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"Is this your daughter?" Tiffany asked Matt.
"My niece. Her name is Emily."
"She's beautiful."
"Would you like to hold her?"
"I would love to, if it's all right with you."
"Sure thing."
All right with him, Caitlyn fumed, as she finished stitching the seam.
Matt Winters had a way of enticing every woman he met into taking care
of the baby.
"I'm expecting myself," Tiffany said. "I can't wait to have a baby."
Caitlyn forced herself to concentrate on the dress and not on their
conversation. Fifteen minutes later,
she was done. The dress was
fussier than one she would have designed, but it seemed to suit Tiffany
and was consistent with her big hair, big diamond ring, and big need to
stand out. Still, Caitlyn thought something off the shoulder would have
shown off Tiffany's figure. Not that she'd been given the opportunity
to offer her suggestions. Like many of the women who visited
Devereaux's, Tiffany had wanted a big-name designer gown over anything
more personal, and it had been left to Caitlyn to make only basic
alterations.
It was probably just as well, Caitlyn thought with a sigh, since she
hadn't been able to complete one design in the last eighteen months.
Initial response to her first collection three years earlier had begun
to fade without any follow-up collections. She had the terrible feeling
that if she wasn't a flash in the pan already, she might be soon.
She simply had to get back to her sketch pad, find her creative muse,
and rekindle her dreams of her
own line, but first she had to get
Tiffany on her way.
"It's done." Caitlyn got to her feet and held up the dress for Tiffany
to see.
Tiffany put a hand to her mouth in awe. "It's spectacular, isn't it?"
she murmured, her voice choked
with emotion.
"Not yet, but it will be when you put it on," Caitlyn said softly.
"Do you really think so?" Tiffany asked with a hint of insecurity.
"I know so." This was the part Caitlyn liked best, watching a bride see
herself in a dress that captured every last one of her daydreams.
"Do you want to try it on one last time?" Caitlyn asked.
"No, I better not. I don't have the time, and I weighed myself this
morning and I've actually lost a
pound, so I'm sure it will be fine."
"All right." Caitlyn carefully placed the dress on a hanger and wrapped
it in a plastic sheath so it would transport easily.
Tiffany handed Emily back to Matt and took the dress. "Thank you,
Caitlyn. I'm sorry that I got crazy before. I'm just nervous about
everything being perfect."
Caitlyn simply nodded and smiled and shut the door behind Tiffany with
a sigh of relief.
"Do all your customers give you that kind of shit?" Matt asked.
She whirled around, her momentary pleasure fading as she was reminded
of why she'd gotten that "shit" in the first place. "All brides are
nervous, especially when their gowns aren't done by the morning of the
wedding. Now, I'll just pack up Emily's bag and you two can go home."
"Not so fast. I saved your butt just now."
"You want a thank-you—thank you."
"I don't want a thank you. I want a babysitter."
"No way."
"A couple of hours. I need to start some people looking for Sarah, and
it would be a lot easier if I didn't have to take Emily with me. Just
think, the sooner I do that, the sooner this will be a child-free floor
once again."
She had a feeling that arguing would only delay the inevitable. "How
long? I have to go into the shop
by eleven."
"No problem. I'll be back before you know it."
"That's what you said last night," she reminded him as he handed her
the baby.
"And I came back, but.. ." He sent her a slow, lazy smile that
completely unsettled her. "Did anyone
ever tell you that you look
beautiful when you're asleep?"
"I already said I'd baby-sit; don't push it. You better be back by
eleven, Matt. No excuses."
He hesitated, a serious expression on his face. "I can trust you, can't
I? You won't call the cops on
Sarah? You won't start thinking that some
social worker would be better for the baby than me?"
Caitlyn could tell from the expression on Matt's face that having to
ask such a question pained him, and she wondered what had happened to
separate him from his sister.
"Can I count on you, Caitlyn?" he persisted.
She suspected that trust did not come easily to this man, and she found
herself wanting to reassure him. "You can count on me. I won't do
anything without talking to you first."
His eyes searched hers for a long minute, then apparently reassured by
what he'd seen, he said, "Thank you."
