- -
- 100%
- +
“A little cranky, are we? For your information, Phoenix isn’t the sticks, and building a resort hotel isn’t what I’d call playing with blocks.”
Becky knew darn well where Carter had been and what he had been building. Her brother, who had remained in contact with him the whole time he’d been away, had felt the need to give her a detailed account of his friend’s activities. Nevertheless, there was no way she’d admit to Carter she’d been paying attention.
“I meant, what are you doing here out on the streets?” she asked, limping by his side. “Were you following me?”
“Following you! Now that’s what I call nerve. Just because you walked out on me that night, then refused to take my calls, you think you’ve driven me to the brink of despair? Sorry to deflate your ego, princess, but I’m no stalker. I was on my way to my mother’s when I decided to swing by the diner, but Chrissy told me you’d been fired. So I left. I saw you fall, and like any Good Samaritan I came to your rescue.”
Chrissy? Did he mean Christina? Becky assumed that Carter had just met her, but here he was, calling her by a nickname. She should have known he’d get friendly right away. Christina—Chrissy—was female, wasn’t she? And she was blond. Carter always did have a penchant for tall, full-bosomed blondes.
“I wasn’t fired,” she said tersely. “I quit.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, so I didn’t quit. Let’s just say the owner and I had a parting of the ways.”
“Right. He wouldn’t do something your way, so you parted.” He opened the car door and eased her inside. “You must be freezing in those stockings. I don’t know why you chose to walk in the first place.”
“Maybe it has something to do with my not being able to afford a car,” she snapped. “That and the fact that Middlewood isn’t famous for its public transportation. Besides, the diner is only a mile from home, and it wasn’t snowing this morning when I left for work.”
He removed his jacket and draped it over her legs, his hand brushing against the red patch of skin where she’d torn her panty hose. “I’m sorry,” he said when she flinched. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She felt the color rise in her cheeks. It wasn’t pain that had caused her to draw back. It was the heat she’d felt when his chilly fingers had made contact with her leg. Heat that could melt the snow off the North Pole, if she let it. But she had no intention of allowing another meltdown, ever again. The consequences of that mistake would last a lifetime.
“You didn’t hurt me. I told you, it feels much better.”
“In that case it must be revulsion that made you recoil. Let me put your mind at rest. I can honestly say that no woman has ever died from my touch. But don’t worry, I won’t touch you again.” Then, as if echoing her thoughts, he added, “That’s one mistake I won’t repeat.”
She waited until he was in the driver’s seat before she responded. “I believe your exact words were ‘I hope you don’t think this means anything.’ As far as lines are concerned, that one’s a gem. Not mean anything! Who do you think you are?”
“Look, I admit it was a pretty callous thing to say, and I apologize. I would have apologized sooner, but you never gave me the chance. You’re the one who ran out in the middle of the night. You’re the one who refused to talk about it.”
And you’re the one who left me alone and pregnant, she thought. She leaned back in her seat and sulked. She knew she wasn’t being fair. He’d told her he’d be returning to Phoenix. He also had no idea she was pregnant. But the way he was sitting there, so smug, so collected, trying to exonerate himself by making her feel guilty, infuriated her. “First you lure me to your apartment, then you seduce me, then you dismiss me as though I’m some little harem girl, and now you accuse me of abandoning you?”
“What are you talking about? You practically tore off my clothes right there in the elevator! We didn’t even make it to the bedroom.” He sighed. “I didn’t come after you today to pick a fight. I was hoping we could talk this out like adults, calmly and rationally. I already told you I was sorry for my crude remark. I know how it must have made you feel, but I do have an explanation.”
“Why is it men always start singing the old commitment blues after they have their way with us? Well, I have news for you. I’ve heard that song before. If it’s understanding you want, I’m the wrong audience.”
He grumbled something unintelligible and slammed the car into gear. An uncomfortable silence fell over them as they drove down the snow-bordered road. “Tell me something,” he said finally, as he flicked on the signal and turned onto her street. “Why do women think they’re the only ones allowed a moment of weakness? I know you were vulnerable that night, and I know I shouldn’t have taken you up on your offer, but—”
“My offer! Why you egotistical, self-centered, conceited—”
“You’re being redundant.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Redundant. As in superfluous. Repetitive. Pleonastic.”
