Sunset Beach(67)



“Sit down,” Brice said, gesturing to the chair near the desk.

Drue did as she was told, crossing her ankles and waiting for the inevitable.

“Go ahead and tell her,” Brice said, nudging Wendy, who was dressed in what was, for her, a casual outfit: black linen slacks and an olive green sleeveless silk blouse.

“No, I think this should come from you,” Wendy said, a frown creasing her forehead.

“For God’s sake, one of you just tell me,” Drue said. “If you’re going to fire me, let’s go ahead and get it over with.”

“Fire you?” Brice laughed. “Why would I do that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because double secret probation isn’t working out?”

“It’s working out fine,” Brice assured her. “Don’t be so paranoid. Zee tells me you were great interviewing that witness yesterday. But that’s not really why we wanted to see you.”

He reached behind the sofa cushion and brought out a glittering blue gift bag tied with a bow on the handle. “This is for you,” he said, handing it across to her. “Open it, please.”

“Oh-kayyy,” she said slowly. She untied the satin ribbon and reached into the tissue-filled bag, pulling out a white cotton T-shirt.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Read the shirt,” Brice said.

She unfolded the shirt and held it up. Printed across the front, in bold blue letters it read I’M THE BIG SISTER!

Drue looked from Brice to Wendy. They were holding hands and grinning like a couple of loons.

“Is this a gag?” she asked, but from the expression on her father’s face, she instantly regretted her words.

He looked like he’d been slapped. “A gag? Who jokes about something like that? We thought you’d be happy for us.”

Wendy’s eyes filled with tears. “I told you she’d be freaked out.” She reached over and snatched the gift from Drue’s hands. “Never mind. I guess it was too much to expect that you’d be happy about our happiness.”

“Wait! No, I’m not freaked out. I’m surprised, that’s all. I mean, I had no idea you guys were trying.” Drue sat back, trying to gather her thoughts.

“Wow,” she said, after a moment. “Really? You’re pregnant? Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Brice said. He pulled Wendy closer. “Come on, honey, you heard her. She’s really happy for us.”

He glared at his daughter. “Aren’t you?”

“I am,” Drue said slowly. “It’s just a lot to take in.” She held out her hand to Wendy.

“Can I have my gift back, please?”

Wendy tossed the shirt at Drue, who caught it in midair. “So. Tell me all about it. How long have you known? When’s the due date?”

“We’re due in November,” Brice said. “It’s not really a surprise. We, uh, had some fertility issues, as you might guess. We started trying as soon as we got married, but it turns out it’s not as easy as I assumed it would be.”

“Four rounds of in vitro fertilization,” Wendy said, sighing and holding her hands protectively across her perfectly flat abdomen. “Fifteen thousand dollars a round, plus hellish amounts of hormones.”

“This girl has been a real trooper,” Brice said, beaming at his bride. “I would have given up a year ago, but she just wouldn’t. It was quite the ordeal for her.”

“I’ll bet.” Drue nodded, although the reality was that she had no idea what was involved with in vitro fertilization. She studied Wendy, who was staring down at her belly.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked, trying to sound solicitous.

“Still nauseous in the morning, but at least those crazy mood swings from the hormones are pretty much a thing of the past,” Wendy said. Her face softened. “I, uh, well, I know I’ve been pretty bitchy and hard to get along with. But I’ve been so anxious, worrying that something would happen and I’d lose the baby.”

“You’re not going to lose the baby,” Brice said, squeezing Wendy’s shoulders. “The doctor says everything looks great.”

“We wanted to wait to tell people until I was well past my first trimester,” Wendy said. “You know, just in case. Turns out I’m a high-risk mom. But the doctor says everything is fine, and he’s just perfect!”

“He?” Drue looked at her father.

“Didn’t we already say that? It’s a boy! You’re going to have a baby brother.”

“You’re going to have a son,” Wendy said, kissing Brice’s cheek.

“I didn’t want to say anything to spook Wendy, but I was really crazy nervous waiting on those results,” Brice said. “I mean, I’m nearly seventy years old, for Chrissakes! I kept looking stuff up on the internet, trying to reassure myself. My God! A son, at my age!”

“Charlie Chaplin was seventy-three when his last child was born,” Wendy said. “Picasso was sixty-eight.”

“Same age as me,” Brice said. “Mick Jagger was seventy-four when he had a kid, and Ronnie Wood was seventy. And Billy Joel and Elton John were still fathering kids in their sixties,” Brice noted.

“Great!” Drue piped up. “Maybe you’ll take up the guitar and join a band … Just joking, Dad!”

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