Change of Life. Leigh Riker
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jewelry box toward him.
But Johnny hadn’t finished. With barely a glance at the box, he left it where it was.
“Fifty is the new forty,” he pointed out.
“How about thirty? Could you see me as, say, Catherine Zeta-Jones?” She was teasing, yet Nora felt cheered. “I’d certainly like to think so, and it’s true women do take better care of themselves these days. Preventive maintenance.” If only Nora could do a better job of that, but there were always other people who needed her. Maggie, for one. And now there would soon be a little one to cuddle. Still, she couldn’t resist saying, “In theory, you realize, I’m too young to be a grandmother.”
Johnny had the audacity to laugh.
“Too young? Savannah said last night that she has no idea how we’ll get all those candles on your cake next week.”
Nora choked on her Bloody Mary.
His grin grew. “It’ll be a conflagration, a forest fire raging out of control.”
“I’d rather ignore it.” She waved a hand, dismissing the topic of her upcoming birthday. Dismissing the unattractive bouts of ambivalence she’d suffered for the past few days. “Johnny, seriously. My birthday aside, I can’t wait to dispense hugs and kisses, read stories, and even bake Christmas cookies for your child, not that I intend to put on a frumpy apron while I’m doing it.”
“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? Savannah won’t give birth for six more months.”
“I like to be prepared.” In fact, she’d done just that before she met Johnny for brunch. Thanks to a friend who owned a beautiful shop in the Silver Sands Mall, she’d been able to get the gift ready for him on time. This would be her way of making Johnny feel like an even bigger part of the celebration and their family. Idly, he spun the gift box in the center of the table. He still hadn’t opened it.
“Please,” she said.
But Johnny had lost his smile. “I can’t quite believe it myself, you know. We’re having a baby.” He shook his head. “Do you realize that less than a year ago I was still living with Savannah’s best friend? Trying to get Kit on track in her life while I neglected my own? Keeping her kid from turning into a future juvenile delinquent in that crazy household? Not to mention that mother of hers…” He rolled his eyes over Kit’s demanding parent. “Now Kit’s back in school to finish her degree, Tyler’s still a great kid, I’m with Savannah and she’s—we’re—pregnant. Just call us The Incredibles.”
Nora reminded him of something else. “A year ago Savannah was pining away over you, fretting that you’d never see how right you were for each other. You didn’t know that? Well, she did. She was working for that awful temp agency—until I finally persuaded her to take a few clients of mine.” Before the second round of hurricanes, Nora thought, before her workload diminished. “But you forgot the rest.” She felt a fresh glow of approval for her future son-in-law. “You love Savannah with all your heart. And it’s a big heart, angel.”
This newly revealed side of his personality thrilled her, because Johnny had been the king of suppressed emotion for most of his life. Savannah had opened him like a can of beans, and in Nora’s view the change was all to the good. For his benefit, as well. No, especially for his benefit.
Johnny hadn’t had the best upbringing, she knew. His father had abandoned his mother early on, leaving her to raise their son by herself, and even after she’d married then left Wilson (she’d been his second wife), it had been hard going. When Savannah came home the first time, dragging Johnny like an abandoned cat, Nora had immediately taken him in. Their bond remained fierce, like a mother tiger with her cub, like Johnny’s with Savannah, and Nora felt lucky to share that.
He didn’t even try to wiggle out this time. “Sure, I love her,” he said. “What’s not to love?”
Nora blinked. “You love me, too. Admit it.”
“Yep. I do, angel.” He used her favorite endearment, still without smiling, and Nora’s inner alarm system went on alert. Despite this enjoyable brunch, Savannah was conspicuously absent today, and Johnny hadn’t bothered to explain why. “Savannah would have liked to hear me say that,” he added.
“Is she all right?” Nora asked. “Feeling well, no problems now that she’s expecting?”
Johnny frowned. “She’s a little under the weather. Especially in the morning. Apparently, it’s my fault.”
Nora smiled but she couldn’t bear for Savannah to be ill. “The women in our family don’t get morning sickness. She shouldn’t, either. I’m joking, of course. I do worry about her. Still, she has plenty to do with the Larson job I gave her to design their family room and sun porch. The contractors haven’t exactly been cooperative.”
His green eyes brightened. “You wouldn’t admit to having morning sickness if you were hung over the bathroom bowl like a Christmas ornament every day. And I bet you’d be wearing your best three-inch heels with a string of pearls.”
She couldn’t help answering his faint smile. “So true.”
Johnny moved the jewelry box closer to his plate. But he left it there, and leaving him room, Nora attacked her eggs Benedict. At the luncheon with Starr, or for the past two days, she hadn’t been able to eat a bite. Today she felt ravenous. She knew Johnny didn’t easily accept gifts—or love, at one time. She didn’t know anyone, however, who needed it more.
“So,” he said, addressing his vegetable frittata, “what’s new with you? We didn’t have time the other night to talk. But Savannah told me you’ve lost some more clients.”
Nora sighed. And thought of Starr Mulligan. “Starr keeps horning in on the rest of my people. I’m sure she’s feeling the pinch, too, with so much hurricane destruction everywhere, but this morning my first phone message was from a woman in Royal Palms. I’ll see her late this afternoon. Starr and I are battling over the chance to redecorate her ten-thousand-square-foot home. Do you have any idea how much money I’d lose if I don’t win this job? Which, yes, I do need.”
Johnny named a figure. Very close to accurate, in Nora’s estimate.
“How did you know that?”
He shrugged. “I listen to Savannah. She’s considering your latest partnership offer in Nine Lives. Royal Palms would be pretty good dough, Nora. Better than the first screenplay I sold to Wade Blessing for his initial Razor Slade film.”
“You can’t be serious. You earn a ton of money.” Wade Blessing, the actor, was Hollywood’s newest Arnold Schwarzenegger—before he decided to save the state of California from the governor’s office. Wade’s continuing action films about a mercenary with a heart of gold could be too graphic for Nora’s taste, but that didn’t matter to Johnny’s bottom line.
“I said the first one. Wait until Wade sees my new script.” He grinned. “I’m gonna hold him up like a stagecoach bandit.”
A few months ago, after Johnny had walked out on Kit Blanchard and she had turned to Wade on the rebound for a while, the two men had suffered hard feelings, but they had since repaired their friendship.
“I thought you were writing something different.”
“That, too,” Johnny murmured, looking embarrassed. “It’s what Stephen King calls a ‘toy truck’ project. Just for me right now.”
“Johnny, it will be a movie. Tell me. When it gets released, the whole world will see it. How private can that be?”
He looked even more uncomfortable.
“Yeah. I know. But that’ll be Christmas a year from now at the earliest. I figure I’ll be too busy changing diapers to notice the public reaction. Or the reviews. I don’t want to talk about it. Wait until wide release.”
When Johnny picked up the jewelry box, obviously as a diversion,