The Baby Truce. Jeannie Watt

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СКАЧАТЬ Reggie stared at the opposite wall, at the collage of happy babies.

      “We’ll have to run a blood panel,” she said briskly.

      Reggie automatically pushed up her sleeve to expose the veins in her arm. “How often will I have appointments?”

      “First we have to make certain you’re really pregnant.”

      Her heart skipped a beat. “I took three pregnancy tests.”

      “We’ll just run a blood test anyway,” the nurse said.

      What if she wasn’t pregnant? What if she’d been so afraid of becoming pregnant, of tying herself to Tom, that she just showed the symptoms?

      “Do you get many false positives?”

      “Not with three positive home tests, but we have to follow procedure.” The woman slipped the needle into Reggie’s vein, filled first one vial, then another. “Was this an unplanned pregnancy?” she asked as she labeled the small containers.

      “You could say that.”

      “Do you want to make an appointment to speak with our wellness counselor?” Reggie frowned.

      “About the pregnancy.” The nurse popped the needle into the sharps container. “Unplanned pregnancies cause stress. Especially if the mother is going through it alone.”

      Did she have the look of someone going through her pregnancy alone?

      “I want the baby,” Reggie said coolly, not taking a particular shine to this nurse. “I just hadn’t planned to become pregnant. It happens.”

      “Boy, does it,” the nurse muttered. She smiled at Reggie, though. “I didn’t mean to offend. If a woman isn’t comfortable with her pregnancy, she needs to confront the issues both for her health and the health of the child. I offer the service to all mothers-to-be.”

      Reggie didn’t believe her. Or maybe she was just nervous and cranky.

      The doctor was a very likable, if somewhat harried man. He did a quick exam, pronounced Reggie fit to have children without a C-section, and prescribed vitamins. “Now, do you have any questions?”

      “About five hundred,” Reggie said.

      He laughed. “I’ll answer what I can and point you to some excellent online sources for the questions that pop into your head as soon as you leave.”

      Reggie left the office with a handful of literature and web addresses, a prescription for vitamins and a November due date.

      “Well?” Eden said, looking up from the manicotti she was filling when Reggie walked into the kitchen.

      “Everything’s good.”

      “No pictures? No boy or girl?”

      “Not yet. Several more weeks before they can tell.”

      “Hope it’s a girl,” Eden said.

      Obviously the aunt was settling into this pregnancy better than the mother.

      PATTY PASSED HER SECOND interview with flying colors, because Justin was more than happy to rein in the irreverence if they could get some additional help. She started work the day after Reggie’s doctor’s appointment, bustling in fifteen minutes early and then carefully stowing her purse in the locker assigned her. She’d brought a chef’s jacket that was so stiff it seemed to creak when she put it on. Once it was buttoned to the top, she rolled her shoulders and asked, “Where do I begin?”

      “Inventory,” Reggie said, leading the way to the dry storage area.

      Patty pulled a small spiral book and pencil out of her pocket. “Do you mind if I take notes?”

      “Not at all,” Reggie said. “Although honestly, the procedure isn’t that complex.”

      “Everyone has their own way of doing things.”

      Indeed. Counting could be tricky. But Reggie reminded herself that the woman had primarily worked in hospital and care facility kitchens. There were probably set procedures for everything.

      Once she and Patty were in front of the open stainless steel shelving, she said, “It’s important that we have emergency stock and an adequate supply of basic ingredients, but having too much of anything is a waste of money that could be earning interest.”

      Patty nodded sagely and made a notation in her book.

      “I have a master list here…” She went through her procedure, letting Patty do the actual inventory. “Justin’s cake supplies are on a different sheet, and vary according to what he needs for the week. I take care of the orders, but he fills out this list.” Reggie was just flipping to it on the clipboard when the phone rang.

      “When you’re done here, move on to the cooler. The sheet is on the very bottom of the stack.”

      “Will do.” Patty didn’t salute, but Reggie had the feeling she wanted to. Please relax, she wanted to say.

      The call was from Eden. She was leaving the site for the Italian dinner party they were giving that evening and heading for the linen supplier. She’d discovered that the order was short. “Be sure you make a notation on the invoice,” she said. “How’re you feeling?”

      “Like I’m tired of you asking that every morning.”

      “Better?”

      “Good enough.”

      It had been only two weeks since Reggie had found out she was pregnant, but her body had definitely become different. Not her own. It was acting on autopilot, responding to ancient signals from deep within her DNA. She only wished those signals would stop making her feel queasy because she wanted the Italian dinner, not to mention the bridal shower the day after tomorrow, to be perfect. Or if not perfect, to at least give that impression.

      Funny how the success or failure of Tremont Catering had taken on a whole new significance since discovering she was pregnant. Yes, she’d been driven to make the business a success, but it had been because she loved to cook and cater. Because she enjoyed the challenge and thrill of running her own company and enjoyed working with her brother and sister.

      Now success was a matter of necessity, because she was going to have a child to support.

      As soon as Patty finished the inventory, Reggie put her to work chopping veg for the salad and vegetarian courses for that evening’s dinner. Reggie waved at the mail lady from the kitchen, as the woman came and went, and minutes later Justin walked through the front door. Reggie kept her eyes on her knife as she sliced mushrooms, but she heard her brother sorting through the mail, envelopes hitting the bottom of the metal trash can every few seconds, then silence.

      He was yawning as he walked in, and Reggie was about to say something along the lines of how much sleep did you get last night, despite her intentions not to, when he held up an envelope with a distinct blue-and-green design.

      Reggie almost dropped her rolling pin. “Is that…”

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