And Babies Make Five / At Long Last, a Bride. Susan Crosby

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      Moments later, there were candles flickering throughout the downstairs rooms.

      “Would you like me to build a fire in the hearth?” Hector asked. “That would give you more light, and it will keep you warm, too. I’ve got some wood that I keep stacked in a storage shed in my yard.”

      “It’s a gas fireplace,” she said, “so you don’t need to go back out in the rain. But if you don’t mind lighting it for me, I’d appreciate it. Peter used to take care of things like that.”

      As her neighbor pushed back his chair, she watched his body unfold and rise. He was a big man, and the kitchen, which had always been roomy, seemed to shrink with him in it.

      He moved like a man who was sure of himself, and she wondered what it would be like to face off with him in the courtroom. Intimidating, she suspected. Yet she didn’t feel the least bit uneasy about him now and couldn’t help studying him while he wasn’t looking.

      Some might think he needed a haircut, but she didn’t. Those dark curls, still damp from the rain, made him appear rugged and rebellious.

      She stared after him longer than she should have, until something sizzled on the stove. The soup, she realized, as she hurried to turn down the burner, to check the tenderness of the vegetables and to clean up the mess.

      When Hector returned from the family room, he cast her a heart-shifting, blood-strumming smile. “The fire’s lit.”

      She never had been able to ignore a courtesy, and a thank-you didn’t seem to be quite enough. The poor man was still pretty damp from bringing over the box of candles.

      “I made chicken-noodle soup for dinner. There’s more than enough for two. I can also make grilled-cheese sandwiches, if you’d like to eat with me.”

      She expected him to turn her down, but instead he brightened. “Actually, I worked through lunch today, so if you’re sure you have enough, that would be great.”

      “Good. I’ll have everything ready in a few minutes.”

      “Do you want me to set the table?” he asked.

      “All right.” She handed him two sheets of paper towels to use as napkins, and silverware, then pointed out where he could find the glasses. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t had a chance to do any real grocery shopping yet, so my beverage selection is limited.”

      “No problem.”

      They settled on water for him and milk for her.

      The rain continued to splatter hard against the windowpanes as the storm battered Boston, yet inside Samantha’s house, the candles flickered on the tables, casting a romantic glow in the room.

      “You know,” Hector said, “Over the years I kept expecting to see a for sale or lease sign in front of your house.”

      “I would have had a hard time selling or letting someone else move in. Peter really liked this house.”

      “You didn’t?”

      “Oh, yes. It’s just that …” She wouldn’t go into all the details about why she’d never quite felt comfortable here, about how she was determined to get over all of that now and make this her home.

      “It’s just what?”

      “Well, the house was so big and empty after Peter died, and I was never comfortable staying here by myself.”

      “Are you feeling better about living alone now?”

      “Yes, I am.” The extended trip to Europe had been good for her in a lot of ways—some much needed respite, fresh surroundings, a boost in her self-confidence.

      “If you ever get scared or uneasy, give me a call. I’m pretty good at chasing off bogeymen.”

      She smiled. “Thanks for the offer. But I’ve got a security system, so I’ll be okay.”

      “I’m sure you will be.” He smiled, revealing boyish dimples. “Again, welcome back.”

      “Thanks. It’s good to be home.” She placed a hand on her bulging tummy, something that was fast becoming a habit.

      “By the way, I have to give you credit for going after what you want. Deciding to have a baby on your own was a big step to make.”

      He didn’t know the half of it. “I’d wanted children for a long time, even before Peter died. So the Armstrong Fertility Institute made it happen for me.”

      She realized that he might assume she’d had issues with infertility while she’d been married to Peter, and while she hadn’t meant to give him that idea, maybe it was best if he thought so. She couldn’t very well go into all the intimate details of her babies’ conception with a man her husband hadn’t particularly liked. Besides, the first to hear her good news ought to be Peter’s parents.

      “Do you know anything about the father?” Hector asked.

      “Yes, actually I do.” A lot more than Hector might guess, but there wasn’t any reason to give him more of an answer than that.

      She slid a sideways glance his way, saw him staring at his nearly empty bowl with his brow furrowed. She assumed that he was struggling with her decision to raise a child without the benefit of a man in the house. He might have admitted admiration, but she suspected there was a part of him that didn’t approve.

      Yet she felt drawn to him tonight, to his presence, his kindness, his … friendship?

      Funny how the first neighbor she’d reconnected with after moving home would be the one who’d had an issue with Peter.

      After a moment of silence stretched longer than expected, he seemed to let the subject of her pregnancy drop by saying, “This soup is delicious. I’m surprised you’re able to cook after just moving in.”

      “I’m pretty good at whipping up a meal out of limited supplies.” It had been a trick she’d learned while growing up poor and making dinner out of whatever slim pickings she could find—Spam, fruit cocktail, stale saltines. Besides, she enjoyed puttering around in the kitchen, which had suited her far more than being a socialite had.

      “Do you like to cook?” he asked.

      “I do now.”

      “You didn’t before?”

      “When Peter and I were first married, I was pretty insecure in the kitchen. But then I took a few classes and learned to cook some great dishes. Now I love trying new recipes and creating meals.”

      “I’m impressed that you went to the effort, and that it worked so well for you.”

      “Thanks, but it really wasn’t a big deal.” She’d just wanted to please Peter, to be a good wife and make him happy he’d married her.

      Yet when she stole another glance at Hector, she could see the interest in his eyes, the questions that remained.

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