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“Guessing what are for me?” Rachel asked cautiously.
“Half of Natalie’s shop, by the looks of it.”
Former Mistletoe High cheerleader Natalie Young was the majority owner of the local flower shop and in charge of floral arrangements for Tanner and Lilah’s wedding. Someone had sent flowers? Rachel left the printer and joined her co-worker at the counter. Whoa didn’t begin to cover it.
“Delivery for Rachel Waide.” The cheerful delivery boy was barely visible behind the profusion of pink roses, white tulips and smaller graceful yellow flowers, all arranged with greenery in a crystal vase that probably weighed a ton.
May was practically vibrating with excitement. “That’s her! She’s Rachel.”
While Rachel stood frozen in shock, the other two settled the flowers atop the counter. May nudged her.
“I think you’re supposed to sign for them.”
David. A guy didn’t send his estranged wife flowers, did he?
Then again, maybe she was reading too much into this. Maybe he was simply excited over their news. She’d been so awestruck that, even though she’d felt bone-tired, she hadn’t been able to sleep. She’d spent the night awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering how many months before she could feel the baby move, daydreaming about nursery themes and a little girl with David’s blue eyes or a little boy with his smile.
Her doctor’s appointment was tomorrow afternoon; she’d e-mailed David with the time and suggested they meet there. This bouquet was probably a platonic expression of joy. She plucked the card from the plastic holder in the center of the flowers. He’d written the note himself; she knew his handwriting as well as she knew her own.
Congratulations! I’m sorry I couldn’t find flowers as beautiful as you are, but I hope this paltry offering will still demonstrate how happy I am.
(I’d be even happier if you came home.)
Love, Your Husband
“Do I get to read it?” May asked, unrepentantly nosy.
“It’s personal.” And inappropriate. It was impossible to let David off on the platonic-joy defense if he was going to sling around words like beautiful and your husband.
“Okay, I get that it’s personal,” May conceded. “But we’re friends. You could tell me anything in confidence. You know that, right?”
“Like what?” Rachel was a little taken aback by the intense, meaningful glances her boss was giving her. Since no one knew about the separation, her husband sending flowers wasn’t that notable. He’d done so once or twice on special occasions. “I’m not having a steamy affair with Paolo or anything.”
May’s eyebrows shot upward. “Who’s Paolo?”
“Nothing, nobody. Imaginary male stripper.” She needed to call Arianne back about the bachelorette party. “I just meant, the flowers are from David.”
“To celebrate a happy event, maybe? Or a happy future event you’re expecting?”
How does she know? Rachel’s bewilderment and her tacit admission must both be readable in her expression because May laughed.
“Oh, honey. When I walked in here last week with that fish sandwich, you turned positively green. And Mindy Nelson saw you in the women’s aisle at the grocery store. She said you were acting nutty. We’ve both had our fingers crossed for you all weekend.”
Perhaps the conjecture had been unavoidable, but Rachel wished David hadn’t cemented the gossip with flowers. She was still in the statistically dangerous first trimester. One of the worst parts of the miscarriage had been running into people who somehow hadn’t heard the news yet, having to suffer through the painful well-meaning questions and the awkward strain once she told them.
“Don’t get too excited just yet,” Rachel warned.
But her words seemed to have the opposite effect on May, whose eyes brightened. “So you do at least think you’re pregnant?”
“I don’t know for sure. Even if I am, I’m not ready to tell people. You know the first trimester is …” She swallowed, unable to dwell any more on that horrific possibility. Instead, she switched tactics. “David and I don’t want anything upstaging Lilah and Tanner’s wedding.”
“Oh. I think they’d be too happy for you to mind, but you guys are being really considerate.” May mimed locking her lips and throwing the invisible key over her shoulder. “You can count on my discretion, sweetie. Mindy will just have to speculate alone. I won’t confirm a thing.”
Rachel would prefer no one was speculating anything about her at all, but that was asking too much in a town this size. “I appreciate your keeping the secret.”
