Making Waves

by Laura Moore

  “Yes. Actually, I’m more concerned about Dakota’s health.” Shifting her attention to her, Dr. Davis said, “You’ve lost a significant amount of weight. We need to get your nausea under control so you can keep your food down, and we also need to get your red blood cell count up and blood pressure back to normal levels to avoid risk of complications. Basically, you’re going to have to start taking very, very good care of yourself.”

  Dakota nodded tightly. “I understand.”

  “I’d like you to start taking folic acid for your anemia, along with prenatal vitamins. I know how difficult eating is at the moment. There are anti-nausea drugs—”

  “I’d rather not take any drugs unless it’s absolutely necessary,” she said.

  “All right, but it’s essential that you get enough calories and protein and rest. I don’t want you to lose more weight, and fighting nausea is taxing.”

  “I know. I’ll—” she began, but Max started speaking at the same time.

  “I’ll make sure Dakota gets the rest she needs and the right food. If necessary, I’ll bring in a specially trained chef from the city to cook for her.”

  Dakota looked at Max, taken aback.

  Dr. Davis smiled. “I was going to suggest protein shakes. You can sneak lots of calories into them, and Dakota can consume them sip by sip. Small and frequent meals often work best in combatting nausea. But if that fails, a professional chef might be able to create all sorts of extra-nutritious and palatable dishes.” She paused to scribble on a small notepad. Then she tore off the sheets and handed them to Dakota along with a folder. “Here are the scripts for the vitamins and the folic acid. Inside the folder is a list of foods to eat and ones to avoid. It also has a list of frequently asked questions. A lot of my patients buy a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. It’s very clear and informative. For right now, let’s focus on getting the right amount of nutrition and vitamins in your body, and making sure you get rest and exercise—”

  “Will I be able to surf?”

  At her question, Max stiffened in his chair. She could practically hear his silent shout of No! She ignored it.

  “I’d forgotten you’re a surfer,” Dr. Davis said. “Well, you should use good sense and not put yourself in a risky situation—”

  “I’m never reckless,” she said, speaking to the tense and silent Max as much as to her doctor.

  “—and realize, too, that your center of gravity and sense of balance will change dramatically in the coming months.”

  “I understand. But I think it would be good for me and the baby to be out on the water—once I can handle sitting out in the lulls without tossing my breakfast.”

  “Then I see no problem. As you’re normally strong and fit, you should continue with all your regular exercises and activities—running, yoga, et cetera. That of course includes sex,” she finished with a smile.

  “Good to know,” Dakota murmured, wishing she could melt into the chair. Nothing in the world could have induced her to look at Max right then.

  “Now, you’ve already given me your family history on your mother’s side, Dakota, and we’ll simply assume your father’s health is unremarkable. I’d like to get some information from you, Max.”

  Max shifted, crossing his leg so his ankle rested on his knee. “Sure, go ahead.”

  Dr. Davis began running through a list of conditions. “Any family history of heart trouble?”

  “No.”

  “Any genetic abnormalities?”

  “No.”

  “Diabetes?”

  “No.”

  “Cancer?”

  For the beat of several seconds, Max was silent. Then he said, “Yes. My mother had ovarian cancer.”

  Dr. Davis looked up. “I see. And did she survive?”

  “She died a month after being diagnosed. She was forty-five.”

  “That’s far too young.” Her voice had softened. “You must have been quite young yourself, Max.”

  “I was nineteen.”

  Dakota did her best to hide her shock. Max had told her he was eighteen when he lost his twin sister, Rosie. To then have his mother succumb to cancer so soon afterward?

  “Ovarian cancer is a terrible disease,” Dr. Davis said.

  Max made no reply.

  “And do you have any siblings?”

  “I had a twin sister. She died in a car crash.”

  Dr. Davis laid her pen down. “Again, I am sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  Dakota stole a glance at him. His face resembled carved marble. She was coming to recognize that look.

  After a moment Dr. Davis continued. “And how about your health, Max? Do you have any medical conditions?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good. And how about STDs?”

