In the Mood for Love (17 page)

“‘Birthing Center and Mother/Baby Unit,’” Vincent said, as the bell dinged and the doors opened.

“In my day they called it a maternity ward.”

“Just reading the sign, Petunia. Watch your step now. Are you sure you don’t want to take off that head?”

“Not until I’m behind closed doors. And don’t call me Petunia. I’m in character.” She waved at who she thought was a doctor although it could have been a janitor. Hard to see anything clearly at a distance through the grid eyes of the moose head, not to mention her own misty specs.

“Er, Millie,” Vincent said. “This way.” He tugged her to the left and she almost lost her balance as her furry hooves shuffled across the linoleum floor. Lordy, it was hot inside this furry costume. Air circulation was, as Chloe would say, the pits. Daisy was starting to feel light-headed, but then she saw her son and daughter-in-law coming out of a room, and her senses perked right up. Chloe, her business partner, her friend, and the almost mother of Daisy’s first great-grandchild, was in that room. She could hardly wait to see her. But first Daisy had to get past her son. She knew the minute Jerome spotted her because he stiffened and frowned.

“For the love of … Mom?”

“No, Millie.”

“She’s in character,” Vincent whispered.

“She’s in a moose costume,” Jerome said, looking stuck between exasperated and mortified. “How do you even breathe in that thing?”

“Through my nose.”

Kaye, who’d always been a good egg in Daisy’s book, squeezed her husband’s arm. “Stop badgering your mother.”

“Seriously,” Jerome said. “Why are you in that thing?”

Daisy would have pushed her specs up her nose and sniffed if she could have. Instead she perched her plush (albeit raggedy) paws (hooves) on her padded hips. “I’ll have you know the kids in the children’s ward loved me.”

“They did,” Vincent said.

“No doubt,” Kaye said with a lopsided smile.

“How’s Chloe?” Daisy asked.

Kaye sighed. “A little anxious. The baby dropped but Chloe isn’t nearly dilated enough. They may have to perform a C-section.”

“Oh,” Daisy mumbled, feeling a little rattled herself. Not a terrible thing, but not smooth sailing, either. Surgery of any kind typically involved some sort of risk. “When will we know?”

“Not for a while,” Kaye said. “We could be looking at tomorrow morning.”

“Exhausting and stressful for Chloe,” Vincent said.

“Her father’s a nervous wreck,” Jerome said. “Dev took him down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.”

“And what about Dev? How’s he holding up?”

“He’s a rock,” Kaye said. “In front of Chloe anyway.”

“Considering how overprotective he is,” Daisy said, “I’m sure he’s driving the hospital staff crazy.”

Jerome scratched his jaw. “Pretty much.”

“Naturally, he’s worried about Chloe and the baby,” Kaye said, “but I think it’s escalated by his past experience—”

“Never mind about that,” Jerome said.

“Everything will be fine,” Daisy said, even as her heart squeezed.
Poor Devlin!

“Absolutely,” Kaye said.

“Chloe asked for you,” Jerome said to Daisy. “Maybe you could…” He looked away, jammed a hand through bristly gray hair. “Do you have any idea what it’s like trying to have a serious conversation with a moose?”

“No idea at all.” Daisy looked to her beau, one of the only men in her life who, as Chloe would say,
got her
. She jerked her antlers toward the door. “Coming with?”

“Chloe asked for you,” Vincent said softly, “not me.”

“I’m sure you’re welcome.”

“I’ll wait out here.”

Daisy pushed into the room, sad that Vincent was always setting himself apart from her family. As if he didn’t belong. Which was silly. She was also peeved at her son who had a perpetual stick-up-his-patooty—just like his father. Hadn’t Jerome’s near brush with death taught him to embrace the moment? To welcome the absurd? Apparently not. It was petty of her, but she suddenly wished she had wrenched off her head in the hall. One gander at her brilliant, newly dyed blue hair and Jerome would have rethought his gripe with her antlers.

“Daisy?”

She shook off her irritation and turned toward Chloe’s sweet voice. In doing so she got a quick screening of the surprisingly cheerful décor. “Looks like my grandson scored you a deluxe room, kitten. Private, too.”

“Not that I’ve had much privacy,” Chloe said. “Between the doctor, the nurses, and family—”

“Would you like me to leave?”

“No, no. I didn’t mean that. I’m glad you’re here. But why are you in costume?”

