“Hey, that’s right!” I glanced around and there weren’t any unattached men within our general area. “Mom mentioned you brought someone. Who is he?”
“Here he is now,” she said, pointing behind me.
I turned to look. Since I knew she hadn’t brought Harrison Ford to my mom’s party, her date had to be Salesman Number Two, Aiden Campbell. I half-expected the band to strike up the theme to
Raiders of the Lost Ark
.
“You’re dating Aiden?” I looked at her as if she’d lost all sense. She didn’t appear to be crazy or drugged. Her eyes twinkled with good-natured charm.
“Can you believe it?”
“But he wants kids!”
“What makes you think I don’t?” she whispered as Aiden arrived and kissed her cheek.
Whoa. Connie wants more kids?
I was dumbfounded, but it wasn’t completely irrational. Just because I didn’t want another child didn’t mean my friends felt the same way. Just look at Susan.
Speaking of which, I eyed her stomach. Something seemed to have changed with it since we’d shopped. Maybe the baby had dropped?
I glanced back at Connie and Aiden. “Hi, Aiden. How are you doing?”
“Great. How about you?”
After the basic pleasantries and introductions all around, I asked, “How did you two meet?”
“He came into the travel agency one day. Can you believe it? It wasn’t until I asked him to come with me tonight that I learned you two knew each other.”
“Talk about a small world.” First my brother and now Aiden. The world was getting so small, it was almost creepy, but not enough so that the theme from
The Twilight Zone
played in my head. Nah. It was Disney’s “It’s a Small World.”
Davin chipped in, “How do you know Aiden?”
“We met at work. Aiden was in charge of a sales convention.”
“We met in La Papillon’s Cocoon Ballroom,” Aiden said, making a putting swing.
I fought a desire to roll my eyes. Not seeing a need to mention our one extremely uncomfortable date, I added, “He’s with Classical Cookware.”
“He owns Classical Cookware,” corrected Connie.
This was news to me.
That was when Stephen wandered up with my dad, who gave us a three-way hug. “Congratulations on fifty wonderful years, Dad,” I said. “And on your pardon!”
“I’m truly blessed.” Dad hugged me and Stephen again. “The best wife a man could have, two great kids, and a wonderful grandson.”
He stepped back. “Now that I’m out of prison, Stephen, I can handle your college expenses.”
I hadn’t thought of that! A wave of relief washed through me as Stephen pulled the letter he’d received earlier from his pocket.
“There’s no need, Grampa. I’m going to Paris instead.”
“What?” Stephen had never mentioned Paris before.
“Look at this.” He handed me the letter he’d received before we left home. It was from a large art institute in France, but thankfully, the letter had been written in English. I quickly scanned it. “
The
Fredericco Mandovi wants you to study under him?”
I was floored. Fredericco Mandovi was, according to Stephen, the most famous
living
artist in the world. My mouth must have been gaping like a dry-docked mackerel. “How did this happen?”
“He saw my exhibits at the spring art show.” Stephen’s grin was contagious.
“But this? This is an offer for him to mentor you?”
“All expenses paid by the institute. Can you believe it?
Moi
. I get to study under Mandovi!”
“I can believe it,” said Davin. “I’ve been telling you all along that you’re immensely talented.”
“But what about college?” I asked.
“The institute is fully accredited. It’s more like a conservatory, but anything I do through them will count toward an art degree later if I want.” It didn’t seem possible, but Stephen’s grin grew larger. “Mandovi has only mentored three students and
all of them
are big names already. You know what this means,
Maman?”
“Tell me.”
“It means I’m going to be successful artist.” His chest puffed out and he stood taller somehow. My
liebling
, my cherry on top of the whipped cream of my life.
“If—,” said Davin.
“If I do the work and put in the time,” finished Stephen.
“I’m really proud of you.” My son. The famous artist! And no need to go broke in pursuit of college tuition. This new development was almost too good to comprehend.
“What a night,” said my dad. “My cup is running over with pride for you, Stephen.”
Did I mention that my dad tends to speak in platitudes? I love him anyway, and the stockholders of his corporation used to love him for it, too, but sometimes I felt as if I were in one of those AT&T commercials I mentioned earlier. I caught myself checking for TV cameras, but all I observed in my peripheral vision was the latest crop of Las Vegas’s social elite mixed with Secret Servicemen guarding Governor Richards.