Enough already! What was he, a thesaurus? “You bet I was vulnerable. You knew how I was feeling that night, and you took advantage of it. I thought you were offering consolation, not an invitation to do the horizontal bop! Before we left for your apartment, I made it clear I wasn’t going to sleep with you.”
Amusement shone in his eyes. “Your memory is faulty. As I recall, princess, you said that the only way you’d ever sleep with me was if we were driving in the middle of a blizzard, and we were forced to stop. The only shelter around for miles would be an old barn. It would be cold and desolate inside, and we’d have to huddle for warmth. Outside the storm would continue to rage, turning the landscape into a frozen wasteland. It wouldn’t just be a blizzard, it would be a disaster. Certain we’d never live to see another sunrise, we’d give in to our basic need and allow our passion to take over.”
It was obvious he was enjoying this. “Don’t mock me, Carter. I was in a highly sensitive state that night.”
“Sensitive? Tipsy would be a more apt description. I have just two questions,” he pressed on mirthlessly. “Number one, where exactly is this hypothetical barn?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere. What difference does it make?”
“It makes a lot of difference. For instance, if there’s a barn, there’s a farmhouse nearby, and a farmer who feels sorry for us and offers us lodging. Number two, why are we out in a blizzard?”
“Maybe we’re coming back from a business trip. I don’t see what—”
“What business could we have together? You’re too busy getting fired, and the last time I checked, I was still an architect.”
“You said you had two questions. That’s three. Why do you always do that? Why do you always go on and on? All I meant by the story was—”
“Oh, I know what you meant. All that talk about huddling and need and passion—the truth is, you seduced me. But I’ll admit to my part of the blame. I should never have let it happen. Now all I want is for us to get past it. I wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize my friendship with David.”
David. So this was what it was all about. She should have known. What was it about men? They made fun of women for going to the powder room in twos, yet they lived by the Eleventh Commandment, “Thou shalt not let a woman divide a man from his buddies.”
Jerk. Carter Prescott, III, still had the power to knock her socks off—and a lot more than her socks—but he was still the same jerk.
He was right about one thing, though. He shouldn’t have let it happen. But it had happened. The child she was carrying was proof.
“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it,” she said as they pulled into her driveway. “It’s not as if my brother would come after you with a shotgun.”
Carter grimaced. “No, but your father might.”
She almost laughed out loud. She could just imagine her meek, mild-mannered father, prodding Carter down the aisle with the business end of a rifle. Well, here’s a news flash, she thought. It would take more than a rifle to make her marry Carter. Or anyone else, for that matter. Marriage was an experience she had no desire to repeat.
She regarded his profile and sighed. No matter which path she chose, nothing could change the fact that Carter was the father of her child, and as much as she was determined to raise the baby alone, he had a right to know.
A shock like this would serve him right for being such a jerk.
She drew in a breath. “I have something to tell you.”
“Apology accepted.”
“No, you don’t understand—”
The front door to her house opened, and David appeared on the porch. Carter rolled down the window. “Hey, Roth!” he called. “How’s it going?”
David sprinted through the snow to the driver’s side of the car. “Pres, you old son of a gun, when did you get back? Come in for a glass of wine—and stay for dinner. It’s been a while since you’ve had one of my grandmother’s feasts. Either you’re traipsing across the country or you’re out on a date. Bubbe’s cooked up a storm, chicken soup, roast brisket and potato knishes—and you can’t say no to her gefilte fish.”
Becky’s stomach turned over.
“Thanks, but I’ll have to take a rain check,” Carter said. “I’m off to my mother’s. If I don’t show up tonight for dinner, she’ll probably stay awake all night, figuring out new, inventive ways to make me crazy.”
Mothers will do that, Becky thought, opening the car door.
Gertie stepped onto the porch, wearing her lamb’s wool coat. “David!” she called, waving frantically. “Put on a jacket! It’s cold out here!”
Becky turned to Carter. “Thanks for the lift. I can manage from here.”
“Stay put. I’ll help you to the door.”
