A Baby for Mommy

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

He flattened a hand over his heart. “I wasn’t going to try and rope you into it.” Dan grabbed a roll of paper towels and knelt to mop up the spilled paint.

  “Why not?” Uncle Walt argued, lending a hand, too. “If she can cook and she’s here and it’s dinnertime…Anything she makes would have to beat your cooking.”

  Dan took the ribbing with the affection it was given. “Thanks,” he said wryly. Standing, he tossed the towel into the trash and went to wash his hands.

  “It doesn’t matter who cooks—meals around here suck,” Tommy grumbled.

  Which made Emily wonder if the kids liked the food anywhere. “What about with your mom?” she asked, curious as to whether Dan’s ex had it any better when she had the kids. “What do you do for meals when you’re with her?”

  The room suddenly grew very silent. No one volunteered anything. Feeling like she’d plunged headlong into quicksand, Emily forged on, searching for information. “I gather meals are a problem there, too, then.”

  Another heartbeat passed. Then another.

  Walt cleared his throat. “Didn’t Dan tell you? My great-niece hasn’t lived in the United States since she and Dan split up.”

  Chapter Two

  Emily only wished Dan had thoroughly filled her in before she’d accepted this gig. If he had, she would have known this was the kind of situation that tugged on her heartstrings. And hence, one she should avoid. Now, more than ever…

  “Mom’s in Africa,” Tommy blurted out.

  “Keep up, will you?” Ava scolded, shoving her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “That was last week. She’s in China this week.”

  “Whatever.” Tommy shrugged, edging toward the back door again. “The point is, she’s not here. She’s never here.”

  Kayla picked at the rainbow-colored volcano she had built with her modeling clay. “Yeah, we wish she would come back to see us ’cause we miss having a mommy.”

  Walt grimaced. “My niece is a physician for the International Children’s Medical Service, or ICMS.”

  Which meant, Emily concluded, that Dan had full custody of their brood, with all the attendant joys and problems. As well as his ex-wife’s great-uncle. This was an interesting situation.

  Dan paused, his expression filled with remorse. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear about that.”

  Emily slowly exhaled, belatedly wishing she hadn’t asked a question that had upset the whole clan. On the other hand…what did the former Mrs. Kingsland’s ongoing neglect of her kids have to do with her? Nothing, she reassured herself firmly, since she didn’t expect to be here very long at all. This was Dan’s dilemma—not hers!

  Kayla tugged on Dan’s sweater. “Dad, I need dinner now!”

  Appearing frustrated he hadn’t made any strides toward solving his problem, Dan silenced the complaining with a motion of his palm. “Fine. We’ll order pizza.”

  “Not again!” the two older kids said in unison.

  Dan sent Emily a look as if to say, See what I’m dealing with here?

  Kayla stomped her foot. “But I’m really, really hungry!” she wailed as tears pooled in her eyes.

  “It’ll take at least an hour to get here at this time on a Friday night,” Ava predicted with a beleaguered sigh.

  Once a problem solver, always a problem solver, Emily thought. “How about I just whip something up?” She figured she and Dan could talk and consult while she cooked. Then she’d be able to take her paycheck and exit, before she got hopelessly enmeshed in the ongoing family drama.

  “Uh…that could be a problem,” Dan said.

  Walt nodded. “We haven’t had a chance to go to the grocery store yet.”

  “We only go on the weekends,” Kayla said.

  Emily knew people generally had more in the pantry than they thought. “Just let me have a look.” She opened the fridge and realized she had her work cut out for her. They were right—pickings were meager. “I can handle it,” she said confidently.

  “How long is it going to take?” Kayla asked, pouting.

  Emily was already assembling ingredients on the counter. “Twenty minutes.”

  “That’s faster than we could get a pizza,” Dan enthused with a grateful glance her way.

  Happy a meltdown had been avoided, at least for the moment, Emily took charge. “In the meantime I need everyone to sit down with a pen and paper, and make a list of your favorite foods, along with everything you dislike, as well.”