“Don’t mention it.” May grinned. “It’ll be fun knowing something no one else does. Well, besides you and David, of course. You want me to make myself scarce so you can call him?”
“Actually.” Rachel’s fingers tightened involuntarily, and one sharp edge of the card scraped her skin. “Do you think you could spare me for a little while?”
“Absolutely! You take any time you need.”
“Great.” Rachel reached for the coat she’d hung on the brass rack by the counter. “I think maybe I should go thank him in person.”
AS SHE’D EXPECTED, Rachel found David seated at the desk in the private office behind Waide Supply. He glanced up with a smile that bordered on cocky, sending her temper through the roof.
She didn’t yell, not with Arianne and Zachariah just on the other side of the wall, but her tone was pointed. “Have you lost your mind?”
“No. Why, have you found one?”
And now he was making jokes, not taking her seriously at all. “You sent me flowers. At work!”
“Well, it seemed like the best place since it’s where you are during the day.”
“David!” She leaned forward, bracing her hands on the desk. “This isn’t funny.”
His boyish smile would have melted a weaker woman. “Not even a little? Come on, most women get mad when their husbands don’t send flowers.”
“You’re not my husband anymore,” she said in desperation.
His humor-filled features hardened so quickly that it made him look like a different person. “The hell I’m not.”
“You know what I meant. We’re not married in the typical sense.”
“We could be,” he coaxed. “Don’t you miss me, Rach? I miss you.”
His tone was as dangerously addictive as really good chocolate. “Don’t.”
“Why not?” He rose from his chair, bracing his own hands on the desk and angling toward her. They were practically nose to nose.
Because she couldn’t recall him claiming to miss her before he’d heard she was pregnant. Tears pricked her eyes. Was this how she’d thoughtlessly made him feel all those months they’d been trying, as if his primary value to her was as someone who could give her a baby?
He ran his thumb across the top of her cheek, the stroke sending shivers of sensation through her. “Don’t cry.”
“Don’t send me flowers.” She straightened. “You might as well have taken out a billboard on Main Street telling everyone I’m pregnant.”
“You’re overreacting. It was just a basic floral arrangement. It’s not like I sent one that came in a ceramic bassinet.”
“No, but May and Mindy Nelson have both figured it out.”
“Oh.” He grimaced. “I like both of them, but if they know, the news will have spread all the way to Atlanta by morning. We should go ahead and tell my fam—”
“No! No, I’m not ready for that.” She remembered the pitying glances and unsolicited platitudes from before. If, God forbid, anything should go wrong with this pregnancy, the fewer people who knew, the better.
“We shouldn’t tell anyone. Not yet. Can we just get through this wedding first? Then we’ll figure out the appropriate way to handle it.”
He blinked. “That’s uncannily like what I said to you when …”
When she’d told him she thought she should leave. He’d looked startled, then relieved, then almost coolly calculating as he’d explained why they shouldn’t tell anyone yet. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, merely trying to survive the moment.
She squared her shoulders, redirecting the conversation. “I know they have reputations as friendly gossips, but I don’t think May or Mindy will say anything yet. At least, not anything they can back up with fact. May promised to drop the subject. I’m sure something will happen in the next day or so that’s more interesting than seeing me in the pregnancy-test aisle. Without anything further to fan the flames, Mindy will probably let it go.”
“You mean without incidents like me sending you ill-advised flowers?” His smile was rueful.
She softened. “They were beautiful.”
“So are you.”
“You can’t say things like that!”
“We’re alone. There’s no May or Mindy or—”
“Rachel, are you still back here?” A blond head poked inside the doorway.
David growled. “Arianne!”
His sister hesitated. “I saw Rachel come in, but was helping a customer. I just thought I’d see if she was still around and wanted to grab an early lunch with me.”
“We’re kind of in the middle of something,” David said.
“Not really,” Rachel countered, seeing the perfect opportunity to escape. “I mean, we were, but we’ve finished our conversation. Ari, I’d love something to eat—I’m starving.”
“Great. I’ll get my purse.”