When he was gone, Caitlyn let out a breath, suddenly realizing how
tense her body had become under Matt's piercing gaze. It occurred to
her that no one had studied her with such
thoughtfulness in a very long time. She'd have to be careful around
this man. He was probably better at uncovering secrets than she was at
keeping them. And that could be disastrous.
obviously different than Pacific Standard Time. In other words, he was
late again. Pacing hadn't accomplished anything, so she'd finally
packed Emily up, hopped into her car, and prayed she wouldn't get into
an accident on the three-mile
trip to the shop.
It was amazing how complicated things had become since Matt had knocked
on her door. To think she had actually been miffed that she hadn't
caught a glimpse of her new neighbor in the six weeks since
he'd moved
across the hall. Not that she was seeing much of him now, just his
baby, his darling, irresistible baby, who was reminding Caitlyn that
the future she'd once planned wouldn't happen.
Since she'd banished both her wedding dress and thoughts of happily
ever after to the bedroom closet eighteen months ago, Caitlyn had
managed to pretend that her life was fine, that she could live without
the things she'd always wanted most: a husband, a child. Women did it
all
the time. They found joy and peace in their work, in their friendships.
She could do the same. Only getting caught up in little Emily
was
putting that resolve into question. Instead of working on new sketches,
she had spent the morning watching Emily try to grab her toes with her
fingers. So much for staying focused.
She didn't want to get involved with Emily or Matt. She didn't want to
think about what her life would have been like if the bottom hadn't
fallen out of it. She'd put off thinking about that just about every
day of the last year and a half, no mean feat considering she worked in
the wedding business and was constantly faced with beaming brides and
anxious grooms, eager to begin their own happily ever after.
But she'd
managed—until now.
Caitlyn parked behind the store, glanced at Emily, sitting so happily
in her car seat, and sighed.
"You're going to be a big hit in the store. All those brides dreaming
of babies. They'll go crazy." She shook her head. "But it's not that
simple, you know. Sometimes life is complicated." She paused,
considering the circumstances. "Maybe you do know. After all, you're
here with me, probably wondering who the heck I am and where your
mother is. I'm wondering the same thing myself, because I don't know
how anyone could bear to let you go."
Caitlyn blinked back the annoying moisture in her eyes. "But I will let
you go, because you're not mine. You're someone else's baby, and I
won't forget that. You and me—we're not going to be friends. So
don't
get too comfortable, okay? In fact, you can call me Ms. Devereaux.
Caitlyn is only for close
family friends."
Emily gurgled a half smile and Caitlyn couldn't help but smile back.
"All right, you can call me Caitlyn, but that's as close as we're going
to get. And no matter how good-looking
or desperate your uncle is,
I will not let him talk me into any more
baby-sitting."
Caitlyn got herself and Emily out of the car. The baby squinted in the
morning sunlight, giving a coo of pleasure when the air hit her face.
It was a nice day, Caitlyn thought as she walked up the quiet street to
Devereaux's. San Francisco in the spring was usually cool and windy,
but today the breeze was mild and the clear blue sky dotted with only
an occasional puffy white cloud.
Her store was located in Cow Hollow, a neighborhood that had once been
rural. But today the streets resembled nothing close to a cow pasture.
The blocks were lined with old Victorian houses transformed into shops
and cafes along one of San Francisco's most popular shopping streets,
Union Street.
Caitlyn still couldn't quite believe she owned her own business. She'd
dreamed about designing wedding dresses since she was a little girl.
After getting a degree in fashion design, she had worked for several
clothing manufacturers, buf found herself doing more filing than
designing. Finally, a seamstress position with the wedding designer
known simply as Annabelle had opened up, and Caitlyn had spent the next
three years learning everything she could.
Although she'd enjoyed working for Annabelle, Caitlyn had longed for
the opportunity to create her own hne of dresses. That's when Jolie had
come in. Her cousin. Jolie Palmer, had caught her millionaire husband
in the back seat of their Mercedes with a floozy blonde and a pair of
pink panties in his hand. Jolie had gone on to divorce her husband and
divest him of a good deal of his income. Looking for a
new start, Jolie
had convinced Caitlyn that this was the perfect, time to starl their
own business, and
what better irony than to use her divorce money for a
wedding business.
Jolie was a big fan of irony and not at all romantic. She saw the
wedding business as a financial gold mine and figured she might as well
cash in on all those starry-eyed dreamers while they were still
starry-eyed.
