Chapter 42
M
icheline tossed her supermarket purchases in the trunk of her Bug. As she lowered the top of the trunk she wiped sweat from her brow. This heat was really starting to get to her. Two weeks from now Americans everywhere would be sitting down to Thanksgiving dinnerâwhen would it start to cool off?
She forced herself to calm down, knowing pregnancy made her grumpier than usual, griping about the Florida heat she'd known all her life. She'd put off getting back to Vic. Let him sweat a little. Besides, she knew they had a connection, and he didn't. He didn't seem to be the type to be susceptible to blackmail, but surely she could do something with that information.
“Hey there, Michie!”
Micheline looked up, immediately recognizing Cécile's voice. Her sister approached, looking unwieldy in her pregnancy. Her belly led, and the rest of her followed. Micheline pressed her lips together to keep her upper lip from curling in disgust.
My God, is that how I'll look four months from now?
“Hi. I didn't know you shopped in this neighborhood,” she said.
“The stores over by me are crummy, all dingy and dark. I like this one. So what's up with you? Long time no see.”
“I've been busy,” Micheline said lamely.
“Yes, I'm sure you have. Ah, the life of a single girl trying to snare a husband.” Cécile made it sound like the worst thing in the world, which did nothing to help Micheline's mood. “Anyway, we're planning on moving next week. Would you be able to help out for a couple of hours? You never know how much stuff you've got until it's time to move. We could use all the help we can get.”
Micheline decided this was a good time to spill her secret. Cécile needed to have her cheerful little bubble burst. “I'm sure I can be of some help to you,” she said sweetly, “but I won't be able to do any heavy lifting.”
Cécile drew in her breath. “You're pregnant!” She spoke softly because they were in a parking lot with people occasionally passing by, but the news clearly came as a delight.
“Yes.”
“You really are!” Cécile exclaimed. “I thought you might be, but you seemed so sure it wasn't possible.”
“I'm four months pregnant, Sis.”
“Well, congratulations!” Cécile paused. “So are you and Errol going to get married? You know, Mama couldn't stop talking about him. I'd love to meet him myself,” she hinted. “But Mama and Papa will be thrilled, even if the conception came before the ceremony.”
“No. He's not the father. I haven't even slept with him.” Micheline saw the confusion in Cécile's eyes, watched as she groped for an appropriate response.
“Well, does the father know?” she finally said.
“Yes. He wants to adopt the baby.”
“He does? Why?”
“Because his wife can't get pregnant, and he feels that a baby is just what she needs.”
“Does he plan on telling her it's his baby?”
“I really don't know. I don't know all that much about him. He's an older guy, about fifty-one, fifty-two, in really good shape. He's a bail bondsman, he lives out at the beach somewhere, and he's got a wife who's a basket case because she can't get pregnant. I presume she's younger than he is. If she's his age and wants a baby, she should be a psychiatric patient.” Micheline waited for the bomb she just dropped to detonate.
“He's ...” Cécile grew silent as her mind digested these facts. Then she demanded, “What's his name?”
When Micheline heard that uncharacteristic command, she knew Cécile had put it together. “What difference does it make?” Her insulted tone disguised her delight.
“I'm not kidding, Michie. What's his name?”
“Vic. Why?”
“My God!” Cécile hissed, glancing around to make sure no one stood within earshot. “Michie, do you bother to learn anything about a man before you fall into bed with him? I'll bet you don't even know his last name!”
“His last name wasn't important at the time, Cécile. I wouldn't have needed to see him ever again if the condom hadn't torn. Actually, I thought I was safe until I found out about that little twist in the female history of our family. By then I'd passed my first trimester, making it too late to do anything about it.”
“Well, it just so happens that Vic Bellamy is married to my friend and business partner, Norell.” Cécile shook her head and continued to speak in a loud whisper. “My God. I thought that your going out with Dana's boyfriend behind her back was the worst thing that could happen, but this is worse. You must really hate me.”
Micheline didn't bother to claim innocence. “Oh, please. Why must everything always be about you?”
“Pardon me. Everything's always supposed to be about
you
.” Cécile stared at her incredulously. “So what are you going to do?” she hissed. “What about Mama and Papa?”
“They don't have to know,” Micheline said quickly. “No one has to know. Vic's made me a good offer. He'll pay my living expenses from the time I begin to show until six weeks after I give birth. That means I can put in for a leave of absence at work, and no one has to know my business. I can say I've got a family emergency or something, come back four months later, and resume working, like nothing ever happened.”
“And what about Errol?”
“I've got it all planned. I'm going to disappear for a few months and have a vague explanation.”
“And he'll be content to just have you disappear from his life? That doesn't say a lot for how much you mean to him.”
“Believe me,” Micheline said confidently, “it'll work out fine.”
Cécile stood with her hand on her swollen belly, her forehead wrinkled and her mouth forming a scowl.
“Am I to understand this correctly?” she said. “My friend Norell will raise your baby, my niece or nephew, as her own.” Cécile shook her head. “Norell and I barely managed to stay friends after a very difficult period for us, and now you've made me part of a lie that will destroy our friendship forever if she ever learns the truth. Do you realize the position that puts me in, Micheline? And do you care?”
She shrugged. She could tell Cécile was pissed, for she never used her full first name. “I don't know what Vic plans on telling Norell about where the baby came from, but I'm pretty sure he won't tell her it's his.”
