“No,” I say. “Never mind, I’m good.”
But I’m not good, and that bothers me. Because I can’t deny that seeing Giselle has cast a gray pallor over an otherwise beautiful day.
10
What have you ever earned on your own? The vile words flash at me from my cell phone as I enter my office building. Another anonymous message. Another stab to my gut.
I’d ultimately decided that the first message in Dallas was from another applicant for the Greystone-Branch position. Maybe someone trying to psych me out. Someone who didn’t realize I’d already finished the interview. I’d pushed it out of my mind, and since there’d been no repeat, I’d forgotten to mention it to Damien. Maybe I would have remembered if I weren’t pregnant, in a public spotlight, and crying at my sister’s grave, but all of that drama pushed one vile text message right out of my head.
Now, it’s back, front and center and with traveling companions.
And I know that I need to tell Damien.
I’m about to call him, but then I remember that he had to face Giselle this morning. Considering the negative impact she’d had on my mood, I expect that Damien will be equally put out. And hearing that I have a new pen pal isn’t going to make him happy either.
I slip my phone back into my bag and make a mental note to tell him tonight.
I’m already reconsidering if I should call him now when the elevator stops at my floor, and I step off, ready to toss a smile to Marge. But instead of Marge at the reception desk, I see a tiny little girl with big blue eyes and coal-black hair. She sits up straighter when she sees me, picks up a pencil, and says very clearly, “May I help you?”
“Why, yes,” I say. “I’m looking for Nikki Stark. I have an appointment with her.”
From the corner of my eye, I see my sister-in-law, Sylvia, fighting a grin from where she’s sitting on the reception room sofa holding the baby, Jeffery, in her lap.
Ronnie giggles, then sighs. “No, no, Aunt Nikki. That’s wrong. You can’t be looking for yourself.”
I let my eyes go wide. “You’re right! How did you get to be so smart, anyway?”
She slides off the chair and trots around the desk toward me, then shrugs. “I just am.”
“You just are?” I repeat. “You just are?” I raise my voice to a tease, and at the same time rush forward to scoop her up, lift her into my arms, and twirl her around.
She squeals with delight. “Faster, Aunt Nikki! Faster!”
But faster isn’t in the program today because my ever-present nausea has decided to pay a visit, and so I plunk us both down on the couch beside Syl. Ronnie immediately scrambles out of my lap and goes back to Marge’s desk because “I’m supposed to be in charge until she comes back.”
I meet Syl’s eyes, and see that she’s trying not to laugh. “Marge is in Peter’s office,” she explains, referring to the freelance graphic artist who has the smallest office suite on this floor. “She asked Ronnie to watch the desk while she gathered some papers to forward to him in Maryland.”
“His mother asked him to fly out and help her move,” I comment. “Mine didn’t even send a change of address postcard.”
Syl frowns. “What?”
I wave away the words, then pull one of my feet up onto the couch. My ankles have been aching all morning. “Never mind. It’s not important. I’m much more interested in holding this little guy.” I reach for Jeffery as Syl lifts him to his feet, and he toddles over the sofa cushions to plunk down in my lap.
“Ni-Ni!” he says with a big grin, and I pull him in and cuddle him close, then press kisses all over those adorable baby cheeks.
“So why are you here?” I ask.
“Oh. Well. Ronnie has a two-week summer camp in Burbank, and Stella has a doctor’s appointment,” she adds, referring to her nanny. “I took the morning off to bring Ronnie, and since we were nearby, and . . .” She trails off, her cheeks going pink.
I sit back with sudden understanding, Jeffery snuggled in my arms. I flash a wide smile and then lift a shoulder in a small shrug. “We were going to invite you to brunch on Sunday and tell you then. I didn’t want to steal Jane’s thunder before the premiere.”
Syl looks like she’s about to say something, but right then Marge comes back into the room, and Ronnie scurries around the desk to cling to her mom’s legs.
“Come on,” I say, standing and balancing Jeffery on my hip. “Let’s go into my office.”
I have a basket of crayons, coloring books, and Lego Duplos that I keep for the kids, and Ronnie immediately races toward it. I put Jeffery down beside her, and when I turn around, Syl engulfs me in a hug.
“Congratulations,” she says, giving me a squeeze before she steps back and grins broadly. “I’m so happy for you guys!”
“I’m a terrible sister-in-law,” I say, and Syl laughs. “We should have called you and Jackson first thing.”
“You’re fine. I’m just nosy.”
I laugh as she settles into one of my guest chairs.
“Nosy,” she repeats, “and maybe a little concerned.” She wrinkles her nose apologetically, but I get where she’s coming from. Syl’s mother isn’t quite the nightmare mine is, but it’s fair to say that we’ve both had our share of parental issues. She doesn’t know all the details about my life growing up, but she was in the thick of it when I was planning my wedding. So she knows enough to understand that I have issues with my mom—and to know that the idea of being a parent myself would make me nervous.
“Thanks,” I say sincerely. “But I’m fine. Truly,” I add when she just watches me, her expression suggesting she’s assessing my veracity. “I was freaked at first—this was entirely unexpected—but now I’m kind of floating.”
Sylvia’s smile lights up the room. “I know what you mean, both of mine were unexpected, though in entirely different ways.”
I laugh. Ronnie is Jackson’s biological daughter, and when Sylvia and Jackson first got together, Syl had no idea the little girl existed. As for Jeffery, he and my little peanut have conception-by-failed-birth-control in common.
“I would have called yesterday, but I didn’t realize that the news had spread outside of Dallas. Jamie called me before my interview and didn’t say a thing, so I just figured the gossip was localized.”