Familiar with Caitlyn's lifelong dream, Jolie had suggested a retail
wedding shop with racks of gowns
from the top designers and a special
collection by Caitlyn. Touched by Jolie's incredible belief in her
talent, Caitlyn had jumped at the chance to do what she'd always wanted
to do, and together they'd opened Devereaux's.
Word of mouth, excellent service, and a booming trend in big weddings
had helped them turn a profit
the first year. Jolie's practical
business savvy and Caitlyn's romantic artistry had made a perfect
combination. They'd believed they were on their way—until the accident.
Caitlyn was beginning to realize that she could divide her life into
two sections, before the accident and after the accident, before Brian
and after Brian, before innocence and after regret.
Before the accident, she'd designed an entire spring collection and had
been ready to show it the following January. Then with the accident in
December everything had been put on hold. Not only would she not show
that collection, she would be unable to complete another design in all
the weeks and months that followed. She'd told herself it would happen;
she just needed to recover. But the days continued to pass, leaving her
with the helpless overwhelming sense that her dream was vanishing.
To her credit, Jolie tried not to nag. "There's always next season,"
she'd say. And Caitlyn always hoped that next season would be
different. That somehow, some way, she would find her passion again,
her creativity . . . her soul.
But it probably wouldn't be today, she thought realistically as she
switched the car seat from one hand
to the other and looked down at
Emily.
"Today, we just deal with you," Caitlyn said out loud, knowing even as
she said it that Emily was
another excuse in a long line of excuses.
Caitlyn could just imagine what Jolie would say when she saw Emily. It
would go something like, "Caitlyn. have you lost your freakin' mind?"
For Jolie, a thirty-year-old statuesque redhead with an hourglass
figure that drove most men to incomprehensible babble, was as blunt as
she was honest.
She'd grown up with Caitlyn and was used to speaking
her mind, even if her opinion wasn't asked for.
Caitlvn opened the front door to Devereaux's and walked up the stairs
to her second-floor shop. The bridal salon took up the entire top floor
of the Victorian, with bridesmaid, mother of the bride, and flower girl
dresses in the front, wedding dresses and three large dressing rooms in
the back. In a small alcove on the side, Jolie had also set up an
accessory business, with wedding favors, invitations, and a video
library featuring local wedding vendors.
Caitlyn smiled at a few of the women browsing through the racks in
front and headed directly to the large oak desk by the bay window thai
overlooked Union Street. Jolie sat behind the desk, adding up receipts
on her calculator. She didn't even bother to look up, so Caitlyn set
Emily's car seat down on one of the comfortable leather chairs.
"'Just a sec," Jolie said.
Caitlyn was happy to wait just a second. Emily was not. She took that
moment to open her tiny angel mouth and let out a scream worthy of any
horror movie heroine.
Jolie looked up in surprise, her eyes widening when she saw Caitlyn and
the baby. "Who is this?"
"'This is Emily." Caitlyn reached into the bag for the bottle she'd
prepared and put it into Emily's mouth, effectively ending her scream.
She'd already learned one thing—when Emily got hungry, she got mad.
Jolie stared at Caitlyn in amazement. "Who does she belong to?"
"My neighbor."
"You live in a no-children-allowed building."
"It was until last night."
"And you're baby-sitting?" Jolie ventured.
"For the moment. Matt was supposed to be back by eleven, but I'm
beginning to realize he's habitually late."
Jolie shook her head in bewilderment. "Are you out of your freakin'
mind?"
Caitlyn smiled. "I knew you would say that. You are so predictable."
"And you usually are, too. You 'houkl knr>w be'uv than to take care
of a baby,"
"Why?"
"You know what happens to women in their late twenties. The baby clock
starts licking off like a time bomb. Instead of concentrating on your
wedding sketches, you'll be dreaming about pink baby booties, and
you'll be impossible to live with."
Caitlyn immediately shook her head. "It won'! happen to me. I'm focused
on the business. You know that."
"So you say," Jolie replied, sending her a suspicious look. "But I
remember all those times you made me play house, so this dramatic turn
into career woman has me a bit confused. I thought maybe you were just
cooling off after Brian and
your broken engagement, but. . ." She paused. "You have changed,
Caity,
and I'm not sure I like it."
