Delivered with Love (10 page)

"Well, you looked like a princess." Sandy dabbed at the corner of her eye. "I know David will love it."

"He'd love any dress as long as you're wearing it." Michael hid a wince, remembering the cost of the gown. "But of course being your wedding day and all, I'm sure the dress you picked out is perfect."

"It is, Dad." Julia smiled. "But that's not all. We booked Seascape Resort for the reception—"

Michael choked on the last bit of coffee.
Seascape Resort.
One of the most expensive places in the area. Couldn't she have a nice, simple outdoor event? He knew an outdoor wedding would be too risky with the weather they'd been having lately. How about a church wedding with a reception in the gym? No, definitely not his daughter's style—or David's, for that matter. Why was he being such a tightwad? This was his baby. His beautiful little girl. He glanced at his wife. Should he be completely honest with Sandy about their financial situation? No. He'd always provided for his family. And he'd come up with the money now.

"Dad, are you all right?" Julia looked like a six-year-old with her doe-like eyes and fear etched across her face.

"I'm fine." Michael said between coughs. "Your wedding sounds like it will be amazing. Excuse me, I've got to go make a few phone calls." He stood and headed toward his office.

"Honey, are you sure you're okay?" Sandy asked. "Do you need a glass of water?"

"No, thank you." Michael turned and held on to the wall and coughed. "Dinner was wonderful. Now, I've got to get some work done."

Mother, still seated, stacked the dirty plates. "That son of mine always hides behind his work, doesn't he?"

Michael leaned against the doorframe. "I'm still in the room."

"I know, dear." A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Sandy, did I tell you I'm going to move into the rental with a darling young woman named Claire? Claire James. I used to live near her in L.A."

Michael shook his head. His mother had a way of changing the subject.

Sandy brought Mother her walker. "That's wonderful. I'm sure Claire will be a good helper."

She hoisted herself to standing. "Thank you, dear."

His mother swayed left, then steadied herself. It did Michael's mind good to know Claire would be taking care of her.

"Here, Grandma, let me carry those dishes for you." Julia stood, grabbed the stack of white china, and headed toward the kitchen.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable in the family room while I clean up the kitchen?" Sandy picked up a couple of serving dishes. "Then we'll get you settled in the guest bedroom. I bought you a new comforter. It's blue, your favorite color."

"You didn't need to do that. But I appreciate it all the same."

"Feel free to take it with you to the house on Saxon Avenue. When are you moving in?" Sandy asked over her shoulder.

"Tomorrow."

Sandy's brows shot up. "So soon? We don't get to visit for at least a few days?"

"I can't wait to walk to the end of the bluff and smell that ocean air. Claire is going to meet me there in the morning. We worked out all the arrangements." With slow and deliberate steps, his mother made it to the family room. Michael helped her sit down in the same place she had earlier that afternoon—on the corner cushion of the sofa.

He thought back to the conversation he had had with Claire while his mother looked around the rental home. They agreed she was to assist with household chores, help prepare meals, run errands, shop for groceries, do the laundry, and supervise medications. In exchange, she'd receive a small monthly paycheck from his mother plus room and board.

Mother reached over and grabbed the newspaper. She thumbed through it and found the crossword puzzle. "Got a pen on you?"

His work pen—the one with the words Crown Real Estate engraved on it—rested in his shirt pocket, where it always did. "Here you go."

"Thanks, dear. Don't you have work to do?" She smiled at him over the top of her glasses.

Michael's mind whirled as he headed to his office. So many changes. Julia was getting married, his mother would soon be living near him, and then there was Claire. A young woman who made him think of Emily and all the feelings he thought he'd stuffed deep down inside.

C
laire lay back on her bed in Nancy's home a few hours after Blake dropped her off. He had offered to make her dinner, but Claire didn't feel up to it. She had a lot on her mind. Nancy was at work again, and Tom sat in the family room watching a football game. Cold pizza had satisfied her hunger pangs.

Grabbing her cell phone, she called her sister. Suddenly she missed Haley and everything familiar to her. So much had happened since leaving L.A.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Claire, it's good to hear your voice." Haley sniffed, then coughed.

"Are you sick?" Claire sat up. She fingered the edge of the quilt on the bed.

"No. Nothing like that."

Claire heard the apprehension in her sister's tone. Something wasn't right. "Are you upset? Please, Haley tell me what's wrong . . . has Mark hurt you?"

