Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy (33 page)

"Almost one hundred years. It sat on the desk of a telegraph operator who worked for the Illinois Central railroad. I have a certificate verifying the information," he said, handing me a packet of papers.

"I'll take it. Do you have a box?" I asked.

"Is this a gift?"

"Yes, I hope he likes it."

"If not, save it for your child. It's something that should be passed down. It's historic and, if you'll forgive me, timeless."

I selected a framed letter from General George Patton for Mr. Cobb. It thanked a nurse for retrieving his gloves from a hospital visit. My father-in-law and Patton had a few things in common. In charge, take command, and kick butt.

I paid with my own money. Almost every penny I had left to call my own. I was now flat broke and completely financially dependent on Ben.

Ben answered the door after Mark dropped me off.

"You shouldn't have," Ben said, trying to take the bag.

"Oh no you don't," I said as I put my hand on his arm to stop him.

"Is everything for me?"

"No, you little grubber. You'll have to deal with Santa's naughty or nice decision," I said, rolling the bag shut and heading down the hall.

"Spoil sport. I'm reheating the chicken chili from last night."

"Good."

I snuck back into our room and stashed the gifts with my shoeboxes. I strolled back to the kitchen.

"Are you done with your shopping?" he asked as he put a bowl in front of me.

"For the boys. Now I need to concentrate on the girls. I never know what to get my sisters. Is money too cold?" I asked as I poured hot sauce over the chili.

"Not if it's tucked into something hot. Will they accept jewelry? Irene might like a set of brass knuckles and for Eleanor, a gold leash for her men. Or electronics or Mess purses?" he asked as he ate.

"Are those the individually hand stitched designs of Messmer Sinn? They cost thousands of dollars and are the new Kelly Bag. Hermes released a knock off of a Mess purse last year, and it bombed. Eleanor has begged to have Monsieur Sinn's purses in her shop. The waiting list is several months long for the handbags."

"Sinn's got an ego, and it needs feeding. He's been interested in my work for years. I may have a drop cloth to trade. I'll call him and see if any rejects are lying around. Would you like one?"

"No, all I want for Christmas is a peaceful world, healthy babies, and unsaggy skin. And a certain unfinished nude portrait of me to join the vault ladies."

"I promise it will be small and kept in my office. I'll hang it on the back of the door. For my eyes only."

I'll have the doorknob removed, and the open door will be bolted to the wall.

After dinner, I sat down on the bed and didn't want to get up. I scooted my back to the headboard and closed my eyes. Ben came in and sat at my feet.

"I called Tad's office to get some practical advice for expectant fathers. The nurse said foot and back massages would keep you happy. She reiterated I should try to please you as much as possible now so you'll tolerate me when you're in labor."

"Very smart woman."

He slipped off my socks, soothed lotion on his hands, and kneaded my tired feet. If I died now, I would be happy. Aside from sheet soaking sex, nothing beat a deep massage. I relaxed into his caress as he moved up to my ankles and calves. He had my permission to stop next year. I dozed and felt him undressing me.

"You need to rest. I'll rub your back for a while. Tad gave me another helpful hint I'd like to try."

I rolled my nude body over onto my side. It might be possible to be on my stomach, but I imagined myself as a human teeter-totter. His hands unknotted the tension from my neck and shoulders as I turned to mush. He stopped and gently turned me over onto my back with a pillow supporting my head.

"Is this the new trick?" I asked.

"Yep, it will help your skin's elasticity and get it ready for any chafing as you get bigger."

He rubbed more lotion on his hands and softly rubbed my stomach. Nice slow circles.

As I closed my eyes, I went back to my visions. At a house with a backyard, our son played outside. I called him in for lunch. He hesitated.

"Wait, Mom, she's coming."

I peered into the bright sunlight and saw another child standing by the swing set.

"Who is she?"

My boy grinned and shook his head. He went back out to the girl, spoke, and they both laughed. They ran to me. A blonde, blue-eyed girl wearing a white pinafore over a blue gingham dress, smiled. Just like my first-grade picture.

I woke. Ben's head had nestled between my breasts.

