It Started with a House... (11 page)

He sounded so unhappy. If he was here, she wouldn't have been able to resist sliding her fingers into his hair to soothe him. “Believe it or not, I understand.”

“You do?”

The almost boyish hope in Marshall's voice tugged at her heart. “It's amazing what a nap can do for your perspective. Don't suggest that I'd taken one sooner.”

“The impulse is erased from my memory banks. I'm just grateful you could get a little rest. When did you last eat?”

“Don't push your luck.”

“Okay, we're tweaking the software program…tweaking…”

Genevieve couldn't help but smile. How did he do this to her? They'd almost been fighting a scant two or three hours ago. Now he made her wish he was here with her. “I was busy after you left,” she told him.

“Sweetheart, not already diving back into the workload?”

“More like making calls about a certain third party.”

“Anything you want to share? You have my undivided attention.”

“There's a clue that you need to think about getting a life of your own,” she said in all seriousness. “My real estate work kept me sane, and will again.”

“I liked it better when you were about to share what happened after I left.”

Now he sounded like a kid who didn't like that a bedtime story wasn't being told fast enough. “My mother and I are having lunch tomorrow. I really do think I should tell her the news first.”

“Am I invited?”

“Absolutely not. It will be hard enough to tell her by myself. And that's all I'm prepared to do yet.”

“Shouldn't Bart be there? He is like a dad to you.”

“He's out of town and I can't risk waiting for his return, not the way gossip travels in this town.”

“How do you think Sydney will take the news?”

“Well, that's why I'm telling you. I'm sure she'll find an excuse to call you—or just blatantly knock on your door as soon as I'm out of the house.”

“You are going to tell her that I've already proposed marriage, yes? That woman strikes me as someone who knows her way around a .357 if the situation arises.”

“It's a 9 mm.” Genevieve added, “But if she's tough with anyone, it will be with me. She'll push me to accept your proposal.”

“I've said from the beginning, your mother has a wisdom that transcends her modest age.”

“I think I feel my morning sickness returning.”

Marshall chuckled softly. “Okay, I'll quit. I'd rather talk to you than the dial tone anytime, even when you're mad at me.”

“I wasn't
mad
mad,” she told him. “You just drive me a little crazy.”

“Let me come over and I swear I'll fix it and make it better.”

He was using his best suede-leather voice on her and she was weakening fast. “This is so beyond hopeless. Okay, if you're not going to behave about anything else, listen to this please—I'm not ready for our news to go any further yet, do you understand? I'm not even telling the girls at the office.”

“Say ‘our' again.” When she failed to humor him, he sighed. “Okay, then let me ask you this. Does that case
of morning sickness you take with you everywhere know about this plan of yours?”

“I know, I know. But I have to think strong. I also made an appointment with an ob-gyn next week. My doctor here in town, Paige Kelly, recommended her. Dr. Tracy Nyland—she's out of the county.”

“You have been busy.”

“I knew making calls from my office wouldn't be convenient.”

“So you're going back to work tomorrow?”

“If at all possible. As I told Paige, I guess I suspected for days what the real problem was, but I think denial made me get sick as much as the hormone shift did.”

“I'm proud of you—and feeling a little sorry for myself. Big Daddy has no role in this operation yet.”

“Big Daddy” had her pressing her lips to her mouth and tears flooding her eyes.

Marshall continued, “But I am grateful you're letting me in on things. Can I at least go to the doctor with you?”

“Not this time.”

He latched on to that. “So I can ask to go the next time?”

Genevieve stroked her tummy. “Marshall, do you not realize men tend to bribe women to avoid any and all appointments with an ob-gyn?”

“That's their business—and mistake.”

While her heart melted to the consistency of warm bread pudding, Genevieve grappled for some last ounces of practicality. “You know what would help enormously? A copy of your medical report. Dr. Nyland will have questions and I have absolutely zero answers.”

“No problem. I actually keep a copy on file. I just have to locate the right box in my office. You've just inspired me to quit procrastinating about that part of the house. Also, if you let me know the time of your appointment, I'll be on standby and you can call and we can answer any other questions by phone. You already have the answer to the most important one. The father is thrilled.”

Swallowing, Genevieve managed, “I believe you.” She had to clear her throat. “Marshall…I know I've been hard on you.”

“You've had every reason.”