Rachel made the mistake of glancing back toward David, who mouthed, Coward. But then his reproving expression was replaced with a mischievous gleam that made her palms clammy and her mouth go dry.
“Hey, Ari, how about I join you?” he called. “Lunch with two of my favorite gals. I’ll treat. You don’t mind, do you?”
His sister grinned. “Like I’m gonna turn down free food? My mama didn’t raise any fools.”
David turned to Rachel and winked. “No, she sure didn’t.”
“YOU’RE BACK,” May drawled, glancing up from the inventory-order forms on the counter. She smiled. “That must have been one of the longest thank-yous on record.”
“Sorry. I stopped for lunch on the return trip. I can stay late to make up the time.”
May waved a hand. “Not necessary. You see how swamped we are in here.” Last month, they’d been busy with clients who wanted personalized Christmas cards and other holiday items, but most people who were going to purchase those had done so already.
“All right. I’ll just go check the store e-mail.” As Rachel sat at the computer, she could hardly concentrate enough to type in the password. Her thoughts kept drifting back to David.
He’d been utterly charming at lunch, darn him. He’d made Arianne laugh, and Rachel had reluctantly done the same. She could hardly sit through the meal glaring without letting her sister-in-law know there was a problem.
Their recent troubles had overshadowed the memories of their whirlwind courtship, how much she’d enjoyed merely being around him, how she’d smiled all the time. Lately she’d felt isolated, first by the medical side effects but most excruciatingly by losing her baby, and had been too caught up in her own suffering to notice how rare David’s smiles were growing. He put on a better public face than she did, but his family hadn’t been fooled. Arianne had actually commented today while they waited for the check that it had been a while since she’d seen her big brother in such a good mood.
Guilt tugged at Rachel, knowing how confused Ari would be by the forthcoming news of their separation. Of course, before she could worry about how David’s family took the news, she had to make sure David himself acknowledged their separation. The flowers and his presence at lunch today made it clear that he wanted her to give it another try for their child’s sake. Too much responsibility for an unborn baby. When the problems between them sharpened enough to cause discord further down the road, would one of them resent their kid for being the reason they were still together? She liked to believe that neither she nor David would ever be that petty, but she was routinely shocked by the way parents going through divorces could inadvertently hurt their children.
“Hey, I think I’m gonna go grab some lunch myself,” May said. When Rachel looked up and nodded in acknowledgment, the older woman winked. “But I promise not to bring back any fish.”
A few minutes later, the door opened and Belle Fulton, the executive secretary on the chamber of commerce board, bustled inside with a smile. Belle favored seriously bright shades of lipstick, so her grins were generally visible from a distance. “Happy holidays!”
Rachel grinned back. “Happy holidays to you. What can we do for you today?”
“Brochures. We’re trying to attract holiday shoppers to town, increase revenue for our members.”
“But—” Rachel bit her lip, realizing that her unsolicited comment was not entirely diplomatic.
Belle, however, cocked her head to the side, waiting. “Yes?”
“Nothing. I just … Are you intending to use these brochures this year? It seems like they could have done even more to attract tourist dollars if we’d printed them sooner. Not that it’s any of my business,” she added hastily.
Belle sighed. “No, you’re right. It just takes us a while to come to any decisions and then act on them. Volunteers make up half the chamber’s board, so this is on top of their normal jobs, plus we have a few very opinionated people. Then there was deciding how much it was worth to spend when we’re trying to make money. The first photographer—I shouldn’t even be telling you this—did such a lousy job that we had Gina Oster go back and do them over. Sweet of her, but she’s hardly a pro herself. We don’t have the budget for one.”
Later, as Rachel put together the files to print the brochures, she couldn’t help studying the pictures with a critical eye. The slogan wasn’t half-bad—Nothing Says Christmas Like Mistletoe—but the pictures were far too commercial. Potential tourists and holiday shoppers didn’t need to see images of the First Bank on Main Street, even if the bank had donated money for the project. No, what the brochure needed were homey photos of Kerrigan Farms and their rows of evergreen trees for sale. The mistletoe hanging in the white gazebo in the town square. Those were the scenes that would draw people; then once they were here, spending money would be a natural progression.
