His Baby Dream (Safe Harbor Medical) (18 page)

Harper nestled against him. “There’s a basketball court,” she said.

“What?” Peter wondered if he’d misheard.

Her laughter tinkled through the air. “Around the corner of the house. I couldn’t see it before.”

Now he understood. “I’m full of surprises.”

“You are, indeed.” Harper slid her arm around his waist, and they kissed again, for a long, thrilling time.

When they reluctantly broke off, she said, “It might seem a little strange.”

“What might?” Peter asked, too delirious to think straight.

“There seems to be a trend toward pregnant brides.” She released a mock sigh. “But in our case, we’re having a baby that I’m not carrying. How will that look? Will we be snubbed by wedding planners?”

“You could wear a padded pillow.”

“I just might.” Harper rested her head on his shoulder. “Mia will love being a flower girl.”

He wrapped his arm around her. “I hope she’ll love having a daddy.”

“More than you can imagine.”

Peter could imagine it. With Harper in his arms, he could imagine a lot of things.

Most of all, a future full of happiness.

Chapter Nineteen

“Are you ready?” After applying her lipstick, Harper peered from her bathroom to see Mia twirling in front of the bedroom’s full-length mirror. Her daughter had changed from new jeans and a top into the dress she’d worn to Stacy’s wedding. “Honey, that’s too fancy for lunch.”

“It isn’t lunch, it’s high tea!” the little girl protested.

If Harper raised a fuss, it would only delay them further, she supposed, and Peter was due to arrive any minute. “All right. Let me brush your hair.”

Mia held still. Knowing she had at best thirty seconds before her daughter started fidgeting, Harper ran her own brush through the little girl’s pixie cut. It was adorable. How could anyone not fall in love with this child?

Considering the neglectful treatment she received from Sean’s mother, Harper knew the answer to that. She just didn’t like it.

In this case, though, the grandparents were strangers. It would be unreasonable to expect instant bonding. Still, surely they would put up a good pretense for Mia’s sake.

Barely had the brush stopped moving than the little girl darted out of the room. All morning, she’d been working on a new minibook featuring pictures of her stuffed animals. She probably wanted to tweak that and print it out again.

As expected, Mia had leaped into Peter’s arms when she learned he was to be her new daddy. Her cheers had rung through the house, scaring Po, whom they’d later found hiding under the bed.

For the past two weeks, Harper had been floating with happiness. She and Peter talked almost every night, and last weekend they’d found a chance to make love again. At work, she’d been inundated with congratulations.

Then, to everyone’s delight, an ultrasound had revealed that Vanessa was carrying twins. While it was too soon to determine the gender, Harper had drawn up a list of boys’ names to review with Peter. They were considering Rod, after his father, and Jacob, after hers, but also Van—in honor of Vanessa—plus a few more.

As for Mia, she was over the moon. “I’m going to have a daddy!” she announced to everyone they saw.

The excitement had shaded into nervousness a few days ago, however, when she learned she’d be meeting the elder Gladstones. “They won’t really be my grandparents, will they?” she’d said.

“Sure they will.” In honesty, Harper had added, “Stepgrandparents.”

“The twins will be their real grandchildren,” she’d said. “And that baby in Maryland.”

“Betty’s daughter.” Harper had told her about Peter’s sister and her pregnancy.

“I wish they
were
my grandparents,” Mia had said over breakfast this morning. Then she’d trotted off to prepare her book. While the Gladstones had of course included Mia in today’s invitation, Harper hoped they’d hide any discomfort they felt about her neediness. She knew how perceptive her daughter was.

His parents had already expressed their welcome to Harper over the phone. “Peter says wonderful things about you” was how his mother had put it when they spoke.

“It’s kind of you to invite us to lunch,” Harper had answered, unsure what else to say. That she loved their son? Obviously. That they must be terrific folks to have raised such a terrific guy? That might come across as false flattery. “Can I bring anything?”

“No, thanks,” Kerry had replied. “I have a special menu planned. I’ve been researching my husband’s heritage and it turns out Rod’s ancestors were mostly Scottish. I’ll be serving a Scottish-inspired high tea. It’s actually lunch, but high tea sounds better.”

“I can’t wait.” Celebrating one’s ancestry did sound like fun. Harper’s mother had told her once that she was part French with a Native American great-grandmother, but hadn’t seemed to consider it important.

Returning her attention to the mirror, Harper studied her lavender blouse and gray skirt. Was this too conservative? Oh, seriously, it wasn’t as if Peter’s parents were sitting in judgment.

