Merry Christmas, Babies

by Tara Taylor Quinn

A beer. A freshly grilled burger. Elise in his sight so he didn’t have to worry about her doing something foolish and harming herself. The evening was shaping up.

  The first thing he saw when he entered the kitchen, loaded down with plastic bags of perishables and other items, was the note on the kitchen table. It read: Gone to GR. Meal is in the freezer. Help yourself.

  ELISE DIDN’T SEE JOE AGAIN that night. Wandering through a craft store on Twenty-eighth Street in Grand Rapids, she thought about the book she’d been reading the night before. The one now on the nightstand in the smallest bedroom in her house.

  She thought about the wallpaper border waiting to be put up in the babies’ room. Already starting to bulge at a little over three months, she might not have much longer to climb a ladder.

  She longed for the comfort of her family room, a quiet dinner of veggies and bread with peanut butter, and a tall glass of decaffeinated iced tea. Instead, she was wasting time in the city until she could show up at a restaurant by herself, the choice about which she cared not a whit, and do something she detested—eating out alone.

  Because her best friend from college had decided to be her roommate. After all this time.

  Her new roommate was in his room, door closed, when she arrived home at a little after eight. The light was on. She could hear voices, but saw no sign of a meal or refreshments having been prepared in the kitchen, though there was an overabundance of groceries.

  And the bathroom smelled like his aftershave.

  Back out to the kitchen to get a bottle of water to take to bed with her, she had to go by his room a second time to get to hers—and still heard talking.

  Had he brought a television set?

  His laptop?

  For all she knew, he had a woman in there.

  JOE OPENED HIS DOOR a crack when he turned off the light that first night. He was here to help if she got in trouble, so he had to be able to hear if his services were needed.

  And he stood in the dining room, just beyond the entry to the hall that led back to the bathroom when, at 3:00 a.m., she was up being sick. And again at 5:00 a.m.

  Why anyone would want to do this to herself was beyond him. Not so much the morning sickness—he knew she couldn’t have predicted the degree to which that would hit her—but the whole kid thing. The noise, the chaos. The lack of control.

  The entire concept gave him an urge to run.

  “YOU’RE UP EARLY.”

  Half-asleep, Joe plugged in the automatic coffeemaker he’d filled the night before. He turned to see Elise sitting at the table drinking a glass of orange juice and reading the Sunday paper. Samantha was curled up in her lap.

  “I shoot hoops with Kenny at eight.”

  “Just today, or every Sunday?”

  If he hadn’t heard the violence of her retching he never would have believed this woman hadn’t just come from a peaceful night’s sleep. Already showered, dressed in a looser sundress than he was used to seeing on her, hair all fluffed and picked the way it was every day, makeup as understated as always on her perfect features, she could have been a model on her way to a photo shoot.

  “Every Sunday. We rent a court at the Y.”

  Joe wasn’t sure what to do with himself while the coffee perked—certainly not his usual practice of sitting in a chair and nodding off for a couple of last minutes. Neither could he join her and ask for the sports section. With his muscle shirt, nylon shorts, bare feet and mussed hair, he felt at a decided disadvantage. He hadn’t even brushed his teeth yet.

  “I thought you’d still be asleep,” he said.

  She peered at him over the top of the paper. “I have wallpapering to do today. Besides, you know I’m an early riser.”

  Normally, yeah, but if he’d been up sick…

  Before he could formulate any kind of reply, Elise’s head was buried back behind the paper.

  And that wasn’t like her at all.

  ELISE MISSED HER STEP on the ladder when she heard Joe’s car in the drive. It was just before she was ready to break for lunch. The three-foot-long piece of pasted border in her hand—specially cut for over the doorway—got tangled as she grasped the metal side of the ladder, her heart in her throat.

  She’d been so careful not to fall.

  And now almost had—thanks to him.

  “Tell me you’re not climbing up on that thing.”

  He’d made it into the house in record time. And could obviously see the new paper garnishing the upper rim of the room’s walls.

  “I still have perfect balance.”

  “But stand to lose a whole lot more than dignity if you fall.”

  Still fresh from her scare, knowing that this time he was right, Elise felt heat creep into her skin. She averted her eyes and said nothing.

  “In the future, I’d be happy to help with any items that put you or the babies in danger.”

  She still couldn’t look at him. “Thank you.”

  “I mean it, Elise.”

  God, she hated this. Hated her lack of control. When she’d had things so carefully planned.

  “Then could you please hang this last section for me before the paste dries and clots?”

  The seam wasn’t quite straight when he stepped off the ladder several moments later.

  Elise didn’t say a word.

  “HOW ABOUT SOME LUNCH?” Joe asked, carrying out the last of the morning’s project’s supplies.

  When Elise only jerked her head in a nod, he stopped, paste container, squeegee and razor blade knife in hand and waited for her to look at him.

  “I wasn’t asking you to prepare it for me,” he added. “I’d be happy to take you out to the Levee, or anywhere else you’d like to go. Or to whip up some tuna-salad sandwiches.”

