Sarah knew one of the first things she had to do was tell her sisters, but it took a couple of weeks to work up the courage. No one seemed to have noticed that she was acting a tad differently. Clare was too busy knocking boots with her new boyfriend and Maggie was constantly hovering over her daughters, watching one’s hair grow and monitoring the other to make sure she wasn’t having sex.

It seemed as though Clare’s house was the best bet, because Sarah wasn’t ready to tell George yet. That might take a couple more weeks. She asked if they could meet there for an after-work drink. Jason had no idea how well he cooperated with Sarah’s plans. He walked into the house, saw the women gathering, and said, “Oops, girls’ night. I’m outta here.” And he fled for his room.

Maggie helped herself to a glass of wine. “Who called this summit?”

“I did. I have something to tell you. I’m pregnant.”

Stunned silence and wide eyes answered her. She sat on the family room couch while her sisters just stood there, staring down at her, dumbfounded.

“With child,” Sarah said, looking up at them. “Bun in the oven. Knocked up.”

“Sarah,” Clare said. “You’ve been seeing someone?”

“Oh yeah, every inch of him. I was keeping it pretty quiet.”

“So, who did the honors?” Maggie asked, still a bit in shock.

“Okay, you’d better sit down.” When they did, she said, “It was Sam. Sam Jankowski.”

Another vacuum of silence. Then Clare shot suddenly to her feet and said, “That son of a bitch! He did my little sister! I’m going to kill him!”

“Well, there are couple of things you should know before you kill him,” Sarah said. “I went after him. I stalked him. I chased him like a crazed and wanton maniac. That night I saw him with you at the restaurant, my heart about burst out of my chest. Love at first sight. Then when you said you had no interest in dating him any longer, I thought—oh, my God, he’s on the loose!” She shrugged. “I couldn’t risk someone else getting him.”

“Your makeover,” Maggie said.

“Uh-huh. Seeing Clare and Sam like that—all that lust just emanating from them, I thought what I’d give to have some of those feelings in my life. Especially with a guy like Sam. I took a hard, painful look in the mirror. I didn’t stand a chance the way I used to be. Hell, even I couldn’t stand to see myself like that. So I fluffed up and went looking for him. I found out he’s a ski patrol at Afton Alps every Monday.” She smiled. “I’ve been doing a lot of skiing lately. Among other things.”

“This is just unbelievable.”

“When did all this happen?” Clare asked.

“It started in November. Around the first good snowfall. I don’t think he ever saw it coming.” She shrugged. “Turns out I haven’t lost my touch after all.”

“How far along are you, honey?” Maggie asked.

“A couple of months. He got to me right off the bat. Potent little devil.”

“And are you well? Feeling okay?” she asked.

“So far. Baby seems to be perfect.”

“Have you told him?” Clare asked.

“Yeah. He said, ‘That sucks.’”

“The son of a bitch! I’m going to kill him!”

“And you’re having the baby?” Maggie, always all business, wanted to know.

“Uh-huh. You know, I never thought I’d have a child. If you had asked me six months ago what the rest of my life looked like, I would have said, just more of the same. Art, the store, dinner at Dad’s on Sunday. Now I have this whole new life in front of me.” She touched her stomach. “Inside of me.”

“Do you love him?” Maggie asked.

“I love him so much it makes my head swim. And he’s so good to me—treats me like, God, I don’t know. Like I’m precious. Royal. So considerate of my feelings. Romantic, even. He asked me if I wanted to have the baby and when I said yes, he said, ‘Okay, we’ll get married.’ There’s just one hitch. He doesn’t love me.”

“He told you that?” Clare demanded.

“No, not exactly. He said he loved me—but he didn’t say it real convincingly. I asked him if he loved me enough to marry me and he said, ‘Sure. Of course.’ Sure? Not, I love you so much I’ll die if you don’t marry me, but sure. So I had to press the issue and he hemmed and hawed and came up with some lamebrained comment like he was positive it would grow, given time.”

