Amy could still lead her independent life. He wouldn’t have to worry about them storing up resentments or having to confront heavy issues. They’d be friends, the way they were now.
“So when’s the big day?” Lucy asked.
Since Amy apparently wasn’t going to answer, Quent improvised. “We haven’t set one. We haven’t even formally announced our engagement. That’s why Amy’s not wearing a ring. But I could see that you needed to know, so you can understand that I’ve matured. I think Paula would approve, don’t you?”
“I’m sure she would,” Lucy said. “Wow. Congratulations, Amy.”
“Thank you,” Amy said distractedly.
It was as good as an acknowledgement. Quent owed her a big debt for this one.
Thank goodness people often had long engagements. Eventually, he supposed, they’d have to officially break it off, but by then he should be able to impress Lucy with what a terrific job he was doing.
“It’ll take me a few days to sort through things and pack their stuff. I’m going to miss them, but I’ll admit, I’ve been worried about how I was going to meet their needs in the future.” Despite a trace of regret, Lucy sounded cheerful. “You can pick them up in a few days. Would Wednesday evening be all right?”
“Absolutely.”
They adjourned to tell the children the news. Beaming, Greg threw his arms around his uncle. Tara, who was too young to understand, went to sit on Amy’s lap and tried on her bridesmaid’s hat. Fitting low over her forehead, it hung at a funny angle.
“She’s a sweetheart.” Amy hugged the little girl. “My goodness, we’ll have to buy you a hat of your own.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how come you’re so dressed up?” Lucy said.
“We were at my best friend’s wedding reception.” When Tara slipped off her lap, Amy got down on the floor to play with her.
“You were a bridesmaid?” Lucy said. “And you let Quent drag you away to see two children you’d never met? You must really love this guy.”
“You bet.” Keeping her face averted, Amy nudged a block into place so it didn’t fall off the tower Tara was building. “She has good hand-eye coordination for her age.”
“You know a lot about kids.”
“In the theoretical sense. I’m a family counselor,” Amy explained.
“Perfect!” Lucy appeared to be releasing her last reservation. “Quent, I’m glad this worked out. It’s going to be tough giving them up, but I think Paula would prefer them to be in a two-parent home.”
“You’ve done a great job,” he told her. “More than anyone had a right to ask.”
“Thanks. It got pretty overwhelming sometimes.”
Quent and Amy stayed awhile longer, playing with the children. By the time they left, Lucy was hugging the kids tightly, but she hadn’t changed her mind.
They’d done the right thing, he reflected, for everyone involved. Except maybe for Amy.
He hoped she could find it in her heart to forgive him.
Chapter Eleven
Amy barely held herself in check while Quent negotiated side streets in the early darkness. Although she wasn’t exactly angry, she couldn’t believe he’d conned her into a phony engagement.
She hated to lie. If she’d exposed him, however, it would have killed any chance he had of winning Lucy’s consent.
As soon as they hit the freeway and he didn’t have to concentrate so hard on his driving, she blurted, “I knew you were impulsive, but not this impulsive!”
He gave her a rueful grin. “I even managed to catch myself off guard.”
“As your alleged wife-to-be, I hope you’ll refrain from making any more commitments without consulting me. What do you plan to do next, volunteer me to run for the school board?” She hadn’t realized how steamed she was until the words spilled out.
“Calm down,” Quent said. “I know I was out of line. Don’t you ever get a gut instinct that you have to act now or you’ll never get a second chance?”
Amy didn’t want to encourage the man’s cheekiness, but she understood what he meant. “I suppose so, but I don’t like deceiving Lucy.”
“I apologize,” Quent said. “I would have discussed it with you first but I had no idea Paula had told her I was a playboy.”
“Well, what’s done is done,” Amy said. “Where do we go from here?”
“Good question.” His expression sober, Quent switched lanes and accelerated up a long grade. “I didn’t have time to consider anything past Wednesday night. If you want nothing to do with this whole situation, I won’t hold it against you.”