  Kayla began stuffing her modeling clay back into the airtight storage containers. “Daddy, can you write mine down?”

  “Will do,” Dan promised.

  Walt scrounged in the drawer next to the phone for pens. The older two kids sat down at the kitchen table. Emily filled a big pot with water and set it on to boil. Meanwhile, she chopped up half a pound of bacon into bite-size pieces and put all in a skillet to brown.

  “What are we having?” Tommy looked suspicious.

  Emily knew that to tell would only invite criticism and argument. “It’s a surprise,” she said with a firm smile. “Work on your lists.”

  Ava frowned and looked at her dad. “Can she do that?”

  Dan shrugged. “Looks like she already is. Come on, everybody. This is your one chance to have a say in what we’re going to have for future dinners around here.”

  His logic worked. Everyone got down to business, thinking, writing, thinking some more. By the time Emily put a heaping platter of spaghetti carbonara, green beans with almonds and fruit salad on the center of the table, the pages were filled.

  “Hey, that looks kind of good.” Tommy surveyed the fragrant pasta, sprinkled liberally with Parmesan cheese.

  Kayla smiled. “Fruit salad is my favorite.”

  “It smells incredible,” Walt said.

  Dan held out a chair. “Sit down with us, please, Emily.”

  She hesitated. Wasn’t this how she’d gotten into trouble before? By blurring the line between hired chef and family friend? “It’s not—”

  “Typical, I know.” Dan’s smile was as kind as it was chivalrous. “But these aren’t usual circumstances.”

  Emily still would have refused had it not been for the growling in her tummy and the fact that she knew she must no longer skip meals or eat at odd hours. For the next year and a half, she had to be as conscientious about her diet as she’d been the past six months. The future of her own family was riding on that. “All right,” she said gratefully. “But as soon as we’re done eating, it’s right back to business.”

  The serving platters were passed around, and then all was silent as the kids dug in. Ten minutes later there wasn’t a speck of food left on the table, and Emily had made plenty.

  “Wow!” Dan sat contentedly back in his chair.

  Walt agreed. “Incredible.”

  “I didn’t think I’d like that, but it was really good,” Tommy said.

  Ava smiled. “I liked it, too.” She bolted from her chair. “Anyone want coffee?”

  Dan and Walt nodded.

  They didn’t know how good that sounded, Emily thought wistfully. But seeing the label of the can, Emily had to decline. Caffeine was among the things she had to avoid these days, too. “Thanks. No.”

  “So are you going to come and cook for us all the time?” Kayla propped her chin on her upraised hand and searched Emily’s face. “’Cause I would be really, really, really happy if you did.”

  FOR A SECOND, DAN NOTED, Emily looked almost tempted. Then she seemed to catch herself. A hint of sadness and regret flashed in her eyes. “Oh, honey…” she began.

  Dan knew she was about to decline.

  Across the room, a burst of salsa music radiated from inside her shoulder bag.

  Emily rose in relief, all business once again. “I apologize, but I’m really going to have to get that. I’ve been waiting for a call from my Realtor all day.” Phone to her ear, Emily ducked out of the kitchen gracefully and walked toward the front foyer.

  “You kids are on for dishes,�
� Dan said. “Kayla, you clear, Ava, load the dishwasher, Tommy, wipe down the table and counters and take out the trash.”

  For once, there was no grumbling as the kids rose from the table. Maybe, Dan surmised, it was because they were all full, and hence, content—at least as far as their tummies went. Emotionally, well, it was hard to fix the absence of a mom in their lives without getting involved again, and that was something he did not want to do. His life was too complicated and busy as it was.

  From the hall, Emily’s voice rose in agitation.

  “They can’t do that, can they? I just got the okay on my mortgage application!” She sounded distraught. “Of course I can’t match that! At least tell me who did this. Tex Ostrander!”

  Who was Tex? Dan wondered.

  Obviously the guy had some emotional connection to Emily.

