to know who the father was. It’s better left alone.”
But Sara did want to know. She hated leaving strings, leaving things undone, unfinished. “But if he shows up all of a sudden and wants his child.”
“He won’t. He doesn’t even know I’m pregnant. He’ll never know.”
Sara wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. She and Jenny might be sisters, but they were very different and didn’t often see eye to eye on anything. Where Sara wanted the is dotted and the is crossed, Jenny wouldn’t even bother to write out full words. Abbreviations would do for her.
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Jenny asked suddenly.
“Me?” Sara stared at her. “That’ll be the day. I can hardly wait to…” Her eyes filled with dreams and her voice lowered. “To hold the little bundle in my arms and kiss that downy head and—”
“Okay, okay,” Jenny said quickly. “I get the picture.” She pushed herself awkwardly out of the chair and rose, turning in the direction of the kitchen. “I can hardly wait, either. Only with me, it’s like waiting to get out of prison. Once I deliver this child, I’ll be free, and you can bet I’ll never get myself in this condition again.”
Sara sighed as her sister disappeared down the hallway. She’d done all she could for the past few months, trying to keep Jenny’s spirits up, trying to get her to rest and eat well. For a while, she’d even had her living here in her house so that she could keep an eye on her. But they’d clashed a few too many times and Jenny had gone back to her apartment. Now she came by to visit every few days, but that was it. And Sara was feeling very much alone in her adventure.
That was why she wanted her friends around her so badly. She spread out the invitations on the desk, looking for the most important ones. She’d invited people from all over, but there were only three she really cared about—her three roommates from college. She hadn’t seen any of them for almost ten years and she felt that lack like an ache in her heart.
There was warm, lovable Cami Bishop, now publishing a fern journal in California. Hailey Kingston, beautiful as any model, had come back from art school in Paris to begin a career as a buyer for a San Francisco department store. And J. J. Jensen was in Utah, from what she’d heard, still pursuing her dream of landing the anchor position on some big network television news show. The four of them had been inseparable all through college, there for secrets and for comfort, helping each other pass exams and heal broken hearts. They had all been so full of dreams when they’d started out. Funny how none of the goals had quite panned out. Still, those three young women had been responsible for pulling her away from the defensive, introspective world she’d built around her like a cocoon since childhood, pulling her away from that out into the sunshine. She would always love them for it. Now she felt herself losing confidence again and she needed her old roommates’ help to get through this.
“Please come,” she whispered as she tied the envelopes together and prepared for a trip to the post office. “The way things are going, I have a feeling I’m really going to need a friend.”
Drey Angeli walked into the colorful Denver steak house like a man who knew what he wanted. The place had elk hides on the wall and long horns mounted over the bar. With his shoulder-length golden hair and buckskin jacket worn to the color of sandstone in the sun, Drey looked as if he belonged there.
Stopping for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim light, he shook his head at the scantily clad hostess hurrying toward him and surveyed the clientele on his own. He spotted the man he was looking for and started toward him. At six foot four with shoulders as wide as an acre of land, he made an imposing figure and people tended to make way when they saw him coming.
“Hello, Carter,” he said, stopping at a table where a tall, thin man sat devouring a thick porterhouse. “I’ve been looking for you.”
The older man looked up, did a double take and grinned. “Sit down, Drey,” he said, waving an invitation to the opposite chair. “I haven’t seen you since you ran off with my wife. Sit down and fill me in on what’s been happening.”
Drey slid into the seat in one fluid motion and reached for Carter’s drink, taking a sip and making a face.
“Still drinking rotgut, I see.”
Signaling the waitress, he put in an order for bourbon and water, then turned and gazed at his companion with his head back and his eyes half-closed. “I didn’t, you know,” he said quietly.
Carter stared at him for a long moment before saying, “Run off with Nancy?” He shrugged and began cutting off another huge bite of meat. “Let’s just say she went running after you.”
Drey waited a moment, thinking while Carter chewed. Finally he responded. “Your wife,” he said, choosing his words deliberately, “was hardly in a rational frame of mind when she left you. She just needed some time.”
“Hey, Drey, it’s okay.” Carter laughed softly, reaching for his napkin and wiping his mouth before he took another sip of his drink. “She’s back home where she belongs. She told me how you talked her into coming back to me. Everything’s cool. I was ribbing you.”
Relief filled Drey’s dark eyes for a moment and he took a deep breath. “I’m glad, Carter. For your sake and for mine.” He hesitated, then went on. “I’ve got a favor to ask you.”
The waitress brought his drink and he knocked back a portion of it, then sat for a moment, letting it warm him inside. “Here’s the deal. I hear you have a woman named Sara Parker asking you to find her a carpenter to put in some shelves and do some cabinetry work.”
Carter nodded slowly, waiting.
Drey met his gaze and held it. “Send me,” he said simply.
Carter’s eyebrows rose. “You? You haven’t worked for me since you graduated college. What was that? Five years ago?”
Drey nodded. “Let me take it, Carter. I don’t care about the money. You can have it all. I just want to go out there and do the job.”
Carter’s eyes narrowed as he speculated. “What’s going on, Drey? What’s your relationship with the lady? You got the hots for her or something?”
Drey shook his head. “I’ve never met her. But I want to do the job. I’ve got my own reasons.”
Carter hesitated, puzzled. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “How long’s it been since you’ve done any work with wood?”
Drey let out a hiss of exasperation. “Give me a break. You don’t think I’d do a good job?”
Carter laughed softly. “Nah, I always did say you were the best carpenter I ever hired.”
Drey nodded, as though that settled it, and took a long sip of his bourbon. “Tell me something,” he said, leaning a little closer. “You’ve worked for this woman before, haven’t you? Where’s Mr. Parker?”
Carter shrugged, still watching Drey as though he were trying to figure him out. “I haven’t ever seen him. He’s always away on business trips. He’s some sort of high-class executive or something.”
Drey contemplated that for a moment, frowning. “You’ve done a lot of work out at her place?”
Carter grimaced. “Not a lot. I got a pool house built for her last summer and fixed a couple of doors that were sticking. Oh, and we made her an enclosure for her microwave. That’s about it.”
Drey nodded slowly.
Carter leaned forward, curiosity burning in his eyes. “Come on, Drey. Give. What’s going on?”
Drey’s smile was faint but evident. “It’s personal.”