“I told you, I can manage.” She glanced over at her brother, who hadn’t even acknowledged her presence. What, was she invisible? “God forbid I should come between you and your buddy.” Before Carter could protest, she was out of the car, hobbling up the front pathway.
“Where are your boots?” Gertie scolded. “In this terrible storm you don’t wear boots? And why aren’t you wearing a hat? Get in here before you catch pneumonia. What’s the matter with you, can’t you see it’s snowing? It’s not a blizzard, it’s a disaster!”
Becky followed her mother into the house. You don’t know the half of it, she thought. If she hadn’t felt so miserable, she might have laughed.
Chapter Two
“F inally, a grandchild.” Gertie’s hands flew into the air as though she hoped to embrace the world. “But the word pregnant is so harsh-sounding. I prefer expecting. Even better, in the family way.”
“No matter what you call it,” Bubbe said, “a baby is a blessing. Have some more soup, Hannah. Now you eat for two.”
Aaron stood and raised his glass in a toast. “A finer daughter-in-law there never was. May your son be strong and healthy. May you have many more sons, and daughters, too. May all your children bring you joy. May all—”
“Sit down, Aaron,” Gertie said. “Your soup is getting cold. So, Hannah, when is the baby due?”
“According to the obstetrician, the last week in May. I wanted to tell you all sooner, but David wanted to keep it our special secret a little while longer.”
“You’re supposed to add seven days to the date of your last menstrual cycle, then subtract three months,” Becky said. She knew. She’d looked it up after missing her period. But hoping the problem would somehow go away, she’d put off taking a pregnancy test for another two months. It was only this morning, after studying her disappearing waistline in the diner’s bathroom mirror, that she’d drummed up the courage to confirm her suspicions.
“Watch how you talk,” Gertie reprimanded, handing a plate of sliced challa to Hannah. “There are men here.”
“I wasn’t hatched from an egg,” David said, laughing. “Anyway, Becky is right. That’s the calculation the doctor used. But the ultrasound scheduled for next week will give us a more accurate picture.” Looking at Hannah adoringly, he took her hand as though she was as fragile as a china doll.
Becky could tell that her mother was performing a few of her own calculations. “This is the first week in December,” Gertie said slowly. “That would make Hannah three months preg—in the family way.” She looked at David accusingly. “Right?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, Ma. The baby won’t dare show his face until the appropriate amount of time has passed.”
“I wasn’t saying anything, so wipe that look off your face.” Gertie pretended to be offended, but her joy was obvious. “Not that I’m complaining, but I have to say, you didn’t waste much time.”
“They didn’t go on a honeymoon to play golf,” Aaron said.
“Shame on you, Aaron. Such a way to talk in front of your children.” She turned to Becky. “Finally I’m going to have grandchildren, and here I thought the first one would come from you.”
It just might, Becky thought. She wasn’t sure of the date of her last period, but she knew exactly when she had conceived: Labor Day weekend, the night of David’s wedding. Which meant that she and Hannah would be delivering around the same time.
“Don’t start on her, Ma,” David said. “She’ll get remarried one day. Besides, she’s a lot younger than I am. She has time. She’ll have a family when she’s good and ready.”
As a matter of fact, before I’m good and ready, Becky thought.
“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Gertie said.
Becky let out a nervous breath. This was as good an opening as any to tell them about the baby. But she had to do it gradually, to soften the blow. Step one, marriage is out. Step two, adoption is in. Step three, forget step two and tell them I’m pregnant. “Actually, I don’t think I’ll ever get married again.”
Gertie dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand. “Of course you will. Jordan will come back. Just be patient.”
When was her mother going to accept the divorce? “I wouldn’t take him back if he crawled on his hands and knees, not after what he did,” Becky said. “He used me, and he used you, too. Without the money he borrowed from you, he never would have been able to go to medical school. And don’t forget, I was the only one bringing home the bacon, you should pardon the expression. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not angry that he went to school while I worked—yes, Ma, I do have some skills—but it’s funny how he dumped me as soon as he got what he wanted.”
