Bailey nodded, wanting to ask Lachlan other things about his ex-wife’s pregnancy but biting her tongue for fear of upsetting him in front of Hamish. She’d never known Danielle well, having still been in high school herself when the marriage had gone sour, but everyone knew his wife had left because she couldn’t handle mothering a special-needs child, so she’d left Hamish with Lachlan and taken their daughter. Already blissfully, head over heels in love with the two little strangers inside her, Bailey couldn’t comprehend how any mother could ever find her child lacking. But Danielle was the one missing out—Hamish was a great kid and he’d make a great cousin to her babies.
“When are you finishing up at the restaurant?” she asked Lachlan, even though she already knew the answer from talking about the distillery to Quinn.
“At the end of the month. Mac should have the construction finished, so there’ll be plenty to keep me busy getting ready for our grand opening here in June.”
“I can already tell it’s going to be wonderful.”
They talked a little more about the plans for the distillery’s new restaurant, while Hamish drew chess pieces on a napkin beside them. When Quinn returned with the milk shakes, the conversation returned to the party until it was time to head back to the marquee.
Quinn hitched Hamish onto his back again and they farewelled Lachlan, making him promise to come and ask for help if he needed it. As they walked toward the marquee, Bailey saw that Claire, Callum and Chelsea had arrived. Quinn’s brothers were helping unload Claire’s florist van.
“Hi, guys,” Bailey said as they approached the activity. “Wow, those flowers look gorgeous.”
“Only the best for my ex-mother-in-law.” Claire, who’d been like a sister to her the last five years, grinned as she thrust a bucket full of magnolias into Blair’s arms. “Wow. Look at you, Bailey, you’re already showing.”
She flushed and instinctively placed a hand against her stomach. “I know,” she said, careful not to look at Callum. “I feel massive already, and I’m not even halfway to term.”
Chelsea offered her a genuine smile. “Pregnancy suits you. You look gorgeous.”
At the other woman’s warm words, tears welled up in Bailey’s eyes and she smiled back. Maybe if she and Chelsea could get past the weirdness of their situation, Callum and Quinn would follow suit. “Thank you,” she managed.
After that, there was no more time for contemplation. Together Bailey, Chelsea and Claire arranged the flowers and decorated the tables to a standard all three perfectionists were happy with. In keeping with the theme, they had black-and-white checkered tablecloths, place mats that looked like old vinyl records, cotton-pink chair covers and a black poodle centerpiece on every table. The little guest gifts were small boxes of popcorn.
Meanwhile the guys worked tirelessly hanging disco balls across the marquee and black music notes on the walls, and building a temporary stage for the band. When they’d finished, Bailey couldn’t have been more pleased. Alongside the makeshift dance floor was the jukebox they’d hired—loaded with the best of Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, Johnny Cash, Elvis Presley and the like—for those who wanted to continue reveling after the band stopped. Bailey reckoned she’d be lucky to make it to ten o’clock, but knowing that once the babies arrived her social life would become nonexistent, she planned on giving it her best shot.
* * *
“Surprise!” shouted the forty-odd guests as Sophie and Annabel led a blindfolded Nora into the marquee just after seven o’clock that night.
The band, who’d gone quiet when Bailey received the text message from Sophie that arrival was imminent, launched up again, channeling Jerry Lee Lewis as Nora’s eyes boggled and her mouth fell open.
“Happy Birthday!” shouted all the guests.
“Oh, my Lord,” Nora exclaimed, her hand pressed against her chest. Tears sprouted from her eyes, but the grin on her face told Bailey they were happy ones.
She glanced at Quinn standing beside her and smiled victoriously. “We did it.”
“We sure did,” he said, pulling her into his side, “and now it’s time to enjoy the party.”
“Not so fast.” She laughed, pulling away from him. “We need to get your mom and sisters into costume and, as this is my event, I can’t relax—I have to oversee it all.”