“Oh, right.” Daisy tugged off the moose head, welcoming the rush of cool, fresh air. She told Chloe about her stint in the children’s ward as she shimmied out of the rest of the suffocating fur suit. Her capris and her peasant blouse were a little sticky and she smelled like stale Frebreze, but other than that she was no worse for wear. Fluffing her short curls, she moved to Chloe’s side.

“You changed your hair color.”

“In honor of summer-blue skies.”

“I like.”

“Then why are your eyes tearing up?” Daisy asked as she gripped Chloe’s hand. “Are you in pain? Should I ask for drugs?”

“I had an epidural. I’m good. That is, I’m okay. I just…” Her brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I’m a little scared. The baby’s big,” she said as she lovingly palmed her belly, “and I’m small. Too small. If I don’t … they might…”

“Cesarean. I know. But that’s okay, sweetie. You’re healthy. The baby’s healthy. Everything will be fine.”

“But what if it isn’t?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Devlin already lost one baby.”

“First wife. Miscarriage. Long time ago.”

“I kept putting it off. Getting married. For real, I mean. I know we said the vows during Rocky’s wedding. So did you and Vincent. But that wasn’t real.”

“Not in a legal sense,” Daisy said while smoothing strands of hair from her clammy face. “But where the heart is concerned—”

“I want it to be real, Daisy. I want to be Mrs. Devlin Monroe when my baby comes into this world. I want him or her to have his or her daddy’s name. I held off on marriage because I didn’t want to jinx things, but now I think I jinxed things because I waited. And now it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“To get married before the baby’s born,” Chloe squeaked as the first tear rolled. “Haven’t you been listening?”

“Avidly,” Daisy said while handing her a tissue. “Just having a hard time keeping up. Maybe it’s the fumes from the fabric deodorizer. I sprayed the costume right before I pulled it on.”

“You need to be careful about that.”

“You know me,” Daisy said while waggling her brows. “Evel Knievel of Sugar Creek.”

Chloe smiled a little but not enough.

“Did you tell Dev about your change of heart?”

She shook her head. “He’s been pushing me to set a wedding date for months. Seems a little unfair of me to say
now
in the zero hour.”

“Fair, schmair, and it’s not the zero hour. The doctor said you could be in labor throughout the night.” Daisy’s mind whirled. “If only you had a marriage license.”

“We do. Devlin—”

“Then it’s not too late!” Bouncing on the heels of her metallic sneakers, Daisy grabbed a pen from the little nightstand and pulled her folded page from her pants pocket.

“What are you doing?” Chloe asked as she hugged her belly.

“Crossing you and my grandson off my family bucket list.”

“What’s a—”

“I’ll be back with a preacher,” Daisy said as she hurried toward the door. “Don’t let anyone steal Millie.”

“But—”

“My stars are aligned,” Daisy called over her shoulder. “No worries, kitten!” Giddy as a kid on Christmas morning, Daisy sailed into the hall and snagged Vincent’s arm. “Come on, Speedy. We’re on a mission.”

She waggled her fingers over her shoulder at her son and daughter-in-law, smiling when she heard Jerome say, “Good God. My mother looks like she dipped her head in Ty-D-Bol.”

EIGHTEEN

Stepping into the crowded waiting room was like braving the sidelines of a star-studded red carpet. The excitement was palatable, the noise level intense. Harper half expected the paparazzi to swarm which was ridiculous. It’s not like Chloe was giving birth to a prince, although maybe that’s how it felt to these people.

Come to think of it, given all Harper had heard and experienced, the Monroes
were
as good as Sugar Creek royalty—Daisy being the grand, albeit eccentric, matriarch. Her son Jerome was the CEO of J. T. Monroe’s Department Store, family owned and operated for generations. He also dabbled in local politics.
His
son, Devlin (Chloe’s fiancé), served as CFO of the family business. A financial wiz, Dev (as Sam called him) also headed his own investment company. According to Daisy, her grandson had a bit of a Midas touch and his advice and astute financial planning had benefited several clients, including a few family members.

As for Chloe, although relatively new to Sugar Creek, she was held in high regard. Not only because she was Dev’s lady, but because she’d partnered with Daisy to open Moose-a-lotta. A gifted baker, she was also one of the Cupcake Lovers’ newest shining stars.

