Marie Ferrarella

Safe Harbour


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glance toward Cris, hoping her request wouldn’t set off any alarms.

      The change didn’t go unnoticed. “Wow, that is a lot for you,” Cris commented.

      Stevi shrugged. “Yes, I know. Must be all that great sea air.”

      “The air’s been there all along, Stevi,” Cris pointed out.

      “I’ve got it, boss,” Jorge, Cris’s chief assistant, called out. He nodded toward Stevi.

      “Thanks.” Cris flashed him a grateful, weary smile.

      “No problem,” Jorge responded. “You just take it easy, boss. You’re working too hard, as usual.”

      So preoccupied with getting back to her bedroom as quickly as possible, Stevi hadn’t really been paying attention to much else. But Jorge’s comment about Cris working too hard made her take a closer look at Cris. It occurred to her that her older sister was looking rather pale.

      She automatically reached out to put her hand against Cris’s forehead. Cris pulled her head back.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Just wanted to see if you had a fever,” Stevi explained, dropping her hand. “You look a little peaked.”

      “No fever,” Cris answered dismissively.

      It wasn’t like Cris to be so curt. Something was up, Stevi thought. “You coming down with something?”

      Cris laughed softly. “No, I’m fine.”

      Now her curiosity was fully aroused. “Don’t lie to the woman who pulled a rabbit out of the hat and piggybacked a real wedding for you on to Alex’s when you realized how much you’d missed, practically eloping on the run. You owe me.”

      She was practically daring Cris to argue the point. No one ever won an argument with her, unless, occasionally, it was Alex.

      “I’m not lying,” Cris protested. “I’m not coming down with anything, not in the traditional sense.”

      Stevi’s curiosity went up another notch. “Okay, how about in the nontraditional sense?” Stevi pressed. Interrupting herself for a second, she looked toward Jorge and made a request. “Could you make that to go, please, Jorge?”

      Jorge nodded.

      “You’re taking breakfast to go?” Cris asked. “What’s the matter, you suddenly don’t like my dining room?”

      “It’s not that,” she protested, noting that somehow, Cris’s domain had spread from the kitchen to the dining area, as well. “I’ve got a few things to do in my room, wise guy, so I thought I’d eat and work at the same time. And don’t think you’re changing the subject that easily.”

      “There is no subject to change,” Cris said, turning back to flip the omelet.

      Stevi shifted so that she was able to at least see Cris’s profile. “We have a slight difference of opinion there.”

      “I’m fine,” Cris insisted once again. “Just a little woozy, maybe.”

      If Cris admitted to being dizzy, then there was more she wasn’t saying.

      “Cris, Jorge can take over. Heck, even I can do some cooking in an emergency—”

      “The emergency would be after you started cooking,” Cris interjected.

      Stevi ignored the comment. “There’s no shame if you take a sick day once in a while. Nobody expects you to be invincible. If you caught a bug, then—”

      “It’s not a bug,” Cris protested, losing her patience. “It’s a baby.”

      Stevi’s jaw dropped open. “Whoa. Back up. You caught a baby?”

      Cris sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to come out like this.... But it was bound to come out sometime. Yes, in a manner of speaking, I guess.”

      Stevi’s eyes widened even more. “Then you’re—”

      Closing her eyes, Cris nodded. “Yes, I am,” she said.

      Jorge was grinning ear to ear. “Congratulations, boss.”

      Cris inclined her head, uttering a modest, “Thank you.”

      The surge of pure joy was a beat late, but when it came, it all but exploded within her. “Cris, why didn’t you say anything?” Stevi threw her arms around her sister, hugging her hard. “That’s wonderful! Why are you keeping it such a secret?” Granted Cris was one of the more quiet of the Roman daughters, but when she discovered she was pregnant with Ricky, everyone in the family knew within about twenty-four hours.

      “I didn’t want to steal any of Alex’s thunder,” she confided. “I’ve already had one baby. This is Alex’s first.”

      That was not a valid reason as far as Stevi was concerned. “Alex can deal with sharing the spotlight, she’s not a narcissist. And it’s not like you could’ve kept this a secret forever, you know. Eventually, we would have figured it out. So, does anyone else know?”

      Cris inclined her head. “Shane.”

      “Well, of course! What about Ricky?”

      “I would have loved to have included him in this, but if he knew, then the immediate world would have known, as well.”

      Stevi laughed in agreement.

      “There’s no such thing as keeping a secret as far as my boy is concerned—especially if it was labeled a secret. The information would have burst out of him the very first opportunity he had. Prefaced with ‘Mommy doesn’t want anyone to know, but—’”

      “Well, always a good thing to let the father know anyway,” Stevi said, patting Cris’s hand.

      “Your breakfast, Miss Stevi,” Jorge said, placing a large brown bag on the steel counter next to her.

      “Thank you.” She flashed the assistant a quick smile.

      “Please don’t tell everyone,” Cris begged her.

      “Of course not! I think that kind of information should come from you.” She rolled her eyes. “But make sure you call Dad in and tell him first. He’ll appreciate being told before the others.”

      Cris smiled as she placed her hand on her still very flat stomach. “I guess you’re right—for a change.”

      That was the nature of their relationship. Nothing serious could be left alone for long. There was always a bite of sarcasm, a zinger attached somewhere. The Roman sisters were determined not to get mushy on one another.

      “Can you get Dad for me, Stevi?” Cris requested. “Ask him to come to the dining area?”

      Any other time...but she was acutely aware of the time and she had left her mystery man alone in her room for far too long. What if he had awakened while she was gone? What if he had wandered off? She couldn’t have that. Not until she got their stories straight. Otherwise, she would be on the receiving end of a lifetime of lectures from not just her father, but everyone else in the family, as well.

      “I’d really love to, Cris, but there’s something important I have to get to.” She looked at Jorge. “Jorge, can you get my father down here, please? There,” she told Cris. “All done. Gotta fly.” She grabbed the large brown bag Jorge had brought her and left the kitchen through the back delivery entrance.

      She left a bemused Cris staring after her in her wake.

      Stevi circumvented the veranda at the back of the inn and made her way to the same side entrance she and Silvio had used earlier. Again, this was the long way around but if she’d gone out through the dining area, Alex and Andy would have grilled her.

      The way she saw it, it was better to avoid questions altogether until she had some viable answers.

      As