Just goes to show, you never can tell. Mallory Lombard leaned against her bathroom counter and stared at the strip from the pregnancy kit.
The old saying had been one of her Aunt Norma’s favorites. Mallory had heard it often, usually when her aunt was feeling sorry for herself and the way her life had turned out.
Aunt Norma’s dream had been to teach English in the Far East. But in her last year of university, her sister and brother-in-law were killed in a car crash driving home to Port Carling from Toronto after an anniversary celebration.
They both died instantly, at twelve minutes past one on that warm evening in May. And at that moment Aunt Norma inherited a lovely old house in Port Carling, a large insurance settlement and the responsibility for raising her five-year-old niece, Mallory.
So much for the teaching contract in Japan, a contract she’d received only that week. Just goes to show...
Mallory kept staring at the strip in her hands, hands usually steady enough to thread a needle in one try. According to the test’s directions, the extra gray stripe on the small wand meant she was pregnant. And according to the box, the test was ninety- nine percent accurate.
How funny that only months earlier, on her thirty- fifth birthday, she’d resigned herself to a future without a husband or children. Time to face the truth, she’d told herself. Every one of her romantic relationships had been a disaster of one sort or another. Even she had realized that her current boyfriend was not good husband or father material.
Yet here she was, only six months later. Pregnant.
Mallory put the strip down on the counter and went to the kitchen to make coffee. No, wait. If she was pregnant, shouldn’t she avoid caffeine? She scrounged her cupboards and found some peppermint tea.
As she waited for the water to boil, she wondered what other women in her situation would be feeling right now. Disbelief? Panic? Fear?
Yet she felt none of the above. Only calm acceptance. And, yes—a pinprick of excitement.
Okay, so the situation wasn’t ideal. She wasn’t married and the father would doubtlessly be dismayed at the news. But she wanted this baby.
Mallory thought about one of the newborn sleepers she’d unpacked from the fall shipment she’d received last week for her boutique. The soft turquoise cotton outfit had looked so tiny hanging on the white plastic hanger. For some reason she’d paused to stick her hand inside the fuzzy interior. The feet were the size of her thumbs.
This will never sell. It’s much too small. I should have ordered the three-month size. Maybe even the six. Then she’d gone on to stroke the white-and-yellow embroidered bears that danced along the neckline and the cuffs of each sleeve. Adorable.
She’d put the sleeper on display, but as she’d suspected, it hadn’t sold. It was still hanging there now, just waiting for the perfect buyer to come along.
Just goes to show, you never can tell.
Six Weeks Later
Mallory took a bite of Claire Ridgeway’s homemade macadamia-nut, chocolate-chip cookies.
She was at Claire’s cottage for a visit. Now that she’d entered her twelfth week of pregnancy it was time to share her news and it made sense that Claire should be the first to know. They’d spent their summers together since they were small. Off the dock of Claire’s parents’ cottage on Lake Rosseau, they’d learned to swim, then water-ski.
In their teens they’d gone for ice cream at Steamboat Bay in Port Carling, often meeting Grady Hogan and, of course, Drew Driscoll, Mallory’s next-door neighbor and best friend.
The four of them had hung out together for years, and even after graduation the ties had remained strong. Claire and her family spent many weekends and almost the entire summer at the cottage, and Grady had opened a custom boat manufacturing business in Port Carling and married his teenage sweetheart, Bess.
Drew was the only one who’d lost no time leaving Port Carling behind. Thinking of Drew and his high- powered journalism career reminded Mallory of her baby and the news she had yet to tell Claire.
“You look funny.” Claire tilted her head so her chin-length blond hair touched one of her shoulders.
Hoarding her secret for a few more precious moments, Mallory asked, “Where are Kirk and the girls?”
“They’ve gone to town to get some groceries and the Globe. Plus our Internet is out again and you know Kirk. He hates to be unplugged from the business world for even a weekend.” Claire reached for a cookie. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” she said before taking a nibble.
“Give me a break, Claire. You have a knockout figure and you know it.” Even with the few extra pounds Claire had gained after having three children, she still turned heads in her bathing suit.
“I’d rather have your athletic build.”