Caitlyn shrugged. "Everyone changes, even you. You're not the same girl
you were before Mark cheated on you."'
"Is that what Brian did to you?"
"I thought you'd decided to stop asking me that question."
"'I thought maybe you'd finally tell me. I've been very patient."
Caitlyn adjusted the bottle in Emily's mouth as she started to whimper.
"Do you think she's taking in air?"
"How would I know that? Unlike you, I've never been a baby person."
"I wish Matt would come back." Caitlyn checked her watch again. "We'll
only get busier as the day
goes on."
"Who is Matt again?"
"My neighbor. His sister dropped the baby on his doorstep late last
night. It was all very mysterious. And Emily was in trouble, so I
helped."
"Emily is his sister?"
"No, Emily is her," Caitlyn tipped her head toward the baby. "Sarah is
his sister."
"Sarah? I'm totally confused now."
"Bottom line, Matt didn't know what to do with a baby. It was after
midnight, and Emily needed someone to take care of her, so I decided to
help. She is beautiful, isn't she? Sweet innocent perfection."
"Speaking of perfection, your mother called this morning. You weren't
here, so she gave me an earful."
"Really? Why?" Caitlyn felt her whole body tighten at the mention of
her mother.
"She feels it's time you pull your head out of the sand and get on with
your life."
Caitlyn sighed. That sounded familiar. Her mother, Marilyn Devereaux, a
brilliant professor of mathematics, had never been one to let the grass
grow under her feet— or under Caitlyn's feet, for that matter. When
Marilyn saw something that needed to be fixed, she fixed it. It was
probably one reason why she was an excellent mathematician: every
equation in her life added up.
While Marilyn's motives were always born out of love, Caitlyn bore the
scars from most of those so-called repairs. Memories of the summer
vacation her mother had sent her on. which had turned out
to be a fat
camp, reminded Caitlyn of just how far her mother's obsession with
fixing could go.
"You don't have to say anything more," Caitlyn said.
"Brian," Jolie said anyway. "Have you checked the calendar lately? His
fellowship ended last week.
He's back, Caitlyn."
"Are you sure? I thought he might stay in Boston." Actually, she'd been
hoping
he'd stay in Boston,
because dealing with Brian, dealing with
everything that went with Brian, made her very uncomfortable.
"Nope. He called your mother last night looking for you. He was very
surprised you had moved out of your parents' house. Your mother gave
him your phone number, by the way. Is that all right with you?"
"I don't know," Caitlyn said helplessly, not sure how she felt about
Brian anymore, not sure how she should feel. He'd been a friend, a
lover, a fiance, and now he was . . . she didn't know what he was.
"Well, you better figure it out fast, because I think she gave him your
address, too. He wants to see you." Jolie cleared her throat.
"Apparently he wants to get your relationship back
on track."
Caitlyn sank down on the empty chair in front of the desk and adjusted
the bottle in Emily's mouth, grateful to have something to do so she
wouldn't have to look into Jolie's inquisitive eyes. "He's been
gone
over a year. How can he possibly think that he can come back and we'll
just take up where we
left off?"
"I have no idea what Brian thinks. For that matter, I have no idea what
you think," Jolie said pointedly. "The only thing I do know is what
your mother told me. Your parents are very excited to welcome him home,
and they're interested in having him work with them at the university.
He is the son they never had, and if you think they aren't hoping
you'll get back together, you are sorely mistaken. They want
you and
Brian, love and marriage, and the baby carriage. You know how the song
goes."
"Well, I'm not singing that song."
"Because?"
"Because I'm not," Caitlyn said firmly.
"You know you can shut me up with that, but your mother won't give up
so easily."
"Why can't she just let me live my own life?" Caitlyn complained.
"Because she doesn't think you're doing a very good job." Jolie leaned
forward, waiting until Caitlyn looked at her. "I'm surprised she gave
you this much time. And we both know that while you may have moved out
of your parents' house, you haven't completely moved on."
"I'm trying."
"Are you? Because there is that little matter of your blank sketch pad."
"That has nothing to do with Brian. I'm an artist. I can't create on
demand."
"My niece. Her name is Emily."