"No!" Haley yelled in Claire's ear, then softened her voice. "I'm pregnant."

A knot formed in the pit of Claire's stomach. It was bad enough that Haley had to endure living under the same roof as Mark. Now, an innocent baby would fall victim. "That's great, right?" She attempted to sound positive.

Silence filled the line. She stood and walked to the window, pushing back the curtain. Solar lights lit up the twin palm trees out front. It was a beautiful evening, but not in Haley's world. Claire felt the need to say something—anything.

"Oh, Haley, your body will get back in shape after the baby's born. Knowing you, you'll probably wear your pre-pregnancy jeans out of the hospital—with your favorite heels." Why was she ignoring the obvious? Mark was an abusive jerk.

"I'm scared." Haley's voice shook.

"Of what?" Better to let her sister voice the truth about her husband's behavior.

"I'm scared that Mark and I won't be good parents. Neither of us had good examples . . . with his parents divorcing when he was five, and Mom raising us alone—"

"Mom did the best she could . . ." From her duffel bag, Claire pulled out a framed picture of the three of them, her finger trailing lightly across her mom's smiling face.

"I know she did, but the fact is we were raised in a single-parent home. We didn't know what it was like to have both a mom and a dad who loved us. That and the fact that—"

"That what, Haley?" Claire set the picture down and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Mark is still drinking."

Claire could hear her sister crying. It pained her to know her sister was dealing with this alone. "Oh, Haley. I'm so sorry."

"It's gotten worse since you moved out." Haley hiccupped. "I don't know what to do."

"Have you talked to him about it? When he's sober . . ."

"I've tried. He says there is nothing wrong with a few beers after a hard day of work."

Claire sat down in the floral chair tucked in the corner of the room. A blanket lay folded across the armrest. She covered her bare feet. "Is he still working with his uncle?"

"Yes. Thankfully, there are construction jobs to keep him busy. At least I know Mark's insurance will cover the birth."

"Is Mark happy about the baby?" Claire couldn't picture Mark as a dad. But then again, she couldn't imagine a loving father.

"Yes. We didn't think we could have kids. So, yes, Mark's definitely happy . . ."

"Then maybe he'll quit drinking before the baby's born."

"Maybe . . ." Doubt colored her tone. "Claire, I haven't even asked you what's going on in Capitola. Have you found Mom's old love?"

"I think so, but I haven't shown him the letter yet."

"What?! Really? What are you waiting for?" Haley's voice had a sudden boost of energy.

Claire twirled her hair. "Because, like you, I'm scared."

"Scared of what? That Mom's old love still pines for her after thirty-five years? Claire, she's gone. Old memories are simply that . . . memories. It's okay to move on."

"He's my new employer. I'm scared that I'll get to know him and not like him. I'll wonder what Mom ever saw in him."

"Like I said before, it was thirty-five years ago. People change. Maybe you should forget the letter. Chances are your employer didn't even write it. Who is he, and what work are you doing for him?"

"Michael Thompson, the man wearing that fancy suit at Mom's funeral, and you'll never guess who his mother is—"

"Geraldine . . ." Haley's voice trailed off.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Claire pulled the blanket higher on her lap.

"Listen, Claire, I've got to run. Suddenly I'm feeling nauseous."

The clock displayed 1:00 a.m. Claire didn't feel the least bit sleepy. Tom had gone to bed hours ago, right after the football game ended. She slipped out of her room to wait on the family room sofa. Nancy would be home soon.

A car pulled into the driveway. After the kind of morning Nancy had had, talking with Vivian on the phone and a long shift at work, now might not be a good time to talk to her about the rental. She didn't want to break Nancy's heart further by telling her she was going to room with Geraldine, but she didn't have a choice. It was all planned out for her.

Tea.
The thought popped into her mind. She had noticed Nancy drinking herbal tea this morning. Claire headed into the kitchen and opened the cabinet. She filled a cup with water and put it in the microwave to heat as her mind drifted. By the smiles Geraldine was casting Blake's way earlier today, Claire had a pretty good idea that Michael's mother enjoyed male attention and wouldn't mind him coming over to cook his meals while his kitchen was being remodeled.

"Claire, what are you doing up?" Nancy entered the kitchen through the garage door. "It's in the middle of the night. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I was waiting for you. Plus, I thought you might need this . . ." The microwave signaled the water was hot. Claire pulled out the cup and dropped in a tea bag. "Here you go."

