Cause for Alarm Read online

  Kate had stuck to her guns and as she had known they would, customers had found her. None of the other coffee cafés had what she had: a panoramic view of Lake Pontchartrain, century-old live oak trees in whose high, thick branches egrets roosted at dusk, a feeling of history, and an undeniable charm that was the Old South.

  Her regulars weren't the strip mall types. They weren't the two-point-two kids, minivan-and-dog types that heavily populated Mandeville. No, The Uncommon Bean seemed to draw the North Shore's uncommon residents. Artists and writers, college students and misfits, retired professionals, freethinkers, debaters and loners.

  Even her employees were unique. Sometimes too much so, Kate thought as she stepped through The Bean's front door only to discover her two managers, Marilyn and Blake, deep into one of their famous discussions. She shook her head. Anyone who didn't know them would swear not only that they were arguing, but that they hated each other as well.

  And no wonder; the two couldn't be more different. Marilyn was a blond bombshell with a Minnie Mouse voice and an IQ to rival Einstein's. At twenty-five, she was working on her fourth college degree, this one in ancient religions. Blake, on the other hand, at twenty-eight, was still on his first go-round at college. Gay and proud of it, he was outspoken, funny and a bit too flamboyant to be living comfortably on the rather conservative North Shore. But he did anyway, he said, because he liked the trees.

  Their heated discussions had become legendary with the regulars. Some swore they came in not for the coffee, but to witness the fireworks. Even so, the two never got truly angry with one another and made a good working team.

  "Honey," Blake drawled to Marilyn as Kate approached, "I'm telling you, when it comes to size, all races have not been created equal."

  Marilyn made a sound of disgust. "Not only are you gross, but you're playing to cliché and racial stereotype. A civilization that depends on stereotypes-"

  "Excuse me," Blake interrupted, placing his fists on his hips and cocking his head at her. "But just how do you think clichés get started?"

  "Usually as a form of hatred and oppression." Marilyn swiped at a spot of water on the counter, her cheeks pink. "My God, as a gay man, I'd think you'd be more sensitive to this sort of thing."

  "Exactly. I mean, just for argument's sake, how many big, black-"

  "Enough, guys!" Kate said, stepping in. "This is inappropriate. We have customers."

  "S'okay with me," called Peter, a regular sitting in the booth closest the register. "I was kind of getting into it."

  "Me, too." Joanie, a romance writer and another regular, said as she sauntered to the counter for a refill. "Grist for the mill and all that."

  "No," Blake murmured. "Kate's right. But before we move on to a less…controversial subject, I feel obligated to say one more thing. Anyone who says size isn't important, either has a teeny little wienie or is having a relationship with one."

  Marilyn gasped, Joanie nearly choked on her refill, and Kate fought back a laugh. Before Kate could reprimand her employee, Peter chimed in, "I've never said that, Blake. Believe me. Quite the contrary, I always say size is the most important thing."

  That brought a fresh round of giggles and groans from the group. Just as it looked as if the conversation were going to slip back into the realm of the totally inappropriate, a mother and her two young children entered The Bean. Marilyn and Blake became instantly professional.

  Kate shook her head, fighting a sound of amused exasperation. She could imagine Richard's reaction if he'd witnessed the goings-on at The Bean. He already thought the place a nuthouse; no doubt he would judge them all, including her, certifiable.

  She glanced at Marilyn and Blake, chatting with the woman as they filled her order, then smiled. She enjoyed The Uncommon Bean. She enjoyed the people, the ones who became regulars and the ones who only stopped by occasionally. She enjoyed her employees, their eccentricities, being involved in their lives.

  Though her first love was art, she had decided early on that she was not going the starving artist route. She had grown up with that. Living hand-to-mouth, from sale to sale, watching her parents wait with growing bitterness for the recognition that had never come. Seeing how disappointment had sucked the life out of their marriage.

  They had divorced the year Kate graduated from Tulane. The year after that her mother had been killed in a traffic accident, and her father had left New Orleans to become artist-in-residence at an art colony north of San Francisco. Though they spoke often and affectionately, geographical distance kept them from spending much time together.

  No, after watching her parents Kate had decided on a degree in business and had relegated her beloved art to a hobby. Now, instead of on gallery walls, her stained glass creations hung in every window of The Bean. She created them because she loved the craft. Not for money. Not for recognition. Now and then she sold a piece, and when she did she was pleased. It was freeing not having to deal with the pressure of having to sell.

