Ami Weaver – An Accidental Family (страница 2)
“Are you okay, Laine? You’re awfully pale,” Beth commented as she lifted a bucket of carnations out of the way.
Lainey sucked in a breath. Should she tell Beth? They’d been friends for years. Beth wouldn’t ridicule her for her mistake with Jon. It would feel so good to tell someone….
“Lainey?” Beth’s head was cocked, her brown gaze worried. “What’s going on?”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted, and burst into tears. Beth hurried over to her, nearly knocking a bucket over in the process.
“Honey, are you sure?”
Lainey nodded and swiped at the tears. “Pretty sure.” Five separate pink lines couldn’t be wrong. Could they? “I’ll have to go to a doctor to confirm it, though.”
“Oh, Laine.” Beth hugged her, stepped back. “How far along? I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”
Lainey closed her eyes.
“So that’s—oh.” Beth drew out the word and her eyes rounded. “Your class reunion.”
“Yeah.” Lainey couldn’t meet her friend’s gaze. Her poor baby. How could she ever explain the circumstances of his or her conception?
“So who’s the daddy?”
“Jon Meier.” Lainey could barely say his name. “We … ah … hit it off pretty well.”
Beth gave a wry chuckle and opened the cooler door, a load of calla lilies in her hands. “So it seems.”
“I have to tell him, Beth, but he lives so far away. Plus the whole thing was pretty forgettable, if you know what I mean. We used protection, but obviously …” She shrugged and swiped at her leaking eyes again. “It didn’t work.” An understatement if she’d ever heard one.
“He’s not father material?”
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t as if they’d discussed things like personal lives. “Plus he lives in LA. He’s in some kind of entertainment industry work. He’s not going to pull up and move back to Northern Michigan.” He’d made his contempt for the area crystal-clear.
“Sometimes having a kid changes that,” Beth pointed out.
“True.” Lainey didn’t want to think about it. “But I think we were pretty much in agreement on how awkward the whole thing was.” So much for sex with no strings attached. The baby in her belly was a pretty long string. The length of a lifetime, in fact.
She wanted to bang her head on the wall. What had she been thinking, leaving with Jon that night? Was her self-esteem so damaged by her divorce she had to jump on the first guy who smiled at her?
Best not to answer that.
“I think you’ll be a wonderful mom,” Beth said, and Lainey’s throat tightened.
“Really?” She couldn’t keep the wobble out of her voice. Beth’s confidence touched her. Her family would look at her being single, pregnant and nearly broke and lose their collective minds. She shoved the thought aside.
“Of course. You’re wonderful with my kids. Now, let’s get this finished before Gary gets here.”
“It could go at any time?” Lainey could not believe she’d heard the repairman correctly. A year—she only needed twelve measly months. Why, oh, why was that too much to ask? “Are you sure?”
“Yes. We can cobble this along for a few more months. But you are definitely going to need a new unit.” Gary’s lined face wasn’t without sympathy.
She took a deep breath. “Do what you have to, Gary. I need it to last as long as possible.”
The repairman nodded and returned to the cooling unit.
Beth stood at the counter, ringing up a large bouquet of brightly colored carnations. A great sale, but not nearly enough to buy a new cooler. Or even a used one.
“Thank you. Have a great day,” Beth said to the customer as he exited the shop. To Lainey she said, “What’s the news?”
“We’re going to need a new cooler. Sooner rather than later, probably.” Exhaustion washed over her and she sank down on the stool behind the counter. “Even used, that’s not something I can swing yet.” Or possibly ever. No cooler, no business. No business, no cooler.
No business, no way to provide for the baby.
A wave of nausea rolled through her at the thought. Another failure. This one could be huge.
“Oh, man.” Beth leaned on the counter. “Well, let’s see. We’ve got the Higgins wedding coming up. We need more weddings. The funeral business has been picking up. That’s good. Maybe….”
She hesitated, and Lainey knew what her friend hadn’t said.