"She's beautiful."
"Would you like to hold her?"
"I would love to, if it's all right with you."
"Sure thing."
All right with him, Caitlyn fumed, as she finished stitching the seam.
Matt Winters had a way of enticing every woman he met into taking care
of the baby.
"I'm expecting myself," Tiffany said. "I can't wait to have a baby."
Caitlyn forced herself to concentrate on the dress and not on their
conversation. Fifteen minutes later,
she was done. The dress was
fussier than one she would have designed, but it seemed to suit Tiffany
and was consistent with her big hair, big diamond ring, and big need to
stand out. Still, Caitlyn thought something off the shoulder would have
shown off Tiffany's figure. Not that she'd been given the opportunity
to offer her suggestions. Like many of the women who visited
Devereaux's, Tiffany had wanted a big-name designer gown over anything
more personal, and it had been left to Caitlyn to make only basic
alterations.
It was probably just as well, Caitlyn thought with a sigh, since she
hadn't been able to complete one design in the last eighteen months.
Initial response to her first collection three years earlier had begun
to fade without any follow-up collections. She had the terrible feeling
that if she wasn't a flash in the pan already, she might be soon.
She simply had to get back to her sketch pad, find her creative muse,
and rekindle her dreams of her
own line, but first she had to get
Tiffany on her way.
"It's done." Caitlyn got to her feet and held up the dress for Tiffany
to see.
Tiffany put a hand to her mouth in awe. "It's spectacular, isn't it?"
she murmured, her voice choked
with emotion.
"Not yet, but it will be when you put it on," Caitlyn said softly.
"Do you really think so?" Tiffany asked with a hint of insecurity.
"I know so." This was the part Caitlyn liked best, watching a bride see
herself in a dress that captured every last one of her daydreams.
"Do you want to try it on one last time?" Caitlyn asked.
"No, I better not. I don't have the time, and I weighed myself this
morning and I've actually lost a
pound, so I'm sure it will be fine."
"All right." Caitlyn carefully placed the dress on a hanger and wrapped
it in a plastic sheath so it would transport easily.
Tiffany handed Emily back to Matt and took the dress. "Thank you,
Caitlyn. I'm sorry that I got crazy before. I'm just nervous about
everything being perfect."
Caitlyn simply nodded and smiled and shut the door behind Tiffany with
a sigh of relief.
"Do all your customers give you that kind of shit?" Matt asked.
She whirled around, her momentary pleasure fading as she was reminded
of why she'd gotten that "shit" in the first place. "All brides are
nervous, especially when their gowns aren't done by the morning of the
wedding. Now, I'll just pack up Emily's bag and you two can go home."
"Not so fast. I saved your butt just now."
"You want a thank-you—thank you."
"I don't want a thank you. I want a babysitter."
"No way."
"A couple of hours. I need to start some people looking for Sarah, and
it would be a lot easier if I didn't have to take Emily with me. Just
think, the sooner I do that, the sooner this will be a child-free floor
once again."
She had a feeling that arguing would only delay the inevitable. "How
long? I have to go into the shop
by eleven."
"No problem. I'll be back before you know it."
"That's what you said last night," she reminded him as he handed her
the baby.
"And I came back, but.. ." He sent her a slow, lazy smile that
completely unsettled her. "Did anyone
ever tell you that you look
beautiful when you're asleep?"
"I already said I'd baby-sit; don't push it. You better be back by
eleven, Matt. No excuses."
He hesitated, a serious expression on his face. "I can trust you, can't
I? You won't call the cops on
Sarah? You won't start thinking that some
social worker would be better for the baby than me?"
Caitlyn could tell from the expression on Matt's face that having to
ask such a question pained him, and she wondered what had happened to
separate him from his sister.
"Can I count on you, Caitlyn?" he persisted.
She suspected that trust did not come easily to this man, and she found
herself wanting to reassure him. "You can count on me. I won't do
anything without talking to you first."
His eyes searched hers for a long minute, then apparently reassured by
what he'd seen, he said, "Thank you."