“What about the kids?” she said.
He released a long breath. “That’s the problem. The more I think about it, the more I realize I can’t raise them without you. What do you think of them?”
“They’re darling.” Amy retained a sensory impression of Tara sitting on her lap trying to fit together two pieces of a preschool puzzle, her small face scrunched in concentration, her hair smelling of baby shampoo. Before tonight, Amy had ached for a child. Now she wanted these children. “Raising them is a long-term commitment, you know.”
“I can’t plan too far ahead at this point,” Quent admitted. “If we’re agreed in principle that we’re going to raise them together, let’s take it one step at a time.”
Amy had to make a decision. Common sense warred with her heart, and her heart won. “I’ll do it.”
He gave her a look of sheer gratitude. “You’ll never regret it.”
“Let’s hope not,” she said.
He reached out and cupped one hand around her chin. “Thank you.”
The gesture dispelled any lingering doubts. It connected them in such a gentle, intimate way that Amy knew she belonged with Quent, as his friend or fiancée or whatever else he needed.
He returned both hands to the wheel. “I’m sorry my late sister-in-law saw me as a playboy, but I’ve matured a lot since then. I intend to be the best dad ever.”
“Lying to Lucy hardly proves your maturity,” Amy pointed out. “How long do you think it will take her to get suspicious?”
“There’s no reason for her to, if we make the right arrangements.” He glanced at her uncertainly. “Amy, I know I’ve asked a lot of you today, but I have one more request, and it’s a big one.”
“Since there’s evidently no limit to your chutzpah, go ahead and ask.”
“My one-room apartment isn’t suitable for raising a family. I can find a bigger one, but it will take time,” Quent said. “May the kids and I stay at your condo? I’ll pay my share of the mortgage and utilities, of course. In fact, I’ll pay extra.”
There was no sense in reviewing all the good reasons for refusing. Amy knew she was going to give in, so why fight it?
That didn’t mean he got his way about everything. “I’m not doing your laundry,” she said.
“I don’t expect it. I’ll handle mine and the kids’.” After a moment, Quent added, “I’ll cook, too.”
“How are you at taking out garbage?”
“Masterful.”
“That’s promising,” Amy said. “Right now, your biggest job will be childproofing. I can’t even move in until Wednesday evening myself because of the repair work.”
“I’ll stock up on cabinet locks and outlet guards,” Quent said. “And I’ll pick up car seats for both of our vehicles. Is there a lock on your pool gate?”
“Yes, and the tenants are good about keeping it shut.” Amy’s mind raced ahead. “Tara will need a crib. What about a bed for Greg?”
“Lucy might let us take the children’s furniture.” For the next few miles, they discussed practical matters.
Amy was trying to figure out a diplomatic way to broach the subject of sleeping arrangements when Quent brought it up himself. “I’m assuming we’ll have separate bedrooms.”
“I suppose so,” she said.
“We’re doing this for the kids,” Quent said. “That’s the most important thin
g.”
He was right, Amy supposed. They needed to take this one step at a time, not complicate matters by rushing into intimacy. “Of course.”
“You know, I love them,” he said.
Amy nearly stopped breathing until she heard the word “them.” For the span of a few words, she’d thought he was going to say he loved her. “I never saw you as the daddy type before,” she managed to reply.
“Neither did I,” Quent said. “People change.”
“Yes, they do.”
A few weeks ago, through the window of the Birthing Center nursery, Amy had watched Quent examine a baby with tender thoroughness. But there’d been something different about him today as he played with his niece and nephew, a fiercely protective air that she hadn’t seen before.
Amy suspected he was going to change even more in the weeks to come. She wondered if he would ever reach the point of wanting to be a husband as well as a father.
When that happened, she hoped he’d discover deeper, more romantic feelings toward her. That she’d be the one he fell in love with, and not remain the old friend with whom he shared good times until he was ready to give his heart to someone else.
AT LUNCHTIME on Monday, Heather dropped into Amy’s office. “Did you get the word about who caught Natalie’s bouquet?”
