The Great Baby Caper (29 page)

“No, it doesn’t. I think it’s very
sweet. That you were so locked up in yourself, and I touched something in you
to bring you out.”

He regarded her soberly. “Courtney,
I still don’t think you get it. I knew before I ever met you that I wanted to
marry you. I think I even knew I loved you. Mind you, I never intended to force
you as Grandfather attempted. But I knew you were the one.” He drew a
shuddering breath. “Now you know. Admit that if I’d told you all this before,
it would have scared you away.”

She looked at him with her heart
in her eyes. “Perhaps so, back then. But I’m not running away now, Mark. You’ve
winnowed your way into my heart. And don’t you know that the more I learn about
you—”

“Yes?”

She almost blurted,
The more I
love you
. Instead she caught him to her fiercely and whispered, “You don’t
have to be afraid anymore, Mark. I understand you now, and believe your
feelings. You’re not going to lose me like you lost your parents. You can look
at those pictures and if they make you sad, I’ll hold you. We’re in this
together now, with our child, and I’m not letting you go. You’re mine now.”

“Oh, Courtney.” Voice breaking, he
pushed the album aside, pulled her close and kissed her. Then he drew back at
the sound of her sob. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

“I just feel like such a chump,”
she admitted. “Here I’ve been worried about trusting you, giving you such a
hard time, and not allowing myself to see how much you love me.”

“It’s all right, darling,” he
reassured her, pulling her closer. “Besides, I can use a bit of your guilt to
nice advantage.” Smoothly he pulled off her nightgown, then feasted his eyes on
her. “Lovely. So lovely.” He leaned over to press his lips against her belly.
“I want you so very much. Is it still okay to make love?”

“Very much okay.”

With a groan he kissed her, quite
passionately, and after a moment pulled her astride him. His hands boldly roved
her spine and he buried his face in her neck. “Unzip me, will you, love? Touch
me.”

Without hesitation, she did as
bid, moaning as she touched his hardness. He leaned over, nipping her breast
with his teeth, while his fingers moved between her thighs. Courtney gasped in
mindless arousal.

“Take me inside you now,” he urged
hoarsely.

Courtney sank herself onto him,
for once not minding his taking charge of her at all. Pleasure flooded her to
the core. She moaned and raked her fingernails over his back.

“Ah,” he murmured. “That’s so
good, darling. But don’t let me hurt you. Mind the baby.”

His words were so sweet that
Courtney lost control, tears stinging her eyes. She pushed him back on the bed
and stared down into his eyes. “You could
never
hurt me. I know that
now.”

Her mouth took his. Her body
claimed his heat. First he had taken charge of her. Now
she
was
possessing him . . .

***

The rest of their London stay passed in a mindless, fun blur. While Mark conducted his business during the
day, Courtney went sightseeing, taking a boat ride down the Thames, touring
Westminster Abbey and the British Museum. A couple of times she took in lunch
and shopping with Beth and Merry, and she was quickly coming to love both women
as sisters.

Mark joined her whenever he could
leave work early. One afternoon he took her to visit the flagship Billingham’s
store near Burlington Arcade—and created quite a stir when he arrived
unannounced, then decided to buy himself and his bride matching bathrobes,
wryly requesting an “employee discount.” They spent another afternoon shopping
together in the street market on Portobello Road; Courtney bought souvenirs and
gifts for everyone in her family, and Mark bought an entire handmade linen
layette for their baby.

Their last evening in London, they went up for a ride in the London Eye, the gigantic,
four-hundred-and-fifty-foot ferris wheel built to honor London’s millennium.
Standing with Mark inside one of the large glass capsules, Courtney was awed by
the spectacular view of all of London—the Thames directly below, Big Ben and
Parliament just beyond them, St. Paul’s and the Tower. She could even see
beyond London proper to the trees and hills ringing the horizon.

“Happy, darling?” Mark asked.

“This is amazing.”

“I know. There was great
skepticism here about the London Eye when it was first proposed, but it’s
become a smashing success, an eighth wonder of the world. Unlike the Millennium
Dome . . .” He pointed down the Thames. “Which has been more of a White
Elephant as far as the general public is concerned.”