“That doesn't discount you being so understanding and patient.”

“You mean I should have slung you over my shoulder and carried you back to my glass and brick cave after all?”

“Okay, go back to being patient and understanding.”

Marshall chuckled. “You're going to need me, you know. You'll soon be yearning for foot rubs and back rubs, and someone to complain to at the end of the day. You don't even have a parakeet to talk to, do you?”

“I'm not home enough to have a pet.”

“Well, that will change.”

A mental red light flashed in Genevieve's mind. “There you go again.”

He exhaled. “Medically. I was speaking about having to adapt to what's going to happen. I think—ask your ob-g-whatever—that you won't be able to keep the hours you have been. You have a little parasite sucking you dry. It seems logical that you'll have to reprogram.”

“Parasite…reprogram? Marshall, say something nice so I don't have nightmares that I'm going to give birth to
something out of those
Alien
movies because I'm going to hang up in five seconds.”

“Dream about me watching you nurse our baby. And me holding you both as you sleep.”

Along with his velvety tender voice, the sensual, romantic images worked all right, she thought as she said goodnight and hung up. Too well. Now she would do well to sleep at all thanks to him triggering her libido. And she was sure he'd done that on purpose.

F
or her luncheon with her mother the next day, Genevieve picked up two Cobb salads at The Garden Shed, an indoor-outdoor eatery in town. It turned out to be a good idea, since Dorothy had asked for the day off to spend with her visiting grandkids. The Northeast Texas area was enjoying some lovely autumn weather, making it warm enough to eat outside, which was what Sydney had prepared for.

With no showings today and only paperwork she could catch up on this afternoon, Genevieve considered her russet suede pants suit and agreed that would be a fine idea as long as she sat under the patio table's umbrella. “I'm surprised you don't have your landscaper here already planting chrysanthemums and pansies,” she said as she carried the shopping bag through to the kitchen.

Dressed in one of her ruby-red sweat suits, her mother led the way making her 18k charm bracelet jingle as
she flicked her wrist. “Mr. Martinez says I need to wait one more week. This El Niño weather will supposedly play havoc with the pansies. Warmer than usual now, but colder than we need later. He said only the chrysanthemums will be happy. I think he's just buying time taking care of his commercial customers first.”

As usual her mother saw a conspiracy. “Mother, your yard is gorgeous and Mr. Martinez values you as a client. With perfectly lovely flowers still going strong, why tear them out before you have to just to be the first one in the neighborhood with seasonal blooms?”

“Because I'm Sydney Sawyer and people expect me to keep to a standard.” Opening the French doors to the back patio, her mother indicated the set table. “I poured us both decaffeinated sweet tea. Is that okay, or would you prefer wine? There's not much difference calories-wise, is there? But I'm working on a presentation to a women's club in Houston next week and needed a clear head.”

With a private smile, Genevieve nodded. “So do I. Congratulations on that. Will you and Bart make it a mini-vacation? I'll bet he'd like to try a golf course or two while you're down there.”

Drawing out two chairs from the white iron table with the hunter-green umbrella shading it, Sydney made an affirmative sound. “He's meeting one set of friends at Memorial the morning after we arrive. He has another date at Eagle Point the next day and at Oakhurst the day after that. I've a good mind to fly home and let him drive himself back—if he ever realizes that he misses me.”

What was this? Sydney didn't think Bart was giving
her enough attention? “You two didn't have a spat, did you?”

“He's been so grumpy lately.”

“I haven't noticed that.”

“He adores you, of course he's not going to let you see anything but his Saint Bart persona. But he's complaining that I haven't cut back on my time in the office—as he claims I promised, although I don't remember any such conversation. And he thinks I meddle too much. I don't meddle. I'm interested in what people have to say.”

“You meddle.”

“Well, of course you'll be on his side. I don't know why I even said anything.”

As Sydney unfolded her green linen napkin, Genevieve urged, “Oh, Mother, stay in Houston with him and let him show you off to his friends' wives. You know that will mean as much to him as a good day on the greens.”

“I've gained six pounds with this book,” Sydney muttered, “and that twenty-first-century pirate Jack Denny has taken a trophy wife. I don't need to sit across a table looking at someone that could be your twin pretending that I'm thrilled to be there.”

“She can't be much of a trophy wife, Mom. Jack's been cleaned out by ex-wives three times already.”

