The Baby Jackpot (14 page)

I want to hear my kids call me
Da-Da.
I want to know when to stick out my arm to keep my babies
from getting a snootful of mashed potatoes.

Cole had to change Stacy’s mind, not only about the kids but
about him. Since she yearned to be swept away, he decided to start researching
how men accomplished that. “How did you propose to your wife?” he asked.

“Beg pardon?” Owen plucked a green bean out of Richard’s
hair.

“Did you just ask her? Did you get down on one knee? Or did you
do something fancy?”

“All of the above. Hang on.” The chief won a staring contest
with his son, who finally settled down to eat. “I sang ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’
from
Carousel.
Then
I
got down on my knee and begged her to marry
me.”

Cole could see how a woman might enjoy that. While he had the
voice of a lonely frog, some sort of private performance might be feasible. “Did
you stage this anywhere in particular?”

“In the hospital auditorium in front of a few hundred people,”
Owen said. “I’m surprised no one’s mentioned it to you.”

“All I heard was that you fell in love with a nurse.”
Initially, when Owen offered him a job at Safe Harbor, Cole had hesitated to
accept because of the surgeon’s reputation for harshness. Learning that the man
wasn’t such an ogre had changed his mind. “People said you’d turned romantic.
But no details.”

“Now you know.”

“Interesting.” Unfortunately, it didn’t help Cole’s situation.
If he ever sang in public, people would likely throw shoes at him.

Realizing he was neglecting his meat loaf, he took a bite,
deciding he hadn’t missed much by eating the frozen variety.

As for Stacy, Cole doubted he’d win her over by doing something
melodramatic and against his nature. He’d just have to watch for a chance to
sweep her away that didn’t involve humiliating them both in public.

Chapter Fourteen

Stacy awoke Saturday morning feeling as if she’d fought
ten rounds of a boxing match. All night her brain had hopped from topic to
topic, while her hormones demanded sleep.

The result had been a series of disturbing dreams. As the
morning sunlight peeked into the bedroom, she recalled wispy fragments. Andrew
earnestly presenting her with a jeweler’s box, which she opened to reveal a heap
of bronzed baby booties. Zora wielding the ultrasound paddle like a hot iron.
Cole talking to her with no words coming out. Why couldn’t she understand
him?

Still, she’d received a couple of shocks yesterday. Three
babies. Her hand instinctively cupped her stomach. Pregnancy in triplicate. And
then there was what Zora had said about Andrew.

He hadn’t simply been overwhelmed by love. A man who adored and
cherished a woman didn’t lie to her. Well, not an honorable man, anyway. Of
course, an honorable man didn’t cheat on his wife, either.

Yet the man Stacy had fallen in love with in her college days
had been golden to her. Larger than life, charismatic, warm, tender. Why and how
had he changed?

Restlessly, she went about preparing for the day. The
housewarming party started at three o’clock, and although Harper had arranged
for a caterer to deliver the main dishes a little later, Stacy had promised to
fix hors d’oeuvres to feed early arrivals. She was also making a special
dessert: two Boston cream pies. Mia had requested them at the urging of her
friend Fiona, who used to live in Boston.

Why on earth did I agree?

Stacy studied the recipe she’d downloaded. This wasn’t a simple
cake. It had layers, a cream filling and chocolate sauce.

Better get started.

Off she went to the supermarket to buy the ingredients. All the
while, her brain kept kicking up more troubling reflections from the ultrasound
session.

She’d be relinquishing not one baby but three. What if she was
never able to have more? She’d used up a lot of eggs this cycle, and who could
tell what the future might bring? But she couldn’t keep three children. They
needed a real home.

And was it possible Andrew really had misunderstood her desire
for children? Or had Stacy driven him away with her eagerness to become a
mother? He was the one who’d insisted that they save a lot of money first.
Perhaps he’d felt overwhelmed by the responsibilities of fatherhood.

If so, why hadn’t he told her?

Pushing her shopping cart distractedly, Stacy smacked into a
shelf. She stopped to regain control and replace a couple of cans. There was a
question she’d never dared to ask Andrew, and it forced its way to her attention
now.

Zora was his high-school sweetheart. What
if he never really loved me? What if she was his true love all
along?

That still didn’t account for him lying to Zora. And if he
never loved Stacy, why had their romance felt so passionate and earnest?

It would explain why he apparently hadn’t wanted to have
children with her, however. And that hurt.

By the time she returned to the apartment with her arms full of
groceries, Stacy had made two decisions. First, since it was impossible to
arrive at any conclusions about Andrew, she had to put him out of her mind.
Second, on Monday she’d ask the hospital attorney to refer her to an adoption
agency. Once she chose a couple, surely this whole situation with triplets would
become less troubling.

