Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(66)

“If it’s Grandma …”

Jackson walked into the living room holding a glass of water. “Hi,” he said, and looked at his sister. His eyes seemed to say Ava was in deep trouble if their grandmother ever found out about Libby stopping by.

“I brought you something,” Libby said.

“Oh?”

She pulled out a package of protein bars. She’d seen them advertised at the gym by a pro basketball player. She couldn’t remember his name now and she wouldn’t have recognized it even if she had. Basketball wasn’t a game that interested her. Jackson, however, seemed to love the sport. The bars weren’t something his grandmother could afford.

“Max Williams power bars,” Jackson repeated as if she’d presented him with a ten-pound box of solid gold. “Wow, thanks.”

“Libby’s my friend,” Ava whispered.

“I know and you don’t need to worry; I won’t say anything to Grandma about her coming to see you.”

Jackson took the box into his room and then went back outside with two of the bars clenched in his hand.

Ava lowered her head. “He doesn’t know about the baby.”

Libby had suspected as much.

“He wants me to come outside but I don’t anymore. I don’t know what I’m going to do when school starts.”

Classes were scheduled to resume right after Labor Day. Libby had already thought of a solution. “Once your grandmother finds out you’re pregnant I can help homeschool you until after the baby is born. That way you’ll be able to stay here until you’re ready to return to your regular classes.”

Ava nodded. “I … think I might want to keep my baby.”

“You don’t need to make that decision now. Think about it, Ava, think very hard, because there is a lot at stake here. It is more than your future; it’s the future of your child, too.”

“Lots of women do.”

“I know, but it’s hard work and you need to be prepared for that.” Libby didn’t feel she could say anything more just yet. She didn’t want to influence the teenager, and at the same time she felt she needed to let Ava know it wouldn’t be easy to raise this child by herself.

“Thank you, Libby,” Ava whispered, squeezing her hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Just let me know when your doctor’s appointment is scheduled and I’ll go with you.” She glanced at her watch.

“Do you have to leave now?”

Libby sighed. “Sorry, yes, I have a meeting.”

A very important appointment … with Martha Reed. The entire future of her own private practice was at stake.

Chapter 25

Libby had visited the home of Mrs. Martha Reed several times while she was working at Burkhart, Smith & Crandall. The mansion—and really, that was the only word to describe it—never failed to impress her. As the large wrought-iron security gates slowly opened to allow her passage, Libby sucked in her breath and whispered a silent prayer. A great deal hung on this meeting. While she was prepared to present herself to Mrs. Reed, Libby couldn’t help thinking about her morning with Ava. She was determined to do what she could to help the girl, but her options were few.

The housekeeper answered the door, and although she’d admitted Libby to the house any number of times she gave no indication that she recognized her.

“Hello, Alice,” Libby said.

Alice cracked a smile. “Good to see you again, Ms. Morgan.”

“You too.” Libby stepped into the large foyer. A round mahogany table with a dazzling floral arrangement rested in the center and a crystal chandelier hung overhead, the glass sparkling in the sunlight.

“Mrs. Reed is in the library,” Alice told her.

“I know the way,” Libby assured the other woman.

It didn’t matter; Alice led her to the room, opened the massive pocket doors, and announced her. “Ms. Morgan to see you.”

“Libby.” Mrs. Reed held out her hand without getting up. Although she was in her eighties, Martha Reed remained a striking woman. She wore her thick white hair in a bun at the base of her head. Libby had never seen her in anything but a dress. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever seeing the older woman unstylish. On a couple of occasions Mrs. Reed had taken Libby into her rose garden. She pruned the bushes herself and was inordinately proud of her prize roses. She’d worn an apron over her dress as she’d wandered through the garden, pruning as she strolled along the paved pathway.

“Sit down, please.”

“Thank you.” Libby took the wingback chair next to the family matriarch. Her husband, Bernard Reed, had died nearly twenty years ago. He’d devised some small part that had revolutionized the airplane engine and had been handsomely rewarded for his invention.

“I’ve asked Alice to bring us tea.”

“That would be lovely.” Past experience taught Libby that Mrs. Reed preferred to chat before discussing business. Libby guessed that Ben Holmes had been all business from the moment he walked in the door. Big mistake.

Alice rolled in an elaborate cart and poured them each a cup of steaming Earl Grey. She didn’t need to ask how Libby liked her tea, she remembered and added a teaspoon of milk without being prompted.

“Thank you, Alice,” Libby said when the housekeeper handed her the delicate china cup and saucer.