Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy (35 page)

I was told I would need live-in help. These babies would be the first of many. Ben figured at least four children. A smattering of both sexes would be fine. He must be planning on bearing the next two. I had to get through this pregnancy before I considered the next. A separate building would be his loft. We would keep the condo in the city for outings or late nights. He worked at a fiendish pace. This would be the basis of the house. He said he needed land and an architect.

New Year's Eve, my twenty-eighth birthday, arrived. We had been invited to several parties. Many highbrow and one lowbrow. We preferred the lowbrow.

I started to take shape, filling maternity clothes at four and half months. I felt bulky, which was another reason we skipped the other parties. They would be written up in the newspapers. Photographers with wide-angle lens would be in attendance.

We'd had a picnic under our Christmas tree at home. I'd made finger foods: Cajun chicken and tuna salad, vegetables and chipotle dip, cranberry pecan muffins. Mr. Cobb sent me an antique music/jewelry box that played Brahms
Lullaby
. Ben gave me pictures of rings with the babies' birthstones. When we finished eating, we retreated to the bedroom for the last lovemaking of the year. Or as my husband had poetically put it, "Let's end it with a bang."

I would have been content to roll over and go to sleep. And he'd given me the option to stay home. But my sisters would have been disappointed. And pissed off. So here we were, a contented man and an exhausted lady, on our way to a party.

"Your New Year's resolution should be to wear a different color. You need an imagist. A total makeover," I said on our way to Irene's bar.

"You see me in pastels?" he asked as he drove into the parking lot.

"Blue, green, tan, even a splash of red."

"I'll take your suggestions under advisement," he said.

"Is that what you say to the contractors?"

"I say no to them. I like you too much to deny you anything."

In other words, he'll stick with black.

We linked arms as we entered the bar. The music stopped, a spotlight shone over us as my sisters stepped up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today is our baby sister's birthday," Irene said.

The band struck up the familiar tune and everyone sang. I wished we had gone to the glitzy parties. No one would have known it was my birthday. People approached us and offered me many happy returns.

Food everywhere made me queasy. We spied an open booth in the corner away from the blaring music.

"How about a drink?" he asked.

"Do you think they have flat ginger ale?"

"I'll ask. Any food?"

"No, I'm still full from dinner."

Ben made his way to the bar then reappeared with my drink and a bottle of beer.

"Whenever you're ready, we're gone," he said.

"What time is it?"

"Ten thirty."

"I'm fine. Have you hired all the artists you need?" I asked over the din of party people.

"I'll know when we start. I plan to do a few rooms myself."

"I'd like to suggest Jason."

"The scarecrow man?"

"He has talent."

"It's well hidden," he said.

Eleanor found us and slid in next to him. He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. She wasn't drunk but had a buzz on.

"Happy birthday, sweetie. I love your birthday. Everyone parties to celebrate you. Isn't that nice?" she asked.

"Yes, I appreciate it. Did you buy me a present?"

She laughed.

"I wanted to get you a male stripper because you didn't have a proper bachelorette party, but then he wouldn't like me," she said, pointing at Ben.

"Am I that easy to read? I love to see you, Eleanor, just not surrounded by oiled up men sporting sweaty singles," he said.

"He's damn gorgeous. I mean he's got it all: money, a cool job, sleek cars, cute wife. I want one of him for my birthday," she said as she patted his shoulder.

"What would you do with the cute wife?" I asked.

"She could be home doing home stuff while I drive the cars and spend the money."

"Good tradeoff," I said.

"But he's yours, so I'll just pick up some guy," she said.

"No random guys, Eleanor. I wouldn't like it. Quality only," he said.

"When did you get all possessive?" she asked.

"The day I said 'I do' to your sister. You could attract anyone, but if you want a few names, I'd be happy to oblige," he said.

"You want to be my matchmaker?" she asked with a big smile.

"Sure."

"I'll write up a list or draw a picture or cut one out of a magazine," she said as she got up and left us.

"Are you really going to fix her up with someone?" I asked.

