Firefighter Daddy (6 page)

Paige had desperately wanted to start a family since the day she got married—even before that, actually. Her husband had insisted they wait, and it was a good thing they had because he’d moved out a couple of months ago.

“I’m sure you and Dan will work everything out,” Maria said.

Paige shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Poor Paige. Rory could tell she was trying to be stoic, but anyone could see she was hurting. “Have you talked to him lately?”

“He called last week to tell me he wants a divorce. He thought he should let me know so I could talk to a lawyer.”

The jerk,
Rory thought, but she kept it to herself.

Jess was less subtle. She made a fist and punched her other palm with it. “You want me to have a talk with him?” Her dress shifted a little and she quickly crossed her arms again.

“You should talk to Nicola,” Maria said.

“She already has,” Nic assured them. “I’ve set her up with an excellent lawyer in our firm. Suffice to say, Danny Boy won’t know what hit him.”

Jess was undeterred. “I’ll still be glad to have a little chat with him.”

Paige laughed. “Thanks…I think…but there’s no need. Everything is under control.” For a woman who’d wanted to get married and start a family more than anything else in the world, Paige seemed awfully matter-of-fact about the end of a marriage that had lasted less than two years.

Rhoda politely but firmly cut into their conversation. “Ladies, I can’t fit this dress unless this one holds still. Now, arms down at your sides please.”

Jess slowly lowered her arms. She looked as though she expected the dress to slither down her slender body, but it stayed where it was.

“I’d like Jess to stay in her dress so I can see her and Rory together. I’d like to figure out how we should do your hair.”

“Good idea.” Rhoda brought out Rory’s dress and hung it in the fitting room.

Rory carried her tote bag into the cubicle, quickly undressed and shimmied into the dress. She sat on a softly padded chair, blue taffeta rustling around her as she buckled the narrow straps of her shoes.

“Will you be wearing heels?” Rhoda was asking Jess as Rory stepped out of the dressing room.

Nicola shot Jess a pointed look. “Yes, she will.”

The seamstress knelt on the edge of the dais and measured the excess hem. “Very good. If you wear at least a three-inch heel, we won’t have to shorten the dress.”

Jess’s eyebrows reacted, but before she could object, Rhoda stood and shifted her attention to the top of the dress. “Now this is a different matter. You’ll need a strapless bra, and maybe some gel inserts would help—”

“Excuse me?” Jess looked as though she’d like to strangle the woman with her own measuring tape.

Rory drew her lips between her teeth and pressed them together to stop the grin. Jess didn’t need any encouragement.

Paige gazed across the store as though something had just caught her attention.

Maria looked down at her belly.

Nicola was staring straight at Jess’s bustline. Or lack thereof. “That’s actually a good idea.”

“They’ll give the dress some shape. I’ll show you.” Rhoda disappeared into an office and emerged half a minute later with two pale pink imitation breasts, one in each hand. “They’re comfortable and natural-looking—”

“And they are
not
getting stuffed in here,” Jess said, using her two index fingers to indicate where the fake breasts weren’t going.

Maria’s dark eyes sparkled. “A little extra boobage can’t hurt.”

Jess glared at her.

Rory finally gave in and laughed out loud. The seamstress looked disappointed, but she handed the inserts to Nicola and slid her measuring tape off her neck. “All right, then. Arms up and out to the side so I can take this measurement.”

Jess complied, then craned her neck in an attempt to see what the woman was writing on her clipboard.

Rory’s 34B seemed to do the job quite nicely. She didn’t know what Jess’s bra size was, and until now she hadn’t known her friend was so sensitive about it. Jess had always been the tomboy of the group, and the oversize men’s dress shirts she usually wore did an admirable job of hiding her modest assets.

“This blue is perfect for you blondes and redheads,” the seamstress said. Rory wasn’t sure anyone else would agree. What Nic had described as periwinkle had turned out to be a startlingly bright electric blue, and the shiny taffeta fabric seemed to grab every particle of light in the room and reflect it back at ten times its original amplitude.
If light rays had amplitude,
she thought absently. Whatever they had, these were the bluest dresses she had ever seen.

