The Baby Album

by Roz Denny Fox

  “Okay. It’s your call as to when you want to photograph Jana Mitchell, Emily Endress and Gracie Swartz and their families. If you use the studio, mark the calendar with their names. I’ll arrange my in-office time around your sittings.”

  “Why aren’t you happier about this? They’re your friends, Wyatt. Don’t you think it’s a nice show of support?”

  “I can’t imagine why they’d want to support me. I haven’t been much of a friend to anyone this past year. I know they want it to be like old times, but it’s never going to be,” he said with finality.

  Casey knew his pain would be less raw if he could move on with his life. She also knew no one could force him out of his grief before he was ready. She jingled her keys. “I’m leaving now. I’ll tell Brenda that if your other friends really want photos taken I’ll do them. If they just want to use me to corner you into being sociable again, then they should count me out. They need to wait for you to come back on your own.”

  “Tell Brenda it’ll be a long wait.” Wyatt took Casey’s key ring and unlocked her car. Stepping aside, he held the door and handed back the keys. “I can see you don’t get it. Six of us guys met in our first year at UT Austin. We all played baseball—Greg, me, Dave Mitchell, Tom Swartz, Wes Bailey, Ian Endress and Alec Torres. One by one we met girls, one-and-only types of girls,” he said with a shrug. “I was last, but eventually we all got married and stood up at each other’s weddings.” He stopped and hauled in a ragged breath.

  “I do get it, Wyatt. What I don’t get is, if you were all that close, well, aren’t you lonely now?”

  “No, everything’s different now. Before we congregated at one house to watch sports, while our wives went upstairs, we’d all have a barbecue after the game. Now, it’d be five couples and me—the odd man out. They may believe things wouldn’t change, but they’ll watch what they say. I’d be…Never mind. If any one of them was in my place, they’d see what I mean.” His voice grew rougher the more his emotions surfaced. “Don’t pity me. That’s another thing I didn’t—don’t want.” He started to slam Casey’s car door, but she threw out a hand to stop him.

  “There’s a difference between pity and sympathy. If you don’t want people to pity you, stop acting pitiful.” She yanked her door closed and backed out of the parking spot, crunching gravel under her wheels.

  As she drove to the freeway, she wondered how her boss would take being lectured by an employee. And she knew, the advice she’d given Wyatt applied to her, too. She’d felt sorry for herself after Dane walked out, but wallowing in pity hadn’t changed her situation.

  Lecturing Wyatt gave her a wake-up call. If he didn’t fire her for mouthing off, she intended to start each day with a new outlook. Len and Dolly used to say a person should face every day with an “attitude of gratitude.” It was high time Casey remembered that. In less than eight months, she’d have a baby to love and care for. She had a good job at the moment, and she’d found a friend in Brenda Moore.

  Casey did feel sorry for Wyatt. But the fact remained he was the only one who had the power to make his life better.

  Later that evening, when Brenda phoned, that was what Casey told her. “I know you and your friends are anxious to help Wyatt through his grief. You need to realize that’s a road each person travels alone.”

  “You’re right, Casey. I should’ve remembered what it was like for my mom when she lost my dad. Nothing cheered her up. At first, she didn’t even react to the news that I was pregnant with her first grandchildren. It took a while, but by the time they were born, she was almost her old self.”

  “When I lost my mother, the couple who ended up fostering me gave me a book on the five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, then acceptance. And they apply to any traumatic change, not just death.”

  “Oh, Casey. You mean your divorce, don’t you? It doesn’t sound like you’ve accepted it yet, either.”

  “I probably didn’t for a long time, but Dane disappointed me too often. I’ve accepted it now. My divorce decree came. It was waiting in today’s mail. Reading it was like closing a door on part of my life. After seeing Wyatt stuck on anger and depression, I’m getting my act together.”

  “I may buy a copy of this book and see if Greg will give it to Wyatt. We all want our friend back. When you take pictures for Gracie, Emily and Jana, they’ll say the same. I can’t wait for you to meet the rest of our group, too—Lou Bailey and Kim Torres. We should all do lunch soon. I’ll call them tomorrow. With losing Angela, and then Wyatt going AWOL, the rest of us haven’t been as faithful about scheduling time together. And it’s a shame. We need to put our heads together and figure a way to help Wyatt get back to normal.”