"No, but I'll provide opportunities for her and Irene to bump into well-situated men."

"Will you be supplying dowries too? Perhaps a house in town with a livery, a Season filled with balls and teas? Don't go all Mr. Darcy on them," I said, watching men check out Eleanor's butt.

"What's with women's infatuation with that guy? Wasn't he stuck up and rude?"

"Yes, but true love changed him into a more agreeable and lovable person." I sipped my ale.

"A fictional character slightly emasculated to fit a woman's specifications of a real man." Ben muttered to himself.

I set my drink down, ready to battle for Elizabeth Bennet's honor. He must have noticed my glare because he put his hands up in surrender.

"Truce, we were talking about your sisters. They're beautiful, smart women. I don't want them picking up guys in bars."

"You want to screen them first."

"Yes, and so do you."

Ben ordered a burger, and I snuck some fries. Ivan sent me a basket of stuffed jalapeños with a red pepper and garlic dipping sauce. I refused to share and, when I finished, I licked my fingers clean.

Some of the wait staff stopped by and said hello. Most had jobs, but dreamed of other professions: actors, artists, dancers, and singers. Winning the lottery was the main goal of everyone. They marveled at my pregnancy.

"Babies are so expensive. So much work. You'll lose your figure. You'll never get out of the house," ran the gamut of comments.

"Remember, they're kids themselves," I said as I saw Ben's jaw tighten.

"It's the putrid music they listen to. It short-circuits their brains. They need quality classic rock and roll. It sharpens the senses and feeds the soul," he pontificated.

"Did you want to be married and a father when you were twenty-five?"

"How old were you then?"

I thought for a moment. "Seventeen and a half."

"Let me conjure up an image of you," he said as he closed his eyes and smiled. "No problem."

He kissed me.

"I would have been underage. My parents would have never permitted us to see each other."

"We would have thought of something."

I felt a slight blush rise on my cheeks as I had to agree.

"Everybody get ready. It's 11:59," Irene announced.

The band stopped playing as the official countdown began.

"Here we go. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Happy New Year, everybody," Irene yelled.

Ben pulled me close as the band erupted with a heavy metal rendition of "Auld Lang Syne." His eyes were piercing and lustful, he was only an inch away from my mouth.

"Happy New Year, Alexia Margaret Hale-Cobb."

He crushed my mouth before I could respond. I felt him harden as his hand moved up my thigh to my…

"Excuse me, this is my place of business," Irene said after she cleared her throat twice. "And groping a pregnant relative in public is illegal."

"Go away," he muttered.

"Happy New Year, Alexia. Do you need a crowbar?" Eleanor asked.

"We better leave before we show these kids how you got pregnant," he whispered in my ear.

We stood, and I hugged my sisters. He hugged and kissed Eleanor. Irene extended her hand to him. He took it, placed it on his shoulder, and embraced her. After taking my hand, he waded through the crowd. People patted our backs and wished us Happy New Year. A few eager bucks tried to stop our progress and kiss me. He used his forearm and fist to make them move.

A clear cold night and the moon glistened on the snow. We were on Lake Shore Drive and admired the view. The official fireworks were still going off over the lake. Red, blue, and green lights shimmied on the frozen water.

"It's magical. The New Year brings hopes, dreams, and promises," I said.

"And babies," he said as he took my hand and kissed it.

After parking the car, we walked through the lobby.

"Happy New Year, Mr. and Mrs. Cobb," Raymond, the night shift security guard said.

"Same to you, Raymond," I said as we stepped into the elevator.

Ben opened the apartment door and I sighed.

In the living room, I yawned all the way down to my split ends. He picked me up and carried me to bed. After setting me down, he started to undress me. I relaxed and rolled over to my side. He stroked my belly.

"You're a little rounder," he said.

"A little, I have my own circumference."

"I hardly noticed."

I cuddled into my pillow, and he snuggled in behind me. I felt him at my lower back. I shifted away slightly, and he moaned.

"I'm sorry," I said as I faced him.

