Elise Taylor woke as she usually did: jolted by the buzzer of the alarm clock that sat on the cherry woodnight stand beside her bed. A familiar weight pressed against her back as her husband, Garrett, leaned over her to whack the alarm into silence.
“Morning,” he growled in her ear. He drew his hand beneath the covers again to slip under her nightgown which had bunched around her waist during the night. She pressed her lips together as his hand moved lazily over her stomach and upward. A familiar quickening started in her belly, heightened by the slow, thorough exploration of Garrett’s hand over her breasts.
Her breasts were small, even after bearing and nursing two children, but Garrett had never complained. He’d always seemed to like her body the way it was, stretch marks and all. As he’d told her once in a semi-drunken and completely chauvinistic state, they were his stretch marks, or rather they’d been earned carrying his children, so she should feel honored to have them. In response, she’d stood on a chair and smacked him in the head.
She didn’t want to smack him now. Her breath hissed out on a sigh as Garrett’s hand delved between her thighs. “Do you know what today is?” he asked.
He wanted to play twenty questions now, when she could barely think beyond the pleasure he gave her? “Friday?” she croaked out.
He laughed, a husky rumble that reverberated through her, too. “It’s your birthday. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
She should have known. Garrett always woke her in the same way on her birthday, rousing her simultaneously from sleep and to passion. And later, their children, Alyssa and Andrew, would come in with breakfast in bed for her. She’d forgotten, because she wanted to forget. She didn’t want to mark another year passing. She would have been content to let December nineteenth come and go without comment.
December nineteenth. Elise would have sat bolt upright were it not for Garrett’s weight holding her in place. How could she have forgotten that, too? Her period, which appeared with the regularity of the full moon, had been due two days ago. Her period had been late only twice in her life, and the reasons for those occurrences were downstairs at that moment scrambling eggs and making a mess of her kitchen.
“Oh, God,” Elise whispered, her mind zooming in on a possibility she didn’t want to consider. They had agreed after Andrew was born that there would be no more children. She’d gone on the pill then, rather than relying on less effective means of birth control. Truthfully, she didn’t want any more children. With the baby in preschool now, she was just starting to have a life again.
Now that she’d turned thirty-eight, her chances of even having a healthy child were lower than she’d like to consider. That thought terrified her most of all. Andrew had been born blue, due to the umbilical cord being wrapped around his neck during the delivery. The doctors had considered it a miracle he’d suffered no brain damage from the lack of oxygen. She never wanted to go through that again–the waiting, the agonizing, the blame she’d heaped upon herself for her body’s malfunction. She would, not could not be pregnant.
He nuzzled her ear with his lips. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Nothing.” She couldn’t tell him now, not when all she had to go on was a late period. Why ruin everybody’s day when she had no proof?
She felt him enter her from behind, but her libido had gone cold the moment thoughts of another child had begun to swim in her brain. Garrett didn’t seem to notice, though. His hand on her body, his lips grazing the sensitive juncture between her neck and shoulder, the slow, sensual rhythm of his body moving within hers, would normally have had her moaning her head off. But she couldn’t seem to feel anything beside a pervasive feeling of dread.
Garrett’s breath, coming in short, hot gasps, fanned her cheek. She knew on this morning in particular, he wouldn’t take his pleasure without making sure he’d given her hers first. She arched her back and moaned his name in what she hoped was a convincing manner. In response, Garrett groaned against her ear, quickening his pace, thrusting into her more deeply. She felt the
tension coil in his big body, and moments later the shudder of his release.
She lay there, enduring the weight of Garrett’s arm resting across her body, the sweep of his breath over her skin, and wanted to weep. For the first time in her life, she’d faked it with her husband. And he hadn’t even noticed.
She felt him turning her in his arms to face him. She went to him and buried her face against his chest. He hugged her to him and lowered his head to kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Not exactly a five-star performance, huh?”
Elise pressed her lips together. He had nothing to be sorry for. They had a good sex life. He was a gentle, sensitive lover. It wasn’t his fault she’d decided to pull a Sarah Bernhardt routine rather than tell him what she was feeling. “That’s not it.”
With a hand under her chin, he tilted her face up to his. “Then what’s the matter, baby?”
