The Friends We Keep (Mischief Bay) (16 page)

They arrived at their friend’s house. Gabby had the girls ring the bell, then they waited to be invited in. She greeted Mrs. Davidson, confirmed the pickup time and that she had Gabby’s cell number, then left the twins to play.

The late afternoon was still sunny and warm. She could smell food grilling, which made her stomach growl. She and Andrew had a couple of steaks ready for their own dinner and she’d prepared a big salad earlier. Since it was Friday, she was going to allow herself a glass of wine. Just one. And no dessert. Talk about grim.

But thoughts of hunger and dieting faded when she rounded the corner and saw Andrew’s car in the driveway. She hurried the last few yards home.

“I’m back,” she called.

“In the kitchen.”

She found Andrew by the island, pouring himself a glass of scotch. He looked tired.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Candace doesn’t disappoint,” he told her as he held up the bottle of red wine she’d left on the counter.

She nodded. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“It’s Candace.”

“So bad.”

“She swore. She blamed us. She swore some more. She talked about how disappointed she was, how she didn’t have time for this. Pretty much what we expected.”

Andrew didn’t look at her as he spoke. Gabby knew that his attention on opening the bottle of wine was a lot more about what he
didn’t
want to say.

She knew Candace well enough to fill in the details. There had been no “we” in the conversation. Candace would have put the blame squarely on Gabby’s shoulders. There would have been talk about irresponsible and inadequate supervision and how Makayla needed a better role model.

Candace hadn’t liked her from the start and Gabby had never been sure as to why. She and Andrew hadn’t met until after his divorce was final. Even if she had known him before, Candace had been the one to end the marriage, not him. While Gabby was a few years younger, Candace was by far more glamorous and beautiful. She had a fantastic career, lots of friends, plenty of travel. Yet Candace had always been condescending and difficult.

“I’m sorry she was a pain.”

“Me, too.” He handed her the glass of wine. They went out onto the patio. “What a week.”

They sat next to each other on the love seat. Andrew toasted her, then sipped his drink.

“I don’t know how much Makayla heard,” he continued.

“Even if she didn’t, she can guess all the things her mother would say. I wish Candace could be more supportive.”

“You and me, both. I’m glad Makayla is living with us and not her. We’ll make sure things go smoothly through the pregnancy and after.”

Gabby nodded. The adoption was going to take a lot of planning. She’d done some online research and it seemed that they could pull it all together in a few months. With the teen still convinced she and Boyd were in love, this wasn’t the time to bring up the various options, but they would have to have that conversation soon.

“Once the baby is born,” she said, “life can return to relative normal.”

“There will have to be some changes.” Andrew looked at her. “More rules. I need to listen to you more.”

She smiled. “Yes, you do. Makayla’s a great kid, but she still needs to have boundaries. No more sex with boys.”

He chuckled. “Is this where I say something about too little too late?”

“Maybe, but I still think it’s a good rule.” An unrealistic one, but for that moment it was nice to think they could actually have that much control.

There were going to be lots of discussions and decisions, she thought. Did they put Makayla on birth control? She wouldn’t even be sixteen when the baby was born. What a nightmare. She wanted to ask how this had happened, but they all knew the answer to that.

“Have you heard from Boyd’s parents?” she asked.

“No.”

“Me, either. I can’t help thinking that’s not a good thing.”

“Yeah.” He leaned back against the cushions. “We should look into counseling. This is going to be stressful for all of us. I don’t want to screw up and I don’t want you getting too stressed out.”

Which was one of the reasons she loved him so much, she thought. “Counseling is a very good idea. I’ll ask around and get some recommendations.”

He grinned at her. “Are you saying some of your friends are crazy?” He held up a hand. “That’s humor, Gabby. I know going to counseling is a good thing.”

“I accept the comment in the spirit in which it was delivered. As for being crazy, I think we all have a little bit of that in us.”