"We've been cloned," I murmured as I stroked his cheek.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Christmas Eve started quietly. We picked up Mr. Cobb at the hotel. Then the three of us strolled down Michigan Avenue and watched busy shoppers do the last minute dance. I held onto their arms, and they let me set the pace. I admired the window displays, and they listened to me reminisce.

"My parents and grandmother brought us downtown every year to see the decorations and eat under the tree at Marshall Field's. I would see Santa, hand in my list, and hope for the best."

"Did you get what you wanted?" his father asked.

"Most of the time. The year I asked for a pony, I was disappointed."

"Why did you want a pony?" Mr. Cobb asked.

"Because no one had one. I would be the envy of the third grade. I was very conscious of appearances back then."

"I'm glad you grew out of it," Ben said.

"Who says I did?"

We also took a quick tour of the museum site. The walls were slowly climbing upward and the exterior shell was almost done. The real work would be the interior. It would take time and great care.

Ben summed up the New Year in one word: meetings.

We landed back home, had a simple dinner of shrimp stir fry, and opened our gifts.

I received another necklace from Ben: a gold chain with two solid gold baby bootie charms. He also showed me the closet in the nursery. Maternity clothes, selected by Eleanor, for any and every occasion: dresses, pants, shirts, eveningwear, but no pajamas. He assured me I would be more comfortable sleeping nude. Pray there wasn't a fire in the building. He gave his father a painting of Helen as a teenager. He copied one of the pictures I had found in her belongings.

Mr. Cobb gave me Ben's portrait from the auction. Ben grimaced, and I was thrilled. He gave Ben trust fund paperwork for the babies.

"My turn. I hope you like them," I said.

Mr. Cobb opened his gift first. His smile grew dim and distant.

"Did Ben give you this idea?" he asked in an unfriendly tone.

"No, I thought you would appreciate an American hero's autograph."

Ben took the gift from his father and dropped on the couch in hysterics. I bit my lip.

"I didn't mean to insult you. General Patton was a no-nonsense man who got things done and didn't give a hoot about asking permission. I'm sorry. I'll return it."

I went to take the letter back. Mr. Cobb held it firm in his hand.

"Your ignorant husband obviously doesn't have any decorum or class. He used to refer to me as the drill sergeant. He thought I was authoritative, strict, and demanding. I'm complimented by your choice of gifts. I question your taste in men."

"It's perfect. Where did you find it?" Ben asked from the couch.

"Mark recommended the store, and we went to it yesterday."

"I think Mark shows potential. Alexia, you should continue your friendship with him," Mr. Cobb said as he enjoyed the immediate ammunition to aim at Ben.

Ben's sudden silence was lethal.

"You allow other men to escort your wife around town? How twenty-first century of you, boy."

Ben stood and both men glared at each other. How quickly their moods changed.

"Ben, here's your present," I said as I held the box between them.

"Thanks, I hope it's a cudgel."

I let out a nervous laugh. Ben turned to me, opened the box, and revealed the clock.

"There's a story about it on the bottom of the box. The clock is over one hundred years old and was kept in a telegraph office."

Ben's temper cooled. Mr. Cobb had poured himself a drink and stood gazing out the window.

"It's beautiful, thank you. Dad, do you realize Alexia spent her last dime on our gifts? She's now officially broke," Ben said.

Mark had a big mouth.

"I don't think anyone has sacrificed so much on such worthless bastards do you, son?"

"I doubt it. Let's have a toast. To Alexia, our new peacemaker. May she live to bury us both and prosper with the children to be named later."

Ben stood by his father, pouring his own scotch. The men clinked glasses and drank. I watched and put my hand on my waist.

I promise it won't be like this for you two.

"I better be off. Thank you again, Alexia," his father said as he held up the letter.

He kissed my cheek. Ben clicked his heels and saluted.

"What do you see in him?" Mr. Cobb asked.

"You. I didn't mean to open old wounds. I need a manual to deal with both of you."

"You're doing great," he said as he hugged me.

"See you tomorrow, Dad. You know I love a laugh at your expense," Ben said as he followed his father to the door.