Before Quinn could object she went over to greet Nora. “Happy Birthday,” she said, leaning forward to hug her.
“She had no idea,” Sophie said, smiling at Bailey.
“She wondered why the two of us—who usually aren’t that fussed about shopping—kept wanting to go into just one more shop,” added Annabel.
“I should have known something was up.” Nora glanced around, taking in her friends—all grinning and waving at her—and the theme-decorated marquee. Then she looked back to Bailey. “Were you responsible for all of this?”
“It was Quinn’s idea,” Bailey said. “He wanted to make it special for you, and we had a lot of help from everyone else. In the end it was a team effort.”
“It’s lucky I didn’t have a heart attack. But look at you all, dressed up in costume—I wish I’d known. I love fancy dress.”
“And Bailey has that covered as well, Mom,” said Annabel, who was for once wearing a skirt and top. As a local firefighter, she was a bit of a tomboy and was rarely seen in anything but jeans and T-shirt, but she scrubbed up nicely.
Bailey and the twins whisked Nora over to the corner of the marquee where the photo booth they’d organized was waiting for Nora to use as a changing room. They’d gathered a number of different outfits for her to choose from.
“Oh, my,” she exclaimed as they showed her through her choices. “Is there anything you haven’t thought of?”
Bailey smiled at the compliment. Nora chose a very elegant swing dress, black at the top with a bright red full skirt. The black heels she’d been wearing that day matched perfectly and her daughters insisted on her wearing a ginger wig that was styled in the classic 1950s bubble cut. For an outfit thrown together in a few moments, she looked amazing.
The evening progressed and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, devouring Lachlan’s gourmet burgers and bopping along to the band. Bailey’s feet ached from being on them almost nonstop all day, but inside she buzzed from the thrill of organizing a successful event. Normally, when planning events at work for the hotel, she had to run everything by her boss first, but she’d loved being the one calling the shots this time, and it only made her more determined to start her own event-planning business.
She’d take maternity leave from the hotel and use the time—if there was any when you had newborn twins—to write a business plan and work out her game plan.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt someone come up beside her. She turned to see her mother and tried not to let her disappointment show.
“Hi, Mom. Hope you’re enjoying yourself. Reginald seems to be having fun.” And I hope you’re planning on keeping your negative thoughts to yourself. She nodded toward the dance floor, where her stepfather looked to be taking lessons from his eleven-year-old son. Beside them, Quinn twirled Bailey’s thirteen-year-old half sister, Elle, under his arm.
But her Mom surprised her. “I truly am enjoying myself. And Nora hasn’t smiled so much in months. You and Quinn have certainly done a good job. You obviously make a good team. I’m sorry if I’ve been less than enthusiastic up until now, but it’s only because I love you and I want the best for you.”
“I know, Mom, thank you.” Bailey gave her a hug, and when they pulled back, Quinn was striding toward them. Poor guy knew her mother didn’t think the highest of him and she guessed he’d seen them talking and come to rescue her.
“Hey,” she said as he approached.
“Hey, yourself.” He kissed her on the cheek, pulled her into his side and flashed her mothe
r a smile. “Hi, Marcia, I hope you’re enjoying the party.”
“I am.” She returned a genuine smile. “I was just telling Bailey what a wonderful job the two of you have done together.”
“Really?” Quinn raised an eyebrow, his skepticism evident in his tone. “That’s great. I hope you won’t mind if I whisk this one away for a dance before your other daughter completely tires me out.”
Marcia laughed and shooed them with her hands. “Go. Have fun.”
Her hand in his, Bailey followed Quinn onto the dance floor and relaxed into his arms. Although the song had an upbeat tempo, Quinn held her close and they swayed gently together. She’d never imagined it was possible to feel this happy, but right now her heart felt so full that her lungs were struggling to find the room to breathe. It wasn’t only the babies she’d fallen in love with—Quinn had snuck under her skin, crawled into her heart and set up residence there, as well.
