At the door, she turned and smiled at Sam. “You’re looking lovely, my dear. Pat, you’re lucky to have Sam. She’ll be a real help to you.”
After the door had closed behind Catherine, I turned to Sam. “You could have run it by me.”
Sam cocked her head to one side. “And you would have refused. We needed closure on that front, and now we have it. Catherine meant what she said.”
She was right. “Okay,” I said.
The front door opened again. An elderly couple, Betty Anne and Donald Crawford, entered, their faces wreathed in smiles. “A party in an art gallery,” Betty Anne cried. “What fun!”
More guests were behind them. Andy and Ilona took coats into his office, and I waved Kyle over to help them.
Still more people were arriving. Tracy and Jamie began circulating with trays of food, and Stéphane and Kyle were busy behind the bar. Then I spotted a familiar silver head at the door. It was Devon Shaughnessy, his arms filled with yellow roses.
“Devon! What are you doing here?” I felt like I had walked into the wrong movie at the Cineplex.
If he was put off by my greeting, he didn’t show it. “On my way to a conference at Deerhurst,” he said, naming a resort in cottage country. “My limo’s waiting outside. I wanted to stop by and give you these.” He placed the flowers in my arms. “Congratulations on your new business.”
“They’re gorgeous, Devon, but how did you know where to find me tonight?”
“A little birdie told me you’d be here.” He smiled at Tracy who had come over to greet him. She kissed his cheek and grinned at me.
I handed her the roses. “Find a vase for these, please.”
“I’ll be back in Toronto in three days,” Devon said. “D’you think—?”
I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m counting on it!”
***
An hour later, jazz piano was playing over the sound system. Most of the guests had drinks in their hands. Maria’s finger foods were a hit. A small group was following Andy from painting to painting, listening intently as he pointed out the merits of each. I felt happier than I’d been in a long time. My clients were enjoying my party, and so was I.
“Mrs. T!” I turned to see Kyle behind me, waving his phone. “It’s Laura. Baby’s on his way.” His face was glowing with happiness.
I made him repeat what Laura had told him. “Her contractions started a couple of hours ago,” he said. “She waited a while, then called the midwife. The woman said labor seemed to be progressing quickly. Laura’s in a taxi on her way to the birth center.”
Laura’s pregnancy was considered low-risk, and she’d been told that the Toronto Birthing Place was a suitable option. I’d been fine with that—until right now. My little girl was about to have a baby! Why hadn’t I insisted she deliver in a hospital with doctors and epidurals and life-saving interventions? Now she was in labor in a taxi, without her mother or her boyfriend. Not even a friend with her.
Kyle and I found Tracy in the kitchen. “Laura’s in labor,” I said. “She’s on her way to the birth center.”
Tracy set the tray of bruschetta she was holding on a counter. “What do you want to do, Mom?”
Sam and Ilona hurried over to us. “What’s the matter?” Ilona asked
“Laura’s in labor,” Tracy said.
“Kyle and I are going to the birthing center,” I said. “Sam and Tracy, you’re in charge here. Sam, you look after our clients. Make sure they get their coats when they’re ready to leave. Tracy, see that the food circulates, and that Maria has everything she needs in the kitchen.”
Kyle held up his phone again. “Laura’s at the birthing center.”
I said a few words to Andy and Stéphane. Andy rang a brass bell and announced that I had something to say.
“Thank you for coming out tonight to celebrate the holiday season and my new business,” I began. “We’ve only been working together for a few months, but I think of you as my friends. I appreciate how supportive you’ve been of me. You’ve put your trust in me. And I intend to live up to it.
“I have to leave the party now. My daughter—my baby—is having a baby. She’s in labor, and I need to go to her. I know you’ll understand. Please stay and enjoy yourselves. Sam will be here, and so will my other daughter, Tracy.”
Kyle had found a parking spot in front of the gallery. I climbed into his Mazda, happy to see that the new infant seat was installed in the back.
“I texted my parents,” he said as we sped through the downtown streets. “They were in Ottawa, but they’re on their way back. They’ll come straight to the birthing center.”
***
Five hours later, my grandson entered the world. Seven pounds, seven ounces. Healthy and handsome, with a shock of dark hair.