  “We’ve never gone out to eat on a Sunday before, and we certainly aren’t starting now. The deal was we’d eat together if we were both here, because it’s more economically feasible.”

  He didn’t remember being that succinct about it, but okay.

  “Well, we’re both here,” he said.

  She looked surprised for a second, then, “You put those things away, I’ll make up the tuna.”

  He didn’t really like tuna all that much, but he wasn’t about to say so.

  “I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” he told her. And as she was about to walk away, added, “Oh, and Elise?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I miss my friend. Is there any way she’ll be in the kitchen when I get there?”

  The long look she gave him didn’t bode well. But Joe was hopeful just the same.

  His friend Elise wasn’t there when he sat down at the round table in the corner set for two, but halfway through the chips and sandwiches as they talked about the new pay tech possibilities, Joe could sense Elise starting to relax.

  “Have you told your family you’re staying here?” she asked him, changing the subject. “I only ask because the phone rang while you were gone and it dawned on me that I don’t know if you’ve given out the number or what you’ll want me to tell people.”

  Complications bred everywhere. He could count on it.

  “No,” he said, and then, off the top of his head, “I don’t see any reason to tell anyone about our arrangement. Everyone calls me on my cell, anyway. Why risk speculation where there is none?”

  “I tell my parents everything—” She broke off, alarm on her face.

  “I have no problem with that,” Joe said quickly. “I imagine they’re good listeners.”

  “You think I’m strange. Morbid or something.”

  “I think you’re an amazingly strong and determined woman who believes enough in an afterlife to receive comfort from it.”

  The response awarded him his first smile of the day. “Thank you.”

  He felt better, too. A lot.

  AT SIX, JOE OFFERED to grill the burgers he’d bought the day before. Elise suggested that they eat on the enclosed porch off the kitchen and busied herself in the kitchen with the re
st of the meal. He might have felt claustrophobic with the domesticity of it all if the woman he was coupled with weren’t his business partner.

  They were working together for the good of B&R. Just as they always had.

  “SO ONCE YOU’D GONE THROUGH all the preliminary stuff and determined that this was what you wanted to do, did the actual process follow immediately?” Joe asked, slowly sipping his second beer while Elise finished eating. He never would’ve asked, but she’d brought up the subject, delineating the steps she’d taken almost as though it were crucial that he understand how carefully she’d planned.

  She needn’t have worried. This was Elise. Of course she’d planned. Hell, the woman would predetermine her dreams at night if such a thing were possible.

  And the trait was one of the things that he relied upon most heavily. Without her careful planning, B&R would never have been born, let alone grown into a company that could very well become public in the years to come.

  “It could have happened almost immediately,” she said slowly, “but I wasn’t too fond of the sperm bank idea—it seemed kind of like a crapshoot to me. I wanted a little more control over the DNA and heredity choice for my child.”

  If he’d been chewing he probably would’ve choked.

  “I assumed when you said you didn’t know the father, that…”

  “I don’t know whose sperm was actually used.” She finished off the last of her beans, put down her fork. “But I know that it came from one of the five men I interviewed and chose to help me with this. Each one had agreed, for a higher sum of course, to contribute sperm. Only the clinic knows which of the five they used.”

  “You’ve met the father, then?” Joe suddenly wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he’d been. Must be just getting stiff from the morning workout with Kenny.

  “Not in person,” she said, sitting back. “The clinic ran an ad, which I paid for, then referred the applicants to me. They all agreed to background checks—and to chatting with me on the phone. We also e-mailed a bit. I didn’t want the communication to get too personal, just enough to feel I was making an educated choice.”

  He supposed, once he thought about it, he wouldn’t have expected anything different from her. Control from a distance—that about summed her up.

  Or he’d thought it had.

  After everything he’d learned about Elise in the past month, he was no longer as sure. Beneath that calm, controlled exterior lived a woman who could throw up and pretend she hadn’t, hang wallpaper, and then visit her parents’ graves to tell them she had a new roommate.

  “I’m assuming they’re all either in college or are college graduates?” Not that it mattered. He had no stake in this. No real interest, other than seeing his partner through it safely.

  “No. But they all have goals and good work ethics. Most importantly, their family history is sound.”

  “Any of them married?”

  “I didn’t ask, but one of them said he was. He’d answered the ad so he could earn the money to take his wife on a belated honeymoon to Hawaii. Six years ago, it seems, they eloped and went back to work the day afterward.”

  “Did any of them have kids?”

  “Again, not a question I asked. These were potential donors of something I needed, nothing more,” she told him, her voice clear.

  No fatherhood involved, Joe translated, and wondered if he should feel sorry for the guys, for her, for the children—or not.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “YOUR DOCTOR CALLED just after you left. She wants you to call her back as soon as possible.”

  Elise, going over a multitiered proposal for the bankers Joe was courting, glanced up as he presented himself at her office door Monday morning.

  Keeping the fear he’d just elicited firmly under wraps, she said, “Fine,” and pretended to see the pages in front of her. “I believe the vendor expansion is a solid idea and is going to really benefit us, but we probably need to consider developing our own in-house HR department.”

