Bernie had been a little uptight at the prospect of telling her ultraconservative mother she’d decided to live with a man without the benefit of marriage. She needn’t have worried. As it turned out, when the man she was moving in with was the father of her babies, it wasn’t a sin. It was a blessing.
Blessings. She’d had an awful lot of those lately. Maybe more than she deserved. Way more. She tilted her eyes heavenward. Thanks a lot, God.
As she lay in bed, squinting against the morning light pouring through the blinds, her mother swept through her closet and bathroom, collecting clothes and toiletries for her to take to Jeremy’s house. It made Bernie dizzy just to watch her.
She’d called Gabe first thing that morning to tell him she’d be out for at least two weeks, maybe more. He told her not to worry, that she had sick pay coming, and of course her job would be waiting. All wonderful things, assuming her incarceration lasted only two weeks. If it lasted longer, she didn’t want to think about the consequences of not drawing a paycheck.
“There! I think that about does it.” Her mother came back into the room pulling a large suitcase on wheels and parked it near her bed. “That should be everything you need. When did you say someone is picking you up?”
“Noon.”
Eleanor sat down on the end of the bed where Bernie lay. “Bernadette? Now that the two of you have cleared up that little misunderstanding about his involvement with the babies, does this mean…”
“What?”
“You know… that the two of you…”
“No! Absolutely not. No.”
“But you’re going to be living with him, aren’t you?”
“Mom, I explained this. He’s just helping out. There’s nothing between us.”
Her mother tilted her head with a knowing smile.
“I mean it,” Bernie said. “Don’t think for one moment that anything is going to come of this.”
“I know you say that now, but—”
“No buts. I’ll be on one side of that big house of his, and he’ll be on the other.”
“Speaking of his house,” she said, leaning in, her eyes bright. “What’s it like?”
“It’s a big, overblown monstrosity that’s a ridiculous place for a single man to live.”
“Well, there’ll be two of you now, so maybe it won’t be so lonely for him.”
“I told you I won’t even be seeing him.”
“But you never know what might happen in the future.”
“To tell you the truth, Mom, I thought you’d be upset about me living with a man I’m not married to. You don’t really like that sort of thing.”
“Well, of course it’s not the ideal situation,” Eleanor admitted. Then she looked down at her daughter’s ever-expanding waistline and whispered, “But I think that horse has already left the barn, if you know what I mean.”
Once again, Bernie was amazed. If it meant Eleanor could have yet one more thing she wanted desperately—a son-in-law—her power to rationalize was staggering. No problem, sweetie. Once you’ve cavorted in sin, why not live in sin?
Then Eleanor’s face grew serious. “Bernadette? Will you promise me something?”
“Sure, Mom. What?”
“Promise me you’ll at least try?”
“Try what?”
“Try to show… you know. That other side of you?”
“Other side?”
Her mother sighed. “Where men are concerned, you tend to be… well. You know.”
Okay. Now Bernie understood what her mother was saying. Try to be girly enough that the father of your babies will fall madly in love with you so then you’ll get married and have a perfect family and we’ll all live happily ever after.
Her mother had been singing that same song since Bernie was seventeen and didn’t have a date for the prom. Here, try on these earrings. Isn’t this eye shadow pretty? Maybe you should wear something besides black. There’s that nice boy in your algebra class. If you’d just smile once in a while…
Most of the time, Bernie could just blow off her mother’s not-so-subtle hints. But it was harder to take these days than usual, especially since she was going to be staying with Jeremy. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she measured up to the women he dated. It felt stupid and shallow and desperate, but she just couldn’t help it. Yeah, he said he was jealous last night, but that was just his nature. He wholeheartedly believed that there wasn’t a solitary thing on planet earth he couldn’t have if only he decided he wanted it. And Bernie had discovered he wanted something the most when he thought he couldn’t have it.
She started to tell her mother for the hundredth time that all the prodding in the world was never going to turn this frog into a princess, and it didn’t matter anyway because she wasn’t even going to see Jeremy, only to be interrupted by a knock at her door.
“That must be Carlos,” Bernie said.
“Do you want me to come along? Help you get settled?”
“No!” Bernie said, then took a breath. “I mean, no, you don’t have to bother. Jeremy’s housekeeper is there to help.”