"What's up?" Nancy took the cup from Claire. The skin around Nancy's eyes sagged. The woman was tired.

"Let's sit down in the family room. We'll be more comfortable in there." Claire linked arms with Nancy and led her to the sofa.

"Did Vivian leave another message?" Nancy sat down and held the cup with both hands. She brought the steaming liquid to her mouth.

"Vivian didn't call back today." Claire sat, grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest.

"You're right, I do need this." Nancy took a deep breath. "And the warm cup feels good on my hands."

"You've been so kind to me. And I wanted it to work out with Vivian. But something happened today at Michael's house."

"Did you get the job?" Nancy took another sip of her tea, then focused her eyes on Claire.

She wished she had made herself a cup. It would feel good to warm her insides. At the moment she felt cold and heartless. Nancy had been nothing but kind to her, and now Claire was going to disappoint her. "Yes, I got the job."

"That's great! When do you start?"

"Tomorrow. Geraldine wants me to help her move her things into the house." Claire clutched the pillow tighter.

"She accepted the fact she needs a caregiver? Not all seniors are that willing."

"It didn't take much convincing. Michael basically told her she needed someone to look after her. Geraldine's not stable on her feet, even though she's with it here." Claire pointed to her head. "Oh, and the best part is I know her."

"How?" Nancy sat forward.

"Geraldine was my old neighbor in L.A. We didn't talk much back then. She pretty much kept to herself."

"Interesting." Nancy put her cup down on the coffee table. "How did Geraldine seem today?"

"Like we've been friends for years." Claire slouched down on the couch. "I did see her at a gas station not too long ago—on my way up from L.A. She handed me a twenty-dollar bill. Said she should've helped me sooner."

"She sounds sweet." Nancy ran a hand through her short brown hair. "I'm glad you found a job. Things are looking up for you." She yawned. "I need to get to bed. It's been a long day—"

"Maybe I should wait until tomorrow . . ." Claire set the throw pillow neatly on the corner of the sofa and then stood.

"For what?" Nancy looked her in the eye.

"Never mind. It can wait until morning." She forced a smile.

"Claire, you might as well tell me now. I won't sleep until I know what you're talking about."

Claire picked up the empty teacup from the coffee table. "I'm going to move into the rental with Geraldine." She said it so fast she hoped Nancy heard her.

"Wait a minute." Nancy's voice caught, and she held up a hand. "Did I hear you correctly? Did you say Geraldine is going to live in the rental?"

Claire nodded. "I didn't know what to do or say. I mentioned to Michael that there were family issues going on between you and Vivian, and then all of a sudden Geraldine wants to move right in. She didn't waste a moment." Claire shifted her weight from side to side. Awful. She felt downright awful. In one respect, Geraldine provided her with both a job and a home, but on the other hand, would she have any privacy living with an old woman who needed assistance? Of course, she didn't know Vivian that well either, except for the fact that she could cut a pie in perfect triangles and serve meals at a restaurant. What a dilemma. If only she could afford to live alone.

Nancy's shoulders sagged. "I'm sure Michael was thrilled. He's found a renter—his mother no less—and a caregiver all in one. It's probably for the better. Vivian missed her chance— once again."

Claire didn't understand what Nancy meant by "once again." She wanted to ask, but thought better of it.

Nancy yawned. "I'm tired. I need to go to bed. Thanks for the tea. And congratulations. I guess I won't have to worry about the security deposit after all." She slipped down the hall and into her bedroom.

Claire stood with the empty teacup in hand. She didn't know how to feel as Nancy disappeared behind her door. But one thing was certain—she now had a roof over her head and a job in the morning. And according to Blake, she'd be driving her Volkswagen soon. She walked into the kitchen and placed the cup into the sink. Something was still gnawing at her. Was it Michael? Could be. She still didn't know if he was or even if she wanted him to be the writer of the letter. Maybe it was her sister's reaction to Geraldine. Did she know something Claire didn't? No. She shrugged off the thought. Haley's sudden nausea must be from the pregnancy. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She was going to be an aunt.

A knock on the front door jarred her. Her body froze in place hoping whoever it was would go away. She heard another knock, but this time the pounding came with more force. Claire tiptoed through the kitchen into the family room. She inched the curtain back only enough for her left eye to peek through. What she saw shocked her.
Vivian.

Could life get more complicated?