Harper had processed all that information as she’d gravitated toward the group of people she knew best—the Cupcake Lovers. Ethel, Helen, Judy, Rocky, Monica, Casey, Rae. They were all here, most all with a husband or partner. Joey was missing, but given her newbie status, that made sense. Daisy had shuffled off to visit the children’s ward as Millie Moose and Sam was mingling with various family members—most of whom Harper didn’t recognize.

Every once in a while Sam caught Harper’s eye and she immediately looked away. No man had ever kissed her like Sam. Or maybe it was that no man had ever made her feel the way Sam made her feel. Not even Andrew. A man she’d professed to love. A man she’d agreed to marry. Maybe that’s why she’d ultimately failed him. Maybe her affections hadn’t been strong enough, real enough. Maybe she’d been more in love with the idea of being a bride than a wife. The possibility shamed Harper and pushed her thoughts into dark places. She didn’t want to go there, so she kept to the light, informing the Cupcake Lovers of her media plan regarding the impending birth of the newest CL. Because everyone was happy for a distraction, they’d jumped on their phones to join in the cyberparty. The younger set were off and running. The seniors, bless their hearts, were following along if not contributing as quickly. Except for Helen who looked a little frazzled.

“I’m sorry,” she said when Harper approached. “How do I get that … what did you call it?”

“App.” She smiled at the older woman who’d only recently upgraded to a smartphone.

“We just learned how to use the texting option,” her husband said. “Everything else is Greek.”

“You can install Facebook via the Google Play Store,” Harper said.

They both blinked.

Harper reached for Helen’s phone. “Could I—”

“Please.”

“Let me watch,” Daniel said. “We need to get with the times. Can’t always rely on a young person to be around.”

“Gotcha.” Harper purposely slowed her efforts. “Social media is the key word here.” She walked Helen and Daniel through setting up a personal Facebook account enabling them to interact on the Cupcake Lovers Fan Page. She adjusted their privacy settings. “Then you go here and—”

“Comment,” Daniel said. “Thank you, Harper. I think I have it.”

“Me, too,” Helen said with a thousand-watt smile.

“I’m sure you do.” Harper’s heart bumped against her ribs as she watched the senior couple post their first comment. She’d never known her own grandparents. Would they have embraced technology as eagerly as the Coles? What about her parents? Did either one of them visit Harper’s social feeds in order to catch up on her life? It’s not like they ever called. Her gaze skipped to Sam, who’d been circulating among his relatives and friends, mingling amiably in his subdued way. According to Daisy, although he’d lost both of his parents, he’d grown up surrounded by skads of aunts and uncles and cousins. He also had a brother presently serving in the military. Harper had grown up with her parents, period, although they’d never been what she’d call a family. Not like the Waltons or Bradys or the Monroes and their extended clan.

Feeling self-conscious now, she reached in her purse for her iPad, planning to find a corner where she could hide with her tablet and network with focused fury.

Rocky snagged her arm and attention. “Nice of you to help Helen and Dan like that.”

Harper shrugged. “Sometimes I forget the entire world isn’t as hooked up as me.”

“Speaking of hooked up. You and Sam—”

“You’re wondering why we arrived together.”

“I’m thrilled that you’re involved.”

“Who said—”

“Hollywood has nothing on Sugar Creek when it comes to gossip,” Rocky said.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’d ask how serious it is,” Rocky said in a low voice, “except this is Sam, who doesn’t do casual. Plus he invited you to Sunday dinner.”

“Which is at your house,” Harper said. “He should have checked with you first.”

“We’re not that formal. Speaking of…” Rocky, who was also dressed in jeans and a tee, motioned to Harper’s casual attire. “I see you’re finally relaxing into country living. I didn’t even know you
owned
a pair of jeans.”

Still gripping her iPad, Harper shifted her weight, anxious to check on the cybercelebration. Feeds like Twitter moved at lightning speed. “I didn’t expect to be working today. Not in public, anyway.”

“We really appreciate this,” Rocky said while checking her own social apps. “Because of this cybercelebration, in the last ten minutes alone, I’ve seen a lift in sales for the recipe book. Not only that, people are sharing the links to our favorite charities and urging friends to match their pledges. You do so much for us, Harper, and we barely pay you a dime.”

“You’re a nonprofit organization.”

“Still … Daisy told me you parted ways with Spin Twin Cities and now you’ll be freelancing. I hope you have other clients lined up aside from us. Otherwise you’ll starve.”