The Baby Interview

by Robbie Terman

  "Come along, dear. I'll sign your delivery slip."

  They walked back down to the kitchen. The door to the refrigerator was open, and as they entered the room, it shut, revealing Cole.

  Cole's eyes widened. “Lucy."

  "My new driver hasn't started yet,” was her inane response.

  "What are you doing home?” Nanny Hilda asked. “I thought you were going to spend the day at the office catching up on some work."

  "I was checking out property nearby, so I decided to come home for lunch."

  Nanny Hilda's head twisted from Cole's direction to Lucy and then back again. The corner of one lip lifted and a glint formed in her eyes. “Mrs. Simms is at the store. And there isn't much in the refrigerator. I have a great idea. Take Lucy out to lunch."

  "What?” Lucy exclaimed.

  But Cole just smiled. “That's an excellent idea, Nanny Hilda. How about it, Lucy?"

  "I don't think so,” she answered coolly.

  "You have to eat,” Nanny Hilda insisted. “It's only lunch. I think you two should go, so you can clear the air. After all, Lucy, your family has been delivering such beautiful flowers to us for years. I would hate if a silly spat put an end to that. Right, Cole?"

  Blackmail! But Nanny Hilda did it so obviously and with such a straight face, Lucy was hard pressed not to laugh.

  A grin hovered on the edge of Cole's lips. “Come on. It's just lunch. I promise. I won't mention ... anything else."

  "Fine,” Lucy agreed. It was easier to agree than argue with Nanny Hilda. “But you're buying."

  "Agreed."

  "Okay, then. It's settled.” Nanny Hilda looked more than pleased with herself. “Now scoot."

  Cole leaned over and kissed the older woman on the cheek. “I'll see you tonight."

  Lucy followed Cole outside where their vehicles were parked and stopped in front of her minivan. “Nanny Hilda is pretty sly."

  "Yeah. She can manipulate situations better than anyone I know. That's an impressive distinction in the Donovan household."

  "Where should we go? I should probably drive separately so I can make the rest of my deliveries afterward."

  Cole thought for a moment. “How about the Main Street Grill?"

  Her jaw dropped open. “Main Street Grill? For lunch? Heck, I wouldn't even dare go there for dinner. I'd need to take out a second mortgage on my house for an appetizer. I was thinking more like Coney Island."

  His eyebrows furrowed as if she spoke a foreign language.

  Of course, he didn't want to go to Coney Island. He might have to sit in a booth next to someone who didn't own trees that grew money.

  "What about Italian Village?"

  She had actually been to Italian Village a few times for special occasions. It certainly wasn't a place she frequented, and she'd definitely never been there for lunch, but she figured it was a fair compromise. At least she wouldn't feel completely out of place.

  "I'll meet you there.” Lucy got in her car and pulled around his BMW convertible. He followed her onto the street and around the curved back roads of Bloomfield Hills. After passing mansion after enormous mansion, they passed the city limits and entered Birmingham. The homes, although half the size and on smaller lots, were nearly as expensive as the ones on Cole's block.

  Behind her, Cole stopped at the valet in front of Italian Village. She continued past and parked in the parking deck. When she reached the restaurant, Cole was frowning. “Why did you park yourself?"

  "Because the parking deck is free for the first two hours. You just wasted ten dollars on valet instead of walking a block."

  "I think you're missing the point of a valet,” Cole said, his frown turning to a smile. He held the door open for her, and she preceded him in to the restaurant.

  "Can I help you?” the hostess asked.

  "Two for nonsmoking,” Cole replied, then turned to her with a look of concern in his eyes. “You don't smoke, do you?"

  She thought about lying and ending this baby farce once and for all. She could tell by the look of horror on his face that he would never consider a smoker as a surrogate mother. But the thought of even pretending to have such a disgusting habit sickened her. “No, I don't."

  "Good.” He looked way too relieved for her comfort and Lucy was about to remind Cole that this was no interview when the hostess saved him.