“Bless your memory, you're right! Goodness, this may be fun after all.” Sydney leaned over and patted Genevieve's cheek. “Thank you for this, Gigi. I've missed our visits. Are you feeling better? You still look fragile.”

Genevieve had suspected her mother's generation would be the last who could get away with using that
term without sounding as though they were rehearsing a Tennessee Williams play. “I'm…regrouping and better, thanks.”

“Did your doctor ever find out what the problem was?”

Taking their salads out of the bag, Genevieve placed her mother's before her and removed the clear plastic dome lid. “I did, although I don't see the doctor until next week. Here's your extra dressing, Nana.”

“Oh, these Cobbs are worse than cheesecake on the thighs and derriere. If I had an ounce of restraint left in me, I'd throw out the dressing, but you know I won't. I do need the occasional sinful pleasure. I can't have my characters having all of the fun.”

It took until Genevieve was opening her own dressing container that Sydney uttered a strangle-voice squeak and dropped her fork. “What did you call me?”

Genevieve shrugged. “You knew something was up.”

“I suspected that you were going to take Avery as a partner, or wanted to buy a larger building. You're pregnant?
My
baby?” As soon as she finished that gush, Sydney turned worried. “It is Marshall's, right?”

Genevieve almost choked on her first bite of cracker. “Thanks for the compliment, Sydney. As I've told you before, I have nothing in common with some of the so-called heroines in your novels.”

“As independent as you are, for all I know you went to a sperm donor bank before Marshall barely entered the picture.” She leaned closer. “Does he know?”

Reaching for her sweating tea glass, Genevieve replied, “Yes.”

“When's the wedding?”

“Marshall has asked me to marry him, but I haven't accepted.” Picking up her fork, Genevieve scooped up a bit of bacon and egg, ignoring her mother's aghast expression.

“Why on earth not? I knew the man was all but besotted with you when we stopped by his house that night.” Sydney gasped. “That was the night, wasn't it? You could barely look at him and he couldn't take his eyes off you. Mercy, I ran straight to my office to jot down notes.”

“Have you no shame?”

Charms and earrings jangled as her mother expressed her confusion. “I just paid you a compliment.”

Feeling her insides quiver, Genevieve took a few deep breaths to stave off a wave of nausea. Once more in control, she said as calmly as she could, “I haven't accepted because we have no business being married. We barely know each other. I'd have to look at his closing paperwork to remind myself what his birth date is. He doesn't have a clue as to what mine is or much of anything else.”

“Except for where your erogenous zone is located,” Sydney muttered, still piqued. “Mother!”

“I like him. Gigi, the man has already proposed, what more can you ask for? If you don't accept, you'll live to regret it.”

“Thanks for the support.” Genevieve glared at the cube of avocado on her fork. “I can't believe you're more upset with me not immediately accepting the proposal of the man—”

“Not any man.”

“—than you are that he made me pregnant.”

“Well, you had a little to do with that, didn't you? And plenty have wanted to be in his shoes. The fact that you've never been tempted and this time gave in speaks volumes to me.” Sydney leaned close and touched Genevieve's cheek. “My precious girl. I wish you would let yourself be happy.”

“I'm not unhappy. I get to feel a deep sense of satisfaction every time I'm sitting at a closing table.”

“I'm not talking about that kind of happiness.”

No, she wasn't, but what her mother was referring to didn't come along very often. Probably never twice in one lifetime. “My heart was broken!”

“I understand. So was mine!”

“At least you had Daddy longer.”

“Oh, and that made it easier?”

Genevieve put down her fork and folded her hands, understanding that if she didn't let her mother speak her fill, she would be hearing asides and observations from third parties for the rest of her pregnancy. “You have my attention.”

“Peace of mind and the joy that comes from knowing you're with the one you should be is the kind of happiness I'm talking about,” her mother began quietly. “That special someone who can make you laugh one minute and turn your knees to melting butter the next. Someone who is there with that strong shoulder on a very bad day, even when it's because of a bittersweet memory of time past. I applaud your hard work and success, Gigi, but without someone to share it with, it's a hollow victory.”

“Did you just paraphrase from an old tearjerker movie?”

Sydney paused and thought. “It does rather sound like Bette Davis, doesn't it? Hell, maybe I just stole from one of my old books, I don't know. The point is such feelings cross the parameters of time.”