Feeling some relief that she’d formulated a plan to lay her
demons to rest, Stacy set to work preparing for the party.

* * *

O
N
S
ATURDAY
MORNING
, Cole took a break in the doctors’ lounge between surgeries.
The sight of Zack Sargent pouring himself a cup of coffee reminded Cole that
here was an excellent potential source of information.

He’d heard a fascinating tale of how Zack got together with his
wife. He and Jan had been engaged many years earlier, when she’d become
pregnant. Despite some discussion about adoption, Jan had kept their daughter,
Kimmie—now school age—after they broke up. Before they met again and reconciled,
Zack had been married and widowed, and had a stepdaughter they were also
raising. The situation seemed romantic to Cole, so perhaps the obstetrician
could offer some pointers.

“May I ask you a question?” Cole asked.

“As long as you promise not to call me Jack.”

“I won’t.” Cole had mixed up the man’s name several times. “I
wondered how you persuaded Jan not to give up your daughter for adoption.”

Zack cast him a dubious look. “Are you serious?”

“I am.”

The obstetrician studied him a moment longer, as if to make
sure Cole was truly on the level. “I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“She told me she planned to relinquish Kimmie, and I signed the
papers.” Zack took a seat on one of the couches. “Six years later, when she
accepted the job here, I found out she’d changed her mind and never informed me.
Imagine my surprise to learn she was raising our little girl.”

Cole tried, and failed, to imagine the situation. “You must
have been thrilled,” he said.

“Thrilled?” The other doctor studied him in astonishment. “I
was furious. I’d missed all those years with Kimmie.”

“Then why did you two get married?” Cole persisted. “Was it for
your daughter’s sake?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m trying to figure out some complicated issues in my life,”
Cole admitted.

“Okay.” Zack’s head dipped in acknowledgment. “I got over being
angry and realized I still loved Jan. We had quite a few issues to work out,
though.”

“Oh?”

“Just when I assumed we were finally on the same wavelength,
she pushed me away.” The words came out with a touch of irritation. “She decided
I was too controlling.”

“How did you win her back?” Cole waited tensely, hoping for a
blinding insight.

“I stopped pushing.” Zack shrugged. “I discovered I had to let
her come to me on her own terms.”

“I see.” But he didn’t. If he let Stacy go, Cole might never
see her again, outside work. “Well, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” The other doctor seemed glad to be done with
the conversation. “By the way, I recommend a Christmas wedding. Ours was
beautiful.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

If Stacy said yes, she could have any type of wedding she
wanted, Cole reflected. Of course, if she waited too long, they’d have to wheel
her down the aisle with her feet propped up.

That would be just fine with him.

* * *

P
ULLING
THE
ROUND
CAKE
LAYERS
from the oven, Stacy couldn’t believe how
much work she still had left to do, with only an hour before the party started.
By now, the cakes should be sliced in half horizontally and layered with
filling, the chocolate topping melted...and what about the three dozen eggs
waiting to be shelled, halved and deviled?

Dropping onto a chair, she called Harper. “I’m running
late.”

“Are you okay?” her friend responded.

“I hate letting you down. I’m such a screwup.”

“Stacy, you’re the most reliable person I know. If you don’t
feel well, I’ll understand.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” She hated to admit she’d fallen asleep while
the cakes were baking. “How’s everything there?”

“Chaotic but fun,” her friend responded. “Can you believe a
neighbor offered us a kitten this morning? I was planning to wait, but you know
how badly Mia wanted one.”

“She must be overjoyed.”

“Yes, and there’s more good news. It looks like I might be
accepted as an egg donor!” Harper exclaimed. “I passed the first evaluation and
my physical exam went great. I wonder what kind of family will pick me.”

Her excitement reminded Stacy of her own, earlier in the
process. She wished she was free to enjoy Una’s pregnancy and give her support,
as she’d planned. Instead, Stacy felt waterlogged and dull-witted. The
hard-boiled eggs filling a large pot seemed to mock her. She could almost hear
them snickering inside their shells.

I must be losing it.

“I better get to work,” she said.

“Oh—the ultrasound!” Harper broke in. “How’d it go?”

Stacy told her.

“Triplets! But you...you haven’t changed your mind about...”
Her friend’s voice trailed off.

“Giving them up? That’s still the plan.” She braced for an
argument.

Instead, Harper said, “I hate when people question my decision
to become an egg donor, so if this is the right thing for you, then hooray.”

“Thanks.” The encouragement felt good.

“Oh, there’s Adrienne and Reggie at the door,” Harper said.