Gertie frowned. “Do we have to talk about this at the Friday-night table? Shabbes is supposed to be a time of rest, and that means a rest from all this bickering.”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” Becky answered indignantly. “If you like Jordan so much, why don’t you marry him?”
“Is that how you talk? Listen to how she talks! Aaron, say something!”
Aaron cleared his throat. “First of all—”
“First of all she needs a husband,” Gertie interrupted. “Which she had, I might add, but she sent him away. What kind of daughter sends a man like that away?”
“I didn’t send him away, Ma. He left.”
“Yes, I know. He used you and then he left. Well, I have news for you. A husband and wife are supposed to use each other. They’re supposed to turn to each other in times of need. Did you want him to use someone else?”
Becky sighed with frustration. “Jordan did turn to someone else, or have you forgotten that already?”
“You mean that shiksa? He’ll get tired of her, mark my words. He’ll come back when he comes to his senses. What was her name again, Bambi?”
“Barbie, Ma, and I wish you wouldn’t use that word.”
“What, shiksa? You’re worried you might insult her? Next you’ll be saying she’s a wonderful woman and if circumstances were different, the two of you could be friends. What kind of wife makes friends with the husband’s mistress? What’s wrong with you?”
Becky gritted her teeth. “I’m not the one at fault here. Nothing’s wrong with me.” Nothing except that she was unmarried, pregnant and unemployed. “Why can’t you ever take my side? After Jordan and I separated, I’m surprised you asked me, not him, to move in with you.”
“Calm down. You don’t have to make a scene. All I’m saying is that men don’t leave. Women let them go.”
“And daughters don’t leave, either,” Becky retorted. “Mothers drive them away.” She pushed away from the table. “I’m going for a walk.” She stood up and gave her sister-in-law a warm squeeze on her shoulder. “Mazel tov, Hannah. I’m so happy for you and David. But I have to warn you, you’re going to need all the luck you can get to survive in this family.”
“Where are you going?” Gertie demanded. “In this weather you want to go for a walk? Aaron, do something!”
“Listen to your mother,” Aaron said.
Bubbe looked up at Becky. “Eat something, bubeleh. At least have some soup. I made it just for you. Chicken soup with no chicken, the way you like it.”
“I’m sorry, Bubbe. I’m sure it’s delicious, but I’m just not hungry.” She gave her grandmother a peck on the cheek, then whirled around to face her mother. To heck with softening the blow. Bombs away! “Oh, I forgot to mention that I was fired. And there’s one other thing. I’m in the family way.”
“I realize it’s only the first week in December,” Eleanor said, “but this is Connecticut, for pity’s sake. It’s supposed to snow. Why does the town always go into a tizzy at the first sign of a flake? Schools close, roads back up and people crowd into grocery stores to wait at the checkout for hours, convinced that if they don’t stock up they’ll perish.”
Carter sat at one end of the long mahogany table, facing his mother. At the center of the table was a spray of orchids in a Baccarat crystal vase. At each end, arranged in a formal place setting were Eleanor’s sterling silver, her Royal Worcester dinnerware and a crystal wineglass. It’s just the two of us, he thought, yet she sets the table as though she was expecting the queen of England. But even when his father was alive, it had been this way. Carter suspected she dined like this even when she was alone.
“It’s the mentality of the masses,” she continued. “They always cause such havoc whenever the slightest thing goes wrong. Is that why you’re so late?”
“Excuse me?”
“The traffic, Carter. I’m talking about the traffic.”
“There was no traffic, Mother. I’m late because I gave Becky Roth a lift home.”
She drew her lips into a tight curl. “Oh, Rebecca. Yes, I heard she was back in Middlewood, living with her parents. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her or her people. I understand that her brother Daniel bought his own pharmacy. I’m sure he’ll do well—but those people always do, don’t they?”
“His name is David. And he and his people are fine.”
“You needn’t take that tone. You know what I mean.” She took a sip of her wine. “You haven’t touched your coq au vin. Should I ask Martine to prepare something else? You haven’t met my new housekeeper, have you? I think I’ll keep this one. She’s a real gem.”
You mean you hope she doesn’t quit like all the others before her, Carter thought. He put down his fork and stared at his plate. “The chicken is fine. I’m just not hungry.”