For all of the theatrics, Genevieve knew her mother had a point. “Whatever. I didn't really come here for a pep talk. I came prepared to apologize for the embarrassment I might cause you down the road.”

Sydney drove her fork into a calorie-filled cube of avocado and eyed it with relish. “You handle things the way you feel you need to. I'll be fine, and so will Bart.”

Driving over here, Genevieve knew that. Sitting here now, she knew she had to tell the rest of what bothered her. “Do you understand how everything is upside down for me? This was supposed to be Adam's child. I wanted him to get me pregnant before he left for the war.”

Her mother nodded, her expression turning reflective. “Such things aren't in our hands. You would have a brother or sister if it had been up to your father and me.”

This was news to Genevieve. “Really? You never said anything.”

“You were too young to be burdened with such things. Do you think you could fall in love with Marshall?”

She thought about what Marshall had said to her when she'd claimed they weren't in love. She
had
to have felt quite a bit to have let herself be swept away by passion. That wasn't the problem. Feeling as if she still belonged to Adam was the problem.

“He's everything you see him as,” Genevieve replied. “Smart, creative, interesting.”

“Darkly handsome.”

“Mother, do not even consider asking him to pose for one of your book covers, let alone fantasize him as one of your story heroes. That's disgusting.”

“You just said you aren't marrying him.”

“I said not yet.”

“I noticed how kind and attentive he was when you two came over for dinner that day,” Sydney reflected.

“Oh, he is. Maybe too much.” Genevieve fussed with the linen napkin lying in her lap wondering if she should say more. “Mother, it worries me that he'll treat me as though I'm another Cynthia. She needed caring for in many ways. I don't. I'll have a doctor and you to help me figure out this pregnancy, but he's already nudging me to arrange for more time off and how to arrange the nursery and my office.”

“Are you putting a nursery in at the agency?” Sydney asked.

“No, my office in
his
house that he thinks I should move into.”

“Ah. And did he decide what would happen to your house?”

“He's certain that I would want to sell it, since his has so much more to offer.”

“It is a divine house. And yours wouldn't be practical for much longer.”

“That's all well and good, but I can't finish pondering one set of his ideas before he hits me with another,” Genevieve said.

“He has a great deal of time on his hands,” Sydney observed. “You've given him something exciting to look forward to instead of feeling sorry for himself and
mourning his late wife. Count your blessings. Many a woman would change seats with you in a heartbeat.”

Despite herself, Genevieve smiled. “Yes, and three of them are in my office.” Sighing, she shrugged helplessly. “He doesn't realize that we would smother each other. He needs his space and I need mine.”

It was another half hour before Genevieve forced herself to leave, but she didn't get far. As she approached Marshall's property, she saw him walking to check on his mail. She knew she couldn't just wave and keep driving, so she pulled over and lowered the passenger window.

“What a coincidence, Mr. Roark,” she drawled. “Are you starting to monitor the goings-on at my mother's house the way she does yours?”

Having reached the brick-encased box, he opened it and took out several envelopes. “So much for your suspicions. I think that should require a penalty. Come in for a glass of tea or—what else are expectant mothers allowed to drink?”

“My stomach can't take one more of anything, but I will come in for a second. You have a right to know that you won't have to worry about my mother coming to whip you with her Gucci bag for destroying her daughter's reputation.”

She shifted into Reverse and backed enough to turn her SUV into the driveway. By the time she stepped out, he had reached her and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

“You look lovely and less stressed than you have been in a while.” He extended his hand. When she took it, his smile deepened. “So lunch was easier than you thought?” As they walked, he caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I was hoping it would be.”

“Oh, she was typical Sydney, but on the important things, she was more understanding than I deserved her to be. You'll be thrilled to know she's on your side.”

“Why does there need to be sides?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Okay, but your mother likes men in general, so I had a head start to begin with.”

Remembering some of her comments about Marshall had Genevieve rolling her eyes. “Tell me about it. So what have you done today besides pat yourself on the back?”

He laughed as she released his hand and entered the house. “Thought about you.”

“I wasn't fishing for a compliment.”

After he shut the door, he turned to her and this time took both of her hands and kissed each before settling her arms around his neck. “That's not a compliment, it's a fact of life. You were already my preoccupation. Now you've become my world.” Slipping his arms around her waist, he slowly drew her against him.