Elise studied her husband’s handsome, concerned face. In all the years she’d known him, that face hadn’t changed much. The beginnings of laugh lines fanned around his eyes now and his dark brown hair had begun to gray at his temples. She touched her fingertips to the small scar that crossed his left eyebrow, a reward from his days playing football in college. She let her hand trail down his cheek to settle on his chest. His body hadn’t changed much, either. He’d maintained his athlete’s physique with regular games of racquetball and mornings spent swimming laps with her brother, Michael.
She knew this man, had known him for most of her life. Maybe she should tell him. She didn’t doubt Garrett would understand, and she knew he wouldn’t blame her, as some other husbands might. In the end, she was saved from answering by a knock on the bedroom door.
“Are you people decent in there?”
The voice belonged to her sixteen-year-old daughter, Alyssa. No doubt she had her little brother in tow and a breakfast tray in her arms.
“Just a minute,” Garrett called. He placed a soft, moist kiss on Elise’s cheek, then rose from the bed to don a T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. Barefoot, he padded to the bedroom door. “Ready?” he asked.
She smoothed her nightgown into place, adjusted the covers around her and nodded.
Immediately, three-year-old Andrew bounded through the door and leaped onto the bed beside her. He held a single white rose, which he extended toward her. “Happy birthday, Momma.”
Elise hugged her baby to her bosom. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Elise took the flower from him and lifted it to her nose. “It smells wonderful.”
“Watch out, squirt,” Alyssa said, coming toward her mother with the breakfast tray. Andrew scooted out of the way a second before Alyssa set down the tray over her mother’s lap. Alyssa sat on the bed beside her.
“Happy birthday, Mom. And unlike some people, I actually got you a gift.” Alyssa extended a long, rectangular box toward her.
Elise took the box and glanced up at Garrett. He shrugged, indicating he had no idea what Alyssa had gotten her. Elise looked at her daughter. “What is it?”
“Open it already.” Alyssa gestured with her hands. “I hope you like it.”
Elise smiled, realizing Alyssa must have spent her own money on the gift–a first. “I’m sure I will.” She separated the tape on one side from the silver foil wrapping paper and slid the box out. Inside lay a gold charm bracelet with several charms already attached. Elise lifted it from the box,
laying the ornate bracelet across her palm. The piece wasn’t anything she would have bought for herself. She preferred simple, unadorned quality jewelry. But knowing her daughter had selected it herself made all the difference in the world.
“So, what do you think?”
Elise beamed at her daughter. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. Thank you.” She hugged Alyssa, then sat back as she detailed what each of the charms stood for.
Alyssa pointed to a tiny football. “This one is for dad when you met him. He was a quarterback or something, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah, or something,” Garrett muttered, obviously disgruntled at having his glory days referred to in such an offhand manner. Elise stuck her tongue out at him. In those days he’d been pretty full of himself. She’d seen it as a personal mission to bring him down a peg.
“And this one . . .” Elise tuned out, noticing the two tiny cherub charms that adorned the bracelet, she supposed they stood for Alyssa and Andrew. Would she need to add a third charm before another year was through?
“Mom?”
Elise blinked and focused on her daughter, hearing the hurt and disappointment in her young voice. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was just thinking about all the work I have to get done today. And on top of that, they’re doing a spread of the Lincoln house for Architectural Digest this afternoon. I want to be there to make sure they shoot it right. I love the bracelet, Alyssa, really I do.” Elise extended her wrist. “Would you put it on me?”
Alyssa brightened. “Sure.”
While the others had been preoccupied, Andrew had eaten all of her bacon and most of her eggs. “You little glutton,” Alyssa exclaimed. “I already fed you breakfast.”
A devilish grin lit Andrew’s face. “I was still hungry.”
Elise turned her head so Andrew wouldn’t see her laughing. Thankfully, Garrett herded the children out of the room, threatening both with bodily harm if they weren’t ready for school in twenty minutes.
After closing the door behind the children, Garrett settled an assessing gaze on her. He was waiting for her to respond to his unanswered question about what was bothering her, but she was no more prepared to tell him than she’d been a few minutes ago. Instead she changed the subject.
“You’d better get ready yourself or the kids will never let you hear the end of it.”
“I know. But we talk tonight.”
Elise nodded. “Maybe we can go to dinner, just the two of us?”
“Maybe.” Garrett walked toward the master bathroom in the corner of their room.
Once he disappeared inside, she picked at the remnants of her breakfast. She would buy a pregnancy test on the way to work and find some quiet moment in her day to take it. Then when she saw Garrett tonight, she’d have something to tell him. As much as she dreaded the test being positive, the other alternative didn’t thrill her either. If she weren’t pregnant, there could be any number of reasons why her period was late, most of which she didn’t want to contemplate.