“Is your mom drunk?” he whispered, his lips right against her ear.
She laughed and was about to tell him about their conversation, but a shriek escaped her mouth instead as she felt a definite movement inside her.
“Are you okay?” Quinn pulled back, concern etched into his gorgeous face as he looked down into hers.
“Yes.” She nodded, blinking as her hand rushed to her stomach. “I’ve been feeling these flutters the last few days. I thought it was too early and I must be imagining things, but I just felt something really strong.”
“Seriously?” He pressed his hand against her belly.
They both froze a few moments, waiting and hoping for more movement that Quinn could also feel, but if she had felt the babies, they’d now gone back to sleep. “I’m sorry.” She sighed, disappointed he hadn’t been able to share in the joyful moment.
“Don’t be. There’ll be plenty more opportunities.” His brow creased a little. “You’re looking really tired.”
“Jeez, thanks. You know how to make a lady feel special.”
He ignored her attempt at humor, took her hand and led her off the dance floor. “You’ve been so busy today, maybe you should take a load off and put your feet up.”
She was about to argue that she felt perfectly fine, but a yawn escaped her mouth that would prove her a liar. “I suppose a few moments sitting down wouldn’t do any harm.”
Quinn deposited her at their table. “I’ll go get you a drink,” he said, before turning and heading over to the bar.
His leather jacket was on the back of the seat beside her and she couldn’t resist grabbing it and putting it on. It wasn’t that she was cold—impossible after being pressed up against his warm body on the dance floor—but that having it next to her skin was the next best thing to having him. A contented smile on her face, she sat back in the chair. It had been the perfect night, she thought as she slipped her hands into his pockets. One was empty, but the other had a crumpled piece of paper inside.
Without thinking, she pulled it out and unfolded it.
“No!” Her whole body went cold as she stared down at a letter she’d never expected to see again. The letter she’d anonymously sent to Aunt Bossy. Her words now wobbled in her hand like a nightmare come back to haunt her. No wonder an answer had never been published in the paper. But how on earth had Quinn got hold of it? While she couldn’t make sense of that, a heavy realization landed in her heart. Somehow her letter had found its way into his possession and he knew.
He’d always known.
She’d never imagined the possibility of Quinn reading the column, never mind the actual letter. But as she read over it now, she saw that reading this he would have immediately guessed the situation to be theirs. The timing and the bit about her ex, her description of her baby’s father and not knowing whether he was reliable...
For a second, she felt sadness and guilt at the thought of him knowing her low opinion of him, but then she realized that he’d tricked her. She had no idea how the letter had come into his possession, but the way the paper was crumpled indicated it had been read over and over again, folded and refolded, and then stashed in his pocket for ages.
Nausea that this time she couldn’t blame on the babies swirled in her stomach as she remembered the Friday night Quinn had turned up on her doorstep out of the blue. Exactly a day after she’d sent her Aunt Bossy letter. She had been skeptical; his sudden interest seemed too good to be true. But stupidly wanting to believe he had feelings for her, she’d clutched at straws and ignored the blatant signs that something was up.
Oh, God, what a fool. Quinn would never have begun something serious with her if she hadn’t gotten pregnant. He was obviously only with her out of some kind of sense of duty. She hadn’t been able to truly win Callum’s heart, so how could she think there was anything that special about her that would turn his Casanova younger brother from his serial-dating ways?
With that thought, tears sprouted in her eyes. She shoved back her seat, scrambled to stand and almost tripped over her own feet in her efforts to escape the marquee.
Damn Quinn and damn his family. She wished their moms had never met!
Chapter Ten
As Quinn wove through the tables on his way back from the bar, a number of family friends stopped to congratulate him on his impending fatherhood. He smiled politely as he listened to snatches of parenting advice, when all he wanted was to get back to check on Bailey. She’d done an awesome job organizing tonight, but she’d barely taken a breather all day, and when they’d been dancing, she’d looked as if she might fall asleep on her feet at any moment.
