Sit before you pass out, Sara.”
Mutely, she obeyed, closing her eyes, hoping for darkness to hide her ugly thoughts. Jealousy washed over her in bitter-cold waves, drowning her until her mother’s voice cut through the noise in her head, telling her to find the grace to be a good sport. She managed to choke out “Congratulations.”
“Whoa! Let’s not pretend this is something to celebrate.” Gentry stretched out in her chair, one hand on her abdomen. “I don’t want to be anyone’s mother. Not now, maybe not ever.”
Colby bugged her eyes at her sister for the insensitive remark. Sara bit her tongue. She would not cause a rift today. Gentry had never learned to think before speaking, but she also never meant to hurt most people. Breathe.
Gentry then dropped another whopper. “My mom wants me to terminate the pregnancy.”
“What?” Sara blinked rapidly. The windowless room seemed impossibly bright, like a spotlight had been pointed in her direction. “Gentry, please don’t do that. Not when so many women would trade places with you in an instant. If you don’t want to raise the baby, there are other options. I know I have no right to tell you what to do, but please. Please think about that before you make any decisions.”
“I have thought about it, actually. That’s why I came to talk to Colby.” Gentry finally looked Sara in the eye. “I wanted her opinion about the idea I got after leaving my dad’s office. That’s what we were discussing when you walked in.”
Suddenly Sara wanted to be any place else. At home alone now sounded perfect. “I’ll leave so you two can finish that discussion.”
“No, don’t. This involves you.” Gentry took a deep breath.
“Me?” Sara glanced at Colby, who’d never looked less certain about anything in her life.
“Yep. I’d planned to come see you and Hunter together, but since you’re here, I’ll just ask you. Would you and Hunter want to adopt this baby?”
Sara didn’t know what she’d expected Gentry to say, but that wasn’t it. She felt the weight of their gazes but couldn’t speak. Adoption wasn’t something she and Hunter had discussed in great detail, because he’d always been convinced they’d get pregnant. He’d reluctantly gone along with the foster care certification, but only to satisfy her. She’d no doubt he’d believed, all along, that they’d have their own kids, and then she’d be too busy to take on others.
Now that he’d been proven wrong, would he agree to this? If so, was Gentry’s offer worth considering?
She stood and paced, her body warm and sticky from the stagnant air. “What about the father? Can you give up the baby without him signing away his rights?”
Gentry snickered. “Trust me, Smith isn’t looking to become a daddy. And I told you I have no idea where to find him.”
That still shocked Sara. So much so she stopped moving. What if Gentry was wrong? What if Smith resurfaced and objected? Sara couldn’t take another loss. Yet the idea of being handed a baby in several months made her heart heat with hope. Was she crazy to think it might work?
“You’re very quiet,” Sara said to Colby. “You have reservations?”
Colby calmly repositioned the crystal vase on her desk and straightened her pile of mail, carefully avoiding eye contact. “It’s not my decision.”
Typical Colby. Like her brother, she could detach and rely on logic when most others slogged around an emotional tidal pool. Unlike her brother, however, she didn’t bombard others with her judgments or try to control the outcome.
“I’d still like to hear your opinion,” Sara said.
“Like I told Gentry, this is something you, Hunter, and she need to discuss. My opinions, whatever they may be, aren’t relevant.” She leaned forward. “Whatever you all decide, I’ll support you. If you three choose to proceed, I’ll call my old firm and find the right lawyer to paper this.”
“Lawyer?” Gentry rolled her eyes. “We’re family. We don’t need lawyers.”
“Gentry . . .” Colby began, then clamped her mouth shut. “Actually, this conversation can wait. Before anything happens, Hunter and Sara have to agree.”
Colby’s suggestion reinforced the ramifications of this decision. Sara did need to speak with Hunter and consider all the potential pitfalls. Even so, the mere idea of having a newborn to mother in only two hundred or so days glittered like the lake on a sunny day. After years of trying and failing, that wait would pass like no time at all.
She envisioned turning the guest room closest to the master into a nursery, imagining the two a.m. feedings, where she’d cradle the infant in her lap and stare through the window in wondrous silence at the stars. Then she reminded herself that Gentry hadn’t always been reliable, Smith was a wild card, and Hunter would have concerns. Many concerns.
Sara’s phone rang.
“Speak of the devil.” She held it up. “Hi, Hunter.”
“Babe, are you still at the Angel House?” Trepidation colored his voice.
“No. Why?” Both of her sisters-in-law were staring at her, making her self-conscious.
He paused before answering. “I’d like to have lunch with you and talk. I’m at the house. Can you come home?”
Sara frowned. He was home in the middle of the day? She must’ve seriously worried him with her behavior these past several days.
She looked at Gentry for a long moment and made an impulsive decision. “Actually, that’s perfect. I want to talk about something, too. I’ll be there soon.”
Sara stuffed the phone in her purse. “Gentry, if you don’t have other plans, maybe the three of us could discuss this now.”
“I might not ambush him this way,” Colby cautioned.
“It’s not an ambush,” Sara insisted. “It’s a discussion. Nothing is decided, but it makes sense for the three of us to talk about it together. What’s the point of delaying? Let’s start the discussion. Unless, of course, you have someplace to be.”
“I don’t want to go back to CTC today. One go-round with my parents is enough for now.”
Gentry backing down from confrontation? The pregnancy had clearly rocked her.
“Hunter’s actually at home. He must’ve come by to check on me. You won’t have to see your dad or Jenna until you go home later.”
“I really don’t need a lecture from Hunter, either.” Gentry actually looked a tad green sitting there gripping her stomach like she might barf. Sara supposed the prospect of Hunter’s disapproval could be daunting. “Why don’t you break it to him?”
“It’ll be better if we all hash it out together. He’ll be too floored to lecture. That might come later, or not at all.” Not knowing where the conversation would lead seemed to intensify the sense of urgency building inside. “Come with me, please.”
“Fine.” Gentry stood and crossed to Colby. “Give me a hug in case I don’t survive Hunter’s death stare.”
Colby snickered. “It can be quite lethal.”
They were right, but Sara was willing to brave it for a chance to be a mother instead of an aunt. Her limbs hummed with energy as the idea of adopting Gentry’s child blossomed like a field of sunflowers.
Before she realized it, tears had filled her eyes. She gathered Gentry into a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank you for this generous, beautiful gift you’re willing to give to your brother and me. Whatever happens, know that I’m honored.”
Gentry, who’d never embraced shows of affection, eased away, hiding her face. “You’re welcome.”
“Sara,” Colby said.
“Hmm?”
Colby pressed her lips together for a second, as if taking measure of her words before speaking. “You sound decided, but remember, this decision isn’t yours alone.”