by Mindy Neff
“No,” Donetta said. Since the veterinarian’s office was just up the street, it had taken Sunny mere minutes to cover the distance.
Tracy Lynn herded her forward. “Shoo. Give us room. We’re not discussing Donetta’s problems in the bathroom.”
Sunny and Becca reversed direction.
Donetta was getting that ridiculously weepy feeling again, and it made her testy. “I can walk, Tracy Lynn. I’m not an invalid. I’m just pregnant!”
Tracy let go so fast that Donetta nearly fell face first on the floor. She was spared that indignity because Sunny and Becca skidded on their boot heels and whirled around, causing a four-way pile-up. A pile-up that turned into a silent group hug, arms linked waist to waist, heads bowed, foreheads touching.
For a long moment Donetta simply drew strength from her friends as a vibrant current flowed through their circle of four. Then, her head still bowed, she rolled her eyes upward, and saw that Becca, Tracy and Sunny were trying to see past their eyebrows, as well—all of them focused on her.
She bit her lip and grinned. “Hey. How are y’all this morning?”
Becca was the first to recover from their huddle. “All righty, then. We need tea. And biscuits. I’ll brew. We’ll sit. Donetta, you will spill your guts—not in the manner in which you just did,” she said before Donetta could make a wisecrack.
Before Becca could move, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, then at the front window, where Storm was standing, surrounded by Jack and Linc Slade, Gavin Hayes, Colby Flynn and Jerald Randolph.
“My Lord, there’s a cowboy convention out on the very sidewalk,” Becca said, and lifted the tiny phone to her ear. “Storm—”
Sunny plucked the phone out of Becca’s hand. “Storm, this is girl talk. Why are you all pacing like—”
Donetta snatched the phone out of Sunny’s hand. “Storm…” She turned her back to her friends and to the front window, as well. She felt silly talking to him on the phone when he was standing right outside.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “That’s all I want to know. And what the hell is wrong with Becca, locking the door in my face like that? And then my sister rushing in…”
“Sugar, that’s more than one question.” She smiled at his frustration and leaned against a shelf of children’s books. “It’s just baby fits, and the bathroom’s torn up at the salon. Honestly, y’all are going to draw a crowd and have the media here if you don’t disperse. Tell Jack Sunny’s fine. Becca decided we needed a Texas Sweethearts roundup.”
Through the phone she heard him talking to the men, lying through his teeth about Donetta and Sunny being late for a meeting they’d forgotten about, then telling the guys he’d see them back at the salon. Static crackled in her ear as he shifted the phone.
“Why did Becca lock me out?”
“I told her to.” She waited out the silence, then faced him and walked toward the front of the store. He was holding a cell phone to his ear, scowling at her. The men had left. Only a locked glass door separated them.
She didn’t know what imp got into her, but she couldn’t resist poking at him. “Did anybody ever tell you how cute you are when you’re mad?”
He stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. Then his face relaxed into a really sexy, fun-loving, smile-with-me kind of smile. “No, darlin’, I don’t believe anyone has ever told me that. Thank you. I would love to return the compliment, but somehow I think it’d get that temper of yours stirred up.”
“Mmm. I like intelligence in a man. Admirable trait. Nice gene to pass along, too. Now, go fix my salon.”
“I’d rather take you home.” He didn’t need to elaborate on what he wanted to do with her at home—his tone was suggestion enough.
She winked, even though her heart was thudding. “I have my own ride, thanks.”
“Pretty brave with this glass between us, aren’t you, Slim?”
She kept forgetting that her aloof seductress act was no match for his masculinity. Darned if she would let him know that. Her smile was sassy, still flirty. “Say goodbye, Storm.”
“Wait!” He put his hand on the glass. “Will you be all right? They’re going to ask questions, you know.” His voice softened. “Do you need me?”
Do you need me? Oh, yes, she thought. In so many ways. She resisted the urge to fit her hand to his against the glass. So close, yet separated. That was how it would be for them. There had always been uncrossable boundaries between them, limits set by age or by distance or by her marriage. For her own peace of mind, the boundaries had to remain.