Finally, he made it past the dance floor, then kept his head down so as not to make eye contact with anyone else as he headed for their table. A few feet away, he looked up only to find an empty seat where he’d left her sitting. He cursed and glanced around, guessing she must have found some little party detail to attend to. When he couldn’t immediately locate her, he put her ice-cream soda down on the table so he could go look for her.
And that was when his gaze caught on the letter on the table.
Another curse word—harsher than the first—escaped his lips as he noticed his leather jacket missing from the back of his seat. He hadn’t worn the jacket for a while, but he’d put it on tonight as part of his costume, having totally forgotten stashing the letter in his pocket that day Bailey had come into his office.
He knew immediately how this was going to look.
Sweat beading on his forehead and his heart thumping, he strode back through the party-goers, this time ignoring all attempts to solicit his attention.
“Have you seen Bailey?” he asked his sisters as they moved their bodies on the dance floor to the sounds of Elvis.
Sophie shook her head, but Annabel pointed to the entrance of the marquee. “I think I saw her leave a few minutes ago. She’s probably gone to use the restroom.”
Quinn hurried outside into the night and scanned left and right. To one side of the tent the distillery grounds were pitch-black except for a few stars glittering in the sky above. On the other side lights shone from the tasting room, which was open so the party guests could use the restrooms. Leaving the noise and music of the party behind him, he ran toward the building.
Inside, he found the place deserted. Lachlan had long ago finished his chef duties and was now in the tent partying with everyone else. Quinn rapped on the door of the women’s bathroom, and when there was no reply, he marched straight on in. The three cubicles were all empty and he felt like kicking something as he turned to leave. He tried the men’s, just in case, but that, too, was empty.
Where the hell is she?
As he stepped back out into the night, he thought of his phone. If she’d put two and two together about the letter, she might not answer him, but... Before he could even finish the thought, he’d whipped his cell out of his pocket and pressed Bailey on speed
dial. He stilled and listened, his heartbeat thrumming loudly in his ears as he waited. Then, bingo. In the distance, toward the chief distillery building, he heard the faint ringing of a phone.
Less than thirty seconds later, he found her, crumpled on the ground, leaning back against a big wooden pillar. The only light came from the screens of their cell phones and the moon, but his eyes acclimatized quickly. She was wearing his leather jacket and her mascara had drawn black lines down her face. The word broken came to mind and he hoped more than anything he had the power to fix this.
He dropped down to his knees in front of her and instinctively reached out, wanting to hold her, but she pushed him away, like she couldn’t bear his touch.
“How...? Where...where did you get that letter?”
Quinn took a quick breath. “Surprise! You’re looking at Aunt Bossy.” It was the first time he’d ever told anyone about his secret alter ego, and he tried to make light of it, but not even a shadow of a smile crossed Bailey’s face.
Instead, her mouth dropped open and she looked at him as if he were a stranger.
“You remember Trevor from school?” he asked, trying to fill the silence, hoping he’d be able to distract her from her obvious anger. She didn’t nod, but he could tell by the expression in her eyes that she did, and he continued anyway. He told her about how when Trevor had first started at the local paper, he’d wanted to shake things up a bit, to make his mark, and Quinn had joked that he needed one of those columns—like the famous Dear Abby and Ann Landers. There was nothing people liked better than reading about other people’s dramas—it made them feel better about their own lives.
“Anyway, Trevor loved the idea, but he had no idea about how to find someone to fill the position. I told him to do it himself, but he dared me to give it a shot. As a nineteen-year-old boy, I thought I had all the answers to all the problems of the world, so I accepted the challenge. In the early days, I channeled Mom and tried to work out what she’d say in response to the letters I received. After a while, I found giving other people advice about their lives came easy to me. And the more I did it, the more rewarding it became.”
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