“I haven’t heard a peep.” Absorbed in preparing for the children’s arrival, she’d forgotten the matter entirely. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
“You are.”
“The paint fumes must be affecting me.” Although she’d hardly noticed the lingering smell until now, Amy went over and opened a window. “I could have sworn you said I caught the bouquet.”
“You did. By proxy.”
This was a new twist. “I didn’t know you could catch a bridal bouquet by proxy,” she said.
“According to Noreen McLanahan, you can.” Heather gave her red hair a shake of disbelief. “Frankly, I didn’t buy it, but Natalie gave her permission.”
“Noreen stood in as my proxy?” Amy didn’t know whether to laugh or bristle.
“I wouldn’t have believed that little old lady could leap so high. She puts the Lakers in the shade,” Heather said.
“She could hardly walk up the steps on Saturday!”
“She claimed her medication kicked in,” the obstetrician said. “I’d like to try some of that medicine myself. Want to go eat in the courtyard?”
“Sure.” Amy grabbed her brown bag from a desk drawer and accompanied her friend outside.
Red and green poinsettias spilled from the terra-cotta pots that flanked the fountain. Most of the small, round tables were filled, but the two women claimed a newly vacated one. Despite the cool December air, the southern California sunshine warmed Amy’s shoulders.
As she set out her cream-cheese-and-cucumber sandwich, Amy said, “Noreen wasn’t far off course. I got engaged on Saturday.”
Heather paused with a carrot stick halfway to her mouth. “Excuse me?”
“Quent popped the question. Unfortunately, he didn’t pop it to me.” She enjoyed her friend’s mystified reaction. Such a strange story was best told in an offbeat manner.
“You’re going to have to start from the beginning,” Heather said.
“He asked his late sister-in-law’s sister to give him custody of his niece and nephew,” Amy said. “She wasn’t impressed with the idea of a bachelor father, so he volunteered me as his fiancée.”
“Without asking you first?” Heather resumed munching, her attention fixed on Amy.
“It happened spontaneously.”
“Things usually do with Quent, or so I gather,” said her friend. “Don’t tell me you’re going along with this!”
“Call me a sucker, but those kids are adorable,” Amy said. “He and they are moving into my condo on Wednesday. It’s strictly platonic. I don’t want to lie to other people. If I show up wearing a ring, I guess we will just let them draw their own conclusions.”
“I wish Natalie were here. She’d get a kick out of this,” Heather said. “On the other hand, I’m sure she prefers being on her honeymoon.”
“Soft Caribbean breezes.” Amy sighed.
“A hard, willing husband.” Heather chuckled.
“That’s downright cruel, considering Quent and I are sleeping in different bedrooms,” Amy told her.
“Does he know you’re a virgin?” Heather kept her voice low.
“What do you want to do, ruin my reputation?” Amy teased.
“Don’t be too eager to give it up,” Heather warned. “Unless a guy loves you whole-heartedly, it’s best to keep him at bay. Take it from a woman who’s been there.”
“Did you ever think maybe it was time you took another chance?” She avoided making a direct reference to Olive’s no-account father. The subject was still a sore point, she knew.
“I haven’t met the right guy.” Heather’s mouth tightened. “Not that I want to.”
“Why do I get the impression there’s something you’re not telling me?”
“A little over a year ago, I nearly made a big mistake with a guy. Thank goodness circumstances intervened.” Heather wrinkled her nose, looking more like a teenager than a grandmother. “I have no desire to put my heart through the wringer again. Still, weren’t Natalie and Patrick radiant?”
For the rest of their lunch break, they reminisced about the wedding, rejoicing in their friends’ happiness. At one o’clock, Amy returned to her office for an appointment with Cynthia Hernandez.
The young nurse had more bad news about her boyfriend. He and his wife were moving to Alaska. And he’d revealed that he already had three kids.
“I made him show me their pictures to prove he wasn’t lying,” Cynthia said. “I don’t believe anything he says anymore.”
