The Baby Truce. Jeannie Watt

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      “Are we in?” Reggie asked, stunned. The deadline for acceptance into Reno Cuisine had passed two weeks ago—just about the time she’d discovered she was pregnant, and hadn’t given two hoots about a catering competition. Not even a big one.

      Justin pulled the contract and a letter out of the envelope and handed them to her. “We’re in. Sutter’s Catering had to drop out and we’re first on the waiting list.”

      “I’ll write the check and get it in the mail today,” Reggie said, skimming the letter. This was good. Really good. Now to make a decent showing. Thank heavens for Patty. “How much time do I have? Do we have to notarize the contract?”

      “They need word by the end of the week. No notarization.” Justin had obviously read every word before coming in.

      “Maybe I’ll drop it by their office on the way home.” Reggie looked up at him.

      “Good plan.”

      “The Reno Cuisine?” Patty beamed. “How exciting.”

      “You have no idea,” Reggie said. Tremont was doing well, but competition was tough in Reno, and they needed every edge they could get. This would help establish them.

      “Exciting and hopefully lucrative.” Justin smiled at the prep cook and again she went pink, even though she was old enough to be his mother.

      “Patty,” he added, “you might just be our good luck charm.”

      TOM HAD FINISHED FUNNELING HIS frustrations into a massive apartment sterilization project and was packing laundry into bags for his weekly trip to the cleaners when the phone rang.

      “Tom Gerard,” he answered as he cinched a bag shut.

      “Mr. Gerard? This is Debra Banks from the Letterbridge Hotel Corporation.”

      Tom dropped the laundry bag on the sofa and stood up straighter. Finally. He’d turned down an offer from them two years ago, but now he wasn’t turning down anything. Maybe they knew that.

      “Would you be interested in flying to our corporate office in Seattle for a meeting and interview with our culinary vision team?”

      “Yes, I would,” Tom replied without hesitation. “When?”

      Many fine chefs worked for hotels. It was exactly the kind of corporate, don’t-color-outside-the-lines environment that had gotten Tom in trouble in the past, but things had changed since he’d found out Reggie was pregnant. He was going to have to learn how to survive in a corporate environment. There weren’t many other options. He could give them a year or two, then try to move into a more creative kitchen.

      “I know it’s short notice, but next week, if you can work it into your schedule.”

      “I, uh, think I can do that.”

      Ms. Banks went on to describe exactly what they were looking for—three chefs to head operations in three different areas of the country. They had a short list of four chefs for each region. “Does that sound like something that would interest you?”

      It sounded like an answer to a prayer.

      “I’ll email you the meeting, flight and hotel information. Please call if you have any questions or conflicts at all with the time.”

      “Sure thing. Thanks.”

      “No. Thank you. I certainly hope you become part of the Letterbridge Hotel team.”

      So did Tom.

      REGGIE GOT IN TO BED AT NINE, still making plans for Reno Cuisine. She and Eden had made some preliminary decisions that afternoon, decided on a French bistro theme, since it hadn’t been well represented in the last competition—unlike luau and garden party. They had a ton of work ahead of them and Reggie was supremely grateful. She wanted her plate full. Loaded to the brim. Anything to keep her from obsessing full time over how to handle the baby situation. So far, she’d had no word back from Tom.

      But she’d hung up on him. Maybe that was that.

      She knew it wasn’t.

      Mims was curled up on her chest and she was just nodding off—finally—when her cell phone rang, startling her awake. “Great,” she muttered, automatically snapping on the beside lamp before she answered.

      “Reggie.” Speak of the devil… There was no mistaking Tom’s voice. “I’m flying to Seattle and routed the flight through Reno. I’d like to see you.”

      “When?” Realizing she was holding the phone in a death grip, she forced herself to relax her fingers.

      “Day after tomorrow.”

      Damn. Kitchen prep and nothing else. She was so tempted to lie and say she was booked, just to buy some time, but it would only put off the inevitable. Better to man up, get this first difficult meeting over with.

      “Yes. I can see you then,” she grumbled.

      “You don’t need to sound so thrilled about it.”

      Reggie ignored her irritation. Anger would get her exactly nowhere with Tom. He dealt with high emotions every day in the kitchen. A master. “Will you have enough time between flights to go in and out of security?” she asked politely.

      “I’ll take a later flight if I have to.”

      Oh, joy. “All right. Any idea what time?”

      “Around noon as things stand now.”

      “I’ll meet you at the airport. McDonalds. It’s on the lower level.”

      There was a moment of silence, then Tom said, “McDonalds it is.”

      REGGIE TOLD EDEN AND JUSTIN about her imminent meeting with Tom the next morning in the kitchen as they drank the lattes Justin had bought.

      “Maybe I should go with you,” Eden suggested.

      Reggie appreciated what her sister was trying to do, but she’d gotten herself into the situation and she’d take care of it on her own.

      “No need,” she said. “We’re going to start a dialogue. Nothing more.” Because she wasn’t ready for anything more. Just a civil meeting with the father of her child. In a public place.

      Damn, but she was nervous.

      Justin said nothing as he drank his coffee. Which wasn’t like him. And he wasn’t meeting Reggie’s eyes, which in the old days meant he either had or was planning to pull a fast one. Nowadays it meant he had something to say and was biding his time.

      Reggie finished her drink and tossed the paper cup into the trash. “Are you meeting with the birthday people this morning?” she asked Eden.

      “They’re coming here to sign the contract and finalize the menu. Which means I’d better get it printed out.”

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