Rachel thought back to last week, when she’d half hoped for a computer error just so she had something to distract her from her personal life. No one at the chamber had asked for her input. Was she merely butting in out of self-preservation?
Maybe, she admitted, as she began typing some notes for Belle and the other directors. But needing the distraction didn’t preclude also having some darn good ideas. Busy brainstorming, she barely noticed how much time had passed until May walked back in the door. With a start, Rachel sat back in her chair. When was the last time she’d been so engrossed in something, so confident in her abilities to help a client?
Okay, not a client, exactly. She glanced at some of what she’d written, considered the pictures she could take to bring the ideas to life. At least, not yet.
Chapter Eight
“All right.” Rachel felt surprisingly unself-conscious about talking to her belly through the thin cotton of her pink T-shirt. “You’ve made your point.”
Today, she and David were supposed to meet at the OB’s office and find out for sure if she was pregnant. But the baby had chosen now to make its presence known beyond a shadow of a doubt. While Rachel had experienced increasing twinges of nausea in the past few weeks, this was the first time she’d truly succumbed to full-on morning sickness. The back door to the house was still open—she’d been letting the dogs out in the yard when she’d had to make a sudden run for it.
Hadn’t she read somewhere that an expectant mother tossing her cookies was a sign of a healthy, growing baby?
She got to her feet slowly in case the room had any plans of spinning again, then she went into the kitchen, planning to call the dogs inside and consider breakfast options. The pregnancy books she’d bought the first time were buried in a closet back at her and David’s house, but she remembered reading that, while it seemed counterintuitive, food would help ease the nausea. As she reached the back door, she heard the barking. She peeked her head out and saw the dogs with their noses pressed to the wooden planks of the fence. On the sidewalk beyond, David’s posture was sheepish. The hounds raised enough of a ruckus to wake the entire neighborhood.
When he saw her, he called, “I was just out jogging.”
“Of course.” She whistled, causing the dogs to glance her way. None of them actually came toward her, however. The two older ones were at least quiet now, but Hildie kept yipping her excitement. Rachel took another step outside, wincing at the cold of the ground through her fuzzy socks. “I don’t think they’re going to leave their post until you pass by.”
David didn’t seem in any hurry. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at Dr. McDermott’s office … unless you want to ride together?”
It was a seemingly innocuous suggestion, yet she was left with the distinct impression he hadn’t heard anything she’d tried to tell him in his office yesterday. “David—”
“You know, with gas prices being what they are,” he added, “and carpooling being the more environmentally friendly option.”
Exasperating man. “Sic him, Hildie.”
“Honestly, Rach, what are you worried about? The few minutes alone in the car can’t possibly be as intimate as the visit itself. I mean, we’re going to find out for sure whether or not we’ve created a new life, hopefully get to see the first sonogr—”
“Shh! It’s bad enough that the dogs probably woke up everyone in the subdivision. We shouldn’t be out here discussing private matters.”
“You’re absolutely right,” he said smoothly. “I’ll come inside.”
He went from leaning against the fence to sprinting before she had time to protest. She’d say this for him—he could move.
But paying him compliments was the furthest thing from her mind when she opened the front door. “I don’t want to ride with you.”
Peering at her beneath the foyer chandelier, he frowned. “Up close, you don’t look … I mean … Rough morning?”
“I guess there’s really no debonair way to tell a girl she’s green and disheveled.”
“You’re sick to your stomach, aren’t you? I’m an ass. You shouldn’t have been standing out in the cold talking to me—you should be off your feet. Why don’t you go relax, and I’ll make some coffee? No, caffeine’s bad for the baby. I’ll pour juice and—”
“You’ll go away,” Rachel said firmly. “I appreciate the sentiment, sort of, but I don’t need help.”
“Why are you being so stubborn?”
“Why are you? David, I don’t want you to take care of me.”
He surprised her by putting a hand across her abdomen. “It’s my baby, too, Rach. Let me be part of this. Don’t shut me out again.”