  "Right this way."

  She led them to a cozy table for two. When the waiter came, Lucy and Cole both put in orders for pasta and salad.

  "So,” Lucy started after the waiter left, “Nanny Hilda is a really nice woman. Does she still tuck you in at night?"

  "Very funny,” Cole grumbled, but laughter flickered in his eyes. “No, she doesn't tuck me in. But she has been more of a mother to me than my own."

  "Are your parents divorced?” Lucy asked, wondering if Cole had been raised mainly by his father.

  "No. My mother and father come from the school of parenting which teaches that raising children should be left mainly up to hired help."

  The thought was inconceivable to her. Before her mother had died, she and Lucy had been as close as a mother and daughter could be. She couldn't imagine not having those wonderful memories. “I'm glad you had Nanny Hilda to take care of you. She obviously loves you very much."

  "I love her, too. That's why I asked her to live with me when she retired. She took care of me when I needed her, now I want to do the same as she gets older."

  Nanny Hilda's comment about what a good father Cole would be crept back into her mind, and Lucy tried to force it out. She didn't want to think about it because it didn't concern her. Whether or not he would be a good father wasn't something she would ever find out.

  She needed to change the subject to something safe. “You must have been somewhere sunny recently,” she said and pointed to his dark tan.

  "St. Bart's.” The meal came, and in between bites he had her cracking up with stories about his trip. Had they met under any other circumstance, Lucy realized, she could have easily fallen for Cole. He had a quick wit and a dry sense of humor she appreciated.

  The joke was on her, though. Cole would never develop feelings for someone whose idea of fine cuisine was a Coney dog and a can of pop.

  When the check came, Cole paid for lunch. “I'll walk you to your car,” he told her as they stepped outside.

  "That's not necessary."

  "Maybe not, but I'm still going to.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and propelled her toward the deck.

  They walked the block silently. When they reached her car, she turned to him. “Thank you for lunch."

  "Spend tomorrow with me."

  Having never expected to see Cole—or his dimples—again, Lucy choked. “What?"

  "I have a boat on Lake St. Clair. It's supposed to be a beautiful day. We can cruise around, maybe go swimming if you feel like it."

  "I don't think so."

  "Please.” He reached for her hand. “I had fun with you today. The way my life is...” He looked away from her. “That doesn't happen very often.” He returned his gaze to her, his eyes penetrating. “Come on. Your flower shop is closed on Sundays, isn't it?"

  She knew how she should answer, knew she should distance herself from Cole. But his eyes were so brilliantly blue, so amazingly perfect—and so focused on her. She could handle this. She could spend time with Cole as a friend and nothing more. The baby factor really wasn't an issue anymore. She had made it more than clear that she wouldn't be a surrogate.

  She just had to keep her heart from getting involved, which should be easy enough. As long as she remembered that she and Cole came from two different worlds.

  "Okay. Pick me up in the morning."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  Cole whistled as he drove away from the restaurant. Despite what he'd told Lucy, he still had high hopes of persuading her to be his child's surrogate mother. The more time he spent with her, the more convinced he became
that she was the perfect egg donor for his child.

  He hadn't lied when he said he enjoyed spending time with her. Just the thought of seeing her again put a light in his day that usually wasn't there. One day, when his child asked questions about the woman who had given birth to him or her, Cole would be able to answer honestly that she was a remarkable woman.

  He just had to play his cards right. Give her time to know him better, to see what a great father he would be. And up the amount of money he offered. But until he was sure she'd accept, he couldn't let her know what he really wanted.

  Cole drove past his house and a mile down the road to the private street where his parents lived. He had a stack of papers for his father to review about some new property he wanted to buy. Two years earlier, on his thirtieth birthday, his father had handed over the reigns of Donovan Property Group with the stipulation that he would remain as an advisor for five years.

  Every time Cole was forced to consult his father, it rankled. After earning his MBA at Wharton and spending years learning the business, Cole knew he was capable of running the company on his own. But he wouldn't have put it past his father to hand the company to someone else if Cole had refused to sign the agreement.