“Oh, sure.” Mallory didn’t believe her for a minute, but the argument was an old one between them. She took another bite of her cookie, remembered her baby and smiled.
“You have something to tell me, don’t you?” Claire asked. “Look at that grin! Must be good news.”
Mallory pressed her lips together to contain her excitement, but there was no holding back the joy that had built in the weeks since she’d realized she was pregnant. Now she could feel her eyes shimmer with moisture, and her mouth insisted on stretching like a rubber band.
“Mallory, you have to dish. I’m dying of suspense. I knew something was up after you insisted on dropping in to say hello, even though you have to open your store in less than an hour.”
Mallory glanced at her watch. Claire was right. She had to leave soon. She couldn’t prolong the moment any longer.
“I’m pregnant.”
Claire’s mug landed with a thud on the kitchen’s granite countertop. “What?” She looked as if she’d heard all right but couldn’t believe the words.
“I’m going to have a baby, Claire.” Mallory wrapped her arms around herself; it was all she could do to keep from dancing around the room with happiness.
Slowly, understanding—and pleasure—rounded out Claire’s sapphire eyes. “A baby... Oh, Mallory!” She slid off her stool and engulfed her friend in a hug. Pulling back, she gave her a searching look. “You’re happy? It wasn’t an ac—”
“Maybe a little.” A little? Try totally. “But I am happy. You know how much I adore children.” She loved Claire’s three girls and Grady’s twin boys almost as if they were her own.
Had Claire or Grady ever suspected a painful jealousy knotted her affection? Especially now that Claire had her third child. Third. Sometimes Mallory wondered if her friend had any idea how lucky she was.
“And the father? Randall?”
“You sound like you’re talking about an infectious disease every time you say his name. No, the baby isn’t Randall’s. I have more sense than that.”
“I’m glad. He was too wrapped up in his old life to start a new one.” Claire paused. The look she gave Mallory was definitely expectant.
Avoiding Claire’s questioning gaze, Mallory ran her palms across her tummy. It was still depressingly flat, although there was a noticeable fullness to her breasts, which tingled at the slightest touch. She could barely wait for the day she’d need to go shopping for maternity clothing; she yearned to feel the bulk of her baby under her hands.
“You didn’t go to a sperm bank, did you?”
Mallory laughed. “You get the funniest ideas. No, I didn’t, but I can’t tell you who the father is. At least not yet.”
She had to tell Drew first. Something she should have done weeks ago, when she’d first found out. But somehow she always found a good reason for not phoning.
“It’s not like you to be so mysterious.”
Mallory just shrugged. True, she didn’t often keep secrets from Claire. But this was a special circumstance.
“I remember when Jenna was born you said if you weren’t married by the time you were thirty-five, you might take matters into your own hands, but I never dreamed you meant it.”
Then Claire laughed. “Oh, this is so exciting.” She grasped Mallory’s hands. “I’ve still got Jenna’s baby clothes, if it’s a girl. And the crib and high chair.” She paused, her expression becoming serious. “But doing this on your own. Are you sure?”
“I’ve never felt so right about anything in my life. When I think there’s a baby growing inside me right now—nothing else matters.”
“I’m glad for you, Mallory. I really am. I just hope you’ve thought this through. The idea of having my girls without Kirk...”
Claire was acting as if Mallory had planned the pregnancy. But Mallory didn’t correct her. “You have three children—I’m only going to have one. And I may not have a man, but I have my friends.”
Mallory had already made up her mind she wouldn’t count on any help from Drew. This was her baby, her decision.
“I can’t argue with you there. And frankly, at times it feels like Kirk’s only role in this family is bringing home the paycheck.”
“Financially, I’m more than prepared. My business is doing well, and I have that inheritance from my parents.” Her aunt Norma had used a portion of it to raise her, but a significant amount of money had remained when Mallory turned twenty-one and the trust passed to her control.
She could have gone away to school, but she was a homebody. So she’d invested some of the inheritance in her own business and socked the rest away in reputable mutual funds. When her baby was born, she intended to set up a trust fund to ensure her child’s future.
“And why shouldn’t your business be doing well? You have the prettiest store in Steamboat Bay.”
Steamboat Bay. The name had captured Mallory’s imagination as far back as she could remember. She loved the fact that many of her customers arrived by boat and parked at the docks in front of the lakeside stores.