“I’ll be okay. The girls know about the baby. Will it bother you that they’ll know you’re…you know?”
“The father? No. But I’d have preferred to have a better understanding of our plans before my sister and your pals do. Think about it, Donetta. I’m standing on a sidewalk, talking to you on a cell phone, and there’s a plate-glass window and locked door between us.”
She had been thinking about it. And now she also saw what a master he was at disguising his emotions, because his green eyes tightened at the corners, a hot lick of anger escaping before it was sucked back under strict control.
“Storm. You will be the first one I discuss plans with.” As soon as she figured out what they were. “We’ll talk when you get home, okay?”
He nodded. “You’re going to go straight home and get some rest after this?”
She’d gotten out of the habit of accounting for her time, and for a hair of an instant, his question—which was part demand—made her spine stiffen. She shook away the defensiveness and nodded. Then her eyes widened.
“What?” he asked, alarm in his voice.
“Hang up! Here comes Miz Lloyd in her Bonneville.” She disconnected, reached for the roller shade hidden beneath the cabbage-rose Victorian valance and pulled the shade down right in his face. Tracy Lynn, Sunny and Becca must have seen the same thing, because they were also yanking down the shades of the front window. Becca got the Closed sign flipped on the door and the last shade drawn just as Millicent Lloyd wheeled her boat-size ’65 Pontiac into her usual diagonal parking space directly in front of Becca’s Attic.
“Well, that was close,” Sunny whispered, brushing at the springy blond curls that had escaped her ponytail. “Not that I have anything against Millicent, but after the commotion at your salon yesterday, you know Darla Pam will be racing here with her chops drooling as soon as she sees the Bonneville. She’ll have to make sure Millicent doesn’t know anything new that she hasn’t yet heard about. She was in the café last night after you and Storm left—Darla Pam, that is—flapping her jaws. Mama wanted to knock her off the stool.”
Donetta bit her lip and looked around at her friends, who all sat slumped as if they’d just finished a ten-K run. They shared a smile. “I say we lend Anna a hand—or some knuckles.”
“Let’s not be bloodthirsty,” Tracy Lynn admonished. “Donetta, you gave up that behavior when you were twelve—”
“Fourteen,” she admitted. “Kate Brinn. And it wasn’t a fight. I only bumped into her by accident and she fell head first into her open gym locker.”
“I knew it was you!” Becca said, letting out a peal of laughter. Everyone shushed her and listened to see if Millicent was at the door. Not hearing anything, Becca motioned toward the small room at the back of the store, which boasted four bistro tables with wooden chairs, and a limited coffee and sweets bar, and they all filed in.
“Having the fire department show up in the girl’s locker room to get Kate’s hair unstuck was so priceless,” Becca said, filling a plate with biscuits and scones.
Donetta gave an innocent shrug. “She called you a flat-chested ho. What was up with that?” Becca had a great body, but all four of the girls had still been virgins at fourteen. “I offered to cut her hair loose for her. I told her I was going to go to beauty school, but she wailed like a baby.”
“You might have shared this with us,” Sunny complained, laughing. “Kate g
ave every girl in school dirty looks from then on and claimed someone was practicing witchcraft. And since we’re on the subject of secrets…” She pointedly looked down at Donetta’s stomach.
“Yes, let’s sit,” Tracy Lynn said, ever the hostess. After nursing her mom through the final stages of cancer, she’d taken over as hostess for her father and his political entertaining. A position at which she excelled.
Becca put mismatched china cups and saucers on a tray, added the teapot that was steeping apricot tea and set the arrangement on the table they all sat around. Her short black hair fell forward as she bent over to pass out utensils. Maroon highlights sifted through the ebony strands, which slid perfectly back into place when she straightened. Darn good haircut, Donetta thought, admiring her own work.
Becca poured the tea, passed out the cups and sat. “Here’s to all four of us closing up shop before lunch. May Donetta make it worth our while.” They lifted their cups.
“Here, here,” Sunny said. “I didn’t think she could top Debbie Taggat’s haircut, but I stand corrected.”