“Oh, see? He has to die!”

“You said no,” Maggie said. It was not a question.

“I said no. Well, specifically what I said was that I thought we should take the time to be sure, because no matter what he might say, I just don’t think he’s there yet. I admit it, I’m scared. I don’t want to marry someone just because I’m pregnant. What if it’s a mistake? What if I look into his eyes in five years and see misery and regret?” She swallowed. “I think I could be happy with Sam. Right now, he makes me happier than I’ve ever been in my life. But I don’t know. Am I crazy?”

“You don’t have to marry anyone, Sarah. You have a very supportive family.”

“Have you seen him since you told him? Or did the bastard cut and run?” Clare asked.

“Clare, you know better than anyone, he’s not a bastard. He’s an angel. His problem is he’s a lousy liar. And no, he didn’t run. He checks on me every day. Several times a day. He calls, stops by the shop, wants to know how I’m feeling, whether I’ve told the family. He offered to come with me to tell you. In fact…” She stopped and tried to collect herself as tears threatened. “He took me to dinner in Tahoe Saturday night and when we were finishing dinner, he slid a hotel room key across the table. And I thought, what the hell, I can’t get pregnant. And he was…”

She had to close her eyes and purse her lips together to try to keep control. She swallowed convulsively. That night he had been so wonderful. So tender. Their lovemaking, usually so tempestuous, adventurous, wild, was slow and careful and sweet. He kept kissing her belly, and other places. He usually made her body scream, but that night he’d made it sing. It sang many choruses, as it turned out. When it was over he said to her, “Sarah, I’m going to take care of you whether you like it or not.”

“…he was so gentle. So tender and careful.” And then she lost it. The tears descended on her and she fell into a full-blown cry, burying her face in her hands.

Maggie and Clare bolted out of their seats and rushed to her, arms around her, holding her and comforting her.

“God, I’m sure doing a lot of that lately,” Sarah finally said. “I bet this gets old after about nine months.”

“When are you going to tell Dad?” Clare wanted to know.

Sarah shuddered. “Do you think he’s going to be totally ashamed of me?”

“Honey, he loves you. He knows you’re not a bad person. These things happen to people.”

“It’s a lot more convenient when they happen to married people. Or at least people who are sure they’re mutually in love. It looks like I could be a single mom. Anyone have any pointers?”

“Pointer number one—you could choose an easier job. Like neurosurgery.”

“Well,” Maggie said, going back to her chair. “It’s official. Everyone is having sex but me. And I’m the only one who’s married!”

 

George McCarthy was nodding off in front of the TV when Sarah went to him. “Dad?”

He popped awake. “What, honey?”

“I have to talk to you about something. If you’re not too asleep?”

He grunted and straightened in the chair. “Wasn’t sleeping,” he said. “It’s okay. What’s on your mind?”

“This is pretty tough. I’m afraid you’re going to be very disappointed in me. It’s about that cop—the one who kept coming into the hardware store when he had a crush on Clare? Sam?”

“I know who Sam is. But she said—”

“Clare stopped seeing him quite a while ago. In fact, she only had one real date with him. And after she stopped seeing him, I started. Well, a couple of months after.”

“That a problem?” he asked. “Cause I don’t know what kind of problems you girls have….”

“It’s not a problem for us, Dad. Thing is…” She cleared her throat. “You know all those art projects and exhibitions I wanted to see that were taking so much time? So many late nights? Staying out of town? They weren’t art projects or exhibitions.”

“Oh,” he said, catching on immediately. He grunted. “You live with your old man. Not a lot of privacy in that.”

“I’m pregnant,” she said, and instantly the tears sprang to her eyes and she thought, Oh hell—this is getting ridiculous. I’m a fountain.

His eyes widened and his mouth turned down into a frown. “Is he going to be responsible?”

“He has offered to marry me,” she said. “But I don’t think I want to marry him.”

“What about the baby?” George asked.

“I want the baby,” she said through tears.