Chapter Fifteen

Hayley stood in the small, empty bedroom. The walls were painted a pale yellow, with white trim. They’d replaced the carpeting with hardwood because it was easier to keep clean without harsh chemicals. She’d been four months along when she’d miscarried the first time so they hadn’t had time to get serious about buying furniture. There was only the empty room and the painted walls.

She crossed to the closet and opened the door. There weren’t any baby clothes, no stacks of impossibly small linens. No miniature blankets or sheets. Just an old scrapbook—the one her mother had put together for her.

Now she got it down and walked to the patch of sunlight in the corner and sank to the floor. She sat cross-legged, the book resting on her legs.

She and Rob had talked endlessly about their baby those first few months. They’d debated names and talked about the merits of different types of cribs. They’d touched tiny bootees and had tried to imagine the glory of holding a child of their own.

All that had ended with the first unexpected cramps.

She’d been at work when the miscarriage had started. At first she’d thought she was having some kind of stomach flu. But when she’d gone to the bathroom, there had been spotting. The spotting had turned into a flood of blood and by the time she’d gotten to her gynecologist’s office, the baby was already gone.

She remembered the devastation. How Rob had held her and they’d cried together. It had taken weeks for the emptiness to go away. Her parents had still been alive then and her mom had come to stay with her. She’d miscarried before, so she understood how horrible it was. How people said foolish things like “Oh, it happens to everyone,” or “It’s nature’s way of taking care of a problem.”

Fuck that, Hayley had thought. She didn’t want to think her baby had been a problem. It hadn’t been. Her baby had
died
. And it
didn’t
happen to everyone. It didn’t happen to most women. She didn’t want platitudes, she wanted revenge.

Her mom had promised it would get better and although Hayley and Rob hadn’t believed her, over time, the wound had scabbed up. It had never gone away, but they’d been able to move forward. To try again. It was only after the second miscarriage that they’d started to realize something else was going on.

Now on that hard floor, with the sun warming her back, she opened the scrapbook and saw the announcement of her birth. Well, not her birth, exactly. The announcement of her going home with her parents. There was a picture of her dad holding her, then one of her mom doing the same. There were a few handwritten notes about what they’d each been feeling. And a letter from her mom.

My Dearest Hayley,

There are no words to describe my joy in bringing you home. It’s been ten days and I still can’t believe you’re here and you’re ours. Every night I wake up two and three times to check on you. To stand in your room and listen to you breathing. You are so perfect. Everything about you is wonderful. Your father and I love you so much. We will always love you, dearest daughter. You are our miracle.

She traced her finger along the letters. She hadn’t been their miracle for long, she thought. A few months later, her mother had found out she was pregnant. And this pregnancy had gone to term. Morgan had been born less than a year after they’d brought Hayley home. Morgan, who had been a crying, colicky baby. Morgan who had grown into a difficult toddler and a loud, pushy little girl.

Hayley turned the pages of the scrapbook and watched herself grow up. There were copies of her report cards, certificates and various awards and even a few cards from her parents. There were also photos, some posed, some candid. The last one had been taken at Christmas, a few months before their parents had been killed.

Hayley touched the smooth surface of the picture, wishing her mom were still with her. She would know what to say about the situation with Rob. She would have good, solid advice about everything. She would hug Hayley so tight that for those few seconds, she could believe everything was going to be okay.

But there had been so many times when her mom had been too busy dealing with Morgan to bother with Hayley. Silly things, really. Like when it was Hayley’s birthday, Morgan got a present, too. Otherwise, she would make everyone miserable with her crying when she was young and later her complaining. But on Morgan’s birthday, Hayley was expected to simply watch her sister be the center of attention.

Morgan was always seen to first, whether it had been shopping for school clothes or when they’d both come home sick from school. It was never Hayley and Morgan—it was always Morgan and Hayley.

She looked at the pictures and notes and cards and wondered how she was supposed to reconcile what had happened. Her sister told her to suck it up and get over it. Was that good advice, or just Morgan once again protesting at not being at the center of the universe?