It was a glamorous group. Tuxedos, evening gowns, diamonds, rubies, and pearls—all of which were most likely the real thing rather than paste. My mother really knows how to throw a party.
“Oh, dear God!” screamed Susan. The musicians stopped playing and all heads turned to stare. “My water just broke!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WHITE-COLLAR FELON RELEASED BY PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE GOVERNOR DICK RICHARDS
A.P. Las Vegas, NV—It was announced today that Governor Dixon “Dick” Richards pardoned ex-NewMark CEO William Morgan in a surprise action this afternoon. Richards’s office gave no comment, but anonymous sources stated that Morgan had been a victim of a nation on a witch hunt following the recent financial scandals. “William Morgan is as honest as the day is long,” said NewMark’s CFO, Archibald Acuff. “Sending him to prison was an injustice, not just to Morgan and his family, but to every NewMark investor. I’m only surprised Governor Richards didn’t pardon Morgan sooner.”
Susan had come to the anniversary party with Connie and Aiden because her husband refused to attend. The man swears he’s allergic to tuxedo fabric.
We soon determined that Davin had parked in my employee slot and it was the closest vehicle. It would take less time for him to get his car than waiting for Aiden’s SUV to be brought around by the valet.
You have to hand it to hotel Security and several of the Secret Servicemen. When they realized it was an emergency, they went into action, personally escorting us to the curbside pickup area, where we waited for Davin to bring around his car.
One of the agents even notified the hospital to await our arrival. A few minutes later, Connie and Aiden joined us while the valet scurried to get their car.
“We’re coming, too.”
“The more the merrier,” said Susan between gasps. “Can you call Tom and tell him to meet me there?”
“You got it.” Connie flipped out her cell phone and began punching numbers as Davin drove up.
Within seconds, we were on our way with a police escort to the hospital. I always wanted to have a police escort, but with Susan having labor pains, it wasn’t as enjoyable as I’d hoped.
I gave the seat belt an evil eye. There I was, in the back seat of Davin’s Mustang, and between timing Susan’s contractions, I couldn’t help reliving what it had been like making love with Davin. The experience had been satisfyingly mind-blowing, despite the cramped quarters.
Susan started panting again. “This one’s a zinger.”
Davin said, “We’re at the hospital now.”
By the time I got Susan settled in at the hospital emergency room, she was more than halfway to full dilation. While she waited for transfer to a birthing room, I went out to the waiting room to give Davin, Connie, and Aiden an update and to see if Susan’s husband had arrived yet.
Connie spotted me first. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s fine. The doctor said she’s coming right along, and he’s having her moved to a birthing room.”
“But isn’t the baby early?” Connie asked.
“He didn’t seem concerned about that. They did an ultrasound earlier this week. The baby is healthy and less than two weeks early.”
Connie chewed her upper lip. “I thought Susan wasn’t due for another month.”
“The doctor said it’s not an exact science.” I looked up and saw my mother, father, and son entering the waiting room.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked.
“It only seems right since she went into labor at our anniversary party,” said Dad.
“I feel responsible,” Mom added.
“I didn’t have a ride home,” groused Stephen as he took a seat beside Davin.
Oops.
MaryEllen wandered into the room. “I’ve been trying to reach Tom, but I’m not getting an answer.”
“Did you reach him, Connie?” I asked.
“I left a message on his home voice mail to get his butt down here. Maybe he’s on his way?”
“Do you have his cell phone number?” Susan had been asking for him and would be upset that we hadn’t reached him—especially since he was her Lamaze coach.
“I’ve been calling both numbers every ten minutes,” said MaryEllen.
“Okay. Please, keep trying.”
She nodded and I turned to go back to Susan. Connie grabbed my arm. “I’m coming with you.”
“Me, too,” said my mother. “A girl wants her mother at times like this.”
I stopped in my tracks. “You’re
not
her mother.”
“I’m the next best thing since her own mother passed away. You’ll see. Susan needs me.”
I didn’t have time to argue with her because I was afraid they would move Susan before I returned.
