The Second Time Around

by Marie Ferrarella

  “You want to sit down first?” Christopher separated himself from her for a moment, bolting toward the row of counter stools on the other side of the island. He dragged one over. “Here, sit.”

  He wasn’t asking, he was telling. The next moment, when she made no move to comply, he gently pushed her down onto the stool. A thousand and one thoughts came rushing at her, all demanding equal time. Laurel felt as if she was being pulled in all directions.

  “I can’t sit. I have a dinner to get ready.” She slid off the stool. She’d tell Jason later. It felt good to savor the news for a little while. Like her own personal secret.

  Hers and Christopher’s, she thought, slanting a look toward him.

  “What do you need?” Christopher asked.

  “You’re actually offering to help me?” A minute ago, he was set to escape the second her back was turned. What a difference the promise of a female on the scene can make, Laurel thought fondly. Of course, this one was little more than the size of a peanut, but still, it was a girl. A female.

  She was going to have a daughter.

  Laurel hugged the thought to her as she felt herself beaming from the inside out.

  “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” Christopher warned, going to retrieve the frying pan she’d asked for before the phone had rung.

  She did her best to suppress her pleased smile. “Of course not.”

  But it was a big deal. A very big deal because by his very offer, Christopher had just forgiven her for being human. It was a very nice victory.

  Laurel took a breath, remembering the recipe. “I need bread crumbs, milk, a plate and a bowl. And oh, oil for the pan,” she added as Christopher placed the large frying pan on the dormant burner.

  With a nod of his head, Christopher went to the pantry and then the refrigerator, taking things out one at a time and piling them onto the counter. Curious, he looked at her over his shoulder.

  “Aren’t you going to call Dad?”

  “Yes, of course.” She glanced at the clock. It really was getting late—by anyone’s standards and not just hers. “But I think I’ll get the veal started first.”

  And then Christopher said something that really surprised her. “I can do that.”

  She tried to remember if she’d ever seen him do anything more complicated than pour cereal out of a box into a bowl. “Do you know how to bread veal?”

  “No,” he admitted ruefully.

  She smiled. At least he’d offered. “Watch and learn.” She poured milk into a bowl and shook the bread crumbs out onto a plate. Once she had the breaded veal in the frying pan, she could try calling Jason.

  “Um, Mom?” Christopher asked as he watched her dip the separate pieces of meat into the bowl of milk, then deposit them one by one into the bread crumbs she’d spread out on a plate.

  “Yes?” She turned each piece over twice, then removed it from the bread crumbs.

  “Am I the first person to know about the baby being a girl?”

  Her eyes met his. For a second, there was a moment of bonding. She could literally feel it. Just like the old days.

  “After me, yes, you are.”

  He nodded, watching the fillets as they began to sizzle. “Cool.”

  Very cool, she thought happily, looking up at her son.

  CHAPTER 25

  He brought Laurel flowers. Pink carnations because they were her favorites, although he had actually wanted to bring roses. Roses to him had always seemed to be at the top of the flower pyramid and he thought the occasion demanded roses. But the flowers were for her, not him, so he brought her what he remembered she liked, congratulating himself on being able to summon that small tidbit.

  “Jason,” Laurel called, hearing the door open and close, “is that you?”

  The next moment, she found herself wrapped in a fierce embrace and literally lifted off the floor. She knew flowers were involved, because she could feel them against her back and smell them as Jason spun her around the room.

  Laurel braced herself against his shoulders. “Careful,” she warned with a laugh. “You really don’t want a pregnant woman getting sick all over you.”

  “You say the sexiest things,” he told her, setting her back down. “These are for you.” He held the bouquet out to her.

  She felt herself tearing up and blinked hard to keep the tears back. Jason never understood tears of joy—they confused him.

  “They’re absolutely beautiful, Jason. Here, let me put them in water.”

  She stopped everything and went to retrieve the vase she kept on the bottom shelf of the pantry. The vase she hadn’t used since she couldn’t remember when.

  Jason leaned against the sink, watching her fill the vase with water. He felt like bursting inside. “A girl, huh?”

  Laurel shut off the faucet and smiled as she looked at him. “A girl.” Taking the vase over to the far side of the counter, she placed the flowers into it.

  “And she’s healthy?” Jason shifted out of the way as Laurel brought a spoonful of sugar to the vase and dropped it into the water. It was to keep the flowers fresh longer.

  Shifting some of the flowers, she gave the arrangement one last finishing touch and then returned to what she’d been doing before Jason came in. “Healthy as a horse.”

  He glanced at the tray of hors d’oeuvres and stole one. “A healthy girl horse.” Jason popped the tiny ham-and-cheese pastry into his mouth. “Just what I always wanted.”

  Laurel looked at him, a tenderness budding in her breast. For a moment, everything else was put to the side as she cupped his cheek. “You always wanted a girl.”

  Despite his teasing her about having his own baseball team, Jason had never been one of those macho men who had a driving need to stamp his image on a perfect miniature of himself. Never really cared about ensuring that his family line would continue on to the next generation. In his heart of hearts, he’d confessed when she’d found herself pregnant a second time, that if he had a choice in the matter, he wanted girls. When Christopher arrived after the third pregnancy, he’d adjusted to the idea that the only female in the house was going to be Laurel. And he was all right with that.