Staring out at the lights of the Tate Modern Museum, she murmured, “Well, this can’t be beat. You know I’ve had the time
of my life, Mark.”

He smiled. “As I have, darling.
And we’re not done yet. After this, I’m taking you over to Simpson’s in the Strand for a grand dinner. It’s quite an historic old restaurant.”

“Sounds great.”

“So what do you think of London?” he asked.

“I love it. There isn’t quite the
hustle and bustle of the States. It’s much safer, and very interesting.”

“A good place to raise a family?”

“Perhaps.”

He placed his hands on her
shoulders. “Courtney, I want you to live here with me.”

“I know, Mark. Let me think about
it, okay?”

“I realize it’s asking you to give
up a lot—”

“Yes, it is. My job. My family.”

“But we could go back frequently
for visits, or your family could come here.”

“It’s tempting, Mark, but . . .”
She sighed. “Part of me still thinks it would be running away.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She smiled at him tenderly. “Mark,
we’ve made great progress while we’ve been here, and I am tempted by your
offer. But if we can’t solve all our problems back in Colorado, I don’t think
we’re going to solve them here, either.”

He stroked her cheek. “Do you
really want to resolve them?”

“Yes,” she answered emphatically. “We’re
together now. We’ll work it out. I just don’t have all the answers as yet.” She
brightened. “Mark, this trip has been so wonderful, and it is our last evening
here. Let’s not spoil it.”

“You’re right.” He kissed the tip
of her nose. “Tonight it will be just the two of us.”

“Yes, just the two us.”

“And baby makes three, of course.”

“Of course.”

She smiled bravely at him, and he
at her. But Courtney knew how uncertain they both felt inside. The problem
wasn’t them as a couple, but how they and their child would fit into this
world. That was the real issue now, and it was still a stumbling block to their
future happiness together.

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“So, Courtney, are you and Mark
having a boy or a girl?” Caryn asked.

Sitting on the couch in her mom’s
living room, Courtney stared blankly at her sister for a moment. It was now
mid-November, and her mom was hosting a baby shower for her—and not a moment
too soon, as Courtney’s stomach was now the size of a melon. Gaily wrapped
presents were stacked on the coffee table in front of Courtney, and on the
floor nearby. At least a dozen women were in attendance, including Courtney’s
sisters, some friends from the office and from high school, and, of course, Vanessa.

“Caryn, really,” scolded Susan
Kelly. “Courtney may want the identity of her child to be kept a secret.”

“Oh, everyone knows these days,”
replied Caryn, waving off her mother.

“Well, certainly you and Mike
knew, since you were expecting twin boys,” put in Carla. “But some couples like
to maintain an air of mystery.”

As several women laughed, Courtney
replied to her oldest sister, “Actually, Carla, you’re right. The doctor wanted
to tell Mark and me, but we decided we wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Oh, how romantic,” put in Deb.
“You don’t know what the little darling is till it pops out.”

More laughter erupted. Feeling the
baby kick her, Courtney pulled a face. “From the size of this kid, I have a
feeling I’m going to pop before he or she pops out.”

“Don’t worry, hon,” reassured
Christy. “It’s certainly no worse than the proverbial putting a camel through
the eye of a needle.”

“That’s just what I’m afraid of,”
Courtney said dryly.

“And how are you and Mark planning
to have the little darling?” asked Melissa, an old friend of Courtney’s from
high school.

“Well, I’ve pretty much decided on
the birthing wing at the hospital,” said Courtney. “I’ve already found a
midwife I like, and I think a water birth would be nice.”

“You mean
au natural
—no
drugs?” asked Christy.

“It
is
better for the
baby.”

“Wow—you’re really brave,” said
Caryn. “I never could have had my two without being medicated.”

“Come on, girls,” scolded Vanessa
from across the room. “Don’t frighten Courtney. If she’s made her decision, we
should support her.”

“You’re right,” said Caryn. “Good
for you, Courtney.”

“Tell me that on the day I
deliver, when I’m screaming for narcotics,” Courtney added dryly.