  Casey heard a note of fervor she felt she needed to squelch. “Brenda, I’m really happy to be your friend. I’ve missed girl talk since I left Dallas. But let me be clear—to Wyatt I’m only an employee. It’d be a mistake for you or anyone to think I might take Angela’s place. It’s a bad idea to try and fit me in with all the friends you’ve had since college.”

  “I wasn’t…” Brenda didn’t bother to finish her sentence. “Maybe unconsciously I was trying, Casey. I cared about Angela, but she wasn’t an easy person. More often than not, our group did what she wanted, or we didn’t do it at all. I don’t know every little thing about you, but I can tell you aren’t demanding like that.”

  Casey laughed, and it felt good to laugh with a friend. “Believe me, I have plenty of other faults you’ll discover if we hang out.”

  “We will. Tomorrow, after you help me pick out the pictures for Greg, you and I will schedule a clothes-fitting frenzy. I’ll get Gracie and Jana to bring their sewing machines to my house. As for the other couples, you can meet them in good time.”

  “That sounds fine. I was afraid I might have hurt your feelings, being so blunt.”

  “Not at all. You made me see that Wyatt has to work through his grief himself. Still, it can’t hurt for all of us who want him back to his old self to come around the studio to encourage him. Oops, I hear Greg’s key in the lock.” Brenda lowered her voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the studio, elevenish.”

  Casey hung up, feeling a bit as if she’d been caught in a cyclone. Because she’d missed supper, she poured herself a bowl of cereal. As she ate, she went back over her conversation with Brenda. She’d convinced her not to get any ideas about Casey taking Angela’s place in that long-standing group of Wyatt’s friends. Hadn’t she?

  Well, if not, she had little doubt that Wyatt would set them straight.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CASEY WAS RUDELY JERKED from sleep by her alarm. She scrabbled to find the device on her bedside table, resisting consciousness, wanting to hold on to a vivid dream. Holy catfish! Bolting upright, she dropped the now silent clock from her shaking hands. Flopping back down on the bed, she let the threads of the dream grab hold of her again. It was a funny sort. Embarrassing.

  Her breasts tingled as she remembered what she’d been doing with Wyatt in her subconscious. Slowly her body and mind coalesced. Yes, those were her curtains. Her bed. Her comforter. Why in heaven’s name had she been in the middle of a hot, steamy clinch with her boss?

  If Casey thought about it, she could still feel his short, dark hair sliding through her fingers.

  “Mercy,” she yelped, springing out of bed. Enough. She ran her hands down her body in an attempt to rid herself of the last lingering thoughts of Wyatt exploring her, way too intimately. Or maybe not too intimately, she thought, going in to wrench on the shower. It had been a wonderful dream. And, on a more down-to-earth note, this was the first time in weeks she wasn’t suffering from morning sickness.

  Under the steaming shower it wasn’t difficult to figure out why her mind had taken such an erotic turn last night. She hadn’t been touched or held in ages—hadn’t felt loved in even longer. She missed being in an intimate relationship. Why shouldn’t she want sex? She was twenty-eight years old, and healthy.


  But why pick Wyatt? Then again, why not? He was sensitive. Generous. Hardworking. Gorgeous. Face it, he was attractive, she thought, turning off the water and grabbing a towel. And technically, he was available. For someone. Not her, Casey reminded herself sharply as she wrapped her hair in the towel and did her best to scrub away visions of her boss.

  She was pregnant with another man’s baby, for crying out loud.

  Dragging clean jeans and a sleeveless blouse out of her closet, she dressed, telling herself that she ought to be happy to be feeling better. Hallelujah, maybe her life was getting back on track.

  Later, after pouring a cup of ginger tea into her travel mug, Casey left the house feeling almost perky.

