Wildest Dreams (Thunder Point #9)(52)

He looked at her doubtfully. “You want to use my car?” he asked.

“The walking is a good idea, Justin. I’m not handicapped, just pregnant.”

“Right. But... Well, seems like you’re getting real pregnant these days.”

“That’s the idea, Justin. Then poof! I explode.”

He winced. “Don’t do that, okay?”

“Okay,” she laughed. “Your deliveries are all tagged and in the refrigerator. Lock the back door please?”

“Sure. If you’re not here when I bring the van back, I’ll leave the keys on your desk.”

She really wasn’t worried about the stone man or the fireplace, but after that lousy interview, she thought a little fresh air and perspective might help. She needed her jacket because the air on the beach was cool, though it was a beautiful, sunny, fall day. She walked up the beach stairs to the deck and Keebler turned to look at her.

“Looking very nice, Keebler,” she said.

He grunted.

In the living room she found Mikhail sitting in Winnie’s favorite chair, his feet up on the ottoman, reading his electronic book. She shed her jacket, hung it on the back of a dining room chair and gave him a kiss on the forehead. He reached up and patted her hand.

“How long has Mother been asleep?” she asked.

He glanced at his watch. “Better than hour,” he said. “Lin Su folds the clothes.”

As Grace went to her mother’s bedroom she passed Lin Su in the hall, pulling linens out of the dryer and folding them. They nodded at each other and Grace went to her mother’s room.

Winnie was resting peacefully, lying on her back, her eyes closed and the merest smile on her lips. Grace sat on the edge of the bed and her mother’s eyes fluttered open. Winnie yawned gracefully.

Grace pulled Winnie’s thin and frail hand to her belly to feel the movement and Winnie laughed. “She’s romping now,” Winnie said in a faint whisper.

“She’s wild. She takes after her grandmother, I think.”

“You were very active. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I should have. I wanted the pregnancy to be over so I could skate. I was so shortsighted.”

“Nah, that was just the place you were in at the time,” Grace said.

“Something is bothering you,” Winnie said.

Oh, indeed, Grace felt bothered. She had very little hope of finding the right person, someone like Ginger, to run the flower shop while she excused herself to have a baby, to spend the first few weeks with the baby. She feared she’d have to close the shop for at least a couple of months. And, oh! She’d worked so hard to build that store, to stock it, to learn to run it, to make it a good working shop that made money. She’d worked easily twelve hours a day, seven days a week. It was her whole life.

Of course, there had been no Troy then. All there’d been was the shop and her need to be independent, to succeed on her own. That was only a couple of years ago, before she reconciled with Winnie, before she fell in love with Mr. Hottie High School Teacher, before there was a baby in her.

She sighed deeply, pressing her mother’s hand on her belly.

“I love this baby,” Winnie said softly.

Why worry about a flower shop when you have everything in the world that matters? Grace asked herself.

“Mama, I’ve been thinking. We need a little more time together before the baby is here. I think we should read something together. I’ve never read some things that should be read. I have an idea—let’s pick a book and I’ll read it to you. An hour in the afternoon or something.”

“Fifty Shades!” Winnie said.

“Oh, Mother, I’m not reading that out loud! It has too many body parts in it. The private kind.”

“Prude. All right, let’s do something by that Higgins girl.”

“I was thinking something even more tame. And old. A timeless romance. Deeply romantic, rich in language and titillating. Jane Eyre? Wuthering Heights?”

“I love Wuthering Heights,” Winnie said.

“We’ll do that! I’ll get us a copy and we’ll start tomorrow. We’ll have to think about when is the best time of day.”

“That would be lovely, Grace. Now what’s bothering you?”

She took a breath. “I had an unpleasant interview with an applicant. He acted like he was doing me a favor, applying for the job. He looked at my perfect little shop like it was a hovel.”

“You won’t hire him, then,” Winnie said.

“The shop will be hard to manage when the baby comes,” Grace said. “When you need more of my time.”

“Grace, listen to me. I’m not known for wisdom or unselfishness, I know that. But life is short. Hire more nurses if you must. Get a good nanny or sitter. But follow your heart while you can.”

“It’s not just a store to me, Mama. I love the flowers. I love taking my flowers to weddings and parties. I love sitting in my little back room at that scarred old table making beautiful arrangements, and though I don’t need the money from it, I love that I can earn it. It was the first thing after skating that made me feel competent. And I don’t expect anyone to understand, but I’m always happy when I’m doing my job. But I want to be a good mother. I want more than one child.”

“That’s because you haven’t had labor yet,” Winnie said, smiling. “Or colic or terrible twos or sass.”