Chapter Twenty-Three
AFTER THE SLIGHTLY awkward but nonetheless heartening reconciliation between Stacey and Bunny, Harper finished her place cards, planned out her week, spoke to Misty, who was still flying high from the HBO success, and managed to not think about Lucas until she was safely alone in her room after watching Game of Thrones with Becca.
She stood in the center of her room and stared at her bed, where they’d done it. Yes, there were the other places, but the bed was somehow the most significant. Maybe because it was a bed that hadn’t seen action in years.
She hadn’t changed the sheets, which meant when she slipped into them, she could almost smell the scent of his body. A nice reminder, but not one that solved her most pressing dilemma. What now? How did she act the next time she saw him?
There’d been no morning-after awkwardness because Lucas had been called into work to deal with a guy who’d been arrested. Lucas had explained something about an open case he was trying to crack but honestly she’d been too caught up in her postcoital afterglow to do much more than smile and nod as he’d dressed, quickly kissed her, then left.
But time had passed and now they were going to be facing each other for the first time since their night of superhot sex and she had no idea how to behave.
She wanted to be cool and mature. Ah, emotionally mature, not old looking. She wanted to smile, greet him as if nothing had happened and move them quickly back to their normal relationship. Wishing for anything else was ridiculous and potentially pathetic. She didn’t want that. So, no matter what, she would be totally calm and rational. The sophisticated woman who had had adult sex with an equally sophisticated man and now they were both fine. It would be great—she was sure of it.
* * *
Early the next morning, Harper found herself slightly less in control than she would have liked, and most of that was not her fault. The shipping company had lost Misty’s new T-shirts, Paula had emailed that she needed to modify the place card order and while she would be paying for the new cards, Harper had just picked up six more hours of work, which was six more hours than she actually had. She was still on the phone with the shipping company when Becca came into the kitchen, Jazz at her heels.
“Mom, I finished the videos for the city. Do you want to see them?”
“I’m on the phone, but when I’m done threatening to kill people, I’d love to.”
Becca glanced at the clock and shook her head. “I have to get to school, but tonight for sure?”
“I promise.”
“Mrs. Szymanski?” the voice on the phone said. “I’ve located your order. It’s in Albany.”
Harper groaned. “As in New York?” Maybe she would get lucky and there was an Albany, Arkansas, because Misty and her show were in Little Rock.
“I’m afraid so. When does your client need the T-shirts?”
“Today. She needs them today.” Misty had a show that night.
“Let me see what I can do.”
Harper was slapped back on hold, where she did her best not to swear too loudly. Becca waved and mouthed goodbye. Harper tried to remember if she’d eaten breakfast or not, then told herself her daughter was of an age to take care of that herself. She always had spending money.
“Mrs. Szymanski? I have good news. I was wrong about the T-shirts. They’re in Little Rock after all.”
“That was fast,” Harper muttered before she could stop herself.
“I read the code wrong. They’re at another hotel only a few miles away. I’m going to put you on hold again and see if I can get one of the drivers to deliver them this morning.”
“That would be great.” She certainly didn’t want to ask Misty to go pick them up, not that Misty would complain, but still. It was her job to make sure Misty’s travel was as smooth and effortless as possible.
“All right, I’ve found someone. He’s going to get them now and have them delivered by ten-thirty this morning.”
Harper heard the front door open and close. Seconds later Thor burst into the kitchen and rushed to her. She juggled greeting him with taking down the information from the delivery people. Seconds later, Lucas strolled into the kitchen.
The man looked good. She felt her mouth go dry while other parts of her...did not. Her brain supplied perfect memories of what they’d done together, while her gut tied itself in knots and her heart fluttered.
“Morning,” he said, then glanced at her headset. He lowered his voice. “I have to get going. I’ll see you later.”
With that, he was gone. Harper continued to scribble information. When the call ended, she dropped her headset onto the kitchen table and groaned.