“He’s perfect,” the midwife said as she placed the baby in Laura’s arms.
“Of course, he is,” Tracy said.
“He looks just like my father,” said Yvonne, who had arrived with her husband, Russell, a half hour before. “Kyle and Laura, you must call him Douglas.”
They just smiled and gazed tenderly at their son.
“We’ll monitor mother and son for the next few hours,” the midwife said. “Then they can go home.”
“I’d like to stay,” Yvonne said.
“We need some sleep, Yvonne,” Russell said. “Pat, we’ll drive you home.”
“Mom, go home with Mr. and Mrs. Shingler,” Tracy said. “I’ll stay here a while.”
I gave Laura a kiss, and ran a finger over my grandson’s silky cheek.
It had started to snow, and the Shinglers’ Ferrari flew through the silent, white streets. Yvonne turned to face me in the back seat. “Do the kids have a name picked out?” she asked. “They really should consider Douglas, after my father.”
“They’ve been talking about calling him Bear,” I said.
“Bear? Is that a surname in your family?”
If only they’d considered family names. I was hoping Laura would call her son Michael, after her father. “Bear is for British rapper Bear Rage.”
“Oh, dear!” Yvonne said. “We’ll have to talk them out of that.”
Something for her to focus on, instead of pushing Laura and Kyle into marriage.
“What time can we come over?” she asked. “I want to hold my grandson.”
The Shinglers lived only a few streets away from us, so Yvonne would be at the house every day. Maybe twice a day.
“We’ll let them get a few hours sleep when they come home,” I told her. “The midwife will drop by around one this afternoon. So how about 2 p.m.?”
“Two will be fine,” Russell said. “We all need some sleep.”
When he pulled up in front of the house, I reached out my arms to both of them. They had a right to spend as much time as they wanted with their grandson. The more people in his life, the better. And I could afford to be generous, because he would be living with me for a few years.
“I’ll see you at two,” I said, after giving Yvonne a hug.
Inside the house, I wondered if it was too late to call Devon at Deerhurst. I called him anyway.
“My grandson has arrived,” I said. “He’s beautiful.”
“I expected nothing less.” Devon’s voice was rough-edged with sleep.
“He’s the cutest, smartest baby in the whole world.”
“And you’re the world’s proudest grandmother,” he said. “Has Laura picked a name?”
“She’s been talking about Bear.”
“Bear.” He paused for a moment or two. “Bear is a powerful totem. This boy will be a leader. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
“You will in a few days.”
I was too wound up for sleep. I took the bassinet out of the baby’s room and placed it on the table beside Laura’s bed. I hung fresh towels in the bathroom. Back downstairs, I set the table for breakfast.
I wanted to tell Tommy that the baby had arrived, but he was spending the
night at Jake’s house. So I sipped coffee, and flipped through magazines.
The snow stopped around six. A half hour later, I heard cars coming down our street, tires crunching the snow, then pulling up at the house. I ran to the front door. Kyle’s Mazda was in the driveway. Tracy’s Honda was behind it. Tracy and Kyle got out of their cars, and opened the Mazda’s back doors. Kyle bent down to unbuckle the infant seat, and tenderly lifted his son. Tracy helped Laura out of the car.
“Welcome home!” I greeted them, giddy with happiness. This was a momentous homecoming—three generations under my roof.
We settled Laura and the baby in her bedroom. Kyle lay down on the bed beside them.
“The midwife will be here in a few hours to check on Laura and Bear,” Tracy said as she followed me downstairs.
“So they’ve decided to call him Bear after all,” I said.
“Could be worse, Mom,” Tracy said, putting on her coat. “They could have named him after rappers Ice Cube or Ice-T.”
I thought of Frank Zappa’s kids, Dweezil and Moon Unit. “Point taken,” I said.
The phone rang as I was waving goodbye to Tracy. “I’m coming home,” Tommy said at the other end of the line.
“Hurry over, sweetie. Someone special is here.”
I watched him cross the street and run up the walk. “Who’s here?” he asked.
“Your nephew, Bear.”
“Bear?” he said. “Laura had her baby?”
“He arrived during the night. He’s asleep upstairs with his parents.”
“Can I see him?” Tommy was hopping from foot to foot.