Cécile pressed a palm into her forehead and closed her eyes. After a few moments she removed her hand and opened her eyes. “You've got me so upset I can't even shop. I'm going home. I'll send Michael to the store later.”
“Suit yourself. I'm sure it won't hurt you to miss a meal.” Micheline calmly got behind the wheel of her Bug.
Cécile glared at her.
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Vic looked up in surprise. “Hey, Cécile! I didn't expect to see you here.” Then it dawned on him that she might have a problem at home. God forbid Michael or one of her stepsons had been arrested. “Is everything okay?”
“No, Vic, it's not.” She glanced back at Bertha. Vic couldn't see his assistant from where he stood, but knew she was eyeing his very pregnant visitor with interest. “Is it all right if I close the door? I need to speak with you privately.”
By now Vic had risen from his chair and walked over to where she stood. “Of course.” He closed the door and gestured for her to sit down. Two irate females entering his office for private talks in as many weeks, one of whom was visibly pregnant. Bertha's curiosity must be boiling. He had a strange sense of déjà vu himself. “Now, tell me what's wrong.”
“You like to live dangerously, don't you, Vic?”
His head jerked back. He'd thought she had a personal problem she wanted to discuss with him. What the hell did she mean by questioning him about his behavior? “What's this about, Cécile?” he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
“Do you realize the spot you've put me in? My sister told me about the baby.”
Panic rose in his throat like a tide. “Your
sister?”
“Micheline.”
“Micheline is your sister?”
“Yes, Vic,” she said calmly. “We're often told we look alike. Our coloring is a little different, that's all.”
He looked at her carefully. Her eyes
were
shaped like Micheline's. Her nose, her mouth ... my God, Cécile was a shorter, darker, heavier version of Micheline. Why hadn't he noticed it before?
“So?” she pressed. “Don't you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Cécile, you've got to believe me when I say I had no idea.”
Her stern stare softened, and for a minute she appeared to be at a loss for words. But when she finally did speak, she sounded just as unforgiving as she had earlier.
“That doesn't make it easier for me, does it? I mean, not only does my friend's husband cheat on her with my sister, but he knocks her up.” She slapped the arm of her chair with her palm. “Some things you'd rather just not know, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I understand how awkward this could be for you.” His mind raced. It shouldn't be too bad. It pained Norell to be around Cécile in her pregnant state, to the point where she could barely stand being around her. The two women not seeing much of each other would make things easier for him.
“All right, Vic, so what happens now? Are you really planning on adopting your own baby and passing it off as a stranger?”
“Cécile, listen to me. Norell wants a baby more than anything in the world. I believe she'd trade me for one if given the choice. Doesn't this seem like a wonderful chance for her to be a mother?”
“That's sweet, Vic, but it doesn't answer my question.”
Damn, she was hard.
Who knew sweet little Cécile had it in her? “I haven't worked out all the details yet,” he admitted. “At this point Micheline hasn't even consented to give me the baby.”
“She told me she was going to accept your offer to pay her living expenses for six months.”
“That's all well and good, Cécile, but until she signs the papers, it's meaningless. And in the meantime, even though I know I'm putting you on the spot, I have to ask that you not mention any of this to Norell. I can't tell her about the baby unless Micheline signs the papers, and even if Micheline signs, I doubt I'll say anything to Norell right away. March is still four months off.” He didn't want to say he didn't trust Micheline.
“I won't. But I don't like this, Vic. I don't like being privy to a secret that could devastate my friend. I don't like knowing that I'm a blood relative to the baby she's going to adopt. Norell and I have been friends for ten years. We've cried on each other's shoulders through all types of crises, but she hasn't been able to cope with the fact that I can get pregnant easily and she can't. We've had a rift over the last year, year and a half, and my baby”âshe patted her bellyâ“has only made it worse.
“You realize,” Cécile continued, “that if the truth does come out and Norell finds out I knew about it, she'll probably be more mad at me than she'll be with you, just because I've become a target for her temper. But I do hope everything works out, for her sake.”
“You're a true friend, Cécile. I'll make sure Norell realizes that.”
“Thanks, but right now you've got more pressing problems. It'll be awfully hard to convince Norell that baby belongs to a stranger if it comes out with your face.” With that she grabbed her purse, stood up, and left, opening the door of his office so hard that it banged against the wall.
Vic leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. “I'm fine,” he said when Bertha Franklin appeared, as he'd known she would. He waved her off.
He still couldn't believe Cécile and Micheline were sisters. Their personalities couldn't be more different. Cécile had such a kind, considerate nature, while Micheline possessed a what's-in-it-for-me attitude.
He hoped Cécile knew what she was talking about when she said Micheline had decided to take his offer. It might be more of Micheline's bullshit, like that ridiculous story about how she'd fallen in love with him. Hell, she didn't even know him. They'd seen each other exactly twice. Micheline probably figured she'd settle for whatever he could give her, since her pregnancy interfered with any other action she had going. After a few years she would have divorced him and tried to get a big chunk of everything he owned. She'd probably jump off to lie with somebody the minute he left for work. Hell, he deserved to be two-timed if he was dumb enough to fall for that, which he wasn't. How many times had he scoffed at photos of those old Hollywood actors in those magazines Norell subscribed to, with shapely, attractive women a generation younger than they? What saps, he thought. Didn't they know the chicks were after their bankrolls? If Norell had been a just few years younger he would've been suspicious of
her
motives.