The Baby Album. Roz Fox Denny

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СКАЧАТЬ Of course, our group did include Wyatt and Angela.”

      “Wyatt and who?”

      A low hiss like a slow leak from a punctured balloon came through the receiver. Then silence. After an awkward moment, Brenda sighed in exasperation. “Hasn’t Wyatt told you about Angela? Mercy, he had to know her name would come up now that you’re taking her place at the studio. Leave it to a man to avoid unpleasant tasks. Listen, tell Wyatt that you’re coming to my house tomorrow at ten to photograph Eric, Emmett, Elliot and me. Is that okay with you, Casey? We’ll start with coffee and get to know each other.”

      “If Wyatt wants me to take the assignment, I will, Brenda. Otherwise…”

      “Fiddle-de-dee. It’s a paying job, so why would he mind? And promise me you won’t sit around stewing about Angela. I swear, men can be so obtuse. Oh, I don’t need to tell you. I heard you’re married. Yikes, I’ve gotta run. One of the boys fell, trying to bounce on the couch.” Brenda rattled off her address so fast, Casey barely had time to jot it down before the woman hung up.

      But all at once her stomach pitched like it had earlier at home before she lost her breakfast. This time she managed to make it to the small bathroom Wyatt had pointed out in his quick tour. She held a wet paper towel to her face until the nausea passed.

      Obviously Angela-of-no-last-name had taken those gorgeous photos hanging in the waiting room. It wasn’t very nice of Brenda Moore to drop such a bombshell, and then tell Casey not to stew. Who wouldn’t? Casey resolved she’d reserve judgment on Brenda. Wyatt had clearly fibbed when he said she was his first employee. Why? Why not admit he was replacing someone?

      After that, Casey couldn’t focus. She decided she’d do better at home. Dashing off a note informing Wyatt of the appointment, she left both her home and cell numbers and said to call her if he didn’t want her going to the Moores’. Then she saved the announcement design she’d worked up to a disk, boxed the card stock, and took Wyatt’s list of former customers.

      Halfway to Round Rock, she made up her mind that if Wyatt nixed her shoot with Brenda Moore, she’d dig deeper and find out everything there was to know about Angela.

      Chapter Three

      CASEY MISSED WYATT’S CALL the next morning. She’d gone to the store to replenish her supply of crackers, and he phoned her home number, not her cell. In his message, he sounded okay about her doing Brenda Moore’s photos. “Offer her a fifteen percent courtesy discount. I like to do that for friends,” he’d said.

      It was a kind gesture. Casey hadn’t made any friends since she’d been in Texas. Most of the brewpub’s customers were guys—not that she’d had time for friendship anyway. Two of Dane’s buddies lived in the area and the three of them socialized while she ran the pub. Now she saw how isolated she’d become. It’d be great if she and Brenda Moore hit if off.

      She’d worked until 2:00 a.m. finishing the cards for the reopening of Keene Studio. They looked great—bold black lettering on the gilt-edged cards Wyatt had found.

      She went to bed confident the notices would go a long way toward rejuvenating Wyatt’s business. Unfortunately, sleep evaded her. She tossed and turned and finally got up at five, only to be hit by the worst nausea yet. Crackers didn’t help, nor did the ginger ale recommended by the nurse who answered the clinic hotline. When nothing eased her anguish, she cursed her ex-husband. Technically not quite ex. Her court-appointed lawyer said she had to give Dane time to contest the divorce. As if he would. The hard truth was that Dane had never wanted a wife.

      Casey still felt ill when it came time to leave for Brenda’s. Her stomach protested as she climbed into her car. And why not? All she’d been able to keep down were a few crackers. She tucked a packet of them in her camera bag. If she didn’t need them, maybe they’d work to bribe the Moore triplets to sit still and smile.

      The nurse on the hotline today had reiterated that morning sickness usually went away by the end of the third month. “Please, Lord, let it be sooner, like today,” Casey mumbled as she followed Brenda’s directions.

      She found the street easily, but a closed gate blocked her path. Brenda hadn’t mentioned that she lived in a gated community. Rolling down her window, Casey managed a smile for the guard who stepped out of the security booth. “I’m here to see Brenda Moore.”

      “Right,” the man said as he handed Casey a clipboard to sign. “If you’re from Keene Studio, Mrs. Moore is expecting you.”

      Struck by a fresh wave of nausea, all Casey could do was nod. She was grateful the man took a minute to point out the shortest route so she could recover her composure. Her queasiness had subsided by the time Casey pulled up to a white, two-story home shaded by mature trees and surrounded by a manicured lawn. She parked to one side of a driveway that led to a three-car garage. The Moores might be best buds with Wyatt, but Casey let go of any notion that she and Brenda might become friends. It was obvious they traveled in different spheres.

      She grabbed her camera bag and a few props and hurried up the steps to ring the doorbell. Prepared to wait, Casey jumped when the door was quickly thrown open by a harried-looking, slender brunette who held a shy-eyed boy on one hip. The woman grasped the shirt collar of a second tousled child. A third, identical to the other two, clung to her thigh, his big blue eyes glossy with tears.

      “Casey Sinclair from Wyatt’s studio, I presume?” the woman said. “Please forgive us for being a mess. Believe it or not, we were picture perfect ten minutes ago. Then Elliot dumped two of my newly potted African violets on the living room carpet. Hadley, our old pug, kicked dirt all over the place. The boys had to be bathed again. Plus the dog.” Stepping back, Brenda ran a hand through her hair. “I must look a sight by now.”

      “You look fine.” Casey stepped into a high-ceilinged entryway and shifted her equipment to shut the door behind her. She smiled at the boy with the most tears. He peeked at her, then quickly withdrew behind his mother.

      “That’s Elliot, today’s troublemaker. Usually he’s the quietest,” Brenda said, rolling her eyes. “It’s probably a good thing I suggested you and I start with coffee. The boys weren’t pleased with a second bath, and this way they’ll have a few minutes to play and recover from their crying fits. Then they should be in a better mood for picture taking.”

      “Wow, I hope I don’t have three at once. I couldn’t manage,” Casey blurted.

      Brenda arched an eyebrow. “It’s a trial at times. Anyway, welcome to an average day at the Moore household zoo.” Easing down the boy she held, Brenda introduced him as Emmett. “And this is Eric. Boys, this is Ms. Sinclair. She’s going to take our picture for Daddy. But she and I are having coffee first, so you three can play for a bit.” She prompted the boys to wave to their guest before shooing them into a room filled with toys.

      With the triplets occupied, she led Casey to an alcove where a small wrought-iron table was already set for coffee. A tray of sweet rolls sat in the center. “Take a seat and help yourself to a Danish,” Brenda said, pouring a cup of aromatic black coffee and holding it out to Casey.

      The strong scent hit Casey like a brick. And the sight of the gooey rolls made her stomach curdle. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she jumped up. “Excuse me,” she said, doing her best to stifle a gag. “Please—I need a bathroom.”

      With concern on her face, Brenda rushed her to a small, well-appointed bath off the entry. She stepped out and pulled the door shut to give Casey privacy.

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