"Don't apologize. You've had a long week and aged," he said, maneuvering around to be behind me again.

He started rubbing my back. Now I moaned.

"I love you, Alexia," he whispered in my ear.

"I love you too, Ben."

We fell asleep smiling with the contentment of any other old married couple.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The New Year brought work, work, and more work. Ben found five acres for sale in the northern suburbs, bought it, and moved fast to get our new house built. Two of the architects, who worked on the museum, were also hired to build the Cobb castle.

I got use to constant help. Maids cleaned the penthouse and did laundry. A nice woman named Carrie, cooked and bought groceries. I asked her to add heat and spice to every meal. Mark and his brother, Scott, were at my disposal for errand hopping or rides anywhere. Ben took me to my doctor's appointments. I was rarely alone. It didn't bother me. I wasn't feeling all that sure on my feet, especially in the ice and snow. Being a glutton was the best.

By the end of January, I added five more pounds of extra baby weight. When should I apply for my own zip code?

One night, he rubbed lotion on my belly as I read another pregnancy book.

"I often wonder why women tolerate men. You offer everything, and we just take it," he said.

"You're good at lifting and carrying," I said.

"Thanks for noticing," he said.

The museum took shape with the interior almost finished. Now the real work began, the decorating and the exhibits. Each room featured a book, which meant a letter.

"They need to capture the individual letter's personality," I said. "Embrace the essence of 'D.'
"

It sounded ridiculous but true.

The house proceeded. All we needed was an early thaw. By mid-February, our request was granted, and the Cobb compound rose from the mud.

I cast a larger shadow, too.

Suck it, groundhogs
. I conjured up my usual dream. My baby boy and baby girl would visit me and smile lovingly. They played in the summer sun, on the beach. In the autumn backyard, they ran through the fallen leaf piles. In the winter, they built snowmen. Then in the spring, they jumped in rain puddles. Had there ever been such glorious children in the history of the world?

In the morning, Ben took me to the house site. A wooden skeleton stood waiting to grow a roof and brick walls. He talked on and on.

"Ten thousand square feet of prairie mission-style house. A black marble fireplace with a solid oak mantel. It will be a perfect spot for my Christmas clock. Another fireplace in the master suite. We'll hang the babies' portraits above it. Stained-glass panes in the dining room to separate it from the living room. Built-in cabinets for our family heirlooms. A media room. We won't be able to go out as much. A pool table. The kids need to learn how to play. Make them well-rounded and able to hustle for drinks in college. A full sauna and whirlpool in the basement. Probably need a bed down there, too, just in case we can't make it back upstairs. Colors will be muted blues, greens, and browns. All soothing and comfortable. I'm sure the kids will want black and tangerine rooms later. Wood everywhere. Recessed lighting throughout the house. Totally wired for sound and computers. The loft will be here, which will connect to the house."

If I had to be interviewed by
Palaces Beautiful
, because of this house, I'd hit him.

"No tennis court or stables?" I asked.

"Are you serious? If not, the house should be ready by Mother's Day. My job is to get it built—your job is to make it livable. I know some interior designers and furniture makers. Knock yourself out."

"This will cost a lot of money."

"Spend whatever you need. Remember I want to be comfortable."

And live like a lord. I still tried to catch up to the lifestyle. My children would be raised in it and wouldn't know the difference.

For the next few weeks, he went to the museum in his work clothes. The 'B' room was all his. Helen had written all of the books for him, but this one was truly his own.

He was the original muse.

Another trip to the house and I didn't feel right. The flipping hormones, the need to pee with every step, and the crying jags were all the extra bonuses. Besides the weight gain and growing back pain, my ankles were as round as bowls and my hips were armrests.

Ben trotted down the rickety shell of stairs and put his arm around me. As he led me back to the car, I cried.

"Can you tell me what's wrong? Is it the house, the museum, or me?" he asked, rubbing my shoulder.

Or the pains that came at five-minute intervals since I woke up?

I felt a twitch in my back as he helped me into the car. Oh no.