Elise speared the last bit of egg with her fork. “Happy birthday to me,” she said in a mocking voice, then popped the morsel of food into her mouth.
###
After dropping Alyssa and Adam at their respective schools, she headed for the local Dunkin’ Donuts for a refill of her unspillable cup, picked up a copy of the Times at the newsstand on the corner and drove into the parking lot of the Metro North Station in New Rochelle. The ride into Manhattan was just long enough for her to look over her schedule, browse the paper and gird
her loins for the stress of the day. Most people, her husband included, thought all she did was pour over fabric swatches all day.
She’d made a reputation for herself as a perfectionist, the consummate professional who always came in on time and under budget. Sometimes that meant taking a cut in her own commission or working late hours to get everything the way she wanted it, but she wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far as she had if she’d gone another route. She knew her employees referred to
her as the Wicked Witch of West 57th Street, but frankly she didn’t care.
Dressed in her Nancy Reagan suit, so named because it was rich, red and designed by Oscar de la Renta, she stepped into her showroom office. Dena, the receptionist/secretary/bookkeeper sat at the black Art Nouveau desk she’d scoured half of Manhattan to find. Dena had been with her from the beginning, when she’d had the tiny office down on Houston Street and had stayed with her when they’d made the move uptown three years ago. Dena was the only one she knew didn’t whisper nasty comments behind her back. Dena much preferred to ambush you face to face.
“Morning, boss,” Dena announced. “Vic Stamos called three times before eight-thirty.”
Elise accepted the stack of messages Dena extended toward her. “Didn’t I tell you that the minute that man made up his mind, he’d be relentless in getting the job done?”
“That you did,” Dena agreed.
Elise sighed. “Anything else pressing?”
“Only one thing. Happy birthday.” Dena opened the center drawer of the desk and pulled out a small, rectangular box. “I know you said you wanted to forget this birthday existed, but I couldn’t resist.”
Elise smiled broadly as she accepted the gilt wrapped package. She’d known Dena would ignore her edict as surely as she knew what lay inside the box. Every year they indulged each other in their own personal passions. Each year, Elise got a new pen; Dena Charles Jourdan shoes.
After shedding the paper, Elise opened the box and gasped. Inside lay a special edition Waterman pen she’d admired in the latest edition of the Fountain Pen Hospital catalog. The price had been more than Elise had been willing to spend. Dena, on her much smaller salary, certainly couldn’t afford such luxury.
Shaking her head, Elise looked down at her employee. “Dena, you shouldn’t have.”
“I know. Just consider it your birthday and Christmas present for the next two years.”
“Either that or I’m going to have to buy you fourteen pairs of shoes.”
“Now there’s an alternative worth considering.”
Elise laughed and hugged Dena. There was no point in telling the other woman that she’d been too extravagant. Dena would never take the pen back. And truthfully, the other woman’s generosity touched her. “Thank you.”
Before Dena could answer, the phone rang. “How much do you want to bet it’s the illustrious Mr. Stamos?” Dena asked reaching for the phone.
“Two cents. That’s all I can afford to lose.”
“Taylor Design Associates. Can I help you?” A second later she covered the mouthpiece of the phone and whispered, “It’s him.”
“I’ll take it in my office.” Elise plucked two pennies from her change purse, placed them on Dena’s desk, then headed down the hall.
Once inside her office, she deposited her coat, purse and briefcase in the chair opposite her desk, then rounded it to pick up the phone. Punching the button to switch her to the correct line, she tugged off her left earring and put the receiver to her ear. “Vic, what can I do for you?”
“I’ve decided to go with you. How soon can we get started?”
The man had spent three months jerking her around, having her come up with design after design, change after change, all under the threat of hiring another design firm to handle the renovation of his duplex apartment. She’d put up with it only because Vic Stamos was one of the style setters of the up-and-coming Manhattan crowd. Where he went, others would follow. This one job could lead to many other lucrative contracts.
“That’s great, Vic,” she said keeping her tone even. Nothing ruined a deal with a New Yorker faster than showing a little enthusiasm. “We need to meet first and finalize the plans.” She flipped open her date book. She didn’t have a spare moment before Tuesday. “How about next Wednesday at 2:00?”
“I can’t wait that long. Can’t you squeeze me in today?”
“Not if you were as skinny as Calista Flockhart. I might be able to do something Monday night.”