And Jess had been right about the poofiness, an effect created by big tucks and gathers that Rhoda referred to as ruching. Rory didn’t know what Nicola saw when she looked at these dresses—maybe in her soon-to-be-wedded bliss she was seeing them through rose-colored glasses—but Rory knew someone who would fall completely in love with hers.

Miranda. After this wedding, they would have three dress-up options.

While the seamstress took measurements and marked the dress where alterations were needed, Rory’s mind drifted back over the things Betsy had said. Mitch’s marriage had been very traditional, and his wife had been a full-time mom. Had she played dress-up with their daughter?

“Rory?” Nicola asked.

“Hm?”

“I was agreeing that this is a great color for the two of you.”

“Sorry. I must’ve been daydreaming.”

“Now that I see the two of you in your dresses, I think you should both wear your hair down. Do you mind?” she asked, reaching for Jess’s ponytail.

Jess made a face but otherwise didn’t object. She never wore her hair down, but since this would be Nic’s day, she could call the shots. “We can pull your hair back off your face, like this,” she said, demonstrating what she had in mind, “and have a cascade of curls down your back. Maria? Paige? What do you think?”

“They’re tall and thin and gorgeous,” Maria said. “Like a pair of supermodels.”

Paige took off her glasses and wiped them with the bottom edge of her sweater. “I think I should have tried to lose weight before the wedding.”

“Nonsense,” Maria said. “You’re gorgeous, too. All soft curves and voluptuous. Lots of men love that. I will admit, though, that when I was a teenager, I would have given just about anything to look like these two. Now all I want is a waistline.”

“I’ve never seen a more radiant mother-to-be,” Paige said. “In a few months you’ll have a waistline
and
a beautiful baby. If it’s a girl, she’ll be a raven-haired beauty like her mom.”

“Your time will come,” Maria assured her.

Paige pouted. “Not at the rate I’m going.”

“After the baby’s born, I’ll let you babysit. You can invite Dan over to talk, he’ll take one look at you with a baby in your arms, and he’ll change his mind.”

Seriously? Rory thought looking after a baby might be the best birth control ever invented.

The seamstress knelt to check the length of Rory’s dress. “Are these the shoes you’ll be wearing?” she asked.

“These or something similar.” Since she had to take Jess shoe-shopping, she might as well look for a new pair, too.

Nicola lifted the edge of the voluminous skirt and studied Rory’s silver high-heeled sandals. “They’re perfect. I hope Jess can find a pair like these.”

“I can’t walk in heels like that!”

“Jess, you’re one of my best friends and you know I love you, but you’re
not
wearing sneakers to my wedding.”

“What if I buy new ones?” Jess asked. “Blue ones?”

Nicola laughed at the joke, but Rory suspected Jess was only half kidding. “Rory has already agreed to take you shoe-shopping. Unless you’d rather go with me.”

Jess’s eyes widened in mock horror. “No!” Grinning, she hitched up the hem of her dress, uncovered one sneaker, and planted her foot next to Rory’s. “Our tastes are so similar.”

Typical Jess. She loved having the last word as much as Nic liked having her own way. In spite of their different interests and upbringings, the five of them had become friends when they were dorm mates in their first year at college. Nic and Maria were from affluent San Franciscan families, and they were carrying on the tradition by “marrying well.” Paige’s military family had moved all over the country and now she was determined to put down roots and raise a family. Jess had been raised by her mom and her grandfather. She’d never met her father and by all reports, that was not a bad thing. Rory’s parents’ on-again-off-again marriage hadn’t provided the most stable environment, either, but she’d had it a lot easier than Jess.

Maria had been the first to get married, and they had agreed then that each would have a turn at being maid of honor. Paige had been Maria’s and Nicola had been Paige’s. Maria would be Jess’s and, if Rory was ever crazy enough to tie the knot, she’d have Jess.

“You can wear sneakers at my wedding,” Rory said to her.

“You said you’re never getting married.”

Rory grinned. “That’s why I’m letting you wear sneakers.”

“When you change your mind, don’t think I won’t hold you told to it. I have witnesses.”

The seamstress stood and draped her measuring tape around her neck. “That’s it, ladies. I’ll need each of you to come in for a final fitting, especially the mother-to-be. I’ve allowed for a little expansion, but we want a perfect fit.”