Ten words. He’d said exactly ten words. How was she supposed to interpret that? Was he okay with what they’d done? Disgusted? Ready to pretend it had never happened and move on? There was too little information—how was she supposed to obsess over anything if she didn’t know anything? Not that a lack of specifics ever got in her way, but still. It was frustrating.
Before she could really get into psychoanalyzing what had just happened, she glanced at the clock on the wall and shrieked. Dean would be here any second and she wasn’t ready.
It took her ten minutes to slap on basic makeup and change into her professional let’s meet a client outfit: black pants, a brightly patterned shell and a tailored black jacket. She slipped into her sensible pumps before racing by her office and grabbing her tote. Thank goodness she’d put everything in it yesterday, she thought as she dashed to the front of the house only to find Dean waiting by the front door.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” he said with a smile. “We are a tiny bit behind.”
“I know and I’m sorry. Misty’s T-shirts didn’t get delivered and I’ve been on the phone trying to find them.”
“Where are they?” Dean asked as he backed out of her driveway.
“At first they told me Albany, but now it turns out they’re just across town, so they’ll be delivered this morning. Honestly, I don’t know how to make the T-shirt delivery more foolproof. If we ship too early, the hotel loses the package. If we trust the shipping company, stuff like this happens.”
“Sometimes you have to accept a flawed system.”
“That’s hard for me.”
He chuckled. “I’ve noticed that.”
They arrived at their destination four minutes before their meeting and went inside. The real estate office was large, with over twenty agents, most of whom were extremely successful. The Mischief Bay real estate market was booming, much like the LA market, and selling houses by the ocean was big business.
Tanya Elliot was an attractive brunette with a warm smile. She led them to a small conference room and offered them coffee. When they were settled, she got right to the point.
“I need help,” she began. “I’m not interested in a full-time employee. It’s too expensive and the paperwork for payroll would make me crazy. I simply don’t have time. I’m at that wonderfully awkward place in my career where I’ve got more business than I can handle, but not so much that I need a full-time employee.”
“Which is where we come in,” Harper told her. “You mentioned help with designing flyers, keeping them stocked, along with entering the multiple listing information. Is that right?”
“That would be a huge help.”
Dean pulled several flyers out of his briefcase. “These are samples of your flyers. Harper and I looked at several other agents’ flyers in the area.” He winked. “Including some with other firms.”
“The enemy,” Tanya said with a laugh. “I keep track of them, too.”
The three of them went over the various designs and Harper explained a few modifications she and Dean had brainstormed. Tanya seemed excited about their suggestions and used the video screen on the wall to pull up a map of her current listings.
“We all have our sweet spot,” she explained. “The more you work in an area, the more people get to know your name and seek you out.”
Dean walked over to the screen and traced a route. “It would be easy for us to check flyer inventory regularly. What are you thinking? Daily for the first week, then every other day for two weeks. Assuming the house isn’t sold by then, we’d move to just Mondays, after the weekend rush?”
Tanya’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of a schedule being that organized, but it makes sense. That would be great.”
Harper made notes. Once they’d agreed on the statement of work, she would send Tanya a contract. “What else could we do to help you?”
“Ushering my listings through closings would be great, but you need training for that. Right now, handling printing and distributing the flyers and keeping the MLS up-to-date is plenty.” She glanced between them. “I’m interested if you are.”
“We are,” Dean told her.
“I’ll get you the contract today,” Harper said as they rose and all shook hands. “We can start tomorrow if that works for you.”
“That would be fantastic. Thank you.”
Harper and Dean walked back to his car. She waited until they were driving away to say, “It’s a great account. It could be a lot of hours, though.”
“Too many?” he asked.
“I don’t think so, but it’s sending us in a new direction. Real estate is big business. Tanya can’t be the only agent who needs this kind of help. The idea of ushering a listing through closing is interesting.”
“Let me do some research on what’s involved and how extensive the training is. Maybe it would be worth it to offer it as a service.”
“That’s what I was thinking!”
He grinned. “We share a great mind. It’s nice when we both use it.”
She laughed. “It is. If the escrow thing works out, we’d probably be looking at hiring more people to help with the other clients. Or we could have one person who focused on the closings.”