“No can do. I’ll be out of town all next week, and I need to get started as soon as possible.” There was a long pause before he added, “I’d hoped you would be more accommodating of my schedule.”
Elise rolled her eyes, but said nothing. She recognized Vic’s words for the threat they were. If she wouldn’t work around him, he’d find someone else who would. She was almost tempted to let him. “All right, can we meet at your place tonight, around seven?” The Lincoln shoot should be over by then. “But I can’t spend more than an hour.” Not if she wanted to get home in time for some semblance of dinner with her family.
“Sounds perfect.”
“See you then.”
Elise hung up, clicked on her computer, and checked her e-mail. There were four from Vic, which she deleted, one from her sister Daphne, which contained a birthday wish and a ribald joke, and three from suppliers, letting her know her orders had come in. Elise sighed. At least some things were going right in her little world.
She brought up the plans for the McDonald kitchen she was set to make a bid on tomorrow afternoon. She doubted Judith McDonald had ever set foot in a kitchen, except to instruct the cook on what to prepare, but for the second time in four years she wanted the kitchen redone. Not that Elise minded. With Judith, money was never an object. Judith seemed to revel in spending as much of her elderly husband’s fortune as quickly as possible. But Judith was a perfectionist, perhaps even moreso than Elise herself. If one tile skewed a millimeter from its mark, Judith would notice it and demand that it be fixed.
But Elise had no doubt the plans would meet with Judith’s approval. From the gold fixtures to the onyx refrigerator, Judith had picked out almost everything herself. Elise’s only rub: Judith would expect Elise to oversee the work herself instead of using her usual project manager, a prospect that never thrilled. Elise sighed and clicked the mouse in the appropriate place to print out the designs. Such was the life of the high-powered designer–the life she’d always dreamed of. Just sometimes, like now, it was a pain in the neck.
###
Garrett sat in the black leather chair in his office, perusing the screen of the computer monitor that sat on his desk. He’d been staring at the same spreadsheet that detailed the past month’s income and expenses for the last fifteen minutes, taking in nothing. Thoughts of Elise intruded every time he tried to concentrate on his work.
An image of her formed in his mind, a picture of her face in rapture. Her neck would arch and her incredible amber eyes would drift closed. And more often than not, she’d call his name in that throaty voice of hers.
She hadn’t looked or sounded like that this morning. She’d been a million miles away. He’d known that, and tried to rouse her to the same level of passion he’d felt. But when she’d arched against him, he’d lost it. He wasn’t ashamed to admit his petite wife turned him on as much now as she had when he was twenty, but he’d like to think the years had granted him a modicum of control.
She’d promised him they’d talk tonight, but he doubted they would have the chance for that discussion later tonight. He picked up the phone to call her. As usual, dialing her personal number produced a busy signal. He’d started to dial the general office number when he heard footsteps outside his office.
“Why do we even bother?”
Garrett glanced up to see his best friend and partner Robert Delaney standing in the doorway to his office. He and Robert had known each other from their days playing football for Stockton College in upstate New York. When they’d both been sidelined by injuries, they’d focused on getting through med school, Robert as a plastic surgeon, himself as a pediatrician.
“Why do we bother to do what?”
“Practice medicine at all. Have you seen the new reimbursement schedule from American Healthcare?” Robert came into the room, holding the paper aloft. He sat in one of the two chairs that faced Garrett’s desk. “Two dollars for a prophylactic shot. Two dollars? Between the vaccine and the damn lollipop, we spend more than that per kid.”
“What are you complaining about? Most of your patients pay cash, and besides, with all your volunteer work, you’re giving your services away.”
“I know, but I hate what it does to this practice.”
Garrett sighed. Beneath his words ran a familiar undercurrent: that Garrett’s end of the practice was actually losing money while Robert’s kept them afloat. Robert didn’t blame him for that. With the advent of HMOs, many doctors, particularly pediatricians, made less and less per patient, and were forced to work longer hours in hopes of making up the slack. Garrett himself had fallen victim to the same syndrome, spending more time away from home than he liked. He knew Elise resented it, and he was no longer as close with either of his children as he would have liked.
He hadn’t intended to tell Robert about his plans. He hadn’t intended to tell anyone until it was a done deal, but he didn’t see that he had much choice in the matter.
“I’m looking into something that might turn things around.”
Robert’s thick eyebrows shot up. “Don’t tell me you’ve started playing the lottery.”
