we please put the misunderstanding behind us and start fresh?”
“Okay. I think I can spare a few hours a week. I’ll even buy some tea and honey and soda crackers, just in case.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She stood up, feeling vastly better. “I think I should go home now.”
A couple of minutes later, as Nick opened Bridget’s driver’s door as if it were Cinderella’s coach, she felt optimistic about the coming portrait. She always enjoyed committing a client’s personality to canvas, but it had been a long time since a subject had so excited her creative juices. And maybe a few other types of juices as well.
“Just one more question,” Nick said as he helped her into the car.
“Sure.”
“Don’t you think your kid ought to have a father?”
Something in Bridget’s imagination snapped shut. “A bit judgmental today, are we?”
“Just curious.”
Since the question hadn’t been asked with the intention to antagonize, she decided to give him an honest answer. “I would dearly love for my child to have a father. But good husbands don’t grow on trees. I’ve had several dating relationships over the past few years, but most of those guys, once I really got to know them, I couldn’t picture as fathers. And the few ‘maybes’ flipped out if I even hinted at possible long-term goals.”
“You mean they wigged when you said you wanted a baby.”
“Something like that.”
“Can you blame them? Most men aren’t like women when it comes to children. They have to get used to being husbands first. Then they gradually grow into the idea of having kids.”
“You know all about this, huh?”
“I know that if a lady I was dating suddenly started talking babies, I’d run as far and as fast as I could.”
“You’ve just made my point for me.” Bridget gave him a steely-eyed look. “I’m thirty years old. The old biological clock thing isn’t just an old wives’ tale.”
“It’s no fun growing up without a father,” he said, making his point in a different way.
“What would you know about it? You were raised by Eric Statler, Jr.”
“That’s not exactly correct. My mother, who had me out of wedlock, by the way, met and married Statler when I was five. But he was never, ever my father.”
Bridget realized she’d struck a sore spot. Nick’s feelings on this subject ran much deeper than she would have guessed. She felt for him. But the way he was raised had nothing to do with how she would bring up her child. She wouldn’t allow any man into her life who didn’t accept her son or daughter 100 percent.
“My sister and I were raised without a father, too,” she said quietly. “Ours died when we were two and my mother never remarried. She loved us more than enough to make up for it. And we turned out okay.”
“So it seems.”
“For that matter, though you might regret some elements of your childhood, you seem to have turned out okay, too.”
He sighed deeply. “Some might argue with you there.”
“No family is perfect. But if you raise a child with love, whether you’re one parent or two or ten, that has to be enough.”
“I hope you’re right.” He was silent for a few moments, during which he seemed to close down. The bitter emotions flashing across his face faded until he could look at her impassively. “Tomorrow, same time?”
“Yes. That will be fine.”
Bridget couldn’t help thinking about their discussion during her drive home. There were lots of single mothers in the world. Some of them provided good homes for their kids; others didn’t. Most of them hadn’t chosen to raise kids by themselves, but somehow they coped, and the kids survived. Some thrived, like her and Liz. But what if she wasn’t as good a mother as her own mother had been? What if the child, despite her hopes, wasn’t good at coping with the stresses of a single-parent household?
Was it selfish and unfair of her, wanting to bring this child into the world without a father?
Nick Raines seemed to think so.
Chapter Four
“You are definitely showing,” Liz observed as Bridget examined herself critically in the dressing room mirror.
Bridget sighed, plucking her loose-fitting denim dress away from her abdomen. “I was hoping this one would hide it a while longer, but I guess there’s no denying it. I look pregnant. Time to put away the jeans and invest in some tent dresses.”
“Hey, this is what you wanted, remember?” Liz groused. If she were pregnant, darn it, she would be flaunting it, not trying to hide herself away.
“Yeah, but the deal was, you and I were going to do it together. Look at you in those size six jeans. I wouldn’t be able to get my big toe in those.”
“Just wait a few months. I haven’t given up,” Liz said, studying a ragged fingernail. She pulled a nail file from her purse and went to work, casually adding, “I have a date tomorrow night with Ted.”
Bridget gasped. “Ted, the gas station attendant at the corner by Mom’s house?”
“Yeah, anything wrong with that? He’s cute, and he worships the ground I walk on. You’re being an elitist.”
Bridget unzipped the denim dress and stepped out of it, tossing it onto the “yes” pile. “I have nothing against a man who works with his hands for a living. However, I do think the father of your child should have an I.Q. a bit higher than an iguana’s.”
Liz snorted. “Find me one.”
“You never like the suggestions I make.”
“That’s because your idea of a hot date involves poetry readings and sipping hot chocolate. Next time you set me up with a guy, would you at least check first to see if he has a pulse?”
“Okay, so maybe setting you up with my accountant wasn’t such a hot idea.” Bridget stepped into her jeans, which she couldn’t snap, then pulled on a sweatshirt that hung almost to her knees. As she pulled on her sneakers, she paused and yawned. Twice.
“You okay, Bridge?” Liz asked, concerned by the shadows under Bridget’s eyes. This pregnancy hadn’t been easy for her. She was finally past the morning sickness, but she still seemed extremely fragile.
“Just tired, is all. I never realized how exhausting a baby could be before it’s even born. I don’t know how I’m going to make it to that party tonight.”
Liz’s senses went on alert. “Who’s having a party that I didn’t get invited to?”
“The costume party. I told you about it.”
“That’s tonight?” Liz had been pure green with envy when her twin had told her about the society party she’d been invited to.
“Yeah.” Bridget just sat there.
“You don’t seem very excited about it.”
“I’m not. You know, my priorities have really changed. All I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep. Besides, I’ll feel awkward. It was nice of Geraldine Statler to invite me, considering I’ve only met her once. She seems to have taken an inordinate amount of interest in the painting. But I doubt Nick wants me there.”
“Oh, so it’s Nick now, is it?” Seeing that Bridget didn’t welcome any teasing, Liz backed off. “Funny, I could have sworn you liked him. You light up like a meteor shower every time you talk about him.”
“Yeah,