Family in Progress. Brenda Harlen
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picking up the thread of the conversation as she reached for a fry. “Do you really not miss being a reporter?”
Jenny shook her head as she stabbed her fork into a wedge of tomato. “I thought I would, but being the media communications coordinator for the newest division of TAKA-Hanson is such a challenge. Not to mention that I have the pleasure of working with my handsome husband now, as well as continuing to build a relationship with Helen and her extended family.”
Despite her friend’s easy response, Samara knew she’d had some difficult moments when it had been made public that she would be working for the new TAKA-Hanson Hotels, a branch of the corporation that would ultimately and directly compete for business with Anderson Hotels, owned by Jenny’s adoptive parents. But the Andersons had always been—and continued to be—supportive of their adoptive daughter. In fact, they were the ones who had encouraged Jenny to reach out to her biological mother when she’d come into her life only a few years before.
“Okay, enough shop talk,” Samara decided. “How are you doing?”
“Other than being the largest mammal currently walking the face of the earth, you mean?”
“Other than that,” she agreed with a smile.
“I’m getting excited,” her friend admitted. “I can’t believe there’s only five more weeks to go before I’ll finally get to hold my baby in my arms.”
“Unless he’s late. First babies usually are.”
Jenny laid a hand on her rounded belly. “God, I hope not.”
Samara laughed.
“I wanted to thank you again,” Jenny said. “For painting the nursery. Richard’s been working a lot of long hours lately and I can hardly negotiate stairs in this condition never mind climb a ladder with a paint roller in hand, so I’m not sure the room would have been ready before the baby if you hadn’t done it.
“I know we could have hired someone,” she continued. “But I wanted the nursery to have a more personal touch, and I know the baby’s going to love the cars and trucks you painted above the crib.”
“It was the least I could do while I was living there,” Samara said. “And I had fun with it.”
“I’ll remember that if it turns out the doctors are wrong and my daughter refuses to sleep in a blue room.”
“It’s sky-blue, not boy-blue. And I doubt, with today’s technology, that the doctors made a mistake.”
Jenny’s lips curved. “From the beginning, I said the baby’s gender didn’t matter so long as he or she was born healthy, and I meant it. But I think I would like a boy—with blue eyes and a smile just like his dad’s.”
“And Richard’s probably dreaming about a baby girl with green eyes and copper hair like yours.”
Jenny’s lips curved. “Well, maybe we’ll try for one of each.”
“You’re really happy together, aren’t you?”
“I never dreamed I could be so happy,” Jenny admitted. “Especially not when I think back to the day we first met.”
“You mean the day you tried to brush him off?”
Her friend smiled. “Yeah, that day.”
But Richard had pursued Jenny with the single-minded focus and determination of a man who had found what he wanted and wasn’t ever going to let her go.
That was all Samara wanted—for someone to love her the way Richard loved Jenny.
Chapter Two
It was with a tremendous sense of relief—and no small amount of guilt—that Steven realized Tyler’s principal hadn’t tracked him down at work to tell him that his son was in trouble but that he was sick. Apparently he’d tossed his Honey Nut Cheerios all over the floor in his math class, an unfortunate accident which might have mortified anyone else but seemed to be a topic of tremendous interest among nine-year-olds in general and those of the male gender in particular. Even more so because on this particular day the necessity of vacating the classroom had thwarted the teacher’s plans to administer a geometry quiz.
Steven had known about the quiz, of course, and had assumed that his son’s complaints of a sore stomach at breakfast had been nothing more than pre-test jitters. Yet one more reason to question his judgment in parenting matters.
In the almost three years that had passed since his wife’s death, not a day had gone by that he hadn’t thought about her with longing and regret. But it was incidents like this one with Tyler that made him realize how much he’d relied on her for more than comfort and companionship.
It was possible that she might have sent Tyler off to school, too, but then they would have laughed about the incident together and reassured one another that no harm had been done. He missed that most of all—the talking, the sharing, the assurance that no matter what challenges they faced, they would get through them together. Losing his wife so suddenly and unexpectedly was tough. Being a single parent was sometimes even tougher.
As he packed up Tyler’s knapsack, he considered checking in with Caitlin while he was at the school. A quick glance at his watch confirmed that it was almost time for the third period bell to ring, so he could probably catch her between classes. But he was pretty certain his twelve-year-old daughter would be mortified to find her father hanging out by her locker and left a note for her instead so she would know she didn’t have to look for her brother before she got on the bus to come home at the end of the day.
He called Carrie from the road to tell her he wouldn’t be returning to the office that afternoon. After querying whether he had chicken soup and soda crackers at home, she assured him she could handle anything that cropped up in his absence. Steven knew that it was true and could only hope to find a photographer as efficient and reliable as his assistant.
Unbidden, an image of Samara Kenzo came to mind. Efficient and reliable weren’t the most obvious words to describe his sister-in-law’s friend, though she’d certainly made an impression. Her résumé had piqued his interest, her appearance had snagged his full attention. Stunning eyes, sexy mouth, tempting curves. It was entirely possible that she could prove to be efficient and reliable, but Steven was more worried that she could also be a dangerous distraction.
He pushed these discomfiting thoughts from his mind as he pulled into the driveway. His son’s unnatural pallor and clammy skin made him wonder if he should have stopped at the local clinic on the way home instead of relying on the principal’s assurance that there was a nasty—albeit short-lived—flu bug going around. The thought continued to worry his mind as he opened a can of chicken soup and dumped it into a pot to heat on the stove.
Tyler managed only a few spoonfuls and a couple of crackers before racing to the bathroom to throw it all back up again.
Steven hovered in the background, feeling completely helpless, while his son retched. He tried to remember what Liz had done when the kids were sick, but the fact was, she’d handled everything so competently and efficiently, he’d hardly noticed. Digging deeper back into his memory, he vaguely recalled his mother setting a cool washcloth on his forehead and giving him flat ginger ale to drink. There was only 7UP in the fridge, but he thought that might work and poured some into a glass for Tyler after settling him on the couch with a bucket close at hand.
Missing work to care for a sick child was yet another new experience for him. Though both Caitlin and Tyler had endured the usual bouts of colds and flu that plagued all children as well as suffering through nasty cases of chicken pox, it was Liz who had nursed them through every childhood illness, Liz who had kissed away their tears and soothed their spirits. And Steven guessed that, as much as he was missing Liz right now, Tyler was missing her even more.
He slid The Phantom Menace into the DVD player and sank down onto the sofa beside his son.
He was surprised, but pleased, when Tyler shifted closer to cuddle