“I don’t see why not, but we won’t wake them.” I peeled off his jacket, and he kicked off his boots.
I took his hand. “Quiet now. They’ve had a long night, and they need some sleep.”
We tiptoed up the stairs and cracked open Laura’s door. I lifted Tommy so he could get a good look at the bed. Laura lay on her side facing the door, with Bear cradled in her arms. Kyle was stretched out behind her.
“Isn’t Bear lovely?” I whispered in Tommy’s ear.
Tommy looked at me, his face holy with wonder, and nodded.
“We’ll let them sleep.” I closed the door, and we tiptoed down the stairs.
On the landing, he stopped. “I’m going to be the best uncle ever!” The words came straight from his heart.
I crouched down and placed my hands on his shoulders. “I know you will, Tommy.”
If you enjoyed this book, please consider writing a short review and posting it Smashwords. Reviews are extremely helpful to other readers and are greatly appreciated by authors. When you post a review, drop me an e-mail and I may feature part of your review on my blog. Thank you!
Rosemary
rosmccracken at rogers dot com
Acknowledgements
It is with great pleasure that I acknowledge the support of many people in the birthing of Uncharted Waters, the fourth novel in my Pat Tierney mystery series.
First, my heartfelt thanks to my wonderful husband, Ed Piwowarczyk, for his patience and forbearance. It’s not easy living with a writer. A professional editor, Ed was the first editor of the completed manuscript. Patricia Kennedy followed with another thorough edit.
I received valuable feedback from the Midwives, my long-time writing critique group, throughout the development of Uncharted Waters. Thank you, Jane Burfield, Catherine Dunphy, Madeleine Harris-Callway, Lynne Murphy, Joan O’Callaghan, and Sylvia Warsh for all your insights.
Toronto financial planner Marlene Buxton of Buxton Financial shared her knowledge of the fee-only financial planning model, and of purchasing a financial planning practice. And I extend my thanks to the many members of Canada’s financial services industry who discussed the valuable work they do throughout my years as a financial journalist.
Thank you, Peter Silverberg of Beard Winter LLP, Toronto, for answering my legal questions.
Thanks to Donna and Alex Carrick of Carrick Publishing for breaking new ground in the Canadian publishing world. And to Sara Carrick for her cover design.
My appreciation to the Mesdames of Mayhem, Sisters in Crime Toronto, Crime Writers of Canada, Sleuth of Baker Street bookstore in Toronto, and public libraries throughout Ontario for opportunities to introduce Pat Tierney to mystery readers.
And, finally, a warm thank-you to all my readers. You are the people I write for. Your comments about my books when I meet you in person, your e-mails, and your extremely valuable reviews online make everything worthwhile!
Photo by Iden Ford
Born and raised in Montreal, Rosemary McCracken has worked on newspapers across Canada as a reporter, arts writer and reviewer, editorial writer, and editor. The focus of her journalism work in recent years—on personal finance and the financial services industry—sparked the creation of her Pat Tierney protagonist.
Safe Harbor, the first novel in the Pat Tierney mystery series, was a finalist for Britain’s Crime Writers’ Association’s Debut Dagger Award in 2010. It was published by Imajin Books in 2012. Its sequel, Black Water, was published in 2013, followed by Raven Lake in 2016. “The Sweetheart Scamster,” a Pat Tierney short story in the crime fiction anthology, Thirteen, was a finalist for a 2014 Derringer Award.
The Toronto Star’s Jack Batten calls Pat Tierney “a hugely attractive sleuth figure.”
Rosemary’s short fiction has been published by Room of One’s Own Press, Kaleidoscope Books, Sisters in Crime Toronto, the Mesdames of Mayhem, Down & Out Books, Darkhouse Books, Wildside Press, Mystery Weekly Magazine, Superior Shores Press, and Kings River Life Magazine.
Rosemary now lives and writes in Toronto, and teaches novel writing at George Brown College. She is a member of Sisters in Crime Toronto, Crime Writers of Canada, the Mesdames of Mayhem, and the Short Mystery Fiction Society. She has a master’s degree in English literature, thesis on the Canadian novel, from the University of Calgary.
Visit her website at rosemarymccracken dot com/, and follow her blog at rosemarymccracken dot wordpress dot com.
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