She still wanted to keep the twins, even though she intended to have no further contact with the man. Fortunately, the pregnancy was going well.
The session ended on a positive note. Still, Amy knew there was no easy resolution to Cynthia’s predicament.
After the young woman left, Amy was making notes in her computer when a knot of silver-trimmed turquoise and white flowers dropped onto her desk. She looked up to see Mrs. McLanahan regarding her sternly.
“I kept this in the refrigerator all weekend,” said the older woman, who wore the striped uniform of a gift shop volunteer. “You are to take it home and treat it with reverence.”
“It’s beautiful.” Amy put the bouquet to her nose and inhaled the fresh perfume. “Thank you.”
Noreen tapped her desk. “I’ve always believed there’s a magic to bouquets once they’ve been caught, but it doesn’t last forever. I expect you to make good use of this opportunity, particularly as concerns a certain young doctor of our acquaintance.”
Amy considered mentioning her pseudo-engagement but decided against it. Mrs. McLanahan would read far too much into the matter. “I’ve got a rope in my trunk,” she joked. “Want to help me lasso him on his way out today?”
“Make sport of me all you want. I’ll have the last laugh.” The widow managed to keep a straight face, although Amy suspected she was kidding. “I’ll be watching the mail for my wedding invitation.”
“I promise, you’ll be the first to know,” she said.
Although still lovely, the flowers were drooping by the time Amy carried them home for the day. There was no sign of Quent as she walked by the Well-Baby Clinic and she decided not to stop in.
In only a few days, they’d be seeing plenty of each other. The thought of it made Amy nervous. What were they going to talk about at breakfast every day?
She supposed she was about to find out.
QUENT GRABBED the training cup halfway to the floor. “Good catch, eh?” he said, and checked for his nephew’s reaction.
“She threw it on purpose,” Greg said solemnly.
“No harm done.” With a paper napkin, Quent wiped the spilled drops of milk as he replaced the cup on the high chair’s tr
ay. Although a few drops had landed on his bathrobe, he pretended not to notice.
“Are you sure she’s too old for a bottle?” Amy asked, tightening her own robe. The white terry cloth tended to gap at the top, revealing her smooth throat and a hint of something lower down that Quent struggled to ignore.
“Bob-bob!” Tara bounced in her chair.
“That means bottle,” Greg explained. “She wants her bottle.”
“Bottles are bad for her teeth.” Quent was determined to start off right when it came to health. “She’s old enough to use a cup all the time now.”
He’d collected the children last night. Amy had welcomed them to her remodeled condo, which she’d aired out to minimize the scents of new carpet and touched-up paint.
The children were fascinated by the video-game system, which she’d allowed Greg to play with supervision. He had tossed a few blunt-tipped darts, too, until Quent realized small pieces might come loose if Tara found one and chewed on it. The darts had been put away with the promise that they’d play another time while the little girl napped.
Since they’d shared a room at Lucy’s apartment, the youngsters didn’t mind doing so again. Quent and Amy had reassembled Tara’s crib and Greg’s youth bed, while, for himself, Quent had made up the pull-out couch in Amy’s home office.
After a night on the thin mattress, his back felt stiff. He’d get the knots out when he found time to exercise, although, since he was working until seven tonight, that might not happen today.
Well, he’d expected to encounter a few kinks while settling in, although not in his sacroiliac. On the plus side, Aunt Mary had space for the two children in day care and, at her suggestion, Quent would sign Greg up for preschool right after New Year’s.
“I like this cereal,” the little boy said. “Is there more?”
“There should be. We just opened it.” Amy peered into the box. “Where’d it all go?”
Guiltily, Quent glanced at his bowl. He and Greg had snacked on cereal last night and he’d eaten two helpings for breakfast. “Sorry.”
“I guess a half-gallon of milk wasn’t enough, either.” Amy indicated the empty carton. “Can you stop by the supermarket later?”
Prescription: Marry Her Immediately Page 13