He looked at her for a long hard minute. Then he said, “Come here, duckie.” He used to call her that when she was a little girl. Duckie. She went to him, kneeling on the floor beside his chair, laying her head on his shoulder. He put his arms around her.

“I’m a little old-fashioned,” he said. “I think when you’re having a family, you should be husband and wife. But I don’t want you to be with any man you don’t want to be with.”

She could tell him all about it, about how Sam could act as if he loved her, could touch her as if she was the most loved woman alive, but when it came down to it, she wasn’t convinced he felt as deeply about her as she felt about him. But why complicate things any further—this was all messy enough.

“Children are to be loved,” George said. “I love my girls, I love their kids.” He lifted her chin. “I’ll love this one. No matter what.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“We never apologize for new life. It’s our sweet compensation for losing the ones we love.”

 

Jason had served his time and was getting along better with his dad. Maybe there was truth to that business about kids wanting limits. So Roger, pleased with his son, had called and asked Jason if he wanted to go skiing on the weekend, and Jason, probably suffering from a bad case of cabin fever after being grounded, leaped on it. He also asked if Mom could go. “Sure she can, if she wants to. But don’t be too surprised if she doesn’t.”

But Pete was busy with his girls, it was Sunday, and she had nothing better to do. To be safe, so that Roger wouldn’t get the far-fetched idea she wanted to spend time with him, she called Sarah and asked if she was still cleared to ski. “The doctor says for a few more weeks, and try to take it easy. But you know—if I hurt anything out there, which I don’t plan to, it’s not going to be a uterus.”

“Problem is,” Clare said, “they want to go to Afton Alps.”

“I can’t go to Afton Alps, Clare,” Sarah said. “I’m certainly not avoiding Sam—he hardly lets me out of his sight. I’d just rather not run into him when he’s skiing with his daughter. He hasn’t sprung me on her yet and I don’t want to get involved with his family until a few things are settled. Let’s go to Squaw Valley.”

Clare, Sarah and Jason were excused from Sunday dinner at George’s and up the mountain they went, with Roger.

Roger was pretty good on a pair of skis, Clare was a little better, but she was playing it safe because of her pelvis injury—wouldn’t want a repeat of that. It was Sarah who could cut it up. So Jason, who fancied himself an extreme snowboarder, hooked himself up with her and wanted to do the big runs. He was wedging it down the advanced Black Diamond slopes with speed and ease. She could still stay ahead of him. She regretted that it took Sam in her life to rediscover this sport—out there on the slopes with the wind in her face and speed under her skis, she felt alive, exhilarated. And not worried about what was going to become of her.

They took on the advanced slopes, then moved to the expert hills.

“Let’s go over there, where it’s new powder,” Jason begged.

“No way, buster. Red flags. It’s restricted.”

“It’s no big deal,” Jason said. “C’mon, Aunt Sarah, don’t be a wimp. You can handle it.”

She grabbed the front of his jacket. “Listen, bub. That’s no game, the red flags, the warning signs. There’s no ski patrol over there. It could be junk on the hill, a weak snow ridge threatening avalanche, anything. You never cross the flags. Never.”

“Wuss,” he said.

“Tell you what, if you can handle this expert hill, I’ll stand amazed.” She popped her goggles on. “Last one down is a rotten egg.” And she shoved off. She gathered speed, skated the skis, bent over and got her center of gravity low, tucked the poles and went for it. She shifted her weight and cut right and then left around a mogul, but the next one she jumped, going several feet into the air and landing soft and sweet on her skis, perfectly. She tucked and flew. She chanced a glance and to her delight, Jason was right behind her, wedging around the moguls skillfully; the snowboarders didn’t jump them. She was going to slow down and let him have the race. Aw, but then she just couldn’t. She went for it. Forty miles an hour. She felt as if she was sailing. Flying.

When she got to the bottom of the run, Jason came up alongside her. “Aunt Sarah, you’re hot.”

“And you’re not—beat you by a mile.”