  “None. I have tests regularly. I’m completely healthy and disease-free.”

  “Any previous hospitalizations?”

  “Only for an open fracture of my tibia and fibula.”

  “And how did that happen?”

  “Football. Senior year in college, third game of the season. I was sacked and broke my leg.”

  “Ouch,” Dr. Davis said sympathetically. “That must have been a frustrating end to your senior year.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t like sitting in a cast on the sidelines, unable to make plays. But since I’d already decided I wasn’t going to pursue a career in football, at least I didn’t have to worry about having ruined my chances as a ballplayer.”

  “As a member of the medical profession, I can’t help but feel that you made the right choice—at least in terms of your physical health.” She put down her pen and closed the folder. “Well, I think that covers it. So do either of you have any questions for me?”

  As Dakota shook her head, Max said, “Yes, I do. What hospital are you affiliated with?”

  “Southampton Hospital.”

  Max frowned. “My doctor in New York is at—”

  Dakota guessed where this was going. “I was born at Southampton Hospital. Jackie Bouvier Kennedy Onassis was born there. Southampton is closer to me than New York, and I like Dr. Davis.”

  The doctor smiled. “Thank you, Dakota. I would of course be happy to deliver you of a healthy baby at Southampton. But I understand Max’s concern. Your and the baby’s health are of paramount importance. Should any complications arise, I have colleagues who are affiliated with New York Hospital. I will gladly refer Dakota to one of them.”

  Dakota gave Dr. Davis high points for her answer. It even seemed to appease Max.

  “Thank you, Dr. Davis,” he said.

  “Of course. It was a pleasure meeting you, Max. I hope to see you again. Dakota, I want to see you again in three weeks to check your weight, blood, and hormone levels. You can make an appointment with Susannah at the front desk.”

  —

  Neither spoke as they left Dr. Davis’s office. For Dakota, the sense of a new reality, of a new her, had settled over her, and it weighed heavily. She realized she was exhausted.

  She murmured her thanks when he opened the Range Rover’s door for her.

  “Do you mind if I take a moment to check my phone?” he asked once he was in the driver’s seat. “I may have some messages that are expecting a reply.”

  “Of course. Go ahead.” He’d missed hours of work today. “I should probably check mine too.” Like Max, she’d turned hers off while they’d been in the doctor’s office.

  She had several. Three were from Piper, because it was barely eleven o’clock and she was probably still drinking coffee and wandering the house in her silk bathrobe. Rae had called twice. There was also one from Catherine Willis. She and her husband, Xander, were clients. They didn’t come out very much in the winter, preferring to use their timeshare in Vail. Catherine was ultra-high maintenance, so it was possible she’d called Rae when she couldn’t reach Dakota. Best to get the lay of the land first, she decided.

  Rae answered on the second ring.

 
; “Hey, Rae, what’s up?”

  “Dakota. How was the doctor’s?”

  Dakota’s gaze slid to Max. He was busy tapping a message. “I’ll tell you about it later. You’re still coming by at two o’clock, right?”

  “Actually, no, I can’t. Catherine Willis has terminated her contract with us. Effective immediately. She’s in a snit over our having the keys and alarm code—as if we’d lift a thing in her house,” Rae said with an outraged sniff. “I have to swing by their house and drop off the keys. Apparently someone ‘trustworthy’ will be there to change the code. Then I have—”

  “Wait. Hold up. Catherine terminated her contract with Premier? I can’t believe it. Did she say why?”

  “Um, yeah—” Rae cleared her throat. “She says she can’t have employees who are predatory.”

  “Predatory? She called us predatory? After all we’ve done for her?”

  “Um, I think she was sort of singling you out, Dakota. Rich, isn’t it? Remember when little Parker decided to turn on every faucet in the house? And when the teenage stepson threw a party when Catherine and Xander were out God knows where? The house was beyond trashed. It looked like a war zone. You rescheduled our other clients for days to deal with those disasters.”