Amid more merriment, Susan clapped
her hands. “So, which present will you open first, dear?”

Courtney smiled at Vanessa, who
sat across from her in a wing chair. “I think Vanessa’s. She’s always so
creative.”

“Why, thank you, dear,” said
Vanessa. “I do hope you like my little contribution.”

Susan handed Courtney Vanessa’s
gift bag, and
ooohs
and
aaahs
erupted as Courtney pulled out her
prize—a gorgeous baby quilt with an adorable large bunny appliquéd at its
center, and pink and blue gingham piping on its edges. “Oh, Vanessa! Did you
make this?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” replied
Vanessa modestly.

“Nothing!” declared Deb, looking
on. “Why that design is so beautiful, we should sell them at BBB.”

Courtney turned to Deb. “You know,
you’re right. We need a new design for the Bootle Baby Quilt. What do you
think, Vanessa?”

Vanessa smiled lovingly at
Courtney. “I think I want to reserve that design just for your child,
Courtney.”

“Oh, how sweet!” put in Christy.
“Come on, Courtney, open another one.”

Courtney folded the quilt and
smiled at Vanessa, feeling grateful to have so many friends and so much
support. Things were going well between her and Mark, too. She was falling for
him more each day, and she couldn’t wait until they could hold their precious
baby in their arms.

***

That evening Mark helped Courtney
put all the baby gifts away in the nursery. She was folding Vanessa’s quilt and
placing in it the crib when she realized Mark hadn’t moved or spoken for
several moments. She turned to see him staring at her solemnly. “Is something
wrong?”

He moved closer. “No, I’m just
watching the mother of my child as she pads about.”

Courtney rolled her eyes and
rubbed her lower back. “Padding about is getting harder all the time.”

“You must be so tired, darling. Go
on to bed. I’ll finish up here.”

“You’re sweet.”

He stepped closer, brushing a wisp
of hair from her eyes. “I’m worried about you. Dash it all, I have to be in London again next week.”

Courtney forced a cheerful
expression. “Mark, I’ll be fine.”

“I wish you could start your
maternity leave now.”

“Mark, you know we agreed that I
wouldn’t leave until the Christmas holidays. That way I can take eight full
weeks and nurse the baby.”

“I just think it’s too much for
you.”

“It really isn’t, Mark. Now that
the incidents of industrial sabotage have pretty much stopped, things are much
smoother. We still haven’t nabbed the culprit, but we’re no longer in panic
mode. I’m already working a more limited schedule. Besides, I need the
distraction of work. Otherwise, I’ll just worry.”

“Worry? About what?”

“You know—the baby. Will he or she
be okay—”

“He’ll be perfect.”

“Will the delivery go well?”

“I’ll be there to ensure that it
does.”

She laughed. “As if you have any
control. I guess that’s what’s scary.” She patted her belly. “We don’t have
control. It’s all in Mother Nature’s hands now.”

He kissed her brow. “I’ll see to it
that the old girl toes the mark.”

“Let’s hope you’ll be successful.”

“I will.” Gently he patted her
rear. “Now go on to bed before I carry you.”

“Come in and rub my back?”

“Of course. I’ll be along soon.”

Mark kissed his wife, watching her
amble out of the room, her movements slow and awkward due to her advanced
pregnancy. Despite his reassurances to the contrary, he was so worried about
her these days. Would she, and the baby, come through the delivery all right?
Would the child be normal and healthy? Would Courtney feel terrible pain on its
birth? How he wished he could go through the delivery for her, much as he
realized that was a biological impossibility.

Despite all his anxieties, he felt
such pride that she was his, that they were together now, that she carried his
child. They’d become so close, especially after all they had shared during
their London trip. But they still had a long way to go. They had grown much
closer as a couple, but nothing was truly resolved. He could only hope that
once their child arrived, that might put matters into better perspective for
them both.

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In the next month the baby growing
inside Courtney became even larger. Each check-up revealed that mother and baby
were thriving. Courtney packed her suitcase for the hospital, and she and Mark
did their Christmas shopping early. Already a proud daddy, Mark bought several
toys and plush animals for the baby, even though the child wasn’t expected
until January. Together they attended several more birthing classes.