When he was gone, Caitlyn let out a breath, suddenly realizing how
tense her body had become under Matt's piercing gaze. It occurred to
her that no one had studied her with such
thoughtfulness in a very long time. She'd have to be careful around
this man. He was probably better at uncovering secrets than she was at
keeping them. And that could be disastrous.
three
At half past eleven, Caitlyn realized that Matt Winters's time wasobviously different than Pacific Standard Time. In other words, he was
late again. Pacing hadn't accomplished anything, so she'd finally
packed Emily up, hopped into her car, and prayed she wouldn't get into
an accident on the three-mile
trip to the shop.
It was amazing how complicated things had become since Matt had knocked
on her door. To think she had actually been miffed that she hadn't
caught a glimpse of her new neighbor in the six weeks since
he'd moved
across the hall. Not that she was seeing much of him now, just his
baby, his darling, irresistible baby, who was reminding Caitlyn that
the future she'd once planned wouldn't happen.
Since she'd banished both her wedding dress and thoughts of happily
ever after to the bedroom closet eighteen months ago, Caitlyn had
managed to pretend that her life was fine, that she could live without
the things she'd always wanted most: a husband, a child. Women did it
all
the time. They found joy and peace in their work, in their friendships.
She could do the same. Only getting caught up in little Emily
was
putting that resolve into question. Instead of working on new sketches,
she had spent the morning watching Emily try to grab her toes with her
fingers. So much for staying focused.
She didn't want to get involved with Emily or Matt. She didn't want to
think about what her life would have been like if the bottom hadn't
fallen out of it. She'd put off thinking about that just about every
day of the last year and a half, no mean feat considering she worked in
the wedding business and was constantly faced with beaming brides and
anxious grooms, eager to begin their own happily ever after.
But she'd
managed—until now.
Caitlyn parked behind the store, glanced at Emily, sitting so happily
in her car seat, and sighed.
"You're going to be a big hit in the store. All those brides dreaming
of babies. They'll go crazy." She shook her head. "But it's not that
simple, you know. Sometimes life is complicated." She paused,
considering the circumstances. "Maybe you do know. After all, you're
here with me, probably wondering who the heck I am and where your
mother is. I'm wondering the same thing myself, because I don't know
how anyone could bear to let you go."
Caitlyn blinked back the annoying moisture in her eyes. "But I will let
you go, because you're not mine. You're someone else's baby, and I
won't forget that. You and me—we're not going to be friends. So
don't
get too comfortable, okay? In fact, you can call me Ms. Devereaux.
Caitlyn is only for close
family friends."
Emily gurgled a half smile and Caitlyn couldn't help but smile back.
"All right, you can call me Caitlyn, but that's as close as we're going
to get. And no matter how good-looking
or desperate your uncle is,
I will not let him talk me into any more
baby-sitting."
Caitlyn got herself and Emily out of the car. The baby squinted in the
morning sunlight, giving a coo of pleasure when the air hit her face.
It was a nice day, Caitlyn thought as she walked up the quiet street to
Devereaux's. San Francisco in the spring was usually cool and windy,
but today the breeze was mild and the clear blue sky dotted with only
an occasional puffy white cloud.
Her store was located in Cow Hollow, a neighborhood that had once been
rural. But today the streets resembled nothing close to a cow pasture.
The blocks were lined with old Victorian houses transformed into shops
and cafes along one of San Francisco's most popular shopping streets,
Union Street.
Caitlyn still couldn't quite believe she owned her own business. She'd
dreamed about designing wedding dresses since she was a little girl.
After getting a degree in fashion design, she had worked for several
clothing manufacturers, buf found herself doing more filing than
designing. Finally, a seamstress position with the wedding designer
known simply as Annabelle had opened up, and Caitlyn had spent the next
three years learning everything she could.
Although she'd enjoyed working for Annabelle, Caitlyn had longed for
the opportunity to create her own hne of dresses. That's when Jolie had
come in. Her cousin. Jolie Palmer, had caught her millionaire husband
in the back seat of their Mercedes with a floozy blonde and a pair of
pink panties in his hand. Jolie had gone on to divorce her husband and
divest him of a good deal of his income. Looking for a
new start, Jolie
had convinced Caitlyn that this was the perfect, time to starl their
own business, and
what better irony than to use her divorce money for a
wedding business.
Jolie was a big fan of irony and not at all romantic. She saw the
wedding business as a financial gold mine and figured she might as well
cash in on all those starry-eyed dreamers while they were still
starry-eyed.