“By a few feet.”

“Okay, so this hill is good—you don’t need anything past the flags.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jason moved off toward the lift and a skier came up fast and hard from behind her, showering snow as he stopped. He flipped up his goggles. “What the hell are you doing?” Sam asked her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sarah, for God’s sake—do you know how fast you were going? And jumping? Jesus—what are you thinking? If you fell—”

“I wasn’t planning to fall, and air is a lot softer than hard pack, which is why I jump. Why are you here? Are you following me?”

“I brought Molly out. We get lift tickets on all the local slopes—just for being part of the search-and-rescue team. She’s taking a lesson. Do you understand, I just don’t want anything to happen to you? To the baby?”

She took off her glove and put her hand against his frosty cheek. “Sam, I’m going to ski while I still can. I’m not going to hurt the baby.”

He took a breath. “I think I’m getting too old for this,” he said. “You scared me to death.”

“Let’s go up,” she said. “I’ll race you down.”

“No! I’ll go up with you for another run, but only if you promise not to race me, because first of all, if I apply myself, I can beat you. And second, if you fall, you could do some serious damage.”

“Okay, let’s go up. You can race Jason down—he’s still getting it figured out.”

“I saw him. He’s got it pretty well figured out.”

The three of them went up. Jason and Sam pushed off while Sarah lagged back a bit. Then when they were ten feet in front of her, she launched herself, and with all the strength in her arms and legs, working the poles and skating the skis, she went for it. When she approached their backs, she let out a woo-hoo, got to their left, took a small hill, got down and dirty and, tucking her poles, left them in her dust. She heard Sam behind her as he said, “Shit!” She didn’t have to look to know what was happening—he was coming after her. Her laughter almost cost her the race she wasn’t supposed to be having. They came in—Sarah, Sam, Jason.

Sam moved his goggles to his head atop his stocking cap. “Woman, you are going to drive me to an early grave.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at him. She made the L sign with her thumb and index finger on her forehead for loser. Sam, at a loss for words, grabbed her and kissed her. Kissed her hard. And long.

“Whoa!” Jason said. “Aunt Sarah! What is going on here?”

They broke apart and Sarah said, “Just compensating the loser, kiddo.”

 

On Tuesday afternoon, Sam went into work and dressed out for duty. When he was on his way to briefing, his sergeant snagged him and said, “There’s a lawyer here to see you.”

“What case?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I put her in interrogation. You can catch up on the briefing from one of the other officers.”

It never occurred to Sam that anything was wrong. The officers went to court regularly to testify on their arrests and therefore had lots of traffic with attorneys. They were in constant touch with the D.A.’s, being prepped for court.

But that wasn’t it. He opened the door to interrogation and there sat Maggie, prim and proper in her lawyer suit. Seeing her there, so sternly serious, so attractive, what came to mind was George. How had he done it? Raised these beautiful, hardheaded daughters and kept his sanity?

He entered and closed the door. “Well, I guess the family knows.”

“The family knows,” she said. “Be glad I insisted on talking to you alone. Clare basically wants to kill you.”

“Please tell Clare that my death right now would be a disadvantage to her sister. Much as Sarah resists me, she’s going to need my help.”

“Sit down, Sam. There are a few things you don’t know about my little sister.”

As he sat, he touched his lower lip. He could still almost feel the spot where Sarah bit him as she came to a crashing climax in his arms. And he thought, I bet there are lots of things you don’t know about your little sister. “Shoot,” he said.

Maggie’s lips curved. “You shouldn’t say that to the older sister of a woman you just made pregnant. What you should say is ‘don’t shoot.’”

“Are you here to chew my ass? Because if you are, let me assure you that I feel as bad about this as you do. We didn’t plan it.”

She stared at him hard, then shook her head in frustration. “What were you thinking?”

He leaned toward her. “Maggie, obviously I wasn’t thinking about anything I can share with you.”