  A half hour later, she pulled into the studio lot. Oh, no, why did Wyatt’s Subaru have to be there this morning of all mornings? It was barely nine-fifteen. Most days they only met in passing. And now she’d be forced to face him with last night’s dream fresh in her mind. Yikes. Casey nervously ran her hands down the sides of her jeans and checked to be sure the snug blouse didn’t reveal any bumps she’d rather keep hidden. Although she was still slim, two days ago the clinic nurse had said her waist was half an inch bigger than at her previous visit.

  As she cracked open the door, Casey called out, “Hello! It’s just me.”

  Wyatt rolled his chair to one side of his computer, peering around the monitor at her. “You’re early. I’ve barely finished uploading the chip you shot at Brenda’s. I haven’t really looked at the photos yet.”

  “That’s okay. Don’t let me rush you.”

  Wyatt hadn’t moved, but sat staring at her. Casey eyed him warily over her mug. She set her purse on a bookshelf, unsure whether he wanted her to stay, or leave and come back later.

  “Did you see the Meyerson chip?” she asked, strolling over. “I put it on your desk with their order form. They’re such a nice family. And they put in a large order, my biggest to date. I, uh, promised to deliver their prints. I know we can’t do that for everyone, but Liz Meyerson has multiple sclerosis, so she doesn’t drive. I’ll make the delivery off the clock, Wyatt.”

  “I know Bob Meyerson. He played ball in our summer league a couple of years. He had to stop to help out at home when Liz was diagnosed. I haven’t seen them for a while, but they sent flowers to—” He broke off, then quickly added, “Don’t they have three kids?”

  “Four. His mother lives with them now. She’s one upbeat lady. I liked her a lot.”

  Wyatt’s gaze returned to Casey’s face and she could’ve sworn he was looking at her lips before he rolled his chair back to his computer. “I’ll pay you for the delivery time. It was good of you to make the offer,” he said, his voice rough with feeling.

  She flushed. “Like I said, it’s not something we’ll be able to do after we get busier.”

  Wyatt frowned, lifted his fingers from the keys and glanced her way again. “It makes no sense to get too busy to do a good turn.”

  Casey didn’t know what to make of his comment. Busyness meant they were making enough money to stay in the black. But perhaps he was thinking back to last June’s overbooked calendar. Hadn’t Brenda suggested that Angela Keene had put in too much overtime? She’d sounded as if Wyatt hadn’t noticed. Maybe he had.

  “I’ll cover the phones while you go through Brenda’s photos. She’s anxious to pick the pose she wants enlarged for Greg.”

  “She’ll be more anxious once she sees what you took.”

  Taken aback, Casey stammered, “Excuse me? What’s wrong with them? I remember flipping back through the last half-dozen frames before we stopped. I was sure…I mean, I felt confident that I had several shots where everyone looked fine.”

  “More like they were all good ones,” Wyatt said with a snort. “You thought I meant they were bad? Not even close. I agreed Brenda would be anxious because I know her. She’s never been able to make a decision in her life. She’ll be here all day, dillydallying and deciding which to buy. If you want my advice, steer her toward the ones with Hadley. I guarantee those will be Greg’s favorite. He loves that mutt. Whose idea was it to include the dog?”

  “Uh, mine,” Casey admitted, again uncertain of where she stood. “I thought the kids might settle down better having their pet around. Sorry, I know animals are your specialty. I didn’t mean to trespass on your territory.”

  “Don’t apologize. It was a good idea. You don’t need to consult me about who or what you include in your photo shoots.”

  “All right. We never discussed what my specific duties will be. At Howell’s I made certain decisions because I was…sort of like family,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t want to overstep my bounds here.”

  Wyatt paused. “I expect you to work independently, within reason. For instance, if you see we’re low on print cartridges, photo paper or things like that, I want you to order more. On the other hand, if you see a five-thousand-dollar camera you think we can’t live without, I want you to consult me. Then I’ll say no.”

  Casey’s lips twitched. “I hear you,” she said, sipping her tea. “That rule applied at Howell’s, too. Okay, I’m glad we’ve got that sorted out.” She moved closer to Wyatt and set her mug down on his desk. “I’m ready to take a gander at the Moore photos.”

  Wyatt brought the first shot up on the screen.