But I’m not good, and that bothers me. Because I can’t deny that seeing Giselle has cast a gray pallor over an otherwise beautiful day.
10
What have you ever earned on your own? The vile words flash at me from my cell phone as I enter my office building. Another anonymous message. Another stab to my gut.
I’d ultimately decided that the first message in Dallas was from another applicant for the Greystone-Branch position. Maybe someone trying to psych me out. Someone who didn’t realize I’d already finished the interview. I’d pushed it out of my mind, and since there’d been no repeat, I’d forgotten to mention it to Damien. Maybe I would have remembered if I weren’t pregnant, in a public spotlight, and crying at my sister’s grave, but all of that drama pushed one vile text message right out of my head.
Now, it’s back, front and center and with traveling companions.
And I know that I need to tell Damien.
I’m about to call him, but then I remember that he had to face Giselle this morning. Considering the negative impact she’d had on my mood, I expect that Damien will be equally put out. And hearing that I have a new pen pal isn’t going to make him happy either.
I slip my phone back into my bag and make a mental note to tell him tonight.
I’m already reconsidering if I should call him now when the elevator stops at my floor, and I step off, ready to toss a smile to Marge. But instead of Marge at the reception desk, I see a tiny little girl with big blue eyes and coal-black hair. She sits up straighter when she sees me, picks up a pencil, and says very clearly, “May I help you?”
“Why, yes,” I say. “I’m looking for Nikki Stark. I have an appointment with her.”
From the corner of my eye, I see my sister-in-law, Sylvia, fighting a grin from where she’s sitting on the reception room sofa holding the baby, Jeffery, in her lap.
Ronnie giggles, then sighs. “No, no, Aunt Nikki. That’s wrong. You can’t be looking for yourself.”
I let my eyes go wide. “You’re right! How did you get to be so smart, anyway?”
She slides off the chair and trots around the desk toward me, then shrugs. “I just am.”
“You just are?” I repeat. “You just are?” I raise my voice to a tease, and at the same time rush forward to scoop her up, lift her into my arms, and twirl her around.
She squeals with delight. “Faster, Aunt Nikki! Faster!”
But faster isn’t in the program today because my ever-present nausea has decided to pay a visit, and so I plunk us both down on the couch beside Syl. Ronnie immediately scrambles out of my lap and goes back to Marge’s desk because “I’m supposed to be in charge until she comes back.”
I meet Syl’s eyes, and see that she’s trying not to laugh. “Marge is in Peter’s office,” she explains, referring to the freelance graphic artist who has the smallest office suite on this floor. “She asked Ronnie to watch the desk while she gathered some papers to forward to him in Maryland.”
“His mother asked him to fly out and help her move,” I comment. “Mine didn’t even send a change of address postcard.”
Syl frowns. “What?”
I wave away the words, then pull one of my feet up onto the couch. My ankles have been aching all morning. “Never mind. It’s not important. I’m much more interested in holding this little guy.” I reach for Jeffery as Syl lifts him to his feet, and he toddles over the sofa cushions to plunk down in my lap.
“Ni-Ni!” he says with a big grin, and I pull him in and cuddle him close, then press kisses all over those adorable baby cheeks.
“So why are you here?” I ask.
“Oh. Well. Ronnie has a two-week summer camp in Burbank, and Stella has a doctor’s appointment,” she adds, referring to her nanny. “I took the morning off to bring Ronnie, and since we were nearby, and . . .” She trails off, her cheeks going pink.
I sit back with sudden understanding, Jeffery snuggled in my arms. I flash a wide smile and then lift a shoulder in a small shrug. “We were going to invite you to brunch on Sunday and tell you then. I didn’t want to steal Jane’s thunder before the premiere.”
Syl looks like she’s about to say something, but right then Marge comes back into the room, and Ronnie scurries around the desk to cling to her mom’s legs.
“Come on,” I say, standing and balancing Jeffery on my hip. “Let’s go into my office.”
I have a basket of crayons, coloring books, and Lego Duplos that I keep for the kids, and Ronnie immediately races toward it. I put Jeffery down beside her, and when I turn around, Syl engulfs me in a hug.
“Congratulations,” she says, giving me a squeeze before she steps back and grins broadly. “I’m so happy for you guys!”
“I’m a terrible sister-in-law,” I say, and Syl laughs. “We should have called you and Jackson first thing.”
“You’re fine. I’m just nosy.”
I laugh as she settles into one of my guest chairs.
“Nosy,” she repeats, “and maybe a little concerned.” She wrinkles her nose apologetically, but I get where she’s coming from. Syl’s mother isn’t quite the nightmare mine is, but it’s fair to say that we’ve both had our share of parental issues. She doesn’t know all the details about my life growing up, but she was in the thick of it when I was planning my wedding. So she knows enough to understand that I have issues with my mom—and to know that the idea of being a parent myself would make me nervous.
“Thanks,” I say sincerely. “But I’m fine. Truly,” I add when she just watches me, her expression suggesting she’s assessing my veracity. “I was freaked at first—this was entirely unexpected—but now I’m kind of floating.”
Sylvia’s smile lights up the room. “I know what you mean, both of mine were unexpected, though in entirely different ways.”
I laugh. Ronnie is Jackson’s biological daughter, and when Sylvia and Jackson first got together, Syl had no idea the little girl existed. As for Jeffery, he and my little peanut have conception-by-failed-birth-control in common.
“I would have called yesterday, but I didn’t realize that the news had spread outside of Dallas. Jamie called me before my interview and didn’t say a thing, so I just figured the gossip was localized.”