  But now all that was changing.

  He’d thought she was putting him on when she’d called him this afternoon. He was just about to go into a presentation with a campaign he’d spent the past six weeks working on for a new sports drink. His mind had gone completely blank once he had realized that Laurel was serious. By the time he walked into the meeting, he’d been running on such an adrenaline rush, he hardly remembered anything he said. Except that his presentation had been a huge hit. The client had just assumed he was high on the product rather than on his life. Contracts were signed, hands were shaken, and all Jason could think of was that, after all this time, he was going to have a daughter.

  He wanted to celebrate that fact.

  He glanced at the table in the other room. It was set for four. Not his number of choice right now. “Any way we can scrap this dinner party and go out, just the two of us?”

  Any other time, Laurel would have jumped at the idea of the two of them going out. It didn’t happen very often these days. But everything was all set. Her sister and Robert would be arriving soon.

  “Oh, honey,” she protested, “I don’t know when I can corner Lynda and Robert again without making it seem like a big deal.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “And that would make it awkward.”

  He picked up another tiny pastry and bit into the shell. “I take it that Lynda knows that this is a setup?”

  Laurel gave him a look. “She’s my sister, Jason. She’s not stupid.”

  Jason polished off the remainder of his hors d’oeuvre and brushed his hands together. “And she’s okay with that?”

  Laurel swept away the crumbs on the counter, fallout from his sampling, with the flat of her hand. “She’s not thrilled, but she wants what we have.”

  Amused, Jason raised an eyebrow. “College loans to pay off?”


  Laurel laughed, slapping his hand away as he went to pick up still another hors d’oeuvre.

  “The kids to go with those loans.” She moved the tiny puff pastries, spacing them further apart so that they still managed to fill the tray. “I think my pregnancy really hit her hard.”

  Jason turned toward the sink and rinsed off his fingertips. “I’d say welcome to the club, except now I don’t feel like I’ve just been torpedoed.”

  “And you did before?” He’d hidden that well from her, she thought.

  He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “A little,” he admitted. “I’m sorry I behaved like an ass.”

  All he had to do was apologize and she would have forgiven him anything. “It’s behind us, now.” God willing.

  “You’ve got to admit that at our age—my age,” he amended tactfully, “an unexpected pregnancy is not at the top of the list of things you find yourself generally worrying about.”

  “And there’s still nothing to worry about,” she assured him with a smile. For a second, she covered the swell in her abdomen with her hand. “We girls are doing fine.”

  Where was all this emotion coming from? he wondered. He could feel it welling up inside of him. “Can’t ask for more than that.” He kissed her forehead.

  Laurel smiled as she shook her head. “Oh, you can do better than that.”

  “Yes.” Jason locked his arms behind the small of her back and drew her to him. “I can.” To prove it, Jason lowered his mouth to hers, this time kissing her with feeling.

  “Get a room, you two, the product of your loins is coming through,” Christopher announced, walking back into the kitchen. He held one of his hands up against his temple, as if to shield his eyes.

  Laurel and Jason drew apart just far enough to break lip contact. Feeling incredibly content, she leaned her head against Jason’s chest and he closed his arms around her protectively.

  “So, what do you think about all this? About the baby being a girl?” he elaborated when Christopher said nothing.

  Christopher shrugged, doing his best to look nonchalant. “It’s okay.”

  Laurel knew better. Beneath that careless facade, Christopher was excited. She’d seen it in his eyes when he’d first found out that he was getting a sister. She looked up at Jason. “He has your gift of understatement,” she told her husband.

  “You got anything for me to eat before I head back to the dorm?” Christopher asked. He looked at the tray he’d watched his mother prepare earlier. “Or is all this for your guests?”

  “There’s always food for you,” Laurel told him. Stepping away from Jason, she moved the tray of hors d’oeuvres toward her son.

  “Hey,” Jason feigned indignation, “when I took one, you slapped my hand away.”

  “You took three,” she corrected. “And it’s because you’re one of ‘the guests,’” she reminded him. “You get to eat this in a few minutes. Besides, if we don’t feed him,” she looked affectionately at Christopher, “he might not come back.”

  Meanwhile, Christopher had worked his way to the refrigerator and was now stocking up on goods he planned to take back to the dorm with him. Arms full, he pulled out a bag from the bottom drawer and deposited his loot.

  “You think?” Jason teased, only to have Laurel smack his shoulder with the flat of her hand. He’d seen it coming and had braced his arm for contact, causing his biceps to bulge.

  He had the physique of a man half his age, she thought with pride.

  “That the best you got?” Jason teased her.

  She raised her chin. “I’ll show you the best I’ve got later.”

  Christopher slipped the plastic grocery bag handle over his wrist and put both hands to his ears. “Please, not in front of the children. And on that note,” he announced, dropping his hands to his sides again, “I’m out of here.”