Familiar with Caitlyn's lifelong dream, Jolie had suggested a retail
wedding shop with racks of gowns
from the top designers and a special
collection by Caitlyn. Touched by Jolie's incredible belief in her
talent, Caitlyn had jumped at the chance to do what she'd always wanted
to do, and together they'd opened Devereaux's.
Word of mouth, excellent service, and a booming trend in big weddings
had helped them turn a profit
the first year. Jolie's practical
business savvy and Caitlyn's romantic artistry had made a perfect
combination. They'd believed they were on their way—until the accident.
Caitlyn was beginning to realize that she could divide her life into
two sections, before the accident and after the accident, before Brian
and after Brian, before innocence and after regret.
Before the accident, she'd designed an entire spring collection and had
been ready to show it the following January. Then with the accident in
December everything had been put on hold. Not only would she not show
that collection, she would be unable to complete another design in all
the weeks and months that followed. She'd told herself it would happen;
she just needed to recover. But the days continued to pass, leaving her
with the helpless overwhelming sense that her dream was vanishing.
To her credit, Jolie tried not to nag. "There's always next season,"
she'd say. And Caitlyn always hoped that next season would be
different. That somehow, some way, she would find her passion again,
her creativity . . . her soul.
But it probably wouldn't be today, she thought realistically as she
switched the car seat from one hand
to the other and looked down at
Emily.
"Today, we just deal with you," Caitlyn said out loud, knowing even as
she said it that Emily was
another excuse in a long line of excuses.
Caitlyn could just imagine what Jolie would say when she saw Emily. It
would go something like, "Caitlyn. have you lost your freakin' mind?"
For Jolie, a thirty-year-old statuesque redhead with an hourglass
figure that drove most men to incomprehensible babble, was as blunt as
she was honest.
She'd grown up with Caitlyn and was used to speaking
her mind, even if her opinion wasn't asked for.
Caitlvn opened the front door to Devereaux's and walked up the stairs
to her second-floor shop. The bridal salon took up the entire top floor
of the Victorian, with bridesmaid, mother of the bride, and flower girl
dresses in the front, wedding dresses and three large dressing rooms in
the back. In a small alcove on the side, Jolie had also set up an
accessory business, with wedding favors, invitations, and a video
library featuring local wedding vendors.
Caitlyn smiled at a few of the women browsing through the racks in
front and headed directly to the large oak desk by the bay window thai
overlooked Union Street. Jolie sat behind the desk, adding up receipts
on her calculator. She didn't even bother to look up, so Caitlyn set
Emily's car seat down on one of the comfortable leather chairs.
"'Just a sec," Jolie said.
Caitlyn was happy to wait just a second. Emily was not. She took that
moment to open her tiny angel mouth and let out a scream worthy of any
horror movie heroine.
Jolie looked up in surprise, her eyes widening when she saw Caitlyn and
the baby. "Who is this?"
"'This is Emily." Caitlyn reached into the bag for the bottle she'd
prepared and put it into Emily's mouth, effectively ending her scream.
She'd already learned one thing—when Emily got hungry, she got mad.
Jolie stared at Caitlyn in amazement. "Who does she belong to?"
"My neighbor."
"You live in a no-children-allowed building."
"It was until last night."
"And you're baby-sitting?" Jolie ventured.
"For the moment. Matt was supposed to be back by eleven, but I'm
beginning to realize he's habitually late."
Jolie shook her head in bewilderment. "Are you out of your freakin'
mind?"
Caitlyn smiled. "I knew you would say that. You are so predictable."
"And you usually are, too. You 'houkl knr>w be'uv than to take care
of a baby,"
"Why?"
"You know what happens to women in their late twenties. The baby clock
starts licking off like a time bomb. Instead of concentrating on your
wedding sketches, you'll be dreaming about pink baby booties, and
you'll be impossible to live with."
Caitlyn immediately shook her head. "It won'! happen to me. I'm focused
on the business. You know that."
"So you say," Jolie replied, sending her a suspicious look. "But I
remember all those times you made me play house, so this dramatic turn
into career woman has me a bit confused. I thought maybe you were just
cooling off after Brian and
your broken engagement, but. . ." She paused. "You have changed,
Caity,
and I'm not sure I like it."