When their parents had unexpectedly died in a car crash, Hayley had been devastated. She’d barely held it together. Rob had been upset as well, but he’d taken care of so many of the details. At the reading of the will, Morgan had thrown a fit when she’d found out that their parents had left them each half of their modest estate. Morgan had argued that she had three kids and Hayley didn’t have any, therefore she should get the lion’s share. But the attorney had been firm. The will was not to be contested. If it was, Morgan would get nothing.

In her head, Hayley could justify every action her parents had made when it came to their daughters. But in her heart, she was unable to reconcile the love they proclaimed with how she had often felt. Second best. Less than. Yes, she was an adult and she should get over it. But looking back, her eight-year-old self hadn’t understood why Morgan got more presents every Christmas. Why Morgan’s demands for a new dress were answered with a new dress while she was told to make do. Why Morgan got two bedtime stories and she was read only one. Why Morgan wasn’t punished for some things when Hayley was. Whatever message they’d meant to send, the one that had been received had been clear—Morgan mattered more. And Hayley had only ever come up with one explanation.

Somewhere in all that, a need had been formed. The burning desire to have a baby of her own. One she would love as he or she should be loved. A child who would never lie awake and wonder why Morgan was cared about so much more.

Rob had tried to understand, but to him, adoption was an easy solution. They wanted children. There were thousands of children looking for families. Problem solved.

But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t risk having anyone feel the way she had. It had hurt too much. What if her parents hadn’t acted the way they had because Morgan was a difficult, demanding kid? What if it had been because, in the end, it was easier to love Morgan?

Hayley supposed that was at the heart of it. The fear that if she adopted she might find out that she really hadn’t been loved simply by virtue of not truly being theirs. What if she, too, couldn’t love a child she adopted? If she didn’t know for sure, she could maintain the illusion, but if she found out that horrible truth, she risked losing everything.

She closed the scrapbook and placed it on the floor next to her, then curled up in the sun and closed her eyes. She hurt all over. She was so very tired, and she was alone. There was no possible way out of this, she thought sadly. No happy ending. Just long, lonely days and the looming possibility that she would never, ever have a child of her own.

* * *

Tyler practically danced from the car to the entrance of the hotel. “Can we get another copy of the book?” he asked. “Do you think Jairus will remember me? Can I have his autograph?”

Nicole held his hand as they went through the double glass doors. “Yes, yes and yes,” she teased. “But first we have to find out where we’re going.”

One of the bellmen approached. “You’re here for the signing?” he asked. “The ballroom is that way.” He pointed.

Nicole pulled tickets out of her bag. “We’re here for the pre-event,” she said. “In the Blue Pacific Room.”

“That way.” He pointed to the left. “Follow the signs. You’ll see a long line. You can ignore that and keep going.”

“Thanks.”

Nicole followed his instructions, then saw the arrows that pointed her in the right direction. At the next corner they saw the long line of families waiting to get into the signing.

There had to be a hundred people there, she thought, looking at all the kids holding
Brad the Dragon
books and dolls. There were tweens and toddlers and every age in between. It seemed that business in Brad’s world was very, very good.

“Whoa.” Tyler clutched his Brad stuffed animal more tightly. “That’s a lot of people.”

“It is. Come on, big guy. We have a party to get to.”

As promised, Jairus had sent over VIP tickets. The start time for that event was an hour before the signing. Nicole was curious as to what would happen. Did he speak at both functions? Circulate? Well, not at the second one, she thought. Not with a hundred people already in line.

She and Tyler found the Blue Pacific Room. Two hotel employees stood at the entrance.

“Your tickets, please,” a young woman said with a smile.

Nicole held them out.

The man winked at Tyler. “Excited to meet Jairus?”

“I’ve met him. He came to my summer camp and signed a book for me.”

“You’re a lucky guy.”

“I know.”

The woman handed Nicole back her tickets. “Have fun,” she said, as she held open the door.