“My. A housekeeper. He’s very wealthy, isn’t he? It’s always nice when a man has plenty of money to provide for his family.”
Bernie was practically clawing the bedsheets in frustration. “Family? No, Mom. That’s not the way it’s going to be.”
A sly smile crossed her mother’s lips. “I’ve been praying, you know.”
And knowing her mother, she would take all this as a sign that God was listening.
Bernie rose and went to the living room to let Carlos in. As her mother was leaving, she told Bernie to stay off her feet, which made sense, and to have a wonderful time at Jeremy’s house, which didn’t. What did she think this was? A vacation at a luxury hotel?
As Carlos grabbed her suitcase and lugged it down the stairs, Bernie stopped by Ruby’s apartment and told her she’d be gone for a while. Then she went down to the parking lot, where a few of her neighbors were hanging around, furtively eyeing the limousine. She just hoped nobody had stolen the hubcaps while Carlos was upstairs.
Carlos opened the back door for her. She ignored him and got into the front seat on the passenger side. Carlos gave up and came around to get behind the wheel.
“You’re not supposed to sit up here,” he said. “Bridges told me to bring the limo so you’d be comfortable in the back.”
“I’d rather sit in the front.”
“But he told me—”
“I know what he told you. I’m sitting in the front.”
Carlos sighed. “Okay. But I’m telling him you sat in the back.”
“Will you stop being such an ass kisser? His bark is way worse than his bite.”
“Hey, he’s the one who pays me, so when he barks, I listen.”
Carlos started the car and headed out of her apartment complex, turning the heads of every resident who happened to be hanging around outside. Seeing a limo here was like seeing a diamond in a pile of cow chips.
Carlos made a right onto Fourteenth Street. “So,” he said, “you really are pregnant?”
“Yep.”
“And Bridges is the father?”
“Yep.”
“Damn. That’s…” He paused, then shook his head. “Oh, hell. I don’t even know what that is.”
“Surprising? Astonishing? Completely beyond belief?”
“You know I like you, Bernie. But it’s still pretty weird.”
“Weird? You mean that a man who could have any woman on earth knocked up a woman like me?”
Carlos shrugged. “Well, yeah.” He flicked his gaze to Bernie. “No offense.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Carlos,” she said. “I can’t imagine any woman who would take offense at that.”
“You know what I mean.”
She did. And he wasn’t going to be the last person with a reaction like that. Unlike Carlos, most people had filter in their brains that prohibited them from actually saying how weird it was, but it didn’t stop them from thinking it. She had a feeling the strange looks and disbelieving stares were only just beginning.
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Jeremy’s house, and Mrs. Spencer escorted Bernie to the guest suite. Bernie was prepared to yawn a little and pretend it wasn’t much better than a room at Motel 6, but when Mrs. Spencer opened the door, it was all she could do to keep her jaw from hitting the floor.
Her gaze went from the overstuffed sofa to the leather recliner to the mahogany floors to the flagstone fireplace with a television above it. The bedroom was equally stunning, with a king-sized four-poster bed, luxurious linens, and a massive cherry wood armoire that spanned almost the entire width of one wall. The walk-in closet was nearly as big as Bernie’s bedroom in her apartment. And the bathroom. Marble sinks, a shower with all kinds of strange shower heads for the water to squirt out of, and a Jacuzzi tub big enough to swim in.
“Why don’t you lie down and relax while I unpack your things?” Mrs. Spencer said.
It made Bernie a little uncomfortable to have somebody else going through her belongings, but she was supposed to be resting, so she decided not to argue. She sat down on the bed and settled back against one of the pillows. The bed seemed to close in around her, cradling her in a peaceful warmth that sucked every bit of the tension out of her muscles, leaving her feeling as limp as Raggedy Ann. Okay. This was nice. Really nice. Way better than her own bed, the one she’d gotten at an end-of-the-year clearance sale at Furniture Depot. The salesman with the scary hairpiece had promised her high quality at a low price. What Bernie had gotten instead was a lesson in basic economic theory: You get what you pay for.
Mrs. Spencer puttered around in the bedroom and bathroom, sticking stuff in the closet and armoire, humming softly as she worked. She was dressed as she always was, in a starched white shirt, a calf-length skirt, and leather flats. Bernie had always thought she’d been born a century too late. She should have been serving tea to the monarchy in Victorian England rather than beer to a womanizing bachelor in a Dallas suburb.