  Besides, he didn't really have to worry about his father usurping his position. Jerome and Miriam Donovan traveled extensively, and it seemed like they were outside of Michigan more than they were in it.

  In fact, they were currently in England and Cole expected them home tomorrow. He wanted his father to have the papers as soon as he got home so Cole could make the offer on the property first thing Monday morning.

  He pulled into the long driveway and drove down a portion of the five-acre property to the large, sprawling house. Right away, he noticed his father's black Rolls Royce in the driveway. With a frown, he flipped on his PDA. His calendar confirmed his parents were not due back until the following afternoon.

  After switching off the ignition, he walked to the house with the papers in hand, wondering when his parents had returned.

  He let himself in the front door. “Mom? Dad?” A glance around the pristine living room didn't reveal anything, not that it would. With a full time staff, the house always looked as if no one actually lived there. Cole had never seen a speck of dust or a crumb of food anywhere.

  The French doors leading to the backyard were open and Cole stepped through them. His mother lay on a reclining chair next to the pool, shaded by an enormous umbrella. “Mother."

  Miriam Donovan closed a magazine, sat up and glanced back. “Darling,” she exclaimed.

  If she was happy to see him, he didn't know. Thanks to Botox, Cole couldn't remember the last time he had seen a real expression on his mother's face. Miriam believed that a woman didn't need to get older as long as she had money. Her auburn hair was dyed monthly as a preemptory strike against gray hair, her plastic surgeon was on speed dial, and even when she was out of town, she exercised a minimum of one hour a day.

  Cole gave his mother a perfunctory peck on the cheek, and then, sat on the chair beside her. “What are you doing home? You were supposed to come back tomorrow."

  "We came home early.” She rang the little bell on the side table and as if by magic, the butler appeared. “We'd like some cool drinks. And a cheese tray."

  The butler nodded and left to do her bidding.

  "Did you come home today?” Cole asked.

  "No, last Tuesday. It was so dreary in England! I told your father that if it rained one more day, we were leaving. Well, we woke up the next day to a torrential downpour, so we called back our plane to pick us up early."

  They had been home five days and hadn't even called him. It didn't really surprise Cole, but he couldn't help the tug of pain in his chest.

  "I meant to call you,” Miriam continued. “But I've been nonstop busy since we arrived home."

  Yeah, he could see how busy she was. “Is Dad here? I have some papers I need him to review."

  Miriam shook her head and lay back down. “No. He's having lunch with his attorney."

  "There isn't a problem, is there?"

  "Of course not, darling. He just hasn't seen William since we left for England. They have a lot of catching up to do."

  Cole bit back a humorless laugh. He hadn't spoken to his parents since they'd left town either, but he guessed their relationship with their lawyer was stronger than the one with their son. Their behavior shouldn't have bothered him. He was always second to everything else in their lives.

  But for once, Cole wished he came first.

  His child would be. Business, money, women. Nothing would ever be more important than his child. He had learned the hard way how much that sort of indifference could hurt. He wouldn't let his own child learn that lesson.

  "I'll just leave this for Dad,” he told his mother.

  "Mm-hmm,” she murmured, her attention already back on her magazine.

  As he left his childhood home, it occurred to him that only a short time ago he'd been whistling happily and now he felt like he needed a long run to burn out his frustration.

  He conjured up Lucy's image and some of that frustration faded. Tomorrow had to go well. Then he would be one step closer to achieving his goal.

  * * * *

  When Lucy opened her door at ten o'clock Sunday morning, she found a different Cole. For the first time since they'd met, he wasn't decked out in a suit. Instead, he looked casual and relaxed in khaki shorts, a blue polo shirt, and sneakers. To her dismay, he was even more attractive as Easygoing Cole than as Boardroom Cole.

  "Oh, good,” she said, ignoring the tingle that ran down her spine. “I was a little worried you'd be wearing your commodore's jacket from the yacht club.” Her tone was light, but in truth she had been nervous about what to wear.

