Chapter Seventeen
DEAN PRYOR LOOKED exactly like the cheer captain at an LA college. He was handsome in a very chiseled way, tall and lean, with dark hair and eyes. He wore pressed khakis, a white polo shirt and an honest-to-God sweater over his shoulders. By comparison, Harper felt unwashed, disheveled and decidedly uninspired.
He shook her hand, made friends with the dog and exuded charm and confidence.
“I was so glad to get your call,” he told her as he followed her into the dining room, where she’d decided to conduct their interview. Although the thought of her interviewing anyone made her want to both giggle and throw up. She wasn’t in business, not really. What did she know about hiring an employee?
But she’d dutifully read a few articles online and had taken notes. She was hoping not to embarrass herself too badly.
“I’ve wanted to get back to work, but the movie business so isn’t going to be it. Those hours are impossible and I don’t want to travel.”
He settled across from her and gave her a conspiratorial smile. “It’s those damn kids. I hate to be away from them.” He pulled out his phone and showed her a couple of pictures of adorable twin girls. “Mandy and Miranda. They are so beautiful. We call them Tater and Tot and I have no idea how that started. Lance, my husband, says I need to get out of the house or I’ll start crocheting clothes for the dog, and then he’ll be forced to lock me in a closet.” Dean grinned. “And honey, I’m way past coming out of the closet.”
Harper laughed involuntarily. “I’m all for moving forward, but I’m a little worried this job isn’t going to be interesting enough for you. I don’t know how much Kit told you, but I operate a home-based virtual assistant business.” She paused. “Although a few of my clients don’t get the concept of virtual.” She made air quotes.
“I know that one.” He leaned toward her. “I’m not looking for excitement. I want a little creative challenge and some income and to get out of the house.” He handed her a slim folder. “Here’s my résumé and some references. My hours are flexible. As long as I can be home in time to pick up my kids, I’m good. I’m happy to work from here or from my house. Why don’t you tell me what you need help with?”
Harper explained about her clients, without mentioning names. “Some of the work is steady, some is hit-and-miss.”
“Especially with party planners,” he said with a knowing nod. “They’re busy, you’re busy. They’re quiet and there’s nothing. That makes it tough.”
“Tell me about it. I have two sets of gift bags I need done by Tuesday, some envelopes to calligraph and that’s just this week.”
“You know calligraphy?” He sounded impressed. “I don’t have the patience.” He winked. “Is this where I tell you there are computer programs for that?”
“I’ve mentioned it to my party planners, but some people still want the real thing.”
“Oh, we all want the real thing. The trick is finding it.” He looked around. “Where do you work?”
“I have a home office. It’s small.”
They went into the back bedroom. Dean looked around and tsked.
“You’re overwhelmed with clutter and it’s not your fault. You need supplies, but where do you put them? I don’t suppose you have a bonus room, do you? I’m a big believer in making a space work.”
Harper hesitated.
“What? You’re hiding something. I can tell.”
Rather than say anything, she waved him forward and together they walked into her craft room.
Dean turned in a slow circle before putting his hands on his hips. “You are crazy. You know that, right? This needs to be your office. Working in that tiny bedroom has to be depressing. How can you get anything done with the walls closing in? This space is bright and happy. What’s going on?”
An excellent question. She looked at all the shelves, the giant flat work surfaces, the closets and wondered why on earth she’d been so resistant to change. Her business brought in money. The craft room was just...
“It’s my before life,” she said, unable to stop herself from speaking. “Before the divorce, before I started my business, before I was a mess.”
“We’re all a mess, Harper. Some of us are just better at faking it.” He untied his sweater and let it drop over the back of a chair. “Are you ready to let the past go or do you need to hang on to it longer?”
“I’m ready.”
“Then let’s get to it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I say let’s move your office here and your crafts into the small room. We’ll talk while we work and get to know each other. By the time we’re done, I’ll bet we’ll know if we want to work together or not.”
“But it’s going to take hours.”
“Tater and Tot have Mandarin class today, so I’m yours until four.” He rolled his eyes. “Lance and I are such a cliché. Yes, we have enrolled our girls into Mandarin class, and gymnastics and fencing, if you can believe it. I’m turning into my mother, and let me tell you, we can’t decide who that makes more uncomfortable, me or her.”
Harper began to laugh. She’d known for a while that she had to switch her office with the craft room, but she’d never had the time or energy. Maybe she’d been waiting for Dean to come along to inspire her.
“Let’s do it,” she said.
