If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(30)

“You tell me. I can’t reach your mom, and she never sent me the baby shower list. It’s only a few weeks away. I’d like to order my gifts and wrap them.”

“Oh, thank you. But I’m canceling the shower . . . or at least putting it off. That’s probably why she hasn’t sent out the list.”

“Heavens on earth, why would you cancel? This is a celebration! My first grandniece.”

I smiled, grateful for her enthusiasm yet aware my own happiness was no longer as complete. “Thank you for being so excited, but I’m feeling overwhelmed. It’s coming to the end of the school year, and with the anniversary of my dad’s death . . . it feels like the wrong time.”

The disgrace of using my father’s death as part of a cover story made me want to throw up. My father had loved children and been particularly tickled when Kevin made him a grandfather. When Lyle and I first discussed having a baby, I’d secretly anticipated sharing something with my dad that wouldn’t involve Erin.

“Amanda, listen to me, dear. You can’t wait for the perfect time to do things, because there is no perfect time. Once this baby comes, you must be ready to go, go, go. Now, come on, let’s have a party.”

“I appreciate the pep talk, but Lyle’s out of town on business and I’m . . . I’ve got a lot to handle. Maybe after the baby comes.”

“But then you won’t have all the things you need. Oh dear. I have to speak with Madeline. If it’s too much for you to host at your house, she should host it. I’ll come a day early to help set up.”

“Oh no, Aunt Dodo, please don’t.” Her tendency to boss everyone around would not only be unhelpful but also would send my mother into a tizzy.

“Don’t you worry. I know how to handle my baby sister. See you soon. Kisses.” And then she hung up on me.

I should warn my mother, but this day had sapped all my energy. Experience also had taught me that sisters had to manage their own relationship. After all, neither Mom’s, Dad’s, nor Kevin’s attempts to wrangle Erin’s and mine had ever made a difference.

Grabbing all the pillows, I then stuffed some around my awkward figure for support. Little by little, my body felt as if it were sinking into the mattress. My eyelids drifted south . . .

“So you think I can do it?” Lyle stood in the kitchen, orange juice in hand, looking at me with hope in his eyes.

“I know you can. You’re driven, persuasive, savvy . . . and irresistible. If anyone can sell that old factory, it’s you.” I buttered my toast.

Lyle set down his glass and came over to wrap his arms around me, giving me a kiss that made me weak in the knees. “Thank you. You’ve no idea what your support means. Marrying you will always be the best decision I ever made.”

I hugged him, resting my cheek on his shoulder. “I feel exactly the same way.”

“Amanda!” A man’s voice called my name from downstairs. For a second after waking from my nap, my heart was at peace. I thought Lyle was downstairs and it had all been a horrible dream. Then I replayed the voice that belonged to Stan, and the nightmare continued.

“Just a minute!” I rolled off the bed and risked a quick look in the mirror. Gah—nice deep wrinkle across my cheek. From the top of the steps, I gazed at Stan. “Sorry. I dozed off.”

“No worries. When my wife was pregnant, she slept whenever she could. Your body needs the rest.” He nodded with a warm smile.

I made my way downstairs, thinking he must be a gentle husband and father. “Do you have questions?”

“Yes. Let’s sit in the kitchen.”

“Sure. I could use some herbal tea. How about you?”

“That’d be nice, thanks.” He followed me and took a seat while I quickly made two peppermint teas—from the gift basket Erin had given me when she learned I was pregnant—and then handed him one. “Ooh, smells great.”

I took my seat before sipping from my cup. “So what can I help you with now?”

“Well, first off, were you and your husband in the market for a boat, or talking about a Caribbean cruise—like a private charter yacht?” He looked hopeful, which made my stomach drop.

Lyle had grown up near Lake Michigan and become an accomplished sailor by his teens. He’d always wanted his own boat, but I’d suggested we save that money, arguing we could always rent a sailboat, like he had for one of our first dates. He’d splurged to charter a gorgeous sailboat that day. He’d looked so happy and free at the helm my heart ached to remember it.

I’d never been to his family home in Michigan, though. That third time I’d suggested meeting his dad had drawn a severe argument that ended with my promise to never bring it up again, so I’d finally stopped. In any case, now I couldn’t help but wonder if that freedom he experienced on a sailboat had always been his heart’s true desire.

I shook my head. “No. Why?”

He clucked. “Well, I found a lot of searches for long-range miniyachts. Charters and used ones for sale.”

Only then did I recall the Abaco part of my earlier conversation with Lyle. Oh God, he’d taken Ebba for a sail, like he’d done with me. The image of him at the helm revisited me. Handsome and proud, the wind in his hair. Another of my special memories now sullied. “Lyle mentioned something about a weekend in the Bahamas. While tying a boat to a dock in Abaco, he lost his phone. It’s why he called from a strange number. Could that be what he’d researched?”