“Well, that much is obvious. Okay, I came here to tell you that Sarah is more complicated and vulnerable than you realize. Fragile. You better watch yourself.”

“I’m doing everything I can to support Sarah. I won’t abandon her.”

“Has she told you about her nervous breakdown? Ah, I can see by the look on your face that she hasn’t. Our mother died of cancer, quite suddenly, when Sarah was only twenty-one. Prior to that, Sarah and Mom were locked in a pretty fierce contest of wills—not that unusual for young women who are testing their independence at the expense of their mother’s strong desire that they settle down and act like proper young ladies. They didn’t exactly get that issue resolved when Mom died. It threw Sarah into a terrible depression. She had to be hospitalized.”

This was hard for Sam to grasp. Sarah didn’t seem to be vulnerable, other than the recent occurrence of pregnancy tears. Sure, she had been shy with him at first, but that hadn’t been a weakness in his eyes. And she’d become bolder. More self-assured. In fact, she seemed to be stronger than most women. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. She went after him—chased him until he caught her. When she was with him, she wasn’t shy anymore, wasn’t hesitant. She was like a comet in his arms. It could make him shiver in the middle of the day, just thinking about her.

“She went through a complete personality change at that time,” Maggie went on. “When she was young, she was a wild child. Sexy, adventurous, a risk-taker.”

He felt something in his chest expand. That’s my Sarah, he thought.

“When she came out of her depression, she lost herself in art. She was consumed by it. Got her degree and opened that shop and studio. And in the process, she gave up most of her interest in the outside world. I’m not sure if it was her art or some notion that she could yet gain Mom’s approval by giving up her old ways, but she just got frumpier and frumpier. It drove me and Clare crazy. We finally gave up trying to get her to pay closer attention to how she looked, because she seemed at least happy, if a little lonely.”

That made him frown. He didn’t know that frumpy person. Sarah was sexy and alluring. Gorgeous.

Maggie smiled at him. “You don’t remember what she looked like when you first met her, do you? Well, your sights were pretty locked on my other sister. And Sarah was practically invisible. Let me jog your memory—she wore a gray, loose dress. Her hair was straight and uninteresting—probably pulled back and clipped. No makeup. Her beautiful green eyes were hidden behind thick, black-framed glasses that were held together on the left side by a piece of duct tape.”

“I remember the glasses….” he said.

“Well, here’s how it went down. It all made sense once I knew the time line. She took one look at you and Clare and became inspired. She had a hard stare in the mirror and got herself together. She pulled the contact lenses out of storage, got her hair fixed up, bought makeup for the first time in years and new clothes, more stylish and flattering than what she used to wear. All spruced up, and bam. She made you notice her.”

“I noticed,” he said. “She’s very beautiful.”

Maggie leaned toward him. “I don’t want her heart broken. I don’t want you to hurt her any more than she’s already hurting. She tells us she is declining your proposal of marriage because you don’t love her.”

“Maggie, with all due respect, that’s between me and Sarah.”

“Are you getting my drift here? Because if my little sister is thrown into some terrible depression because you just can’t step up to the plate, I’m going to let Clare have a crack at you.”

“You McCarthy women,” he said. “You’re all a pain in the ass, you know that? I’m doing everything I can to step up to the plate here.”

“Somehow, that’s not entirely convincing.”

“Well, you’re not the one I have to convince,” he said. He stood up. “That all?”

“One more thing, Sam. Clare. Does this hesitancy Sarah is worried about—does it have anything to do with your feelings for Clare? Because with sisters…”

Sam’s expression darkened and he drew his brows together. “Sarah is having my baby,” he said. “I can assure you, I’m over Clare.”

 

Sam saw the studio light on in Sarah’s shop and pulled the squad car up in front. He tapped on the door and she came from the back. She opened the door and said, “Hi. Coffee break?”

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” he said.

“Sam, you don’t have to check on me so much. I’m not sick.”

“Okay,” he said. “I wanted to kiss you.”

“And that’s all?”