* * *
By the time Dean had to leave to collect his girls, Harper knew she’d found someone she could work with. Dean had been organized, efficient and funny. The move had happened more easily than she would have thought possible. They’d gone through her crafts, pulling out ridiculous things she would never use but had held on to because she had the room. Now she had a huge pile to take over to the local women’s shelter for them to use for crafts for the kids.
Dean had left with the supplies for the first of the bag projects. He would have them back to her by Monday. They’d agreed on an hourly wage for him and an approximate schedule. Her work life, it seemed, had taken a turn for the better. Now all that was left was figuring out how to reconnect with her daughter.
* * *
Still flush with her successful conversation with Ashton, Stacey decided to take her relationship-confidence on a test drive and finally tell her mother about her pregnancy.
Sunday morning she and Kit drove over to Harper’s, where Kit would wait with his sister-in-law. They’d talked it over and agreed that Stacey would literally come screaming out of her mother’s apartment if things went very badly. Should that not happen, Kit would join her after twenty minutes.
Stacey had a vision of herself running down the stairs, yelling at the top of her lungs, while the neighbors on both sides called 911 and reported an insane intruder. Of course that would be a distraction from what was sure to be her mother’s disapproval.
“Maybe she’ll understand,” Stacey said, more to herself than Kit. “She loves babies and she’s getting another granddaughter. We’re actually doubling the pool number.”
“That could happen.”
Stacey glanced at her husband, more than a little convinced he might be humoring her rather than expressing his opinion. Not that telling her the conversation was going to end with her screaming would make her feel any better.
They arrived far too quickly. Rather than go into Harper’s and put off the inevitable, Stacey went directly upstairs and knocked on her mother’s bright blue front door.
Bunny answered seconds later. “Stacey! Did I know you were stopping by?”
“No, sorry, Mom. Kit and I were in the neighborhood and I decided to come see you. Do you have a second?”
“Of course.”
Bunny’s apartment was above the oversize, detached three-story garage. Huge west-facing windows offered a perfect view of the Pacific Ocean.
Bunny waved her toward the overstuffed sofa, then hurried to the kitchen to no doubt prepare refreshments.
“I’m okay, Mom,” Stacey said, following her into the small kitchen. “You don’t have to—”
But it was too late. Bunny had pulled cookies out of a large pink handbag-shaped cookie jar. She got grapes and a small cheese plate from the refrigerator, then poured lemonade into crystal glasses.
Stacey tried to remember the contents of her refrigerator. If there was lemonade, it would be in a carton and she knew there wasn’t a cheese plate. She might be able to find a few grapes—she wasn’t sure.
In less than five minutes they were seated at the small, round dining table. In addition to food, Bunny had put out lace place mats with matching napkins, flatware, all the serving pieces, crystal snack-size plates that were the same pattern as the glasses, along with a floral centerpiece.
Part of her wondered how it was possible to always be so prepared for company. The rest of her calculated the production hours lost to such a ridiculous pursuit. But then Bunny would tell her she was missing the point, and maybe she was.
Bunny poured her a glass of lemonade, then smiled. “This is lovely. You don’t stop by very often, do you? I rarely see you without Kit along. Not that he isn’t a very nice man, but I do enjoy spending time with my little girl.”
Stacey didn’t bother pointing out she was forty and hadn’t been little for decades.
“I should do this more often,” she admitted, sliding a few slices of cheese onto her plate. “I did want to talk to you about something, Mom.”
Bunny’s gaze locked on her. “What is it? Are you changing jobs? Don’t tell me you’re moving away. You only came home a few years ago. Kit has a good teaching position and I thought you were happy with your work.”
“We’re not moving. We’re staying right there, in Mischief Bay.”
“Oh, then what?”
Her mother looked expectant. Stacey swallowed against her suddenly dry throat, then told herself she hadn’t done anything wrong. Or at least not very wrong. Besides, it was her body and if she didn’t want to—
“Stacey Wray Bloom, tell me what you came to say.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Her mother stared at her for several seconds, then her face crumbled as tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Stacey, that’s wonderful.”
Stacey found herself being hugged fiercely as Bunny sniffed and tried to speak.
“I’m so happy for you. Another grandchild.” She returned to her seat and pulled an embroidered hankie out of some hidden pocket before lightly dabbing her eyes. “I’d hoped of course, but I never thought it would happen. You’re forty. Have you talked to your doctor? You know you have to take care of yourself. There are concerns when you’re over thirty-five. I don’t know exactly what they are, but still.” She smiled. “A baby.”
