The Truth About Ever After (10 page)

Eric
and I arrived at the house early so we could help my mom. Though her
housekeeper doubled as a cook for the family most days, my mom insisted on
making Christmas dinner herself. It was a tradition.

“Merry
Christmas!” I called as Eric and I walked into the foyer. I took a deep breath,
a mixture of pine, cinnamon, and something delicious from the kitchen
assaulting my senses.

“Sweetheart!”
my dad said, coming to the foyer to welcome us. “Merry Christmas!” He wrapped
me up in a big hug and I snuggled into his chest, catching a whiff of his Old
Spice. My mother was forever trying to get him to try something new, something
more trendy
, but he’d been wearing Old Spice since he was
eighteen, “And a man doesn’t change these things, damn it.” Secretly, I loved
it.

After
he had released me, he pulled Eric in for a hug too. My dad was big on public
displays of affection. No manly handshake for him, not with his family.

“Mom
in the kitchen?” I asked, setting my carrier bags of gifts down.

My
dad rolled his eyes. “Yup. Cursing her way through each dish. I don’t know why
she doesn’t just hire someone to do it for her.”

“Daddy,
it’s a tradition,” I argued.

“Kiki,
she can’t cook,” he responded, mimicking my tone. I laughed and turned to Eric.
“Put these under the tree for me?”

“Sure
thing.”

“Thanks.”
I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him. As I walked into the kitchen, I couldn’t
help but grin, thinking of one of my presents from Eric that morning.

“A
baby book?” I had asked, surprised. “But I’m not pregnant yet.”

“Yeah,
but I thought now you could get some real information, and maybe you’d stay off
the Internet for a few hours every day.”

I
had laughed and kissed him in thanks. I
had
been spending an awful lot of time online lately, but what did he expect? If we
were going to be parents I needed to be as educated as possible.

My
mother, normally as
well-dressed
and stylish as anyone
I knew, was wearing an apron and covered in flour. “Merry Christmas, Mom!”

“Oh,
sweetie,” she said, looking up from the counter to grin at me. “I’m so glad
you’re here. I’m desperate for help.”

“Nice
to see you too,” I said, reaching for an apron.

She
laughed and came around to hug me, careful not to get flour on my new dress.
“Merry Christmas, sweet daughter. How was your morning?”

“Very
nice.” I kissed her cheek. “What did you and Daddy do?”

“Not
much. Slept in. Daddy made pancakes.” She returned to her workspace, looking
down at a pile of dough with a distressed expression on her face. “I swear to
God, next year we are hiring a caterer.”

“How
about I do the pies,” I said, nudging her out of the way. I did not want a
repeat of the sprinkler system fiasco of 2005, when my mother had forgotten the
pies in the oven and started a minor fire.

“Thank
you, dear,” she said. “I’ll chop veggies.”

We
fell into easy chatter. My mom was such great company. She had learned long ago
the art of making people comfortable and at ease; it was second nature to her
now. Her public persona was that of a very together, business-minded woman, but
those who got to spend time with her personally knew that she was warm and
considerate. She was going to make a wonderful grandmother.

As
if she had read my mind, my mom suddenly stopped what she was doing to turn to
me. “Dear, did you hear that Beth Carter was pregnant? I ran into her mother at
the
DIA
benefit last week. Apparently she’s due next
in just a few months.”

“Hmm,”
I said quietly. “That’s nice.”

Beth
Carter was a girl I had gone to school with. I suppose you could have called us
friends at one point, but I was quite happy to have drifted out of touch with
her over the years. She was what you might call a Mean Girl—someone who
could be nice as all get-out to your face, but turn on you in an instant.

“Yes,
and I hear Sarah
Vandermark
is expecting an
engagement any day now.”

“Good
for Sarah
Vandermark
,” I muttered, unable to keep the
displeasure out of my voice. Sarah had been the ringleader of Beth’s little
group, another pseudo-friend who had done me much more harm than good over the
years.

My
mom must have caught my tone, because she quickly changed the subject. “We’re
so happy Jen is coming tonight. I haven’t seen her since the wedding. How are
they doing?”

“They
seem really good,” I said. “Happy. I guess they want to try to have kids right
away.”

“Hmm,”
my mother said. “Well, I hope things turn out like they want, I suppose.
Personally, I think you and Eric had the right idea. Enjoy each other for a
while. There’s plenty of time for all that.”

“
Mmmhmm
,” I said, wishing I hadn’t brought it up.

“On
the other hand,” my mother said casually, “I guess a couple knows when it’s
time for them. You know your father and I are happy to support whatever the two
of you want.”

I
looked up at her. She was watching me carefully, her expression giving nothing
away. I stifled a laugh. My mother was the master of getting information out of
people. I looked over my shoulder, making sure we were alone, before hissing,
“We decided we’re going to start trying!”

My
mother dropped her knife with a clatter to the floor. “Oh, sweetie,” she said,
her voice heavy with emotion.

Before
she could say any more, Eric appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Merry
Christmas, Mom,” he said cheerfully. “Put me to work. What needs doing?”

To
my great surprise, my normally reserved mother rushed around the kitchen island
to throw her arms around him, smearing him with flour. “Oh, Eric,” she said,
her voice shaking. “Merry Christmas, dear.”

“Kiki
told you about the baby plan, didn’t she?” he asked drily as he patted the top
of her head. I burst out laughing.

“Sorry,
hon
,” I told him. “Girl talk.”

Eric
rolled his eyes as she released him, wiping her face with the corner of her
apron. “A mother is allowed to be happy about these things,” she said with
dignity.

“Yeah,
yeah,” Eric said, giving her my favorite charming smile. “What do you want me
to do in here, you big sap?”