Although Mark made another trip to
London after the baby shower, on Thanksgiving Day, he announced that he was
done with the junkets until after the baby arrived. This news left Courtney
feeling both relieved and grateful.

Although Courtney’s due date was
January 9, starting around mid-December she began to feel occasional, mild
pains that didn’t assume any sort of pattern. When she checked with her
midwife, she was told that these were perfectly normal “Braxton-Hicks”
contractions that weren’t actual labor.

On Christmas Eve, Mark and
Courtney had a fun time drinking un-spiked wassail and decorating the tree.
Since she was thoroughly exhausted, they went to bed early. But within minutes
of dozing off, Courtney was awakened by one of those odd twinges; she sat up in
bed, grimacing.

Mark sat up beside her. “You
okay?”

She rubbed her belly. “Just
another false labor pain.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure
it’s false, darling?”

“From what my sisters have told
me, this is nothing like the real thing.”

He smiled and touched her belly.
“Wow, your tummy is hard. Has he been active?”

“
She’s
been doing
somersaults.”

Mark leaned over and kissed her.
“Want some warm milk to help you get to sleep?”

She grimaced. “Yuck. I’ve never
really been a warm milk fan. I’ll leave that for our baby.”

He chuckled.

“How ’bout some of that
caffeine-free orange tea you make me? We could sip it and watch a movie for
awhile.”

“Sure, I’ll have it brewed up in a
jiff.”

Moments later they were both
sipping the warm tea in bed and watching
It’s a Wonderful Life
when the
phone rang. Thinking it might be her mom calling to remind them about Christmas
dinner tomorrow, Courtney grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hello, Mrs. Billingham, this is
Lon Wilson.”

Bemused, she replied, “Oh, hi,
Lon. Strange hearing from you tonight. I would think things would really be
quiet down at corporate headquarters with everything shut down.”

“Well, not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think we’ve found the mole.”

Courtney sat bolt upright. “You’ve
what?”

“We’ve found the culprit
responsible for the espionage. Would you like to see this for yourself? I’ve
already called Mr. Bootle.”

“Darn right I want to see it for
myself. We’ll be right down.” She hung up and turned to Mark, who was eyeing
her quizzically. “Lon thinks he’s found the infiltrator, and suggested we come
down to headquarters.”

Mark gave a dry laugh. “You’re
joking. Such high drama. Couldn’t he have told you over the phone?”

“It is a pretty important find.”

“But to go downtown this late at
night . . .” He glanced toward the windows. “Courtney, it’s snowing outside.”

“A light snow, and besides, it’s
not even ten yet. I can’t sleep after that call, anyway. The suspense is
killing me.”

“Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“Absolutely.”

“But, darling, you’ve been having
labor pains—”

“
False
labor pains. For
almost a month now. Come on, quit fussing, and let’s go.”

“Very well,” he acquiesced
wearily.

They bundled up and left in Mark’s
car. Half an hour later, as the couple entered the security office at corporate
headquarters, Courtney spotted a scowling M. Billingham standing next to Lon, a
few feet away from a bank of small videotape monitors that were flashing
footage of various corridors and offices on their floor.

M. Billingham’s expression was
grave. “Courtney, Mark, I hope you’re both well.”

“We are, Grandfather,” Mark
answered.

Courtney turned directly to her
security chief. “Lon, what do you have for us?”

He motioned toward a far screen. “The
culprit in the act, Mrs. Billingham.”

Courtney was starting toward the
screen when M. Billingham touched her arm. “I hope this won’t be too much of a
shock for you, my dear.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

He gave a shrug. “On the other
hand, perhaps it won’t be a shock at all.”

Courtney shot him a bewildered
look and moved toward the screen. What had M. Billingham meant? Was the coot
still convinced she was somehow responsible for the espionage? She studied the
screen, only to gasp as she spotted a familiar figure sitting huddled at the
computer terminal in M. Billingham’s office; the culprit wore the uniform and
hat of a cleaning crew person.