Claire squeezed Mallory’s hands again. “I still can’t believe it’s true. When are you going to tell the others? Wouldn’t it be fun to make an announcement at Thanksgiving dinner?”
Traditionally, the Canadian Thanksgiving long weekend, the second in October, marked the end of cottage season in the Muskokas, and Claire and Kirk usually hosted an end-of-the-summer feast for their friends.
Mallory snapped her fingers. “That reminds me. Did you think of inviting Drew’s mother? With Drew out of the country again, Angie’ll be alone.” This would be one of the few times Drew hadn’t made it home for the holiday. He’d phoned Angie a few weeks ago, and Angie had passed the message on to Mallory that he’d accepted an assignment in Tel Aviv.
Typical Drew. He was Mallory’s closest friend, but even she didn’t understand what motivated him to work so hard and pursue each new story with such unwavering enthusiasm. It was more than plain ambition. Drew’s restless nature had never let him stay still for long. He thrived on a life-style that put him in Washington one minute, Ukraine the next.
That restlessness also applied to his love life. He changed girlfriends almost as frequently as he changed assignments. Occasionally, he brought a woman home for one of the holidays—but never the same one twice. Gorgeous, sophisticated women whom Mallory found slightly intimidating. She was always happier when he arrived alone.
“I phoned this morning, but Angie must have been working at the Gazette,” Claire said.
“Actually, she went to Toronto to visit some friends. Should be back sometime this morning. Did you leave a message?”
“Yes, so hopefully, she’ll be able to come.”
“That’s great. I’m going to pick up a pumpkin on my way to the store. Do you think three pies will be enough?”
A commotion at the front door distracted Mallory from Claire’s answer. Kirk and the girls were back from town. The girls scrambled through the door and ran to give Mallory hugs.
“Andie, Daisy, Jenna, it’s so good to see you!” She wrapped her arms around all three. “What did you find in town?”
“Bad news.” This was from Kirk, who was removing his hiking boots at the front door, leaning against the back of a pine bench for balance. Kirk had medium-brown hair, tanned skin and a fit body that bespoke his love of swimming. His gray wire- rimmed glasses gave him the serious business look that suited his profession as a stockbroker.
“What?” Claire’s eyes sharpened on her husband. “Girls, can you carry those packages to the kitchen. Help yourselves to Popsicles once everything’s put away.”
“Angie Driscoll,” Kirk said. “Didn’t I hear you talking about her when I came in?”
“Yes,” Mallory said, trying not to be impatient. Kirk had the worst habit of releasing information in trickles. And it didn’t help to hurry him.
“I ran into Buddy Conroy when I was getting the groceries. He’d just had a call from Toronto General Hospital.”
Mallory glanced at Claire and saw her own fear reflected in her friend’s eyes. “Hospital?”
“Apparently, Angie was visiting friends in Toronto.”
Mallory and Claire nodded impatiently.
“Last night she collapsed in the lobby of her hotel and was rushed to the General.”
“What was wrong?” Claire placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder.
“From what I hear it was complications from cancer.
Cancer. Mallory’s insides lurched.
“No one knows where the cancer started, but it spread rapidly. She died last night.”
Mallory sank onto the sofa, vaguely aware of Claire dropping her head on her husband’s chest.
“Poor Angie,” Claire said softly. “Was anyone with her?”
Kirk shook his head. “Her friends thought she was resting in her room with a headache. And no one in Port Carling even realized she was sick. According to Buddy, she hadn’t told a soul about being ill.”
Mallory couldn’t say anything. She was in shock. All her life she’d lived next door to Angie Driscoll. How could the older woman have been so sick without Mallory knowing? Okay, Angie had started to slow down a little, but Mallory had attributed that to age. No normal person could cope with Angie’s hectic schedule in their youth, let alone their late fifties.
Those trips to Toronto had grown more frequent lately, but Mallory had just thought Angie was getting a little restless. She’d even wondered if the older woman might have found herself a beau. It hadn’t occurred to her that the trips might be medical in nature.
“Are you okay, Mallory?” Claire wrapped her arm around her friend’s shoulder. “I know you and Angie were close.”