So far, so good, Stacey thought with cautious optimism. “I’ve talked to my doctor. She specializes in high-risk pregnancies and I’m doing very well. I’ve been taking care of myself and I have excellent genetics.”
“You get those from me.” Her mother laughed. “All right, and maybe from your father. What are you going to do about work? Are you going to resign or just take a long maternity leave? Not that I can see you quitting that job you love so much. So what will you do for day care?”
“I’m taking off three weeks after the birth and Kit will stay home with the baby.”
Bunny’s mouth dropped open. “What? Three weeks? That’s absurd. You can’t take off three weeks. You have to breast-feed. You have to take care of your child. That’s what a mother does, Stacey. This isn’t some project you can assign to someone else. You are responsible for your own children.”
Something Stacey was very clear on. It was being responsible that made her so uneasy.
“I won’t be breast-feeding, Mom,” she said as gently as she could. “It’s not practical. I love my work and I want to get back to it as quickly as possible.”
“That’s totally ridiculous. There is no way Kit can be a stay-at-home father.”
“Why not? He’s far more nurturing than me. Mom, we’ve talked about this and it’s what we want to do. I make way more money than Kit. I have excellent benefits. Why shouldn’t I be the one to support the family?”
“But he’s a man!” Her mother looked appalled and uncomfortable. “Everything about it is wrong.”
“The world is changing. Kit’s in a support group for men just like him. There are more out there than you would think.” She tried not to get defensive. After consciously lowering her voice, she smiled and touched her mother’s arm.
“It’s a brave, new world, as they say. Men are doing all kinds of things we never thought they could do.”
“Don’t try to be funny,” her mother snapped. “I can’t believe it. This is a nightmare. It was bad enough when you wouldn’t take his last name, but now this? What am I supposed to tell my friends? That my son-in-law is staying home with the baby?”
“It’s the truth.” Stacey held in a sigh. “Kit and I decided on this before we even got married. We wanted to try to have a baby and we knew that it made more sense for him to stay home. He’ll work through the end of the semester, then resign. His principal already knows. It’s going to be great.”
Bunny frowned. “Why would he stop working so soon? When are you due? Around Christmas?” Her expression softened. “A Christmas baby would be so nice.”
Uh-oh. Crap and double crap. There was no easy way around her due date. Kit had warned her waiting would be bad. She’d known in her head, but the thought of telling her mother had been impossible to imagine, let alone get done.
“I’m due at the end of June.”
Her mother’s mouth dropped open as her eyes widened. “What?” she asked, her voice a shriek. “In June?”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner, but time got away from me. Kit and I agreed to wait until I was past the three-month mark. Given my age and possibility of miscarriage, that seemed the best thing. Then that came and went and we got busy and I didn’t mean to keep it from you, Mom. It just sort of happened.”
Her mother stared at Stacey’s midsection, then threw up her hands and sprang to her feet.
“How could you?” she demanded. “You kept this from me, which is just like you. You’re due in less than two months and I’m just now finding out?” Tears filled her eyes. “What kind of daughter does that make you? Or are you going to make this all about me? Once again, I’ve failed you. Well, not this time, missy. You should have told me!”
Bunny grabbed the back of the chair on the opposite side of the table and glared. “You are a constant disappointment, Stacey. I’m your mother. Why are you punishing me?”
For the first time since getting pregnant, Stacey felt as if she were going to throw up. She was cold, nauseous and light-headed. Her mother’s anger and hurt assaulted her, making her feel small and unsure, just like when she was a kid.
Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard a door open and close, but she wasn’t sure. Maybe she was simply imagining there was an escape.
“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” Bunny asked. “This is so like you, punishing me for something I never did.”
“Stop it.”
The firm, male voice had them both turning. Stacey raced over to Kit, who put his arm around her. Bunny glared at them both.
“You’re in this together,” she announced. “I don’t know why you take such pleasure in deceiving me, but be assured, I’m never going to forgive this.”
“Stacey wasn’t ready to share the news,” Kit told her. “That’s all it is, Bunny. You can try to make it more, but that’s on you, not her. She’s told you now and I hope you can be happy for us, but if you can’t, then the loss is totally yours. As for how we’re going to raise our daughter, again, it was our decision to make and we’ve made it.”
He smiled at Stacey, then turned back to Bunny. “You’ve raised an amazing daughter and she’s going to have a baby. I wish you could be happy for us. I thought you would be. I guess I overestimated you.”
With that, he led Stacey away. She made it to the bottom of the stairs before bursting into tears. Kit hugged her tight and promised everything would be fine, but she knew he couldn’t be more wrong.