“Not likely. I’m thinking of putting my expertise to better use. You know Jeanie Wilkins. Her youngest is about a year old now.”
“Yeah,” Robert said, humor evident in his voice. “The build of a linebacker topped off with the face of a sharpei. Yet she and her husband continue to crank one out every year and a half. What about her?”
“Her younger sister is a staff writer for Treatment magazine. She seems to think there’s a need for a definitive book on African-American baby and child care and her publisher thinks so, too. She wants to co-author one with me.”
“Make sure your face is the only one on the jacket if you want to sell any books.”
Garret snorted. Ever since Robert had met and married the irrepressible Dr. Lindsay Carpenter, he’d developed a sense of wit Garrett would never have expected of him.
“I don’t know if anything will come of it. I promised I’d meet with her. She should be here any minute.” Garrett glanced at his watch. “In fact, she’s late. Maybe she won’t show up at all.”
He almost hoped she wouldn’t. The whole idea was probably crazy, but for a few moments when he’d talked to her on the phone, working on a book had seemed like the perfect solution to his problems.
His hopes were immediately dashed by the sound of the phone intercom buzzing. He stabbed the button to put Sandy, the receptionist, on speakerphone. “Yes.”
“Jasmine Halliday is here to see you.”
“Jasmine, huh?” Robert asked standing. “Every Jasmine I ever met was trouble.”
Garrett shot him a droll look and stood. “Behave yourself or you’ll have to leave.”
“I have no intention of staying. I have a consult in five minutes. I just want to get a look at her. I-I-I–” Robert stammered, as a tall, slender woman appeared in the doorway.
She glanced at Robert, but Garrett noted she headed straight toward him, extending her hand. “Dr. Taylor, I’m so glad to meet you.”
Momentarily bemused, he surveyed the young woman. She wore a navy blue dress, which ended at mid thigh. Her long, shapely legs were encased in flesh colored stockings and dark blue high-heeled pumps. He drew his gaze to her face. High cheekbones and deepset eyes were accentuated by pouty lips and a flawless ebony complexion. Her black hair was swept up into a french twist. Although she strove to give off an aura of maturity, Garrett doubted if she were any older than twenty-two. All in all, she was one of the loveliest young women he had ever seen. How on earth had Jeannie ended up with a sister like this?
Garrett shook her hand. “Likewise.” He gestured toward Robert. “This is my partner Robert Delaney.”
“Pleased to meet you,” she said, extending her hand toward Robert.
“Same here.” Robert shook her hand then stepped back. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to see to a patient.” Robert walked toward the door, but paused under the archway, facing Garrett. Raising his eyebrows comically, he pantomimed a curvaceous figure before heading to his own office.
Garrett pressed his lips together to suppress a grin and turned to the woman standing across from him. He gestured toward the chair Robert had vacated. “Won’t you sit down?”
“Thank you.”
She sat, setting her briefcase and purse at her feet. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“As I told you over the phone, my publisher is branching into books as well as magazines. They want to develop a line of definitive health guides covering everything from pediatrics to geriatrics. My editor asked me which book I’d like to work on and I immediately knew which one I wanted. Baby care books are a booming business. The same for anything African American. It was a natural choice. These types of books sell better when at least one of the authors is in the medical profession.”
True. People wanted the assurance of a medical degree to back up medical advice. “But why me?”
“I don’t have any children of my own, but Jeanie raves about you. She’s gone through several pediatricians, but she says none of them were as thorough, as caring, or as knowledgeable as you are. You may not be aware of this, but when this year’s list of the best doctors in the city comes out from New York magazine, your name is going to be on it.”
“I had heard something about that.” In fact, a reporter from the magazine had hounded Garrett into giving him an interview and tagging along on his rounds at the hospital. But if he were so darn good, how come he was so darn broke.
“I read the paper you had published last February in the New England Journal of Medicine on controlling ADHD through diet. You have a concise, open writing style. I wouldn’t consider doing the book with anyone but you.”
Uncomfortable with the overflow of praise and the fervor in the young woman’s voice, Garretslid his gaze to the blotter on his desk.
“What would the project entail? I mean, what would I have to do on my end?”
She leaned down and pulled a sheaf of papers from her briefcase. “Here’s the proposal that I gave to my editor. Of course, if there’s anything you’d want to add or change, you’d be welcome to do that.”