  Last week, she had delivered flowers to the St. Clair Yacht Club, and all the women looked as if they had stepped out of Perfect Yacht Wives magazine. She couldn't match their designer outfits. Instead, she had to settle for denim cut-off shorts, a tank top, and her five-year-old red bikini.

  "No yacht club,” he said, dimple appearing. “Much to my mother's chagrin. I do have a captain's hat, though. If you're lucky, maybe I'll let you wear it."

  Lucy's stomach flip-flopped, but she fought any warm thoughts from invading her brain. This day wasn't about romance. That wasn't going to happen. Not between her and Cole. He had made it clear what he wanted from her, and it wasn't something she was willing to give. So, she was settling for just his friendship.

  And, okay, she'd never admit it out loud, but she couldn't wait to go boating! It had been years since she'd been on the lake, and she doubted it had been on a boat as grand as she anticipated Cole's would be. Most Sundays were spent in the flower shop office, working on endless paperwork. She rarely had a chance to enjoy a beautiful summer day with no responsibilities.

  But this was it. Today was the last day they would spend together.

  "Here. Let me take that.” He grabbed her beach bag and turned toward the car. She locked her front door, and followed him to his convertible.

  They traveled about forty minutes east and pulled into the marina. A guard waved them through the security gate, and they drove down a lane of large motorboats. “Which one is yours?"

  Cole pulled in front of a large, shiny white boat. “This one."

  Lucy bit her lip to keep her jaw from falling open. “It's nice,” she commented with a shrug.

  "Come on; I'll give you a tour."

  He helped her aboard, and then gently brushed past her. Dropping her beach bag on a cushioned bench, he took her hand. “If you go up the stairs,” he told her, pointing, “That's where I steer the boat. It's called the bridge.” He opened a door, which she had originally thought was a large window. “Down these stairs is the cabin."

  She followed him inside. “How big is this thing?"

  "Forty feet."

  It wasn't fair, she decided as she looked around the living room, that a boat had more expe
nsive furnishings than her house. Her feet sank into plush beige carpeting. A large white leather couch sat below a row of windows looking out over the water. Across from the couch were wooden cabinets and bolted on top was a large screen TV.

  She continued across the room and down two steps into a small kitchen. On one side was a built-in table with a fabric-covered booth. On the other side was a stainless steel refrigerator, and oven, sink and stovetop. She pointed to an extra small faucet on the sink. “What's this?"

  "An instant hot.” Cole smiled. “The water comes out at one-hundred-ninety-degrees Fahrenheit. It's perfect for making tea or coffee, so you don't have to boil water in a kettle."

  "We wouldn't want to have to wait for water to boil,” Lucy muttered under her breath.

  As much as she had been anticipating the outing, she suddenly wished she'd turned him down. She didn't belong here. The more time she spent with Cole, the more glaringly obvious it became that they were worlds apart. She wasn't seeing him again, she reminded herself. But it didn't make her feel better. She didn't want to be remembered as the poor girl Cole once knew who was in awe over all of his toys.

  As if sensing her discomfort, Cole said, “It came with the boat. I don't have one at home. Just an old kettle Nanny Hilda found at a flea market."

  She knew he was lying, but it was a sweet attempt to put her at ease, so she tried to loosen up. “What else do you have in here?"

  "This is the first bathroom.” Cole showed her the small room past the kitchen, which held just a toilet, sink and shower. “And this is the spare bedroom."

  She glanced in at the large circular bed on a platform. The bed took up most of the room, leaving just enough space for a small armoire.

  "There's another bedroom?"

  "Yes, on the other end.” He took her arm and led her back past the living room, then down another two steps into a large room.

  In the middle of the room sat a queen-sized bed, covered with a rich gold brocade comforter and several oversized pillows. Across from the bed sat a dresser with another TV on top. She walked between the dresser and bed to the bathroom and stepped in.