“Oh, my God!” She turned back to
Lon. “Are you sure you’ve caught the right party?”

Lon nodded grimly. “A week ago, I
received an alert from the digital consultant. He’d discovered that our
financial files had been penetrated, right here at headquarters at night. We’ve
been watching the perp come in and out ever since—sometimes disguised as a
building maintenance person, today posing as an upholstery cleaning person. I’m
only allowing the shenanigans to continue in order to gather evidence before we
notify the police.”

“You’ve known about this for a
week and you didn’t tell me?” Courtney exclaimed.

“There was no point in proceeding
before we had solid evidence.”

Courtney groaned.

“Shall we go confront the
perpetrator?” M. Billingham asked.

Courtney turned to him sharply. “I
think Mark and I should.”

Ignoring her tone, M. Billingham
strode to the door and opened it. “We’ll all go. Courtney, dear, after you.”

Courtney marched out the door and
down the hallway toward M. Billingham’s office. She flung open the door and
confronted the figure at the desk. “I can’t believe it’s you! I thought we were
friends.”

The figure at the computer
terminal flinched. Then Vanessa Fox stood and calmly removed her cap, staring
impassively at the three sets of eyes focused on her accusingly. “Hello, Ham,”
she murmured.

“Van,” he replied sternly.

She flashed an apologetic look at
Courtney. “Hello, Courtney and Mark.”

Courtney started toward her
friend, almost tripping over an upholstery cleaning machine parked on the
floor. She spoke in an intense whisper. “Vanessa, please, don’t you realize
you’re in big trouble here?”

Vanessa drew herself up proudly.
“I’ve gathered as much. I believe ‘caught red-handed’ is the apropos phrase.
But no matter. It was all well worth it just to make Ham Bootle squirm.”

“Make me squirm?” M. Billingham
repeated.

“Yes, make
you
squirm,” Vanessa
replied spitefully. “I almost made it, too, altering records so it would seem
as if you had embezzled company funds. Of course I also intended to see that
those funds would be recovered—once you were in prison. What sweet revenge that
would have been!”

Expression stunned, M. Billingham
stepped forward. “But why would you want to wreak vengeance on me, Van? I’ve
been more than generous with you.”

“Ah, yes, very generous, driving
my husband until he died of a heart attack,” Vanessa retorted bitterly.

“But I warned Floyd to slow down,
especially after his first attack—”

“Sure you did, but you also kept
piling on the work. Then after he died you forced me out of the company. You
had known for years that I wanted to join Bootle’s Baby Bower as a designer. I
had ideas for an entire new product line. But, oh, no, that was too much of an
assault for your ego, having a woman spearhead your product line. So once my
husband was gone, you forced me out. It was only when Courtney came along and
you saw her as a potential future wife for your grandson that you revised your
misogamist policies. At least I can be thankful she got the opportunities I
never had.”

Appearing at a lost, M. Billingham
drew a hand through his white hair. “Van, I never knew you felt that way.”

“Indeed. A true Bootle you are.
Self-absorbed and tone-deaf to the feelings of others.”

Expression crestfallen, Courtney
stepped forward. “Vanessa, I can’t believe I’m hearing this. So you were
responsible for everything—the egg rolls fiasco, the Grumpy Face stickers, our
website being attacked, the Brat Brigade?”

Vanessa nodded, flashing Courtney
an apologetic look. “Yes, I was responsible. It took a bit of planning and
skullduggery—hiring various crews, bribing people—but I was more than equal to
the task. As you’ve so often reminded me, I am a genius with computers, so I
knew how to cover my tracks.”

Courtney blinked at sudden tears.
“But how could you do this to
me
? Here I thought you were my friend, as
well as a proponent of the sisterhood, someone who wanted women to get their
just due in the business world. But you undermined me this way. Were you
jealous of my accomplishments?”