A faint pink glow softened Maria’s olive-toned skin. “That’s very sweet of you, but what about Nicola’s dress? Don’t we get to see it?”

Nic exchanged a sly glance with Rhoda. “Not a chance. I’m keeping it completely under wraps until my big day. Now let’s head to The Whiskey Sour for some girl talk. Drinks are on me.”

Chapter Five

Fisherman’s Wharf teemed with Saturday afternoon visitors. Mostly tourists, if Mitch had to guess. Gulls circled and squawked overhead, their raucousness punctuated by honking taxi cabs and the occasional ship’s whistle.

Miranda tugged at his hand, urging him to hurry. Her favorite ice-cream place was still a couple of blocks away, and Mitch knew that after they’d fulfilled that expectation she would slow down and spend some time looking at the boats and the markets and the souvenir stalls.

In the old days, he used to carry her on his shoulders and Laura would slip her hand into his. He was glad his daughter hadn’t suggested riding on his shoulders today because he wasn’t sure he could handle having that hand empty.

It’s one afternoon,
he reminded himself.
If Miranda can do this, so can you.
Besides, being here felt oddly…right. Even though it was just the two of them, this was easier than he’d expected it to be.

“I’m glad Miss Sunshine moved in with us, aren’t you?” his daughter asked.

Truthfully, he would need a little time to process that unexpected turn of events. “She isn’t living
with
us,” he said. “She’s renting the apartment upstairs.” It was as much a reminder for himself as it was for his daughter. Rory had her own apartment, her own life, and she was free to come and go without him and his family keeping tabs on her every move.

“I know, but she said I could visit her and Buick whenever I want. The kids at school are going to be sooo jealous.”

That was probably true. From what he’d seen, the other students were as crazy about Miss Sunshine as Miranda was. “It was nice of her to say you can visit, but you always need to check with me or Grams first.”

“Why?” Her blond curls bobbed in the breeze as she rotated her head to look up at him.

“We’ve been over this, Miranda. You’re not old enough to leave the house on your own.”

A cable car clanged in the distance. If the sound registered with Miranda, she didn’t let on. “But Miss Sunshine’s apartment is
inside
our house.”

“That part of the house is hers now.”

“Why?”

These days,
why
was her favorite word. “Because she pays for it. That makes it hers.”

“But she said I could.”

Mitch gently squeezed her hand and looked down at her, making every effort to smile. “I know she did, but Grams and I will be worried if we can’t find you, and we might not think to look for you in Rory’s apartment.”

She seemed to process that information as she hopped along on one foot. “Okay, I’ll ask first. But you have to say yes ’cause she said I could go anytime I want.”

Mitch sighed. “Thank you for saying you’ll ask first.” He wanted to explain that just because she wanted to do something didn’t mean the answer would always be yes, but he stopped himself. This afternoon was about having fun, about the two of them managing to be a family on their own.

The hopping stopped and she resumed walking. “Rory’s a cool name, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s just a nickname.”

“What’s that?”

One of these days he’d learn to agree with her rather than give out information that resulted in a never-ending stream of questions. “Sometimes a nickname is a short version of a person’s real name.”

“Like your name is really Mitchell instead of Mitch?”

“Right. Or it can be a different name, like Grams’s. Her real name is Elizabeth, but everyone calls her Betsy.”

“I wonder what Miss Sunshine’s real name is.”

He knew it was Sonora, but if he told Miranda, would she tell the other kids in her class? Probably, and it wasn’t like Miss Sunshine didn’t have enough names already. “I don’t know,” he said to Miranda, hoping they could stop talking about her teacher.

“She’s lucky she’s got a cat. Can we get one?”

“No,” he said.

Miranda’s head swiveled sharply and she gave him a surprised look. “Don’t you like cats?”

“No. I mean, yes. Cats are fine, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to have one when you’re at school all day and I’m at work. Besides, I don’t think Grams wants a cat.”

“She likes Buick.”

She had that right. His mother seemed completely infatuated with the new tenant, cat and all.

Laura had been allergic to cats. Within minutes of being around one, she’d start to sneeze and her eyes would go red and puffy, so having one had been out of the question. It seemed Miranda hadn’t inherited that problem.

“Here we are,” he said, relieved to switch the conversation from Rory’s cat to ice cream. The subject was sure to come up again, and when it did, he hoped to have a better reason not to get one.