Nicole took Tyler’s hand again. They stepped into a big, open room decorated in all things B the D. There were balloons, streamers, piles of books and every possible kind of merchandise. She would guess there were about forty people milling about. An equal number of adults and children. Some of the kids were in wheelchairs. There was a little girl on crutches.

A volunteer in an
I Love Brad
T-shirt came over with a big tote bag. He handed it to Tyler.

“You can take one of everything,” the teen said with a grin. “There’s a buffet over there, and a soda fountain on the back wall. Jairus will be out in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you,” Nicole murmured, blown away by the sheer proliferation of goodies for the kids.

She and Tyler went from table to table, collecting his gifts. One of the mothers came up and greeted her.

“You look shell-shocked,” she said with a laugh. “Your first time?”

“Yes. We had no idea.”

“I know. Jairus and his publisher throw a party like this every time he has a book out. It’s pretty amazing. I’m Veronica.”

“Nicole.” She pointed to where Tyler was studying a
Brad the Dragon
DVD. “That’s Tyler.”

Veronica waved to the other side of the room. “My husband is with our son. Mason doesn’t do well in crowds. He’s autistic. But wow, does he love Brad. This is our third year.”

“How did you find out about this?” Nicole asked.

“One of Mason’s therapists contacted the publicity firm the publisher uses and nominated him. Jairus has always supported special-needs kids. His foundation is very generous financially, but he does this personally. I’ve heard rumors that he had a family member with special needs, but he doesn’t talk about it much.” Veronica looked at Tyler. “Your son wasn’t nominated by his doctor?”

Nicole hadn’t been expecting the question. “No. We, um, Tyler won a contest for his summer camp a few weeks ago. Jairus came to see him and the camp group. They all loved it.”

All true, but not exactly how they’d gotten in. Still, she wasn’t comfortable admitting to a personal relationship with Jairus. Not when it was so new and they hadn’t discussed what exactly they were doing. Plus, finding out he kept the information about his sister to himself made her doubly cautious about oversharing.

“He knows how to put on a good show,” Veronica said easily. “He’s so good with the kids. Mason doesn’t like to be close to strangers. Jairus seems to sense that and never pushes. He lets the kids come to him. He’s not put off if they scream at the wrong time or are in a wheelchair. You gotta love that.”

“You do.”

Veronica excused herself. Nicole joined Tyler at the buffet. There were all kinds of kid-friendly foods. Everything from hot dogs to cupcakes decorated in B the D colors, of course.

But she couldn’t seem to summon her general annoyance at the dragon’s bright red universe. Not when it seemed that Jairus wasn’t such a bad guy after all. She’d been enjoying getting to know him, but that was as the man. She still hadn’t been sure what he was like as king of the B the D empire. From what she could tell, he wasn’t half bad there, either. Which meant resisting his considerable charms might turn out to be more difficult than she’d imagined.

“Mommy, can I invite Jairus to a barbecue?” Tyler asked. “You always say that it’s ’portant to invite back. He had us here, so we should have him at our house.”

Talk about a big step, she thought, pressing her hand to her suddenly fluttering stomach. But maybe it was time to walk on the wild side. Or at least stroll very, very slowly.

“I think that would be nice. He’s going to be on his book tour, so it might not be right away.”

“I know he’s busy. He’s got a lot of kids to make happy.” Tyler smiled up at her. “This is the best day ever.”

She laughed. “You know what? It kind of is.”

* * *

Hayley pulled the card out of the printer and handed it to her boss. Steven shook his head.

“How do you do that?”

She smiled. “It’s not hard, but I refuse to show you. I consider my skill with your schedule my job security.”

“You got that right.” He glanced at his list of appointments for the day. “I have a teleconference in ten minutes.”

“Yes, you do.”

Hayley generally gave Steven his appointment card every workday evening, but he’d lost the one for today. The man did a great job running the company, but he couldn’t keep track of his schedule if his life depended on it.

She touched her phone. “I have the phone number right here. I’ll buzz you when you’re connected.”