With a cry of anguish, Vanessa
touched Courtney’s arm. “Oh, no, darling, never. Whatever else you may think of
me, please know that I never intended to do any of this to
you
. My pride
over your achievements knows no bounds.” She shot a hostile glance at M.
Billingham. “You must understand that everything I did, I did to hurt Ham, to
make him a laughingstock. Remember that day last summer when we met for lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s when you told me
what a hard time Ham was giving you over this. When I realized he was blaming
you, that I was hurting you instead of him, I was devastated. Immediately I
ceased my activities at the stores and website and turned to your computer
system instead. I was the one who rewrote Ham’s annual memo to his employees,
revising it to more accurate proportions—”

“
Accurate proportions
?”
bellowed M. Billingham.

“And I knew you wouldn’t get
blamed for that, since you were at the dinner the night that particular dirty
deed was done. Since then I’ve been trying to hack your computer system to get
some dirt on Ham. My theory was that anyone who is such a self-centered jackass
is likely a criminal, too.”

“A criminal! How dare you!” ranted
M. Billingham.

Ignoring him, Vanessa went on, “I
was looking for any clue to illegal activity on Ham’s part—offshore accounts,
dummy corporations, evidence of money being funneled. But I found nothing.
That’s when I decided to ‘create’ proof of Ham’s embezzling funds from the
company. And I would have succeeded, too, except for the efforts of Mr. Wilson
here and the consultants he has hired. I was almost there, with Ham where I
wanted him—in an orange jumpsuit at county jail.”

As Vanessa had spoken, M.
Billingham’s face had paled by degrees. “My God, Van, do you hate me that
much?”

Vanessa gazed at him sadly.
“Actually, while you may not believe this, I never hated you, Ham. At one time
I genuinely liked and respected you. Then, after what happened with Floyd, I
felt deeply hurt, and betrayed. And I wanted you to pay.” She turned to
Courtney, offering a contrite smile. “Courtney, darling, again, I’m so sorry to
disappoint you, or to cause you any distress so close to the birth of your
child. Well, that’s pretty much my story.” She gazed frostily at M. Billingham.
“I presume you’ll call the authorities now and cart me off to the calaboose?”

For once, M. Billingham appeared
at a loss. “Well, I’m not sure.”

“We really should, Mr. Bootle,”
urged Lon.

“May I say something, Mr. Bootle?”
asked Courtney.

He waved a hand. “Why not?”

Courtney leveled a fierce look on
him. “You deserved this.”

“I
what
?”

“I agree, Grandfather,” put in
Mark. “You can’t just treat people as shabbily as you have, for years and
years, and expect them not to retaliate.”

“Now my own family betrays me,”
grumbled M. Billingham. “Things have reached a pretty pass, indeed.”

Lon cleared his throat. “Sir, that
still doesn’t solve our current dilemma.” He jerked his head toward Vanessa.
“What should I do about her?”

M. Billingham scowled from Lon to
Vanessa. He was opening his mouth to speak when suddenly Courtney uttered a low
cry. Mark grabbed her arm. “Darling, what is it?”

Courtney was still gasping,
feeling as if a huge fist had just grabbed her insides and given them a very
hard twist. “I think I just felt a
real
labor pain.”

He went wild-eyed. “Oh, good Lord.
But our child is not due for another two weeks.”

“Well, from everything I’m
feeling, she hasn’t looked at the calendar lately.”

“You’re going to have my
grandchild now?” cried M. Billingham. Distraughtly he turned to Lon. “Don’t
just stand there, man, do something.”

Lon appeared utterly at a loss.
“What should I do, sir, call 911?”

“Yes. Call 911.”

“No!” contradicted Mark. “We’ll
just go straightaway to the hospital.”

Appearing extremely relieved, M.
Billingham nodded. “Splendid idea, grandson. We’ll do just that.”

Listening to the men and realizing
she could put this moment to advantage, Courtney grabbed Vanessa’s arm. “Will
you come with me to the hospital? I really can’t make it without you.”

Vanessa’s features melted. “You
mean you’ve forgiven me, darling?”

“Of course I have. Will you come?”

“Certainly I will, that is . . .”
She glanced at M. Billingham.

He at once took her cue. “Of
course. We’ll all go to the hospital.” He glanced wryly at Vanessa’s costume.
“Perhaps they’ll have a couch or two for old Van here to scrub.”