Miranda looked up at the long list of ice-cream flavors posted next to the window. “If Mom was here, what kind do you think she’d order?”

Mitch waited for his grief to stab him in the chest, but it didn’t happen. So he scanned the list and picked one. “She liked peaches and cream.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” She tipped her head back and smiled up at him. “But I’m having chocolate-chip cookie dough.”

Mitch ordered the ice cream for his daughter and watched the young man skillfully pile two scoops onto the cone.

“And for you, sir?” he asked, carefully passing the cone across the counter to Miranda.

For a split second, he thought about ordering Laura’s likely choice, then decided he was being sentimental. Besides, he didn’t like peaches and cream. “Chocolate.”

Miranda slid her mouth across the top scoop and came away with an ice-cream moustache. “I knew you’d say that. I like it when things stay the same.”

So did he.

He handed her a napkin, wishing he could shake the feeling that their lives weren’t finished changing.

T
HE
W
HISKEY
S
OUR
was next to empty when they arrived. Eric, Jess’s part-time bartender, was sharing a laugh with two middle-aged men seated at the bar. Rory had seen them there before. They were mechanics who worked in the neighborhood, regular patrons from the days when Jess’s grandfather had run the place.

The upscale improvements in the South of Market neighborhood hadn’t extended to The Whiskey Sour. To everyone’s disbelief, Jess had walked away from a teaching career to take over the bar after her grandfather passed away. She had two reasons for not making any changes—an overabundance of sentimentality for the man who had practically raised her and a complete lack of financial resources. Now surrounded by funky delis and eateries and trendy loft condos, The Whiskey Sour was a bit of a blast from the past.

It wasn’t the kind of place Rory and her friends would normally frequent, but she appreciated its unpretentiousness and the fact that they were often the only patrons. This was good for them, but not so good for Jess. Rory worried about her, but she insisted she earned enough to keep herself alive and the bar in business.

Eric gave his jaw-length sandy-blond hair a girlish toss and waved at them from behind the bar. “Hey, pretty ladies. I’ve been expecting you.”

Jess joined him. “I can’t believe you’re flirting with my friends.”

“How do you know I wasn’t flirting with you?” he asked.

“Because you know better.”

Paige, Maria and Nicola settled into their usual table in the corner by the front window. Rory leaned on the bar and winked at Eric. “If you think she’s pretty now, wait’ll you see her in strapless blue taffeta.”

He draped a brotherly arm around his boss’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “I can just picture it.” He opened them again. “Did you know she’s already asked me to be her wedding planner when she gets married?”

Eric loved to tease Jess, and he was one of the few people who got away with it. Their grandfathers had been lifelong friends, and Jess and Eric had grown up together. He’d been there through her tumultuous teenage years, and she’d been his confidante while he’d figured out why he never seemed to fit in.

Jess ducked out from under his arm and reached for a couple of glasses. “When I get married, there might be a justice of the peace but no way will there be a wedding planner.”

Eric cupped a hand to his mouth and leaned over to Rory. “She’s right, poor darling,” he said to her in a stage whisper. “Any man willing to marry a woman who dresses like a lumberjack won’t expect a real wedding. Just a kegger and a bucket of take-out chicken.”

Jess hoisted her nose in the air, pretending to be offended.

“Go.” He took the glasses from her. “Sit with your friends and I’ll bring your drinks over. I assume everyone wants the usual.”

“Coffee for me, but I can get it.”

He set the glasses on the counter and gave her an affectionate shove toward the corner table. “Go. I’m not exactly rushed off my feet.”

“Whatever’s in the pot will do.”

After Eric arrived with a tray of drinks, Rory raised her glass and the others joined her. “Here’s to weddings, babies, new beginnings and old friends.”

Jess added a splash of cream to her cup and gave it a stir. “Hear, hear,” she said. She took a sip from her mug and made a face. “I should have had him put a shot of whiskey in this.”

The cream had turned the coffee a revolting shade of gray. “When was that made?” Rory asked.

“I don’t know. Lunchtime?”

“Ew!”

“That’s disgusting!”

“That’s sewer sludge, not coffee,” Nicola said. “Why don’t you make a fresh pot?”