Her hair had grown to collar-length, and Harper decided to keep it that way. For her wedding, she might wear it loose, with a flower clipped in. Since this was her second marriage, she’d rather choose a dress she could wear again. Autumn colors would be lovely.

They’d set a tentative date for Thanksgiving weekend, so her brother could attend. After congratulating her wholeheartedly, Jake had happily agreed to give away the bride.

A yowl, more distressed than Po’s usual meows, yanked Harper from her thoughts. “Mia, what are you doing to the cat?” She sped into the living room.

There sat the carrier they used for visits to the vet. Inside, the black-and-white kitten—nearly full grown—turned around and around, searching for escape.

“He’s coming with us,” Mia announced.

Harper stared at her in disbelief. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

“They might not think I’m special but everybody loves Po,” Mia said.

Harper reached out and drew her daughter close. “You are absolutely the most special little girl in the world. If they don’t love you, they aren’t worthy of Peter, because
he
loves you.”

There was no answer.

Harper peered down. “Well?”

“I didn’t really think you’d let me take Po.” Wiggling away, Mia knelt to release the cat, which wasted no time in scampering off. “Sorry,” she called after him.

Outside, a vehicle halted. “Got the book?” Harper asked.

With a shrug, her daughter brushed kitty hairs from her dress. “Yeah, I put it in a big envelope like you said.”

Through the front window, Harper saw Peter striding up the walk. The sight of him drove out all other thoughts. He was just as handsome and exciting and sexy as when she’d seen him the first day of sports camp, which—she now conceded—was when she’d started falling in love.

In the doorway, his appreciative gaze went first to her, and then to Mia. “How’re my girls?” he asked.

“One of them is so anxious she tried to bring her cat along,” Harper answered.

“Mommy, he can tell you mean me!” Mia clutched the manila envelope. Harper hoped it would protect the book, because otherwise the pages would soon be creased into oblivion.

“Most cats don’t like car rides,” Peter reflected. “Where is he?”

“Hiding, no doubt.” Harper picked up her purse. “Shall we?”

“After you, my lady.” He held the door. “And my little lady.”

Mia grinned. “Thank you, Daddy!”

She fell quiet in the van’s rear seat and remained that way during the twenty-minute drive. Harper had to fight the temptation to keep turning and checking on her daughter. She couldn’t force the child to relax, any more than she could calm her own nagging worry about the upcoming meeting.

Apparently keyed up, too, Peter drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they exited the freeway in Yorba Linda. “You okay?” Harper asked.

“I heard something at school today.” He’d gone in early on a Saturday to spend a few hours working with the track team. Just then, he had to swerve to miss a car pulling out of a parking lot. “Never mind—I’d better stay focused on my driving. We can talk about it later.”

A couple of miles farther, they entered a residential neighborhood, the planned type with coordinated adobe exteriors, slight variations in size and shape and low-key landscaping. It was lovely, but Harper preferred the more diverse assortment of houses in Safe Harbor. They had more interesting shadows and angles for photographing.

As they swung into a cul-de-sac, Harper spotted a silver-haired man of about Peter’s height and slightly heavier build deadheading roses in front of a two-story home. He peered up and waved.

“Your father came outside to greet us?” Harper said. “How thoughtful.”

“And meanwhile, he’s catching up on some neglected gardening,” Peter observed wryly. “My dad never wastes a minute.”

When they parked and got out, Harper found herself clasped in a hug, followed by a second one from Peter’s mom. Wearing an apron that said, Kiss Me! Some of My Ancestors Are Irish, Kerry Gladstone had sped out to greet them, as well. With her curly hair and the laugh-crinkles around her eyes, she exuded goodwill.

Mia held back, lurking close to Peter. She stuck her hand in his for a moment, and then retrieved it. He glanced down, clearly concerned, but didn’t say anything. Calling attention to her behavior might make her even more self-conscious.

We’re all nervous,
Harper mused as she followed Kerry, who was chattering about her internet search for recipes.

“I’ve met people who don’t believe Scotland has much of a cuisine, but they’re wrong,” Kerry said, leading them through an airy, cathedral-ceilinged living room and into a sunny kitchen.

“Whatever you’re fixing, it smells delicious.” Harper drank in the aromas of butter, garlic and oranges.

“Cheese scones for sandwiches.” Kerry indicated a tray filled with flaky rolls stuffed with what appeared to be cream cheese. “And for dessert, sherry and brandy trifle, without the sherry and brandy. I used orange juice and flavored syrup instead.”

Mia stared around without speaking. At a soft brushing noise, she gazed eagerly into a corner of the room, but it was only the curtains at an open window. Not a pet, as Harper suspected she’d been hoping.

“We’re eating on the patio.” Kerry opened the glass sliding door. “Mia, will you help me serve?”