  Abruptly her voice cut off. Became calm and professional. “Yes. I understand. I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

  “Wonder what’s happening there?” Tommy asked beneath his breath.

  Dan wondered, too, as did everyone else in his family.

  Emily strode back into the kitchen. Tears of frustration glimmered in her eyes. “Sorry about that,” she said in a choked voice. “I just got some really bad news.” She rubbed her hand across her forehead. “Would you mind if I took your lists home tonight, studied them…and then came back again to talk to you about my suggestions?”

  “Of course it’s fine.” Dan moved toward her. “I’ll walk you out.”

  He waited until they reached her car, then said, “Is there anything I can do?”

  Her lower lip trembling, Emily leaned against her van and turned her glance away. “Not unless you can magically buy back the Fredericksburg orchard my family owned when I was growing up.” Sighing, she pushed her hand through her mahogany hair and turned her gaze to his, clearly needing to vent. “It went up for sale a few months ago. As soon as I heard, I talked to the owners. Told them I wanted it, put some earnest money down and started saving for the full down payment.”

  Emily swallowed and gestured ineffectually. “I mean, I knew technically that, until I secured a mortgage and made the full down payment, the owners could still receive a higher bid, though I had the right to match it—it’s written into their contract with me. But I didn’t really think someone would come along and offer to pay in cash—never mind my ex-fiancé!” she finished, enraged.

  Dan blinked. “Your ex-fiancé just bought the orchard out from under you?”

  Emily clamped her arms in front of her, the action delineating the fullness of her breasts. “He outbid me by ten percent.”

  Dan studied her defensive posture. “You can’t match his bid?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Emily moved away from the van and began to pace, her hips moving provocatively beneath the loose-fitting black trousers. “I was stretching it as it was.”

  Silence fell between them.

  Clearly still struggling to get her emotions under control, Emily rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “The good news is since my contract with the owner is now null and void, I’ll get my earnest money back, but I’m out an orchard and a mortgage application fee.”

  Dan held her gaze. “Why would he do that?”

  Emily threw up her hands. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen Tex Ostrander since we broke up, and that was ten years ago.”

  “He knew you were buying the place?” Dan prodded, remembering how soft and silky her hands felt, despite the fact she worked with them all day.

  Emily scowled and gave Dan a measuring glance. “Apparently his parents are retiring and he’s decided to buy them out and move back to the area, too. If he owns both properties—the two orchards are located side by side—he’ll have the biggest peach crop in the area.”

  And that was saying something, Dan knew, since Fredericksburg, Texas, was famous for its stellar peach crop.

  Dan closed the distance between them. “So what does this mean about your move back to the area where you grew up?”

  “I don’t know.” Emily exhaled in frustration. “My Realtor said I’m still approved for a mortgage and the bank has agreed to transfer that approval to another property.”

  Dan hated to see anyone lose out on a dream—particularly a deeply held one. “Maybe you could purchase another orchard,” he suggested kindly.

  Her lips parted as she looked up at him. “There aren’t any other orchards for sale in the area, and besides, I didn’t want any of those—I wanted the one my parents owned when I grew up.” She kicked at the concrete drive with the toe of her boot, and Dan tried not to notice how nice she looked in profile. “I had plans to bring it back to its former glory. To…Well, never mind. It’s not going to happen now.” Her voice rang with disappointment. She fell silent, a morose expression on her face.

  Wishing he had a way to comfort her, Dan asked, “So what now?”

  Emily sighed. “It puts my plans to leave Fort Worth on hold for now. Which really sucks. Because it’s the holidays, and thinking I’d be in the hill country, I turned down all these gigs I could have had.”

  Dan knew that catering businesses thrived during the holiday season. “There’s still one you could have,” he said. He resisted the urge to take her hand in both of his. “And I promise you, it will pay better than you ever dreamed.”

  “YOU OFFERED HER A JOB, just like that?” Walt said later that same evening when Dan filled him in on what had transpired. “Without doing a background check and getting references?”