  “Yeah, I remember. Okay, okay.” Dakota’s mind scrambled as she tried to figure out what to do. “I’ll call her when I get home and get this sorted out.”

  “There might be a problem with that. I was a little less than polite toward the end of our conversation. She really ticked me off with a comment about you and how she always suspected you had your eye on Xander. I told her it was more likely you were watching him to make sure he didn’t get handsy with any of us. Then I kind of said that she was no one to talk about being predatory, since her and Xander’s affair started while he was still married to his first wife.”

  Dakota closed her eyes. “Oh, crap. Well, there goes that account.” And how many more would she lose now that Mimi’s gossip was making the rounds?

  “I’m sorry, Dakota. I know you would have done a better job dealing with her.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I’m feeling pretty outraged. We’ve given a hundred percent to every job she requested. But Rae, we may get more calls like Catherine’s, so you’re going to have to stay calm and give me a chance to change their minds.”

  “I’ll do better, I promise.”

  “I know. Listen, I’m going to try to patch things up with Catherine. I’ll talk to you afterward.” Ending the call, she became aware of the silence. Max was no longer thumb-tapping his cellphone’s screen, but watching her.

  “What was all that about?” he asked.

  She sighed tiredly. “A client just fired us. Lots of firsts today.”

  “On what grounds?”

  Embarrassed on so many levels—suffering a blow to her business, having a family who would knowingly inflict the injury, and Max bearing witness to it all—she turned her head to stare out at a rhododendron bush, its leaves curled from the cold. “No grounds at all. Mimi’s rumor-mongering was all it took. Unfortunately, Catherine Willis is married to an investment banker, Xander Willis—”

  “Willis. He’s with Browning & Reed?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “Do you know him?”

  “One of my partners has teamed up with Browning & Reed on some deals. I’ve met him a few times.”

  “Well, I doubt any of this is Xander’s idea. All he cares about is hitting the links when he’s here. But Catherine is a classic Park Avenue trophy wife. She and Xander have been together for eight years and she may be looking over her shoulder, spooked by the competition. She’d be the perfect candidate to swallow Mimi’s tales.” She sighed again. “I’m not looking forward to trying to win her back while she feigns moral outrage. Luckily, not all my clients are like her.”

  “What about the fallout in terms of future clients?”

  “Good question,” she admitted. “March is the month we normally add to the roster and when we approach our existing clients about expanding the services we provide for them. It’s when houses are bought, rental agreements signed, decisions about summer camps made, and home improvement projects begun, and we can help with each of those. I just have to hope this blows over by then.” Unfortunately, in the interim Catherine would be busy running her mouth off to all her Park Avenue friends.

  With an effort, she injected an upbeat tone in her voice. “Everything all right on your end?”

  He shrugged and pressed the ignition starter. “My team and I have been sourcing a company to assess its potential and are readying another for a sale. Pretty routine compared to what went on at Dr. Davis’s.”

  She laughed softly. “I suppose so.”

  “So,” he said, looking at her. “A baby.”

  “A baby,” she echoed. “I think I’m still in shock.”

  “You’re feeling okay, though?”

  “Yeah. How about you? Are you okay?” she asked, conscious of how careful they were being with each other. And now that they had moved on from talking about Premier’s troubles, she was aware, too, of how tense Max was.

  Was it the baby? Or Mimi’s attempt to drag her name through the mud and the very real likelihood the muck would soil him, too?

  “I guess I’m—” He paused and frowned. “I guess I’m processing—trying to think things through.”

  She could understand that. Her head felt as if it was about to explode from thinking about how that tiny galloping heart, that life, was inside her. She couldn’t get over how small it was. How fragile. She had to get healthier, she simply had to. “I get that. There’s an awful lot to think about.”

  “Yeah.” Shifting into reverse, he backed out of the parking space and then headed toward the exit. Braking, he looked at her. “One of the things I’ve been thinking is that we should get married.”

  “What?”