  Christopher took two steps toward the front door, then stopped and looked at his mother. “Don’t do too much,” he told her.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “You always do too much, push yourself too hard,” he said, frowning. “Why don’t you take it easy for a change?”

  Her eyes were bright with humor. “Are you offering to clean up for me?”

  “I’ll send Morgan,” Christopher deadpanned, walking away. He shifted the grocery bag to his other hand. “After all, he’s the one who lives here.”

  “And so do you,” Laurel called after him. “Anytime you need to.”

  “We could invite Luke and Denise to come live with us, too. Run a modern-day Ponderosa. I can be Ben Cartwright and you can be Hop-Sing.”

  Laurel frowned as she looked up at him. He’d just awarded her the position of the cook on the classic program. “Hop-Sing?”

  “It’s the best I can do, unless you want to be Hoss. They didn’t have any women on the show,” he reminded her.

  She was aware of that. She loved the old program anyway. “They would have if I had anything to say about it.”

  He laughed, pulling her back into his arms. “You know, Laurel Mitchell, you are something else.”

  She grinned broadly. “About time you found that out.”

  CHAPTER 26

  The doorbell rang just as Jason was lowering his mouth to kiss her.

  He raised it again, a disgruntled expression on his face. “Your sister always did have the worst timing,” he muttered, releasing his wife and backing away.

  Laurel smoothed back her hair and checked the front of her dress to see if there were any smudges or traces of food on it. “It could be Robert,” she pointed out.

  “Hate him already.”

  “Stop that,” she chided, moving swiftly to the cupboard and retrieving a large serving platter. “Now be a good host and go open the front door.”

  “What’ll you be doing?” he asked.

  She indicated the dish she was holding. “I’ll be putting the veal parmesan on a platter.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain.” Jason offered her a smart salute before he went to see which of the two guests was at the door.

  She heard him open the front door, heard the soft murmur of voices exchanging greetings. But seconds ticked by and no one came into the kitchen.

  “Who is it?” Laurel called out.

  The exclamation of joy that sounded one step removed from a scream gave Laurel her answer. She placed the platter on a warming tray that was almost as old as her marriage. She managed to flip the dial to the on position just as Lynda and Jason walked into the kitchen.

  She looked at her husband accusingly. “Jason, you told her.” The single sentence vibrated with disappointment.

  “I couldn’t help it. She dragged it out of me.” He gave Laurel a look that was so innocent, it was comical in nature.

  “How?” Laurel wanted to know as she entered the living room, carrying the tray of hors d’oeuvres before her.

  Jason took the tray out of her hands and placed it on the table. “She said hello.”

  As she began to say something, Laurel found her available air whooshing out of her. She was enfolded in a fierce, warm embrace that threatened to decrease the size of her rib cage. Lynda’s arms were locked around her like a vise.

  “A girl,” she cried, beaming. “Does Mom know?”

  Laurel shook her head. “Not yet. I just found out this afternoon and I’ve only told Jason and Christopher—he was here when I got the phone call from the hospital,” she explained, in case Lynda wondered why she’d let one of her sons know and not the others.

  “Mom is going to be over the moon about this,” Lynda said.

  “Please, she’s too old for long trips,” Laurel quipped. “I’ll figure out a calm way to tell her.”

  “With Mom,” Lynda pointed out, her voice following Laurel into the kitchen, “there is no calm way.” Looking down at the platter, she helped herself to an hors d’oeuvre. She raised her head just in time to see Laurel’s reproving look as she walked back into the living room. “What?”

>   “I was hoping to keep most of the tray intact until Robert got here.” At this rate, between Jason and Lynda, everything on the tray would be gone before Robert arrived.

  Lynda seemed to debate putting the small pastry back, then applied their childhood touching rule—touch it, it’s yours—and popped it into her mouth. She grinned as the flavor spread out on her tongue.

  “Speaking of whom, when is he—” Before she could finish the question, the doorbell rang. Lynda froze, turning a lighter shade of pale. “Never mind,” she whispered.

  “It’ll be fine.” Laurel squeezed her hand reassuringly. Hers was warm, Lynda’s was icy, she noted. “Just be yourself.”

  “That product isn’t marketing well these days,” Lynda muttered, more to herself than to either her sister or her brother-in-law.

  Laurel hurried out of the kitchen to answer the door. “Say something to her,” she urged her husband as she went passed him.

  Jason suppressed a sigh and gave Lynda an encouraging smile. For the most part, he liked her, always had. She was like the little sister he’d never had. “Maybe you just need a new marketing area,” he told her, slipping his arm around her shoulders and very gently escorting her back to the living room.

  Just in time to see Robert Manning walk in.

  Like Jason, Robert was wearing a suit. Unlike Jason, he didn’t look as if he’d spent the past forty-eight hours in it, pitching ideas to his backup team and getting frustrated. On the contrary, he appeared fresh and crisp. And very dynamic.

  “Wow,” Jason heard his sister-in-law murmur under her breath.

  “If you like that sort of thing,” he allowed. Dropping his arm from Lynda’s shoulders, he stepped forward, his hand out. “Hello, I’m Jason Mitchell. Laurel’s husband.”