SUSAN HAD an appointment with her obstetrician at eight o’clock Monday morning. She’d had an amnio centesis, recommended because of her age, at her last visit and was eager to be reassured that everything was normal. That her violent bouts of nausea amounted to no more than morning sickness. She was twelve weeks along and miserable.
At least physically. Emotionally it depended on the day—or the minute. Tired all the time, she found it hard to be positive about single-handedly preparing for the birth of her child. Yet she was floating in a dimension of happiness she’d never known before.
And she missed Michael. Desperately.
“Ms. Kennedy?” A uniformed nurse stood at the waiting room door. “The doctor will see you now.”
Half an hour later, Susan walked back through the waiting room, seeing no one. Stunned, she didn’t even respond when the receptionist called out to her to set her next appointment. Just kept right on walking.
She found her car, climbed inside and sat—but had no idea what to do next.
Eventually she started to laugh. And then to cry a little. And to laugh some more. Passing by the car, a middle-aged woman stopped and peeked inside. Susan waved, and kept right on laughing. Smiling, the woman waved back before continuing on her way.
Pulling her lips between her teeth, Susan tried to sober up. But laughter erupted again before she could stop it.
At least now she knew why she’d been feeling so rotten.
Dialing her brother’s number on her car phone, she tapped her foot impatiently. She knew he was in town. He had meetings at head office all week. “Seth?” she cried as soon as he answered. He wasn’t the person she’d really wanted to call, but he’d have to do.
“Yeah?” She’d woken him. And couldn?
??t feel the least bit sorry.
“It’s twins!” She practically screamed her news.
“What? Twins? You’re kidding.” He was wide awake now.
“Nope. Twins.” She figured she should be daunted by the news. But she wasn’t. Twins sounded wonderful. Fun. Two for the price of one. Piece of cake. “Gotta go,” she sang, tossing her cell phone into the seat beside her as she started her car.
She had an appointment in fifteen minutes with the attorney representing a bankrupt padding company Halliday Headgear had done business with. She couldn’t be late.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE PHONE RANG and rang and rang.
“Dammit, where is she?” Michael paced as far as the cord would allow in his hotel room Monday morning.
Glancing at his watch, he tried to pretend his tension was because he had a decision to make—and very little time in which to do it. He had a flight booked from Denver to Cincinnati in an hour, and another from Denver to Chicago at the same time. If he could just get hold of Susan, he’d know which of the two flights to take. He’d prefer to go to Chicago first, pick up some more clothes. And his Pathfinder.
“Answer.” He swore again, telling himself there was nothing to worry about. As she’d so often told him, she had five brothers and a father in town. If she was really in trouble, she’d have called one of them.
And if she was in the hospital, Seth would have called Michael back.
He jabbed his finger on the disconnect button and dialed Cincinnati again, Susan’s office this time. At least someone there would pick up the damn phone. And they’d probably be able to tell him where she was, too.
Five minutes later Michael hung up, grabbed his bag and hailed a cab for the airport. After speaking with Susan’s secretary he’d decided to take the Chicago flight. With Susan in a meeting, things obviously hadn’t reached critical stages.
But he was still going to drive over to Cincinnati. He had a business lead there he wanted to pursue. An insulation company that was on to something. The work in Denver could wait.
DAYDREAMING ABOUT look-alike outfits and double strollers, Susan waited for her microwave oven to finish heating a cup of chamomile tea. If she could only get her stomach to settle, she might find the energy to start cleaning out the spare bedroom. There was a lot of work to be done, some of it double, and her doctor had warned her to prepare early. She might not be able to count on herself for much during her last trimester.
Susan opened the microwave door and reached for her cup of hot tea before she realized that the buzzing she’d heard wasn’t the oven, but the front doorbell. She wasn’t expecting anyone.
Maybe Seth had come by. Maybe he’d help her take apart that bed in the spare bedroom.
It wasn’t Seth.
“Michael.” He looked so good to her, it was all she could do to keep from throwing her arms around him. She hadn’t greeted him that way since they were married.