Garrett skimmed through the pages–a detailed outline of the book. She’d planned chapters on everything from bringing the baby home from the hospital, to the first year check-up. In between, there were chapters planned on vaccinations, breastfeeding, childhood illnesses, developmental stages and a variety of other topics. At first glance, he couldn’t think of anything pertinent she’d left out.
Stacking the papers neatly, he placed them on his desk and sat back in his chair. “I see you’ve done your homework.”
“I’m always very thorough, Dr. Taylor.”
Garrett blinked. Was that a hint of suggestiveness he detected in her words or in the smile she sent him? Probably not. She’d been nothing but professional in every other way. Still, something about this young woman disconcerted him.
“Please think it over Dr. Taylor,” she continued. “Paul, my editor, will be giving you a call on Monday.”
“Monday? Why the rush?”
“Due to certain fiscal realities, they’re trying to get the contracts signed and the checks issued before the new year.” She stood and extended her hand toward him. I don’t suppose I have to tell you how much I’m looking forward to working with you.”
Garrett stood also and shook her hand. But there was that smile again, not exactly seductive, but certainly more effusive than the situation warranted. “Thank you, but I can’t guarantee I’ll have an answer for you next week.”
“That’s for you and Paul to work out. I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.”
Garrett dropped his hand to his side. “I’ll walk you out.”
He led her down the corridor that had been painted white and decorated with oversize Pokémon characters. He helped her on with her coat and issued her out the front door. When he turned around, Robert was standing right in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest and a questioning tilt to his eyebrows.
“So? What did Miss Va-Va-Va-Voom offer you?”
“As I said, she’s working on a book and is looking for a co-author with a medical credential.”
“And she just happened to pick you?”
“That’s what she says. I haven’t agreed to anything, though.”
“But you will?”
“I’m thinking about it,” Garrett said. But he knew he would if the offer proved lucrative enough.
Robert laughed. “Yeah, right. I wonder what Elise will have to say about this, given the shapeliness of your co-author, I mean.”
Garrett shrugged, but he’d wondered the same thing himself. “Good question,” Garrett said, then strolled the short distance to his office and shut the door.
###
Returning to her office after lunch with a client, Elise sneaked off into her private bathroom in her office, locked the door and got the pregnancy test from her pocketbook. Elise pressed her lips together. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what the results of the test would be. Right now, all she wanted to do was slink home and have a nice hot bath.
She huffed out a breath and opened the package and pulled out the foil-wrapped stick inside. She didn’t bother with the instructions. She knew what she had to do: pee on the stick and wait for the little window to turn pink. But several minutes later, absolutely nothing had happened. Now what on earth did that mean?
Hearing a loud knock on the bathroom door, Elise jumped, dropping the stick to the floor. “Boss, are you in there? You’ve got to leave for the shoot in fifteen minutes.”
Elise dragged a long breath into her lungs and let it out slowly. “I’ll be right out.” She bent, picked up the stick and tossed it into the toilet. She flushed it away and washed her hands. As she reached for a towel, she caught her own reflection in the mirror above the sink.
“Good lord,” she whispered, running her fingers through her short, light brown hair to straighten it. Her honey-brown complexion appeared sallow in the glow of the incandescent lights that ringed her mirror. Her eye makeup had smudged and her lipstick was nonexistent. She quickly repaired the damage, then stepped back from the mirror to gauge her total appearance. Her gaze fell on the wrapper for the pregnancy test in the garbage pail under the sink. If she weren’t pregnant, then something else had to be wrong. But what?
Dena called to her again. Elise sighed. She’d have to worry about her own problems later. On the way across town, she’d give her gynecologist a call and see if Doctor Burton could fit her in some time next week.
###
It was almost nine thirty when Elise walked up the stone pathway leading to her front door. The Lincoln shoot had taken forever and Vic had spent an hour trying to get her into his bed before getting down to business. Elise wasn’t particularly surprised that the house was already dark. Garrett had probably taken the kids out to eat when she hadn’t shown up at the expected hour. But usually the foyer light was kept on for anyone coming home late. Even that light was out now.
She stuck her key in the lock and turned it. She knew her own house well enough to find her way around in the dark. But suddenly the room flooded with light and a sea of faces stood before her.
“Surprise!” they shouted in unison.
Elise, stunned, stood stock still, surveying the crowd in front of her. Her gaze settled on Garrett. A pointed party hat sat askew on his head and a sleepy Andrew rested in his arms. Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he mouthed.
In front of all assembled, Elise Monroe Thorne Taylor burst into tears.