“How long have you worked for Jeremy?” Bernie asked.
“Eight years.”
“That’s a long time.”
“It’s an excellent job.”
“Excellent?” Bernie laughed a little. “With a boss as difficult as Jeremy Bridges?”
The woman blinked. “Difficult? Oh, no, ma’am. Mr. Bridges isn’t difficult at all.”
“He’s not?”
“Actually, he’s quite easy to work for. Not at all fussy about his meals, and in spite of his casual dress, he’s quite fastidious about his person and his surroundings. And he’s most generous with compensation and time off.”
“They say he’s pretty ruthless in his business dealings,” Bernie said.
Mrs. Spencer looked a little confounded. “Mr. Bridges? Ruthless?” She shrugged. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know about that. All I know is what wine he drinks and how he likes his eggs.”
She slipped into the closet to hang up a pair of Bernie’s jeans. When she popped out again, she said, “I’m so delighted you’re going to be staying with us. Maybe now Mr. Bridges won’t be quite so lonely.”
There was that word again. First her mother, and now Mrs. Spencer. “I’m sure he told you we won’t be seeing each other.”
“Yes. I believe he mentioned that. But you may be here quite some time.”
Which wasn’t going to change a thing.
“With all the women he brings home,” Bernie said, “when does he have time to get lonely?”
“A man can feel lonely in a room full of people, Miss Hogan.” She smiled. “And having two little ones in the house is going to do him a world of good, too.”
“Mrs. Spencer… I think you’ve misunderstood. I won’t be here after the babies are born. I’m staying just until my doctor takes me off bed rest.”
“No, ma’am. I understand completely.” She shut the closet door. “There. All done. Your clothes are in the closet, along with your silk nightgowns and robe. And I put your toiletries and cosmetics in the lavatory, along with—”
“Hold on. Did you say silk nightgowns and robe?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And cosmetics?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Bernie tilted her head, confused. “But I didn’t bring those things with me.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. They were in your suitcase.”
“But… but they couldn’t have been. I don’t even own—”
Oh, no.
Bernie slumped back against the pillow as the truth struck her. Her mother. How in the hell had she pulled it off?
Then she remembered the tote bag she’d been carrying over her shoulder when she came into Bernie’s apartment that morning. Evidently it had been full of contraband, and she’d managed to smuggle it into the suitcase.
“May I see the robe?” Bernie said.
“Of course.”
Mrs. Spencer brought the robe out of the closet on a padded hanger, and Bernie nearly groaned out loud. It was long, full, flowing, emerald green, and silky shiny, the kind of thing Bernie wouldn’t wear even if there were nothing else on earth and she had to go naked. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head as she imagined what she’d say. Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean you can’t be pretty.
Pretty? She hadn’t been pretty even without being pregnant, so what were the chances that pregnancy would suddenly make that happen?
“It’s lovely,” Mrs. Spencer said. “And the matching gowns are lovely, too.”
“Yeah. Lovely. I don’t suppose you came across a couple of pairs of pajama pants and some T-shirts? Maybe a terrycloth robe?”
“Yes, ma’am. Those were there, too.”
Well, thank God. At least she’d have something comfortable to lounge around in. She didn’t bother asking what cosmetics were sitting in the bathroom. It would only make her want to scream.
“Mr. Bridges tells me that you’re to stay in bed as much as possible,” Mrs. Spencer said. “Which means you’re to notify me if there’s anything you need. There’s an intercom in all three rooms. Just push the button and speak, and I’ll respond.”
“Thank you.”
“Mr. Bridges also said you’ll be taking your meals in your suite.”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“But if things should change and you wish to dine together, I’ll be happy to set the table for both of you.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Bernie said, “but thank you.”
Mrs. Spencer nodded and left the room.
Silk gowns. Good God. If Jeremy ever saw her wearing something like that, he’d laugh his head off. Fortunately, there was no chance of that. For the next couple of weeks, at least, she’d be on one side of this house, and he’d be on the other. That was a good thing. There could never be anything between them that was stable and permanent and long-lasting, so the last thing she needed was to get caught up in his charm and follow him down a road that led nowhere.