  “Oh, aren’t those boys precious? Is that Emmett? No, wait, that’s Elliot pulling Hadley’s tail. Is he slightly out of focus?” Casey squinted. “You have no idea how tricky it was getting all of them to sit still at once. It was like trying to trap a tornado in a bottle.”

  Wyatt threw back his head and laughed.

  It was the first time Casey had heard him laugh. The smile brought out a dimple in his right cheek that she hadn’t seen before. But now she noticed a network of fine lines at the corners of his eyes. So he hadn’t always been so grumpy. The spontaneous laughter left him looking a lot more approachable.

  “You should do that more often,” she blurted.

  Wyatt sobered instantly. That engaging dimple winked out and his jaw tensed. He got up quickly and gestured that she should replace him at the computer.

  Casey sat, biting her lip, feeling bad that her remark could have such an effect. It was as if the easy moment had never happened.

  He pocketed a set of keys lying beside the computer, then grabbed a large manila envelope and his camera bag, giving every indication of leaving.

  “If it’s not okay to laugh on this job, I don’t know if I can stay here,” Casey said, staring defiantly at him.

  “Whoa…you can laugh all you like.. I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

  “Then why…?” She trailed off in confusion. But apparently that was all he had to say on the matter because he changed the subject abruptly.

  “I’m delivering prints to the breeder I told you about in Dripping Springs. Bill’s brother-in-law asked if I’d take pictures of his kids with a couple of sheep that won blue ribbons at the county fair, so I’ll be gone awhile. By the way, I booked you a job for tomorrow afternoon. Remember Mike Granville, the coach at the high school? You may have heard him say his wife’s parents’ fiftieth anniversary was coming up. Pat Granville dropped by my house. She apologized for waiting until so late, but the photographer her sister hired canceled, so we get the gig. Here’s the address where they’re holding the event.” He dug a note out of his pocket. “That’s it for jobs this week, unless you book some while I’m gone. After you finish with Brenda, go home if you like. I doubt I’ll be back to the studio today.”

  “Do you have a minute before you take off? Would you mind giving me your honest opinion on which of the Moore photos are best?”

  “Brenda doesn’t want my opinion.”

  “I don’t think she said it like that, Wyatt. She’s being nice because I’m new. And that’s not even the point. The Moores aren’t the only people who’ll see these photos—especially if Greg takes one to his office. If we’re trying to spread the word about the stud
io being open again, don’t you think it should be the best possible shot?”

  Wyatt didn’t agree or disagree, but he set down his things and came to hover behind her chair. “I thought the one you took of the four of them and Hadley casually grouped by the fireplace really stood out. I remember thinking it looked like it belonged in a home and family magazine. It’s number twelve or so. Then scroll to the twenties. There’s a shot where two of the boys are holding Hadley’s ears, and the other is pulling his tail. Brenda’s not sure if she should smile, or if she needs to rescue the dog. It’s a perfect family action shot. The boys’ eyes gleam with mischief. If I were Greg, that’s the picture I’d want on my desk.”

  The minute the words left Wyatt’s mouth, Casey felt the atmosphere become strained again. Sadly, it couldn’t be clearer that Wyatt envied Greg his family. Casey felt for him as she scrolled through the photos on her computer. Then, although she’d asked for his critique, her nervous stomach returned with a vengeance.

  Twisting the cap off her travel mug, she gulped down the cold tea. “Uh, looks like you pinpointed the two best poses,” she said hurriedly. “Thanks. I’ll print those up and put them in temporary mats so Brenda can see how they look framed. There’s one other I think may appeal to her mother. Where they’re posed on the love seat. The triplets look like cherubs and Brenda has a Madonna smile. Wait, I just passed it. Here. Is this a perfect grandmother photo, or what?”

  “Something smells spicy.” Wyatt sniffed the air.

  Casey’s fingers tightened on her cup to keep from dropping it. “My tea. Sorry, I’ll close it.” Her mind raced as she pressed the cap on the mug. Wyatt’s nearness brought back images from the dream she’d had last night….

  “Actually, it’s nice. I should know the scent, but I can’t place it.”

  “It’s ginger.” Affected by his nearness, she rolled her chair forward. Pulling up another program, she opened the photo file and swept away a few dark shadows, then lightened the area around Brenda’s hair.