She flinched at his soft words. “I would never try to push you away where the baby’s involved.”
“There was a time I wouldn’t have believed you would push me away, period.” He let his hand drop away.
He blames me. Worse, on some level, so did she. “It’s not—it’s not like I set out to create distance between us. But there were times when it was hard to be around you.” Like the day the doctor had called with the results from the routine test confirming that David was not the infertile one.
Of course he wasn’t. Robustly healthy, he didn’t even have the decency to come down with the occasional flu so that she could commiserate with other wives about what a lousy patient he was. Hell, if he ever did get sick, he’d probably be perfectly gracious about it. A tangle of long-suppressed emotion bubbled to the surface—resentment for her do-no-wrong husband and self-loathing that she hadn’t been able to love him more unconditionally, that she’d ever allowed resentment to take root.
“You know, it wasn’t exactly me pushing you, it was more pulling away. Retreating like a turtle. For my own defense.”
“Defense? I never would have hurt you!”
Not on purpose, but it was amazing the accidents that could take place in close quarters. “You don’t think it hurt when you pushed me to put my miscarriage behind us like it never even happened?” She cupped her hands over her belly, as if the protective gesture could somehow keep such a thing from happening again.
“I was encouraging you to look forward, to consider other possibilities. You were in such a dark place,” he reminded her, frustration thick in his voice.
“I was.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “And I felt very alone there.”
“I was trying my damnedest, Rach. What the hell more did you want from me?”
She struggled to find the right words, her own emotions and his growing impatience making an already difficult task nearly impossible. “Maybe what I needed was less from you.”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Well, you know me. Overwrought, crazy Rachel.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
“Finally.” She choked on a sob, wanting him gone so she could fall apart without losing the remains of her dignity. “Something we agree on.”
“I DON’T GET men,” Arianne said, leaning against the doorjamb.
“Then we’re even.” David kept his gaze on the spreadsheet in front of him. He needed to go in a few minutes, and he hated leaving things unfinished. “Because I don’t get women.” His curt tone would have warned away most would-be conversationalists.
His little sister, however, was impervious.
She sauntered inside the office and dropped into a chair. “Seriously, I’m baffled. Yesterday you were in a great mood. Today you’re biting off heads left and right.”
“You should go while yours is still attached,” he said mildly.
“What’s going on, Dave?” In contrast to her earlier tone, she no longer sounded like an adolescent sibling needling him. She sounded like a bona fide grown-up who was concerned—and more astute than people might think.
He met her gaze, wanting to tell her everything was fine but unable to lie to her outright. “Nothing that we need to discuss right now. Shouldn’t you be working?”
She waved a hand. “I doubt the owner will fire me over a few minutes back here. That’s the beauty of nepotism.”
David snorted. “Dad has never shown his kids favoritism. If anything, he’s tougher on us than he’s been on some of the part-time help over the years. You work darn hard.”
“I know.” She dimpled at him. “But I like hearing you say it. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to pull Mom aside and tell her I’m dreadfully worried about you?”
“Brat.” They both knew that Susan could be obstinately determined when it came to prying information from one of her kids. She’d already expressed some concern for him, and if Arianne added that he was acting strangely, his mother might not be content to leave well enough alone. He made a show of checking his watch. “If you’re done with your attempted extortion, I’m supposed to meet Rachel somewhere.”
“‘Somewhere’?” Arianne echoed.
“It involves your Christmas present. I can’t say more. It would ruin the surprise.”
“You’re so full of it. But at least Rach never has to worry about her husband keeping something from her. You’re a lousy liar.”
“I wouldn’t lie to Rachel.”
“I was joking. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” It was just that he didn’t find much about his marriage funny these days. He stood. “If I don’t get out of here, I risk being late.”
“Yeah, that gridlocked downtown Mistletoe traffic can be a real delay.” She sighed. “Fine, don’t tell me what’s wrong. Go wherever it is that you’re also not telling me. I’m only a blood relation, no one important.”
He made it all the way to the door before he turned back to press a kiss on top of Arianne’s head.