She
put him to work on the veggies so she could move on to some terrifying-looking
casserole. When my father joined us a few minutes later, we were all laughing
easily as we worked together.

“I
guess I’ve avoided this long enough,” my dad said. “I’m at your mercy, woman.”

I
smiled as he pulled on an apron and set to work peeling apples for my pie. What
the papers would say about this scene
;
the great David
Barker, American entrepreneurial legend, cutting apples in the kitchen for
Christmas dinner.

I
caught Eric’s eye across the counter. He winked at me and I felt a rush of joy.
I was so lucky to have this family. And maybe, if we were lucky, by next
Christmas we might have grown a bit.

Chapter Ten

“Tell
me again why we’re doing this?” Eric asked, peering out his window at the brick
facade of the house before us. “Seriously,
Kiks
,” he
said, turning to look at me. “What’s the hurry?”

“Eric,”
I said, trying not to sound exasperated. “We discussed this. We cannot have a
child in our little condo in Birmingham. We need a real house, with a yard and
room for the baby to play.”

Eric
sighed as he took the keys out of the ignition. “I understand that,” he said.
“But I don’t understand what the big hurry is. You’re not even pregnant yet!”

“Yeah,
but don’t you want to be prepared when the baby gets here? Picking out a house
can take a lot of time. And then there’s escrow and closing. It could be ages!
What if we had to bring the baby home from the hospital and we didn’t have a
place yet?”

“We
would bring the baby home to our condo, which, by the way, has plenty of room.
It has more square footage than the house Matt and I grew up in, for God’s
sake.”

I
made a face at him. “Eric. We need to start thinking like parents now. There’s
no reason to put this off. Besides, if we know what kind of house we have, it
will be easier for me to plan the nursery.”

Eric
just stared at me. He looked like he was trying to decide whether to laugh or
start yelling. After a moment he apparently decided to do neither. “Fine. Let’s
just get this over with.”

He
opened his door and I followed suit, skipping around the car to grab his hand.
I could understand that Eric might have thought I was rushing things, but
really, what was the point in waiting? Now that we knew we were preparing for a
baby, why not do it right?

As
I pulled Eric toward the front door, I took a minute to examine the house. It
was a pretty traditional-looking brick colonial. I tried to remember what the
agent had told me on the phone.
Three thousand square feet?
Maybe it was thirty-five hundred.
Either way, plenty of room
for our new family.

“Kiki!”
the front door was thrown open to reveal Jen’s mother, Sue Carney. When I knew
I was going to be in the market for a house, I had called her immediately.
There were other people in Daddy’s firm that could have handled the search for
us, but I knew how Eric got weird sometimes when he thought I was relying too
much on my dad’s company.

“It’s
so wonderful to see you,” Mrs. Carney said warmly as we stepped through the
entryway.

“You
too,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand. “You remember my husband, Eric?”

“Of
course,” she said. “You’re both looking well!”

I
smiled at her, feeling a little awkward. Jen’s mom had a tendency to come
across as a little insincere when I talked to her. Jen had told me once that
she was very ambitious, and considered contacts to be the lifeblood of her
work. Which made sense and everything, but I wasn’t too crazy about being
thought of as a contact. I looked up at Eric, wondering if he had gotten the
same vibe as I had, and wondering if maybe it had been a mistake to use Mrs.
Carney after all.

“This
house is just lovely,” she was saying as she gestured us into the foyer. “Very
high-end finishes. Plenty of space.”

As
she led us deeper into the house, I tried to block out any misgivings and
concentrate. The space really was beautiful. The front of the house was clearly
more formal, with a living room and a formal dining room.
Beyond
that, a hallway led to the back of the house and I started to get excited.
The layout was very open, from the plush carpeted great room to the informal
dining room all the way into the kitchen.

“Ooh,”
I sighed happily. “I love this kitchen.”

The
room was decorated in a country style, with white cabinets and a scrubbed pine
table. The granite countertops were gleaming in the afternoon sunlight through
a wall of French doors. “There’s even a fireplace,” I murmured. I could just
picture myself in that kitchen, making breakfast while the kids played around
underfoot. Maybe we’d even get a dog.

I
looked over at Eric expectantly, but he had moved to the French doors to look
out over the back yard. He looked completely unimpressed. “Shall we go see the
bedrooms?” Mrs. Carney asked. “All four are on the upper level.”

“Four?”
Eric asked, finally turning away from the windows. “Four bedrooms?”

“Yes,”
Mrs. Carney said, looking a little taken aback. “Though there is an upstairs
den as well, which could probably be converted to a guest room if you wanted…”

“Great,”
Eric muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just what we need. Five
bedrooms for a family of two.”

Mrs.
Carney looked downright uncomfortable, and I felt a flash of embarrassment for
Eric’s behavior. “Will you give us a minute?” I asked her, smiling.

“Sure,”
she said. “I’ll just go make some calls…” She hurried out of the room and I
tuned to Eric.

“What’s
the matter?” I asked. “You were totally rude to her just now.”

“Kiki,”
he said, not the slightest bit abashed. “What the hell are you thinking?
A five-bedroom house?
Are you kidding me?”

“It’s
only four,” I said, but he was shaking his head.

“Why
would we need five bedrooms?”

“Someday
we might need that many. I thought you always said you wanted at least three
kids.”

“Yeah,
maybe someday. But not right now! Not for years, in fact. They can share when
they’re little. Hell, they can share until they go to college. There is just no
way we need all this space right now. It’s absurd.”

“We
can look at something smaller,” I told him, figuring he did have a point. It
wasn’t like this had to be the last house we ever bought. We were only twenty-eight.