Yes. Angie had been like a mother. Aunt Norma had fed and clothed Mallory, but Angie was the one who’d welcomed her with a smile, who’d never been too busy to stop her work and chat. Mallory had spent a lot of hours at the Driscoll house. Not just because of Angie, of course, but because of her son...
Drew. Mallory’s throat closed at the thought of her oldest and closest friend. He couldn’t have known how sick his mother was or he would never have canceled his trip home for Thanksgiving, no matter how big the story he was covering.
Would he? Mallory quickly cast aside the momentary doubt
Angie meant the world to Drew. If he’d known about the cancer, he certainly hadn’t known how serious it was.
“Don’t forget your phone.” The attractive blonde picked up the Blackberry lying on Drew Driscoll’s desk. She’d already folded a couple of his cotton shirts and a clean pair of chinos for his suitcase.
“Thanks, Trish. You're a peach for helping me pack for Tel Aviv like this. Sorry there isn’t time to take you out to brunch.”
Last night they’d gone for dinner, then ended up on the pullout couch in his office. They’d met coincidentally on a plane from Winnipeg to Ottawa late that afternoon; they hadn’t seen each other in years.
This time he’d been returning from researching a story on alleged kickbacks paid on government contracts in the riding of the current foreign affairs minister, while Trish was en route to a medical conference in New York. She’d missed last evening’s welcome dinner, and now she was rushing to make the first morning work session.
“Want me to give you a ride to the airport?” Trish offered. Her rental car was sitting in his monthly parking stall underneath the building.
“Why don’t I grab a cab and save you the effort.”
“It’s no problem.” She leaned over to kiss him lightly, then reached up to brush back his coarse dark hair.
“Why doesn’t your hair lie flat? It reminds me of the bristles on a paintbrush.”
Drew finger-combed the top of his head.
“If you’d seen some of the things I’ve seen in this world, your hair would stand on end, too.”
“Maybe you should tell me about them sometime.”
“Maybe I should.” He smiled, but as he picked up his bags, he was really thinking, And maybe I shouldn’t. “Right now, though, I have a plane to catch. Are you sure you don’t mind giving me a lift?”
“Not at all. It’s on the way, more or less.”
She smiled, but her eyes weren’t in it. Probably she was thinking about her conference, just as his head was already on his next story. They’d had fun together, but it was time to move on.
He was following her out the door, when his cell phone rang.
“Forget it,” Trish advised. “We’re already late. Let it go to messages.”
But he could talk while he walked to the car. “Hello?”
The voice on the other end of the line was unfamiliar. The woman gave her name and that of a hospital in Toronto, but none of the information penetrated.
“Am I speaking with Andrew Driscoll?”
“Yes.”
“The son of Angela Driscoll from Port Carling, Ontario?”
“Yes.” He stopped moving. Put a hand against the door Trish had just closed.
“I’m sorry, but I have bad news, sir. Your mother passed away at our hospital a few hours ago.”
He struggled to take in the meaning of the words. Angie dead? But how? Why?
“An accident?” he tried to ask, but his voice gave out on him. He cleared his throat. “Was she in a car accident?”
“No, sir. She was in Toronto for a medical appointment and to visit some friends. She collapsed and was rushed by ambulance to the hospital. We did everything we could, sir. Unfortunately, the cancer had spread too far.”
Cancer? God, he’d had no idea. Had Angie? Surely not, because if she had, then she’d have told him. He brushed his hands over his face and tried to concentrate on what he was being told.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t reach you earlier. Your mother’s cell phone was damaged when she fell and we had some difficulty tracking down your number.”
Drew didn’t hear her. He was thinking about his decision not to make a quick visit home between assignments last week. What a selfish bastard he was.
“Are you okay, sir? Is someone with you?”
“Yeah.” Trish was with him, but he didn’t even know her last name. Instead he thought about his friends in Port Carling, Mallory in particular. She’d lived next door to Angie all her life. They’d been so close. Had she heard? He’d phone her on his cell phone en route to the airport. God, he couldn’t wait to see her.
“Drew?” Trish was checking the time on her phone. “We’re late.”
“Change of plans.”
“What happened?”
“My mother died. I’ve got to go home.”