“Sure.” Solemnly, the little girl reached for the large tray.

Peter’s mother intervened smoothly. “That might be a bit heavy. How about bringing the forks and spoons?” She gave Mia a plastic holder, with a handle and open compartments filled with silverware.

Mia nodded. Moving with great care, she toted it outside.

Peter took the tray, while Rod carried the large salad bowl and Harper brought the dressing and salad tongs. “I’m impressed,” she told her future mother-in-law as they took seats around a table on the flagstone terrace. “You’re quite a cook.”

“Thanks.” Kerry beamed. “I love researching our backgrounds and fixing special foods. Of course, it’s more enjoyable when we have people to share with.”

“Your home is lovely, too.”

“We like it.” Intercepting a meaningful glance from his wife, Rod clamped his mouth shut.

What did that mean? Harper supposed they’d rather not talk about their upcoming move. It must be a sensitive topic.

They’d lavished care on this yard, from the whirlpool enclosure to the outdoor kitchen. With a grill, burners and a small refrigerator, it was perfect for whipping up treats for a crowd.

What a shame to leave it. But they’d made a sensible choice. In a few years, if Peter had no luck finding a job teaching science, Harper supposed he and she might decide to join them.

The discussion moved on to their daughter’s pregnancy and Vanessa’s ultrasound. When they’d exhausted those subjects, Harper asked about the ingredients of their meal. Kerry told them that the scones contained a Scottish cheddar along with sliced green onions. She’d used herbed Boursin cheese as a sandwich filling.

“Do you share recipes?” Harper asked. “I’d enjoy fixing this for my friends.”

“Certainly,” Kerry responded. “I’ll email it to you.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Through it all, Mia chewed slowly and carefully, which was unusual. Although she seemed to like the food, she didn’t say anything.

Kerry studied her thoughtfully. The older woman didn’t pressure the child to talk, though. As a retired elementary schoolteacher, she was clearly sensitive to children’s moods.

Too bad only about a month remained before their escrow closed, Harper reflected. The Gladstones would be busy packing and moving. That didn’t leave much time for getting acquainted.

For dessert, Kerry produced a baking sheet of pastry covered with whipped cream and toasted almonds. “This has a funny name—it’s called a whim-wham.”

Harper couldn’t help smiling. Peter regarded his mother in amusement.

“Why?” Mia asked.

“The word used to mean something light and fanciful,” Kerry explained. “Which describes this very well.”

“What’s in it?” Harper suspected she’d want the recipe for this, too.

“Beneath all the whipped cream are ladyfingers soaked in the orange juice and syrup.”

“Ladyfingers? Ick!” Mia blinked as if startled by her own response. “I’m sorry. Can I un-ick that?”

Rod guffawed. The girl regarded him uncertainly.

Kerry chuckled. “You absolutely can un-ick that, Mia. In fact, I’ll give you the first serving.”

“Okay.” The little girl sounded dubious. One bite, though, and her face lit up. “Yum!”

“There’s enough for seconds.” Kerry dished out the rich dessert to everyone. As she resumed her seat, she said, “Mia, I’m hoping you can help me solve a problem.”

Fork poised for another bite, the girl frowned. “What kind of problem?”

“My hobby is researching our family background,” Kerry began.

“Geo...gea...gecology,” Mia attempted.

The response was an approving nod. “You’re close. Genealogy. I’ll bet you’re good at reading and writing.”

“I take pictures, too.” The little girl glanced at the envelope she’d placed on an empty chair but left it untouched.

“Unfortunately, I’ve run out of people to research,” Kerry said.

Pleased at the approach the older woman was using, Harper concentrated on eating. Peter merely watched, his eyes sparkling.

“What about the baby in Maryland? She’ll need gee-nee-ology.” Mia pronounced each syllable distinctly.

“My son-in-law’s parents hired a service to draw up their family tree.” Kerry sounded disappointed. “So we already know about both sides of the baby’s family, theirs and ours. The problem is, if I don’t have anyone else to study, I can’t find new recipes, either.”

Having cleaned her plate, Mia set down her fork. “What about the twins?”

“We’ve got Peter pegged, but then there’s your mom’s side of the family.” Kerry gave her husband a sideways glance.

“I have an idea,” Rod said. “Harper’s ancestors are Mia’s, too. Maybe she could help you, Kerry.” If his words had a rehearsed tone, Mia didn’t seem to notice.

“I can do that!” She picked up the package. “See, I wrote a book. My stuffed animals are kind of like a family.”

About to warn her not to use sticky fingers on the paper, Harper clamped her mouth shut. They could always print another copy.