“That’s all for tonight,” he said. Oh, he could get into the idea of more, but he wasn’t going to throw her around the studio with their baby in the middle. He was feeling more protective than that. It had become important to him that she be comfortable. Safe. Plus, he wasn’t at all unhappy with the new tempo of their lovemaking. “I don’t have that much time,” he lied. “Can I see what you’re working on?”

She smiled and took him by the hand, leading him to the back. “You’re such a liar. You don’t care what I’m working on.”

“I care,” he said. But the second they were in the back room he drew her into his embrace and covered her mouth with his. Her arms went around his neck as she yielded to his powerful kiss. Heavy breathing, hot tongues. He was instantly hard. This was the only part he didn’t particularly love. God, but she turned him on. There wasn’t anything he could do about it tonight, under the circumstances.

“This vest,” she said, pounding on his chest. “It makes you seem so much bigger than you already are.” She put her hand over his erection. “Oh, Sam, what you do to yourself.”

“Actually, I think it’s what you do to me.”

She tickled him under his chin. “I know the cure.”

“I know you do. I’ll let you show me Saturday night. I’ll take you to dinner, get us a room.”

“All these rooms—it must be depleting your fortunes.”

“You live with your father, I live with my mother. It’s money well spent. Believe me.” He kissed her and asked, “Have you given it any more thought? Getting married?”

“I think about it a lot,” she said.

“Have you reconsidered?”

“A couple of times a day I do,” she said.

“Well, we’re making progress, I guess.” He kissed her again and said, “I’d better get going.”

“Okay. I don’t mind, you know. That you stop by, get me all worked up and leave me. Although, I think I sleep better when you finish what you start.”

“Yeah? Me, too.”

He took her hand so that she might walk him out, lock the door behind him. When they got to the studio door he turned suddenly and asked, “What are you working on?”

“That,” she said, pointing to a painting. “Another still life.”

“Nice,” he said, turning to leave. He gave her a little peck at the door. “I don’t think I like you here, alone, late at night.”

“I’ve only been assaulted once today. Now go.”

“Lock the door. If you have any problems—”

“I’ll call the police.”

“You do that.”

Sam actually had more time than he let on. His mission was to see where Sarah was, and knowing she was in her shop, he drove to George’s house. He rang the bell and when George answered and saw Sam, his frown was unmistakable. Well, Sam thought, he’s pissed at me. Small wonder. But he’s in his sixties, I can probably take him if it gets ugly.

“Sir, I wonder if you have a minute to talk,” he said.

George left the door open and walked back into the house. Sam followed. In the living room George sat in what was clearly his favorite chair. Sam looked around and found a chair facing George. He sat on the edge.

“Sir, I want you to know that I won’t abandon Sarah. I take full responsibility for the pregnancy and I’ve asked her to marry me.”

“I heard,” George said.

“She isn’t ready for that, I guess. It’s up to her. But no matter what she does, I’ll stand by her. You should know that.”

“You’d better,” George said. “Weren’t you seeing my other daughter?”

“Well, that. That was over before this…It turns out that Clare and I were only friends. Not—Well, suffice to say, this situation could not have occurred with Clare. Believe me, sir, I was never seeing two sisters at the same time.”

George gave a nod. “That’s good. Because I might have to kill you for that.” Sam sat up straighter, kind of surprised. “Okay, maybe not that. I might have to file a complaint or something. It has to be against department policy.”

“I’m pretty sure it would be frowned on,” Sam said. He stood up. “I just wanted you to know that I intend to act responsibly toward your daughter. I hoped that at some point we could be friends.”

“I’m not quite ready to be your friend,” George said. “She’s still my little girl.”

“I understand.” He shuffled a little uncomfortably. Mission accomplished, he told himself. Sam didn’t expect him to be happy. “I’ll say good night.”

Sam turned to go and to his back George said, “Maybe someday.”

He turned around.

“Lot of adjustments to make right now. But maybe when the dust settles, we’ll get along all right.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sam said. And took his leave.