Because Jess’s cash flow was barely a trickle.

“I would if a customer was drinking it.” She laughed off the collective groans and grimaces, set the mug on the table and cracked her knuckles. “So, who besides me doesn’t have a date for Nic’s wedding?”

Nicola rolled her eyes. “What about you, Rory?”

“I haven’t been in the city long enough to find a date.” Just long enough to meet someone who was so wrong for her in so many ways. “Maybe I’ll ask Eric.”

“You’re out of luck. Eric’s covering the bar that night so I can be at the wedding.”

Too bad. Eric would be the perfect no-strings-attached date.

“No one’s asked if
I
have a date,” Paige said.

Newly separated, shy and—let’s face it—somewhat insecure, Paige had a date for the wedding?

“Dan left two months ago and you’re already seeing someone? Go, Paige,” Rory said.

“Not technically, but remember my old college friend Andy? Well, for the past couple of weeks we’ve been getting together for coffee. I asked him to go with me and he said yes.”

“I thought he had a girlfriend,” Jess said.

“They broke up around the same time Dan moved out. I don’t know how I’d have managed this without Andy.”

Maria struggled to sit up straight. “Are you saying we haven’t been supportive?”

“You guys have been great, but misery loves company and since Andy and I have been going through the same thing, we’ve been each other’s shoulder to cry on.”

“Didn’t Andy used to have a thing for you?” Jess asked.

Paige shook her head vigorously. “No way. I’m not his type.”

Everyone looked at everyone else. “Right,” Jess said. “He’s probably not interested in smart, beautiful women.”

Paige fidgeted with her glasses. “I’m an overweight librarian. Andy’s a fitness freak and a total daredevil.”

“You are
not
overweight!” Maria said. “And anyway, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Um, everything? Can you believe he invited me to go white-water rafting?”

“You should go,” Rory said. “It’s so much fun!”

Jess set her half-empty mug on the table and pushed it away. “I forgot about your Grand Canyon rafting trip. How was it?”

“I loved it. Best summer vacation yet.”

“It must have been freaky, having all that rock towering over you.”

“I’m not claustrophobic,” she reminded them. “Just terrified of heights.”

Paige seemed relieved that the conversation had shifted away from her. “What was it like to stand on the edge and look into the canyon?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Seriously? You didn’t go to the rim?” Nic asked.

“Totally serious. Besides, everyone does that, but hardly anyone does the raft trip.”

“Where are you going next year?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m thinking one of the national parks on the east coast.”

“Rory!” Paige peered over the top of her glasses. “You
can’t
drive across the country in that ancient old van.”

“Vanna White’s running very well these days, thank you. But getting back to white-water rafting—”

“Do it,” Jess said. “You’ll have a blast.”

“And you’ll have Andy to hold on to,” Nicola said. “What’s more fun than that?”

“You’re all insane,” Paige said. “Andy and I are just friends, and that’s not going to change.” She sipped her wine. “Rory, you haven’t told us about your new place.”

“I can’t wait for you guys to see it. It’s an attic apartment in one of those big old Victorians just off Haight Street and only a couple of blocks from the school. My landlord’s the neatest woman, a lot like my parents.”

“An old hippie?” Maria asked.

Everyone laughed.

“So it’s just the two of you?” Nic asked.

“That’s what I thought at first, but her son and his daughter live there, too.”

“What’s he like?”

“How old is he?”

“How old is the daughter?”

“No wife?”

Rory laughed. She should have know that would cause a stir. “Slow down.”

“We need details,” Maria said.

How much to tell them? “I’m guessing mid-thirties. His daughter, Miranda, is seven, and she’s in my class.”

“And Miranda’s mother?” Nic asked.

“I just found out this morning that she died in a car accident. Isn’t that awful?”

“What about her father?” Paige asked. “Where does he work?”

“San Francisco Fire Department. He’s a—”

“A
firefighter?
” they chorused.

“I think I know who he is,” Nic said. “Is he hot?”

Rory’s face suddenly was.

Jess laughed and jabbed her with an elbow. “Rory thinks so.”

“Jonathan plays basketball with a couple of firefighters. Some kind of fun social league. I remember him saying a year or so ago that one of the guys lost his wife. What’s his name?”