His mother continued speaking, but Carter barely heard her words. Yet it wasn’t his mother who was the cause of his distraction. At the moment the only person on his mind was Becky. She was acting as if he’d been responsible for what had happened that night three months ago. Hell, she’d known what she was doing—she was twenty-seven, not some blushing schoolgirl. Okay, so maybe afterward he’d been a jerk, but he’d apologized for his crude remark, hadn’t he?
“She wants you to call her.”
Carter looked back at his mother. “Excuse me?” he asked again.
“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying. I said that Wendy called. She wanted to know when you’d be back.” Eleanor took another sip of her wine. “This is a 1976 Chateau d’Yquem, in case you’re interested. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”
Carter regarded her with suspicion. “What special occasion?”
“I’m celebrating your homecoming. That and the New Zealand job. Can’t a mother show pride in her son? As much as I hate to see you gone for two years, I know what this project means to you. You’ll finally be made a full partner, something you’ve wanted for a long time. Anyway, I can come down at Christmas to visit, if you’d like. It’s summer then, isn’t it? I’ll even stay the whole season.”
Good Lord, was there nowhere he could go to escape her? “The partnership is not the primary reason why I’m going,” he said curtly. He immediately regretted his tone. Eleanor was just being Eleanor. After thirty-two years he should be used to the way she tried to run his life—and the lives of everyone around her.
But either the insult had evaded her or she had chosen to ignore it. “Of course it’s not the main reason,” she said. “I know how much you enjoy your work. But you have to admit, the prestige that goes along with being a full partner is a definite plus.”
“Tell me something, how many country clubs are there in Middlewood? And what’s the sense of joining if I’m never here?” He was sorry he’d told her about the trip in the first place. He should have known she’d zero in on the partnership. Even though the promotion wasn’t contingent on his going to New Zealand, it was true that the trip would cement it. He removed his napkin from his lap and tossed it onto the table. “I should go home. It’s getting late and I still haven’t finished unpacking.”
Eleanor looked up at the grandfather clock behind him. “But it’s still early! What about dessert? We’re having your favorite, crème caramel, in honor of your return.”
“I’m sorry, Mother, but I’m tired and I have a lot to do tonight. But thank Martine for me, will you?” After unpacking, he wanted to review his notes on the Denver project. The school for the performing arts was small potatoes compared to the New Zealand job, but it was coming up fast. Even though tomorrow was Saturday, he and Mike Walters, one of the firm’s two senior partners, were meeting in the morning to go over the plans.
“I insist that you stay, Carter.” Once again she glanced at the clock.
And once again Carter eyed her with mistrust. “What is it, Mother? Are you expecting someone?”
“Promise me you won’t get angry. I invited Wendy for coffee. She happened to be in town visiting her parents, and I thought that inviting her would be the decent thing to do.”
“Right. She happened to be in town.” He stood up and headed toward the hallway, then abruptly turned around. “The decent thing to do? Now that’s almost funny. I don’t think Wendy would recognize decency if it slapped her in the face. I’m going home. Make my apologies for me, will you?”
“Come back here!” Eleanor called after him, a note of panic in her voice. “What am I supposed to say to her?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something. You always do.”
She shouldn’t have delivered the news that way. Becky had been sure that Bubbe would drop her teeth, right there at the table, into her soup. The last person she ever wanted to hurt was her grandmother, dear Bubbe, whose entire world revolved around her family, but Becky had had enough. Her mother was driving her crazy. Becky knew she’d have to move out soon, or she’d end up in a strait-jacket.
She trudged through the blowing snow, hugging her chest as if at any moment she would be lifted up and blown away. She could feel the wind right through her jacket. Her leg still felt tender underneath the warm camel slacks she’d changed into before dinner, but at least the sting was gone. A person needs snowshoes in this weather, she thought, not two-inch-heeled boots from Macy’s sale catalogue.
No one else was out walking tonight—in this weather who in their right minds would be?—and for a moment she imagined herself alone and lost, trying to find her way out of a forest. Worried about the future, her fears assailed her as she walked without aim, her boots crunching rhythmically on the frozen snow.
Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!