“As long as one of us was trained, as well.”
“Right. So we wouldn’t get stuck if our person was away.”
He held up his hand for a high five. “See, we’re rocking and rolling now!”
The day passed in a blur of activity. Dean left around three to pick up the twins and Harper finished up the new place cards. While the work was slow and sometimes tedious, it paid well, she reminded herself as she got up from her craft table only to realize it was nearly six and she’d done absolutely nothing about dinner.
Becca met her in the hallway. “Hey, Mom. Can we talk about the videos now?”
Harper started to put her off, then realized she’d been doing that a lot these days. Too much, in fact. She saw Jazz hovering close by, as she always did.
“Where’s Thor?”
“Lucas picked him up about an hour ago.”
And he hadn’t stopped by to see her? What did that mean? Was he upset? Avoiding her? What was she supposed to think or—
“Mom? The videos?”
Jazz whined in the back of her throat.
Harper told herself she was healthy, successful in the tiniest of ways and she’d had great sex in the past forty-eight hours. She should shut up and be grateful and deal with what mattered most.
“Did you feed Jazz?” she asked.
Becca rolled her eyes. “Of course I did. I feed her every day.”
“Then you’re a better mom than me because I totally forgot about dinner. Tell you what. Let’s go get Chinese for dinner and while we’re at the restaurant, you can show me what you’ve done.”
Becca relaxed. “That would be great. I have the videos loaded on my laptop. Dean said they were good, but I don’t know if they’re exactly what you were thinking.”
Dean had seen them? Harper held in a groan. Was everyone better at parenting than her? She would change that, she told herself as she went to collect her purse while her daughter tucked her laptop into her backpack. Starting right this second, she would figure out how to do it all or die trying. Okay, not die exactly, but close.
* * *
Becca sat in her usual place on the front steps with Jazz and Thor next to her. Lucas was due for another driving lesson and she was excited to get in the hours. She was so close to getting her license.
Lucas pulled up and waved at her, then got out of his car. “How’s it going?” he asked as he approached. Both dogs raced over to greet him.
Becca grinned. “It’s going great. I did the videos for my mom and she loved them. She’s going to pay me for my time, which means I’m already saving for my car insurance.”
She wanted to point out other ways she was being responsible, but wasn’t sure how without sounding pathetic and needy. She also wanted to tell him that she was really trying, but he’d want proof. Lucas was like that. He was always there for her, but he sure had high expectations.
He looked at her. “Good to know you’re planning on paying for your car insurance. What about your paper for history? Is that done?”
“No, but I’m working on it.”
“So you don’t have a B in that class?”
“Not right now.”
“Okay, then we’re done.”
“What?”
“Shriek all you want,” he told her as he whistled for Thor. “You know the rules. You broke them and now there are consequences.”
“You can’t do that.”
Thor ran out. Lucas led him to the car. When Thor was buckled into the front seat, Lucas turned back to face Becca.
“I just did, kid. You think you aren’t treated like an adult. Maybe if you acted like one, you wouldn’t have that problem. Let me know when you turn in your paper and I’ll take you driving. Until then, find someone else.”
“I hate you,” she yelled as he drove away. Lucas only waved.
Becca sank back on the step and put her head on her raised knees. “He’s being totally unfair,” she told her dog. “He’s mean and selfish and I really do hate him.”
Jazz’s steady gaze seemed to make it clear that she knew Becca was lying.
Becca sighed. “Okay, maybe I don’t hate him exactly, but why do I have to always do the right thing?”
She already knew the answer and shifted so she could hug her dog. “Growing up sucks,” she muttered. “Just so you know.”
Jazz sighed in agreement.
* * *
The birthing class was the nightmare Stacey had expected. She’d tried to convince Kit that she didn’t need to go. She’d read dozens of articles online, including several written by doctors and birthing professionals, and understood what was going to happen, but he insisted they needed to go to a class, just like other couples.
She’d endured a morning of lectures and videos. The afternoon would start with exercises on breathing and mindful relaxation to aid in the birthing process.