  It was difficult to pinpoint when the idea that he and Dakota should marry had formed in Max’s brain. Had it been conceived the night he’d driven to East Hampton to find Dakota wan and forlorn and possibly carrying his child? Had it taken root the next morning at Montauk Point, seeing her standing there all alone with her hands spread over her stomach, as if protecting the life growing within her?

  A life, no larger than a penny, with an even tinier heart beating impossibly fast. When he’d looked at the ultrasound’s monitor and seen that speck pounding away, his own heart had quickened and then raced with the same mad pace. He couldn’t believe that he’d helped make this being.

  Later, in the office, listening to Dr. Davis repeat to Dakota the importance of regaining her strength and health, his heartbeat had sped again, only now driven by fear. Not just for that new and vulnerable life, but also for the woman bearing it.

  Dakota’s astonished “What?” to his suggestion that they wed only underscored what he already knew. It was a crazy scheme. He was the last person who should be contemplating the idea of them getting hitched, let alone voicing it. The very prospect scared him spitless.

  But while he’d been sitting in Dr. Davis’s office, easily a dozen scenarios had occurred to him that might put Dakota or the baby at risk. He had to take whatever steps were necessary to safeguard them both.

  Money, the kind of money he had, brought power. He could use that power for them.

  So he buried the panic in his breast and shaped his mouth into a self-assured smile, the one he used when seeking potential investors for a deal. “I said, we should get married.”

  “No.” She shook her head so vigorously the ends of her hair batted her face. “Absolutely not. Why ever would we want to do that?”

  He heard the panic in the rush of words that tumbled from her lips, saw it in the flutter of her pulse on the side of her neck. He took that as a good sign. If she’d been completely set against the idea, she’d have laughed her head off. Or, worse, let him down with a gentle, killing politeness. Her agitation signaled she wasn’t indifferent. She’d liked him before. Liked him
a lot. He could build on that. Turn a no to a maybe, a maybe to a yes.

  He pulled out onto the road, driving slowly so he could make his pitch before they reached her house. He didn’t waste time with emotions. She wouldn’t fall for that anyway.

  “Consider the positives, Dakota. Let’s take that conversation you just had with Rae. Your aunt’s smear campaign is already beginning to have an effect. You can make all the calls you want trying to win back pseudo-outraged clients, but it won’t have much of an impact because it won’t really change the story. And with March mere weeks away, you can’t afford to have the trend continue.”

  From her tightly pressed lips, he knew she’d love to contradict him but couldn’t.

  “So what better way to change the story than to take it in a new direction, one where we end up married? Then you’re no longer a temptress out to lure men—otherwise faithful husbands included—but the wife of a successful Wall Street financier. Your image changes like this.” He snapped his fingers. “So does your status. Being as rich or even richer than your clients will make them come running to you, because we all know that’s how it works. You’ll be part of the tribe.”

  Aware of how invested she was in her business, he continued to work that angle. “And having access to my money will allow you to expand Premier Service—”

  “I wouldn’t use your money for my business.”

  “Why not? And it would have an upside. Hiring additional staff would allow you to get the rest you need. I’d consider that a worthwhile outlay.”

  “I don’t like the idea.”

  Okay, he thought. He could bring her around to his way of thinking later. He’d enjoy convincing her. It was fun to match wits with Dakota.

  When Max went after a deal, he appealed to investors on every level. It was time to make a play for her sympathy. “You know, your aunt’s rumor-mongering will affect me, too.”

  She shifted in the bucket seat. Ah, he’d gotten to her.

  “The business with Xander Willis. Will that hurt your reputation?”

  “It might.” Not that he really cared what others thought, save for perhaps a few friends like Alex Miller. “My director, Bob Elders, is conservative. Very family-values-minded. Until now he’s overlooked my, uh, bachelor ways, but fathering a child out of wedlock shines a different light on my lifestyle. Bob will hear about our situation soon enough if Xander Willis is involved. A marriage would smooth the waters. Right now I’m having some trouble with the new CEO of a pharmaceutical company we’ve just invested in heavily. I need Bob in my corner, and if he has a dim view of my private life, that might weaken his support.” This last was truer than he’d like to admit.