“Go let them in.”

“Mia just did.”

“Well, go start the party. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

After clicking off, Stacy began to peel the eggs. Although
Adrienne had requested that she save the shells for a compost heap, she dumped
them in the trash. She couldn’t deal with even one more detail.

Before long, shelled and rinsed eggs covered the counter.
Another dozen to go, and then there were the cakes to finish.

Stacy stared in dismay. It was ridiculous to get upset about
such a small thing, but she felt overwhelmed.

When she heard the front door open, she kept her back toward
Cole. Women’s emotions made men uncomfortable. Weeping and wailing, as her
father called it, had always irritated him, and Andrew’s response to any
moodiness had been to withdraw.

A tear trailed down her cheek.

Cole came into the kitchen. “Can I help?” The smell of
antiseptic was especially strong today.

He’d been assigned a scrub nurse named Anya Meeks, Stacy
recalled. Young, pretty, lighthearted.

Everything I used to be.

She cleared her throat. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Doesn’t the party start at three?” Cole stood there, taking in
the piles of food.

“I’m almost finished,” Stacy said.

“No, you aren’t.” From behind, his arms closed around her.
“You’re upset.”

“Hormones,” she muttered thickly.

“Tell me what to do.”

No anger. No impatience. Just a matter-of-fact offer to help.
It was exactly what Stacy needed. “Okay.”

He’d never peeled eggs before, she learned, but the task posed
little problem for a surgeon’s hands. The same was true of the delicate task of
slicing the round cakes into two layers each.

Within half an hour, the eggs had been deviled and the cakes
assembled with their filling and chocolate sauce. Stacy didn’t mind wiping away
the flecks of yellow yolk all over the counter—Cole had been a bit overeager
with the beaters—while he filled the dishwasher.

“I have to change clothes.” She draped her arms around him.
“Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Cole murmured.

She lingered, relishing his solid strength and enjoying the way
he kissed her hair and massaged her shoulder blades. She felt a stirring deep
inside, a longing to be part of him.

“You’re a lifesaver.” She drew away reluctantly. “I’m not sure
why I fell apart.”

“My specialty is stitching people together,” Cole responded,
studying her. He always seemed to be looking for clues to something.

“Back in a minute.” Stacy went to put on a clean top and pants.
When she returned, it was a little past three. Her spirits lifted at the sight
of Cole’s finishing touches: he’d packed the Boston cream pies neatly in cake
carriers and aligned the deviled eggs inside plastic boxes.

The two of them functioned very well as a team. Not surprising,
given that they did that almost daily in the O.R.

They’d planned to drive separately, but why bother? “Let’s take
my car. It’s bigger,” Stacy said.

“Good idea.” His eyes were dancing.

As for how fellow staffers might react to the sight of them as
a couple, she no longer cared.

* * *

C
OLE
HAD
NEVER
ENJOYED
parties. Usually, he had no
idea what to say, and often he offended people by forgetting their names.

However, he’d never before arrived with such a popular
companion, nor with an array of enticing food. People hurried to help Stacy and
him carry in the containers, and dived into the deviled eggs as soon as they
were transferred onto platters. Mia and another little girl hopped up and down
with excitement when they saw the Boston cream pies, and their mothers narrowly
prevented them from sticking their fingers into the chocolate sauce.

Harper’s ranch-style rental house, set in a neighborhood of
similar homes, was rapidly taking on individuality. By the front steps, Adrienne
was busy planting flowers in a freshly turned bed. Arriving guests handed her
pots of geraniums, miniature roses and blossoming annuals.

“Gardening is my hobby,” she explained when Cole wandered out
front to admire her handiwork. “I hired someone to prepare the soil, but I love
getting my hands into it. Don’t get much chance these days, with my
schedule.”

Having grown up in a condominium, Cole had never taken an
interest in gardening. It looked like fun. “What about vegetables? That would be
more practical than flowers.”

“They tend to look raggedy in a front yard,” Adrienne said.
“One of these days I’ll have you over to my house. It’s got a nice big yard with
an herb garden, and I always plant a few tomatoes.”

More people arrived. While Cole didn’t remember all their
names, he remembered more than he’d expected. Unlike in Minnesota, where he’d
kept his private life and personal ideas separate from work, he chatted with
many of these people on a range of topics.

Not everything went smoothly. Ned Norwalk pointedly avoided
him, making Cole sorry he’d snapped at the nurse about moving in with Stacy. Not
too sorry, though. And he wasn’t pleased when a staffer’s daughter, Tammy, a
journalism student at California State University, Fullerton, asked if she could
interview Dr. Daddy Crisis for her blog.