  “Elise…”

  “I’ve been going over this Michigan Local Bank proposal. I’m not sure we want to outsource services such as recruitment and procedure and policy manual creation. Those things are too personal, too specialized, not to have day-to-day control over them.”

  Joe, every bit the successful and confident businessman in his pressed dark slacks, silk tie and expensive shoes, crossed to her desk. He stood over her, hands on his hips. “Call your doctor.”

  “I will.” She was glad he couldn’t see the sweat trickling down the back of her sleeveless cotton blouse—or what felt like a puddle of it forming at the elastic waistband of the colorful flowing skirt she’d put on because it was one of the few that still fit. “When you calculate the number of employee hours it’s going to cost us to provide recruiting services, particularly in the beginning with the start-up learning curve—”

  A large male hand came down on top of the report. “Now.”

  Elise remembered that he was giving up his personal life for several months to help her out of the mess she’d made of hers, and bit her lip.

  “Five minutes isn’t going to make a difference,” she said instead, “no matter what she has to tell me.” She refused to think about the tests the doctor had run on Friday, the various results they’d been hoping not to find. She looked straight at him. “I need normalcy somewhere in my life, Joe, and at the moment, here is about the only place I’m likely to even have a chance of finding it.” Her home was certainly not the safe haven it once had been. “Right now, I’d like to discuss business with my partner. You’ve got another meeting with Michigan Local this week and I want to make certain we’re equipped to support your promises one hundred percent if they sign.”

  He frowned, stared her down and sat. “Fair enough. What are you thinking?”

  “Tamara has extensive experience with policy and procedure manuals from her work with the National Organization for Association Management. She’s done all our background checks whenever we’ve hired anyone. I’ve had her handle the last couple of potential-employee interviews. She’s reliable, conscientious, works well under pressure and makes sound decisions. I’d like to promote her to head up an HR department, which, at the moment, would consist only of her with the promise to hire at least one assistant for her by the end of the year if this pans out.”

  The end of the year. Would she be healthy then? And, more importantly, the mother of four healthy babies?

  “Can we afford to pay her what the position would require?”

  Elise peered at the figures she’d run up—more than once. “You’ve bid Michigan Local at a four percent admin fee.”

  “It’s lower than most of our accounts, but the payroll’s also bigger, so it’d bring in more revenue overall.”

  “And still within industry standard,” she added. She hadn’t been complaining. “It’s fair, but just not going to support this department on its own. Nor should it. In order to make this work, we’ll need more companies using it, supporting it. And that’s going to take some build time.”

  “You wouldn’t have suggested this if you didn’t have a plan. What’ve you got in mind?”

  He knew her well. Today, Elise took comfort in that.

  “If we cut our personal monthly sales bonus by a quarter percent, we’ll stay out of the red.”

  “You can’t afford a pay cut right now.”

  She held up the report she’d tackled first thing that morning. “This is the best work you’ve ever done, Joe. We can’t afford not to give it every chance to succeed. We’ve worked a long time to get to this point. We’ve got the personnel, the longevity to make it happen. We’re ready.”

  “You can’t afford to take a pay cut.”

  She glanced down, swallowed. Started to feel the effects of the immediate worry her doctor’s phone call caused in the form of renewed morning sickness. She finally managed to say, “With you living at my house, I can.” Meeting his gaze head-on, completely serious, she said
, “You have to give me your word that you’ll be there till the first of the year.”

  If all went as planned, their salaries would increase considerably on that date.

  “You’re paying half the utilities, splitting groceries, and if I don’t have to hire any in-home care at all this year, I should be fine.”

  “You already have my word.” Joe leaned forward, both arms resting on the front edge of her desk, his gaze completely clear. “I already made that decision on Saturday. If anything happens to you, we could lose B&R. Case closed.”

  Elise was afraid she was going to cry. If nausea didn’t get her, her oversensitized hormones would. “I can’t stand being a burden.”

  “Hey.” Joe waited until she looked up at him—which she did eventually, reluctantly. “You are a friend, a valuable and valued partner. You gave me the means to make a dream into reality, covered for me when I showed up one too many times hung over after my divorce. You’ve worked long hours unceasingly for ten years, planning, developing, overseeing. You invested in this partnership, Elise, and now it’s time to collect a well-earned dividend.”

  She loved that he spoke in financial terms. They were as familiar to her as food and water—as safe and controlled as anything in life could ever be.

  “I’ll talk to Tamara this afternoon,” was all she said.

  “Good.” Joe stood. “Now call your doctor.”

  “I will.”

  He remained in place.

  “Right now.”

  He wasn’t leaving.

  “Just as soon as you go.”

  “Considering the fact that I have a sizable investment here, and a responsibility to oversee the outcome, I deem it necessary that I stay.”

  The man was going to drive her certifiably insane. Long before she had four crying babies to take their shot.

  He was also cramping her style, taking away the one thing she’d always had—from the time she’d woken up screaming in pain in an Arkansas hospital with no memory of the fire that had just taken the lives of everyone she loved—her independence.