“Debbie Taggat?” Tracy asked. “Isn’t that Drucilla’s dog? The little mop that shivers incessantly?”
“’Fraid so,” Donetta said, then glanced at Sunny. “If she came in needing stitches, it wasn’t from me.”
“No stitches. Worms. I just noticed the cute pompoms and recognized your work.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Sunny grinned and lifted her teacup. “Okay, now that we’ve given you enough space so you won’t clobber one of us for fussing, would you please repeat what we thought we heard you say?”
“You heard me. Otherwise we wouldn’t be sitting here pretending to drink tea like civilized ladies. I’m pregnant.”
“Is this a good thing?” Tracy asked quietly.
In other words, Donetta thought, well versed in reading her friends, how did she want them to react? Was this a commiseration party or a celebration party? They’d be on board for either one without a second’s hesitation.
She swallowed against the ache in her throat, placed her hand at her stomach and glanced at the women, who waited without judgment. It had been Sunny’s idea to form their Texas Sweethearts club back when they were nine, and Donetta had suspected it had been her friends’ way of making her feel she belonged somewhere. That day had cemented a bond among the four little girls that was still as strong as ever in womanhood.
“It’s a good thing,” she said softly.
“Hot damn! We’re going to have a baby to spoil!” Becca rubbed her hands together.
“Is the daddy in the picture,” Tracy asked, “or are you going the single-mother route?”
Donetta shoved her bangs back off her forehead. The three women beaming at her had burst into celebration mode as one. Small wonder someone hadn’t whipped out the knitting needles.
“This is the tough part. He’s in the picture, but…” She glanced at Sunny, then back down at her cup of tea as though the bits of leaves floating on top would tell her what to say. “But I’ll be going the single-mother route.”
“Why?” Sunny asked, the light of battle sparking in her green eyes. “He doesn’t want to step up to his responsibilities?”
“No, he does want to. It’s me. I can’t go through that again, you guys. I have my salon. My life was perfect—it can still be perfect with the baby, too. But I can’t tie myself to another man.” She wasn’t kidding herself. Her friends were dancing all around the subject of the father, yet they were all speculating because of the scene with Storm.
She had to admit it flat-out sooner or later. Dropping her forehead into her hands, she said, “I can’t believe I slept with Sunny’s brother!”
Chapter Ten
The only sound for several minutes was the jackhammer two doors away at her salon.
“Well?” Donetta finally asked.
Becca shrugged. “I’m fine with it. I’m just trying to picture it.”
“Same here,” Tracy Lynn said. “I had a little trouble with the brother issue until I realized I was casting myself in the role rather than you. Now that I have it straight, I think it’s absolutely perfect.”
“It does take some getting used to,” Sunny remarked. “Especially the way the two of you bicker.”
“You guys. It’s not perfect. And we’re not going to picture it or get used to it. You three have been the sisters I never had. You even shared your families with me. We know one another to the core….” She shoved at her hair. Lord, this was difficult. She didn’t know how to explain.
“Tracy, I know how desperately you want a baby.” Her voice shook, and she cleared her throat. “This has got to be hard for you, considering the timing.” Tracy had received the news two weeks ago that her in vitro procedure hadn’t been successful. “I just want you to know, I understand.”
“Oh, Donetta. No.” Tracy leaned forward, snatched Donetta’s hand and held it in both of hers. “I don’t begrudge you your baby.”
“I know,” Donetta assured. “I really do. You just want one of your own, too. And it’ll happen. But you’re going to torture yourself if ‘why not me?’ thoughts pop into your head, and you’ll keep it inside and feel like a guilty traitor and not want anyone to notice because you think it’ll make you look selfish or awful…and I’m trying to tell you to just don’t. Okay? Just don’t do that!” Donetta’s eyes filled with tears. She wasn’t sure who was more startled—her or the three women staring at her.
“Holy crud,” Sunny whispered.