  Dan loved his ex-wife’s uncle. He’d been a lifesaver the past couple years—but sometimes his negativity rankled. “Stop thinking like a private investigator.”

  Walt looked up from the game of Internet chess he was playing. “I’m the first to admit that the meal she made was wonderful. But we’re talking about your kids here. Your home.”

  Dan frowned at the thought of any delay in getting things back on track at mealtime. “She was great with the kids.”

  As by the book as ever, Walt countered, “At least have her fill out an application—and let me talk to some of the people she’s worked for in the past.”

  “First of all, Grady’s wife has already vouched for her character. Apparently Emily has regularly catered events for the company where Alexis works. Her terrific performance is what led Grady to hire Emily for the lunch yesterday. Second, I don’t think Emily has done a job like this before.”

  “The point is—” Walt’s brow furrowed as he took in his Internet opponent’s next move “—you don’t know.”

  Dan recalled Emily’s enviable ability to bring serenity even to the chaos that had ensued upon her arrival. “I don’t want to blow it. Dinner tonight was the first conflict-free meal we’ve had in years around here.”

  Walt made his move with a thoughtful scowl. “Still not enough reason to hire Ms. Stayton without due diligence.”

  “Walt, I appreciate your sentiments. As a private investigator, you’ve seen things I could never even imagine. But I trust Emily Stayton.” On a gut level, Dan amended silently. “And the decision is made. I want her to be our cook. Not a housekeeper, just our personal chef, for however long we can manage to get her.” Hopefully in the interim he’d be able to figure out how to get Emily to come to work for them full-time. “And I don’t want you doing anything to interfere with that.”

  Walt turned his attention back to the computer screen. “You ask me,” he grumbled, “you’re making a mistake.”

  “I didn’t ask,” Dan stated flatly.

  Still, he couldn’t help thinking about it as the night wore on.

  He couldn’t explain it. He just knew, on some deep fundamental level, that Emily Stayton was The One to help solve his family’s problems. And Dan never discounted his instincts when they were that strong.

  EMILY HAD PROMISED TO CONTINUE the consultation at nine Saturday morning. She arrived right on time. Dan went to answer the door and found her standing on the porch, much as she had the even
ing before—with one difference. Instead of looking pink-cheeked and healthy, she looked a little green around the gills.

  “Are you okay?” Dan asked.

  Emily swallowed hard, waved a vague hand, even as she moved past him. “It’ll pass.”

  What will pass? “Are you sick?”

  “Oh. No. I…I…Bathroom?” Her words were more a command for direction than a request.

  Able to see what was about to happen, Dan hastened down the hall and opened the door. “In here.”

  Simultaneously hitting the light and the fan, she barreled past him and slammed the door. The unmistakable sounds of retching followed.

  The kids came tromping down the stairs at the commotion. “What’s going on?”

  “Is someone…?”

  “Ohhh.” Tommy, Ava and Kayla looked at one another in recognition.

  “Go upstairs,” Dan ordered. “I’ll call you.”

  They bolted, as was usually the case, when illness that might involve icky cleanup was involved.

  “See?” Walt said, passing with his stiff-hipped gait. “You don’t know everything about her. For all you know, she’s got a problem that will leave her unable to do mornings—”

  “Actually…” The door opened and Emily stepped out, still looking pale and shaky. She leaned weakly against the door frame. “Walt could be right.”

  Walt looked at Dan. “I’ll leave you to handle this.” He went into the study and shut the door behind him.

  Dan guided her into the kitchen and onto a stool at the counter. “Can I get you something?” he solicited kindly. “Water? Stomach med?”

  Emily regarded him gratefully. “Maybe a glass of ginger ale or a soda cracker if you have it,” she said.

  Dan paused.

  Their eyes met.

  As he worked to fulfill her request, he began to put two and two together.

  “I’m pregnant,” Emily said, flashing a guilty-as-charged smile.

  Hence the loose-fitting shirts she wore, the fullness of her breasts in comparison to her slender figure.

  “Congratulations!” Dan handed her a ginger ale and pack of crackers.