A boxed lunch was provided. Stacey picked up the sandwich made with whole grain bread and what she assumed was organic cheese and unprocessed sliced turkey. They sat at a table with another couple. Both of them were in their twenties, as were most of the women in the class. A handful were much younger, but there was no one Stacey’s age.
Their instructor was a gray-haired Earth Mother type who wore a long flowing dress and spoke in what Stacey assumed was supposed to be a soothing tone. Everything about the class annoyed her, even the stupid sandwich. She tossed it down and wished she could simply leave.
Kit caught her gaze and winked. His moment of attention relaxed her enough so that she could pay attention to the conversation at their table. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that she was crabby, she told herself. She would endure the next three hours, and then she would never have to do this again.
“We’re having a boy,” one of the pregnant women said. Stacey knew she’d introduced herself, but there was no way she could remember her name.
“A girl for us,” Kit said. “We’re calling her Joule.”
The woman frowned. “After the singer?”
“No.” Stacey tried not to grind her teeth. “J-O-U-L-E. It’s a measure of work or energy. It’s the amount of force one newton...” She saw Kit shaking his head and sighed. “It’s scientific.”
“Oh. That’s nice. A pretty name with a different spelling. A lot of people are doing that. We really like the name Brandon, but so many people are using that.” She smiled at her husband. “We’ve been getting a lot of pressure to name him Fred, after his great-grandfather, but that is so not happening. Fred? Really?” The woman laughed.
Stacey glanced longingly toward the door.
When lunch was done, the couples returned to their large classroom. Tables and chairs had been pushed aside and thick mats were arranged in a circle. Stacey wanted to question the wisdom of feeding pregnant women, then asking them to get on the floor, but no one was interested in her opinion. She glanced at the clock. Two hours and forty-seven minutes.
“Let’s get started with some breathing,” Erin, their instructor, said. “Lean into your partner and feel your breath expanding in your lungs and down to your belly.”
“Uh, Erin?” One of the youngest mothers-to-be raised her hand. “Does the breathing really help with the pain?”
“Of course it does.”
“But if it’s really bad, I can take something, can’t I?”
Erin hesitated just long enough for everyone to get the subliminal message of how wrong that would be. “You can, but it’s better for the baby if you don’t.”
The pregnant teenager looked crushed. “I’m just worried about being able to, you know, get through it.”
“Women have been giving birth for thousands of years. You’ll be fine.”
The teen didn’t look convinced. “But if I really need it...”
Erin’s warm expression hardened. “If you go into the process with that attitude, it’s not going to go well. You have to have faith.”
“Oh, stop it,” Stacey snapped before she could help herself. “Why do you do this? Why do you insist on women suffering, as if that in any way helps with the birthing process? Not every natural act is easy or comfortable. A heart attack is completely natural but no one wants one of those. Why on earth would you promote suffering when there are safe and easy solutions to the problem? You may not want to go in that direction, but you don’t have the right to decide for everyone else.”
Stacey turned to the teen. “With a spinal, the amount of chemical that gets into the bloodstream is incredibly small. Many studies suggest it’s far better for the mother to be relaxed and comfortable when delivering her baby. Being exhausted, screaming in pain, doesn’t help anyone. The chemicals secreted by the body from pain and fear are also delivered to the baby.”
Erin’s mouth fell open. “Who do you think you are, saying things like that? I’m the teacher here.”
“I’m a scientist who works with human DNA to find a cure for neurological diseases, so don’t try to convince me I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Erin pressed her lips together. “I see,” she said tightly, then glanced toward the teen. “I suppose if the pain is too much, it wouldn’t be awful to take something.”
The girl relaxed. “Thank you.”
Behind her, Stacey felt Kit’s chest moving. She turned and saw he was chuckling.
“You’re not mad?”
He leaned in and kissed her. “Mad? Naw. I’m impressed. I think you just earned your first badge as a tiger mom. Joule’s lucky to have you on her side.”
Stacey kissed him back, then returned her attention to Erin’s instruction. Maybe the class wasn’t going to be so bad after all.