Donetta gave a watery chuckle. “Don’t make a big deal. This hormonal thing is the pits, but you’d better get used to it. Tracy Lynn’s going to be cryin’ in her teacup before long.” Starting a family before she turned thirty was a promise Tracy had made to herself, something she’d talked at length about to her mother before Chelsa Randolph had died. Since she’d be turning thirty on Christmas Eve and she didn’t have a husband on the hook, she’d chosen to pursue her dream via in vitro fertilization.
She looked at Tracy. “I don’t know why in the world I ended up pregnant first, but I expect you to catch up. We’re going to throw you that baby shower on your birthday—regardless of how many stripes show up when you pee on the damn stick.”
Tracy swiped at her own tears. “What would I do without you guys?”
“You couldn’t do without us, so don’t even think about it,” Donetta said. “That’s what I mean about knowing someone. Most men only let you see the surface of who they are—except for maybe Jack with you, Sunny.” She glanced down at the simple wedding band on Sunny’s finger.
“We use our judgment,” she continued, “and intuition, and we usually figure them out sooner or later. But I’m a prime example that surprises can jump up to bite you on the butt. I can’t take another chance on what I see or feel on the surface. I need ironclad guarantees—and sadly, they don’t exist.”
“Are you saying you think Storm is like Tim?” Sunny asked. “That he would hurt you?”
“No.” She sighed. “That’s not the point. He’s a really strong guy, yes. And he’s assertive. But I’m not afraid of him.” Forgetting her up-do, she speared her fingers through her bangs and sent a bobby pin sailing. “I don’t want to get married again. I’m happy with my life—”
“You said Storm isn’t the problem,” Tracy interrupted, retrieving the bobby pin from the floor. She glanced at Sunny, then back to Donetta. “Do you not…like him in that way?”
“No. I mean yes.” She could hardly think straight. “It’s not that—”
Becca pounced, clearly determined to get a confession before the moment was lost. “So you do like him.”
Donetta slapped her palms on the table, rattling the teacups no one was drinking from. “Would y’all just listen? If anyone could change my mind about marriage, Storm would be the primary candidate. But Sunny just remarked about how we butt heads. We both want to drive the bus, and there’s only one set of keys.” She shoved the bobby pin back in her hair.
“Right now, our disagreements are mostly teasing. But what if we were together twenty-four/seven? Would the conflicts start to get old? Wear down our nerves and tolerance for each other? What if some weird deep-down trait surfaces that one of us decides we can’t stand and it becomes an irreconcilable difference? All of you would be forced to choose between us.”
“Like how?” Sunny asked, a frown of bewilderment marring her brow.
“Like Cindy did when I left Tim. You were there, Sunny. She couldn’t maintain a comfortable friendship with me and her brother.” The memory still had the power to sting. “Think about the strain it would put on the holidays. We’ve been one big happy family all these years. Friends. I don’t know a quicker way to screw up a friendship than sex and love. How about you girls? Sunny, you’re excluded from answering because you’re incapable of seeing past the newlywed stars in your eyes.”
Sunny rolled her eyes.
“Donetta has a point,” Becca said. “Don’t glare at me like that, Tracy Lynn. I didn’t say it was the right point.”
“So, what does Storm want?” Sunny asked.
“To do the right thing. But what is the right thing? A little over a month ago, I went to his place on an errand for your mom and somehow we ended up horizontal. The next morning, I said, ‘Yikes, that wasn’t smart. Let’s keep things on a friends level.’ He called me a few days later to make sure I was really serious about the ‘just friends’ part. Other than running into him on occasion at the café or the post office, I hadn’t talked to him again until yesterday, when he came in and locked me out of my shop and my apartment. Now, is there anyone sitting at this table who wants to wage an argument for love over duty?”
No one made a peep.
“I don’t need a man to do his duty by me. Especially a man I’ve loved all my life—as my friend,” she quickly added, kicking herself for getting carried away. “I just want everything to go back to normal.”
“Normal, except with a baby added,” Sunny said. “Mama’s going to be tickled. First Tori, now this baby. She can thumb her nose at Trudy Fay Simon, who’s always going on about her grandkids, and do some more bragging of her own.”