When Connie, my mother, and I approached the room where Susan was dilating, we heard a loud voice, which sounded amazingly like Susan, cry out, “Let me get my hands on the dickhead who did this to me!”
It was probably a good thing we hadn’t found her husband, I thought, upon learning the threats were coming from Susan. My mother rushed in and began soothing her. Mom had been right. Susan needed someone to mother her and she immediately responded to my mom’s attentions by calming down.
Mom began brushing Susan’s hair and Susan smiled at Connie and me. “Do either of you know Lamaze?”
“It’s how I delivered Rachel,” said Connie.
“Not me,” I said. “I had an epidural.”
The hospital staff came in to wheel Susan to the birthing room. Within a few minutes, she was comfortably relocated, Connie had figured out how to turn one of the chairs into a bed, and my mother sat beside Susan, holding her hand.
I wanted to help, but didn’t know what to do. “Do you need anything?”
“Maybe you could ask the nurse for some juice?” Susan turned and began questioning my mother about her own two births, which was extremely ironic since Mom had been knocked out cold for both Weasel-Breath’s and my deliveries.
I nodded and headed to the nurses’s station. “Can you please have someone bring juice to my friend’s room?” I asked, pointing to the room.
“Will do.” She went back to the chart she was making entries in. I hoped she wouldn’t forget, but decided to see if Tom had arrived yet. When I went out to the waiting room, it had become extremely crowded.
In addition to my father, Davin, Stephen, Aiden, MaryEllen, and MaryEllen’s husband, more of my parent’s party guests had arrived, including Governor Richards and his Secret Service entourage. What was this, a birthing party? Maybe someone should tell them there wouldn’t be appetizers. But then I realized there was a vending machine that was being raided by two men in tuxedos and a woman in sequins. Guess not.
When I saw Mandy come in with my brother, I about-faced and went back to Susan’s room. An interchange with my brother wasn’t actually on my to-do list on the best of days. If he spoke to me now,
he
might need a nurse. I stroked Susan’s shoulder reassuringly and updated her on the latest news about not reaching Tom.
Her face was pale and she’d broken out into a sweat. “If I get my hands on Tom,” she yelled, “he’ll never do this to anyone again!”
Tom would never believe how lucky he was that we couldn’t reach him. “MaryEllen is still trying to reach him.”
“Lucky son of a bitch,” muttered Connie. Susan was squeezing her hand so hard that Connie’s hand had turned an interesting shade of scarlet.
About that time, we heard footsteps approaching and I assumed it was the doctor coming to check on Susan’s progress because of all the screaming, which was a good thing, because a strong labor pain hit Susan at the same instant.
“Ohhhh,” she moaned while my mom patted her free hand and Connie ordered her to breathe.
Susan began panting as Aiden entered the room.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped. He didn’t even know Susan. “Giving birth is
not
a spectator sport.”
“I told the nurse my girlfriend was back here and she assumed I meant delivering, not”—he looked at Connie, who was busy breathing with Susan—”not hyperventilating.”
“What do you want?” I didn’t mean to be rude, but his presence was superfluous. “We’re kind of busy.”
“MaryEllen reached Susan’s husband. He was at a movie and had turned off his cell. He’s on his way.”
“That’s very good news.”
“No, it isn’t,” said my mother.
“Why not?”
“The baby is coming
now.”
I opened my mouth to ask how she knew, but Connie yelled, “Go get the doctor!”
“QXMRSEHEIFPWEHFLSM,” screeched Susan.
Aiden and I tore out of the birthing room and down to the nurses’s station. “We need the doctor,” I said.
“What’s the problem?” the nurse asked in a bored tone. “The juice will be delivered soon.”
“The only problem,” I said, “is the baby is coming
now
and the doctor isn’t here. Get him.”
I turned to go back as Aiden added, to the nurse, “Stat.”
He laughed as he joined me en route back to the room. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
“You did it well. You might have missed your calling.”
“Where’s the doctor?” asked Connie as we entered.
“The nurse is getting him now.”
“He’d better come fast. The baby is crowning.”
And so it was that my dear friend Susan had her second child at that moment. The infant was lovingly caught by me when I realized what was happening and I dove head first, like a baseman stealing second, to catch the infant.