"Be good to that girl, and apologize for your infantile behavior."

"I thought you were the one who never apologized for anything."

"I always begged for forgiveness from your mother. It was almost daily and got monotonous, but I did it every time. Alexia's a sweet girl and a priceless find. Let's try not to break her heart."

"Okay, but the choice of Patton was inspired."

"Yes, she reads us better than we think," Mr. Cobb said as he left.

If only it were true.

Ben sat and started playing with his clock.

"I didn't mean to hurt his feelings," I said.

"Hurt him? He loved it. He and old George would've gotten along great. You're very observant. You've already sized him up."

"I won't be a good peacemaker. You two scare me. Your mood swings are volatile and swift. I'll never be able to keep up."

"You'll have to take me to this store. The clock is a beauty."

Ben tinkered with his new toy and didn't listen.

"I can't be the go-between. If you feel the urge to fight, let me know. I want to have time to run away."

He put out his hand. I grasped it then slid onto his lap.

"We're hopeless. I love to hate him and hate to love him. We can't spend a lot of quality time together. It's too hard not to needle him. It's ridiculous, I know. We tried counseling years ago. We are actually much better."

"Don't fight in front of the babies. I won't tolerate it. I'm putting you on notice. Your father, too," I said as I put my hand on the clock to regain his attention.

"I don't make promises I can't keep, especially to you. I will try to behave. That's all I can offer. You are going to have all the Cobb men vying for your attention. All eager to please. How will you manage?"

With another Cobb lady. I thought the twins were boys, but my dream said a girl. I'll need her reinforcement.

"The babies and your father will be easy. You will be the challenge of my life. I have to compete with your children, your work, and your other women."

"What women?"

Excuse me.

"I may be new to this, but I'm not blind. Your past, models, and art groupies. They're everywhere and always will be."

"I only have eyes, hands, and lips for you," he said as he kissed me.

"For now, but I'll get older, and your models will get younger."

I stood and headed for the bedroom. He took my hand and kissed it.

"You're the only woman in my life and the last model. I searched for you and now I'm set. You forget I've got a few years on you. I won't be cute forever. I won't attract other women."

"Right, you'll be like your father: distinguished, disgustingly wealthy, and devastatingly handsome."

He led me to our bedroom and drew back the covers. I undressed and slid in between the sheets. He did the same and joined me.

"I've already done the tour. You're it. I'm settled. I'm in love and an expectant father. You're biggest worry will be how to unload me when I'm a slobbering old man. You'll have guys chasing you, betting on when I'll die and leave you a fortune. Go to sleep or Santa won't come. I left a long list including a pony," he said as he rolled over and fell fast asleep.

Why fight it? Enjoy the ride. I silently asked Santa for patience, fortitude, and no stretch marks.

It snowed overnight. The city covered up with a fluffy white blanket. We went to his father's hotel for brunch. I wore one of my Christmas presents. A two-piece olive green suit: a long jacket and full skirt. I also sported a black cashmere coat and matching boots. Eleanor had incredible taste in clothes. I had only surveyed about one-third of my new wardrobe. What I saw I liked.

I lived a fairy tale. Ben was a slightly tarnished knight to escort my fumbling Cinderella imitation, but I knew we would live happily ever after.

Christmas Day, we strolled into the lavishly decorated restaurant. The stunning tree sparkled with white lights, Victorian lace bows, and hand-blown glass ornaments. Santa, angels, reindeer, and elves glistened and hung from the branches. White, pink, and red poinsettias lined the staircase. The buffet table overflowed with breakfast, lunch, and most important, dessert.

Mr. Cobb waited for us.

"Welcome, children."

"We have to behave, Dad, otherwise Alexia won't let us near the babies."

"Incentive enough."

We atethe boys drank champagne and enjoyed each other's company. After brunch, Mr. Cobb retrieved his bags, and we drove him to O'Hare Airport. He left on Christmas to beat the holiday crowd. His private jet idled by the concourse.

"One last parting shot. You don't deserve her," his father said.

"You didn't deserve Mom either," Ben said.

"And now the peace begins," I said.