“Maybe if my mother sent business my way we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” she finished. “I know. I agree. I’ve asked.” The answer, while not in so many words, was that the florist her mother used had been around a lot longer and wasn’t in danger of folding. The implication? Lainey would fail—again.
Beth winced. “I know you have. I just wish she’d support you. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“It’s okay. It’s the truth. I don’t know what will change her mind.” Lainey stood up. “Let’s finish getting the deliveries ready.”
As Lainey gathered flowers and greenery she wondered if she’d let her business go under rather than ask her parents for a loan. They’d give her one, with plenty of strings attached, and she’d have to crawl to get it. This was supposed to be her chance to prove she could make something of her life without advanced degrees or a rich husband.
Right about now it didn’t seem to be working.
Gary came out of the cooler, toolbox in one hand, invoice in the other. “You’re all fixed up, Ms. Keeler. Can’t say how long it’ll last. Could be one month. Could be six. I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”
“The fact it’s running right now is wonderful,” Lainey said. “Thank you. I appreciate you coming on such short notice.”
“Anytime. Have a good day, ladies.” He left the store and the bell above the door chimed, its cheerful sound mocking Lainey’s mood. She looked at the amount on the invoice and sighed.
She’d known when she bought the shop nine months ago there were no guarantees on equipment. Even in her current financial bind she didn’t regret taking the plunge. This shop felt right to her in a way none of her other jobs ever had. Right enough, in fact, that she hoped to someday buy the building outright.
Working steadily throughout the morning, they completed their orders. The repair seemed to be holding for now, thank goodness. Lainey slid the last of the arrangements into the back of the van and closed the door. “All set, Beth. Hopefully we’ll get more this afternoon.”
“Fingers crossed.” Beth climbed in and turned the ignition. She leaned back out the window. “I’ll stop at Dottie’s Deli and grab lunch on the way back. I think we’ve each earned a cheesecake muffin after this morning.”
“Mmm.” Lainey perked up at the thought. Everyone knew the calories in Dottie’s heavenly muffins didn’t count. “Sounds wonderful. Thanks.”
She held her breath as Beth thunked the old van into gear and drove off. Relief washed over her. After this morning she’d half expected the thing to go belly-up out of spite.
“Don’t borrow trouble,” she reminded herself as she turned and went inside.
The chime of the door caught her attention and she hurried to greet the customer.
Fifteen minutes later she started on a new arrangement, this one for a new mom and baby at the hospital. They really needed more of this kind of business—more happy occasions like …
Babies.
Lainey gulped and gripped the edge of the worktable, her eyes on the array of delicate pastel flowers she’d gathered. She only had about seven months to stabilize her shop and get ready to be a new mom herself. A
No one could ever accuse her of doing things the easy way.
Ben Lawless pulled into the driveway of his grandmother’s old farmhouse and stared. Same white paint, black shutters. The wide porch was missing its swing, but two rockers sat in its place. The two huge maples in the front yard had dropped most of their leaves. Funny, he’d been gone for so many years but this old house still felt like home.
He frowned at the strange car parked behind his grandmother’s trusty Buick. Last thing he wanted was to talk to anyone other than his grandma, to deal with friendliness and well-meaning questions. Acting normal was exhausting.
He pushed open the truck door, stepped out and scanned the layout of the front yard. Plenty of room for a ramp, though some of the porch railing would have to be removed, and it would block one of the flowerbeds lining the house’s foundation. He kicked at the leaves littering the cracked walkway. The uneven concrete posed a hazard even to an able-bodied person. Why couldn’t Grandma admit she needed help?
His self-recrimination didn’t get any farther as the front door opened and framed his beaming grandmother in her wheelchair. He tried not to wince at the sight. She’d always been so tough, strong and able, and now she looked so small. He moved up the walk and the stairs to the porch.
“Grandma.” He bent down to give her an awkward hug in the chair, afraid to hold on too tight. “How are you?”
She hugged him back firmly and patted his face. “I’m good. Making the best of this, I hope.” She studied his face for a moment, her clear blue eyes seeing too much. “I’m so glad you’re here. Not sleeping well?”
He straightened, not surprised by the observation. “Good enough.”