Caitlyn shrugged. "Everyone changes, even you. You're not the same girl
you were before Mark cheated on you."'
"Is that what Brian did to you?"
"I thought you'd decided to stop asking me that question."
"'I thought maybe you'd finally tell me. I've been very patient."
Caitlyn adjusted the bottle in Emily's mouth as she started to whimper.
"Do you think she's taking in air?"
"How would I know that? Unlike you, I've never been a baby person."
"I wish Matt would come back." Caitlyn checked her watch again. "We'll
only get busier as the day
goes on."
"Who is Matt again?"
"My neighbor. His sister dropped the baby on his doorstep late last
night. It was all very mysterious. And Emily was in trouble, so I
helped."
"Emily is his sister?"
"No, Emily is her," Caitlyn tipped her head toward the baby. "Sarah is
his sister."
"Sarah? I'm totally confused now."
"Bottom line, Matt didn't know what to do with a baby. It was after
midnight, and Emily needed someone to take care of her, so I decided to
help. She is beautiful, isn't she? Sweet innocent perfection."
"Speaking of perfection, your mother called this morning. You weren't
here, so she gave me an earful."
"Really? Why?" Caitlyn felt her whole body tighten at the mention of
her mother.
"She feels it's time you pull your head out of the sand and get on with
your life."
Caitlyn sighed. That sounded familiar. Her mother, Marilyn Devereaux, a
brilliant professor of mathematics, had never been one to let the grass
grow under her feet— or under Caitlyn's feet, for that matter. When
Marilyn saw something that needed to be fixed, she fixed it. It was
probably one reason why she was an excellent mathematician: every
equation in her life added up.
While Marilyn's motives were always born out of love, Caitlyn bore the
scars from most of those so-called repairs. Memories of the summer
vacation her mother had sent her on. which had turned out
to be a fat
camp, reminded Caitlyn of just how far her mother's obsession with
fixing could go.
"You don't have to say anything more," Caitlyn said.
"Brian," Jolie said anyway. "Have you checked the calendar lately? His
fellowship ended last week.
He's back, Caitlyn."
"Are you sure? I thought he might stay in Boston." Actually, she'd been
hoping
he'd stay in Boston,
because dealing with Brian, dealing with
everything that went with Brian, made her very uncomfortable.
"Nope. He called your mother last night looking for you. He was very
surprised you had moved out of your parents' house. Your mother gave
him your phone number, by the way. Is that all right with you?"
"I don't know," Caitlyn said helplessly, not sure how she felt about
Brian anymore, not sure how she should feel. He'd been a friend, a
lover, a fiance, and now he was . . . she didn't know what he was.
"Well, you better figure it out fast, because I think she gave him your
address, too. He wants to see you." Jolie cleared her throat.
"Apparently he wants to get your relationship back
on track."
Caitlyn sank down on the empty chair in front of the desk and adjusted
the bottle in Emily's mouth, grateful to have something to do so she
wouldn't have to look into Jolie's inquisitive eyes. "He's been
gone
over a year. How can he possibly think that he can come back and we'll
just take up where we
left off?"
"I have no idea what Brian thinks. For that matter, I have no idea what
you think," Jolie said pointedly. "The only thing I do know is what
your mother told me. Your parents are very excited to welcome him home,
and they're interested in having him work with them at the university.
He is the son they never had, and if you think they aren't hoping
you'll get back together, you are sorely mistaken. They want
you and
Brian, love and marriage, and the baby carriage. You know how the song
goes."
"Well, I'm not singing that song."
"Because?"
"Because I'm not," Caitlyn said firmly.
"You know you can shut me up with that, but your mother won't give up
so easily."
"Why can't she just let me live my own life?" Caitlyn complained.
"Because she doesn't think you're doing a very good job." Jolie leaned
forward, waiting until Caitlyn looked at her. "I'm surprised she gave
you this much time. And we both know that while you may have moved out
of your parents' house, you haven't completely moved on."
"I'm trying."
"Are you? Because there is that little matter of your blank sketch pad."
"That has nothing to do with Brian. I'm an artist. I can't create on
demand."
BOOK: Barbara Freethy - Some Kind Of Wonderful
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