  Kate knew how lucky she was. She could have been stuck working nine to five, pushing papers in a job she derived little pleasure from. And doing it day after day, just to keep a roof over her head.

  And she would have, and made the best of it, because she was a practical person.

  Something Luke had never been able to understand.

  Funny, she thought, picturing him in her mind's eye. They had both come from low-income homes, both had attended Tulane on scholarship. Yet Luke had been determined to stick to his dream of being a novelist. He had refused to even consider journalism or copywriting. He had believed in himself that much.

  What would it be like to have that kind of confidence? she wondered. To have that much courage?

  The woman and her children served, Kate motioned to her managers. "If I can trust you two to keep your conversation respectable, I'll be in my office working on payroll." Kate looked from one to the other. "That is, if you want to get paid today?"

  "Go…go." Blake waved her toward the back. "I'm broke."

  Marilyn clucked her tongue. "You need to manage your finances better. There will be a tomorrow, you know."

  He sniffed. "Words of wisdom from the queen of the college loans."

  "Screw you."

  "Sorry, darlin'," he drawled, "but you're not my type."

  "You don't have to worry about me keeping it respectable, Kate," Marilyn said, looking pointedly at Blake. "I have the ability to think about other things."

  Kate threw up her hands. "You two will never change.

  I'm going to stop trying, just don't scare all the customers away. Okay?"

  Not waiting for a response, Kate made her way to her office, checking supplies as she did, making notes of what she needed to order. The time cards were stacked neatly on her desk, waiting for her. With a sigh, she took a seat and got to work.

  She had only been at it a few minutes when Blake tapped on her open door. "We have a problem."

  She looked up and motioned him in. "What's up?"

  "It's the baker. Again. He didn't show Saturday. Consequently, we were out of half our pastries before the after-movie crowd even arrived."

  "Did you call?"

  "Of course." Blake frowned. "I got the machine. Twice."

  "And he still hasn't called back." She made a sound of disgust. "How many times does this make?"

  "Four. The jerk." Blake lifted the heart-shaped paperweight from her desk, weighed it in his hand and set it back down. The Baccarat crystal heart had been a gift from Richard last Valentine's Day. "I really hate irresponsibility."

  Kate smiled. That's what made him such a good employee. "I'll take care of this, Blake. There are other bakers in town, and we're going to find ourselves one."

  "Thank God." He wagged his finger at her. "And this time you're not going to listen to any sob stories, right? It doesn't matter if his dog died or his wife left him, he has a commitment to us and our business. You're much too nice, you know."

  A notorious soft touch, that was
what Richard called her. Con men and door-to-door salesmen could see her coming. She smiled. "No hard luck stories, no excuses. That Pillsbury Dough Boy is history."

  That brought a smile to his lips. "Good. Thank you."

  Blake started out of the office. Kate stopped him. "How was business this weekend?"

  "Excellent. Though it would have been even better if we'd had a full stock of desserts."

  "How did the new kid do?"

  "Beanie?" Beanie, so nicknamed because he wore a different hat every day, was the newest member of her crew. And the youngest. She had hired him because she thought he would do a good job and because she feared she might be his only chance at gainful employment. "He did okay. I had Tess stay right with him. Consequently, he made no major goof-ups that I saw and the customers seemed to like him. Not bad for his first shift."

  Tess, Kate's other employee, though a good worker, tended to be a bit of a flake. Kate arched an eyebrow. "Tess? Training?"

  Marilyn popped her head into the office. "Kate, telephone. It's Ellen. From Citywide."

  Kate nodded, catching her breath. "Thanks." She picked up the phone. From the corner of her eye, she saw Marilyn nudge Blake. The two eased out of the office, closing the door behind them.

  Kate smiled. All her employees and most of the regulars knew she and Richard were adopting. They also knew what she had been through and how badly she wanted a child.

  "Hi, Ellen," she said. "What's up?"

  "Good news."

  "Good news?" Kate repeated, her heart beginning to pound.

  "We've got a new birth mother in the program. She's beginning to review profiles. Yours is one of the ones I've selected for her. But before you get too excited," she added quickly, "you and Richard are only one of several couples she's initially considering. Although I see you as a good fit, she might not. Be prepared, before this is all over, I'll probably be showing your profiles to a dozen birth mothers."

  "Oh." Kate took a deep breath, so disappointed she hurt. "I understand."

  Ellen laughed, but with sympathy, not amusement. "No, Kate, I understand. You have every right to be excited. But I feel obligated to warn you, adoption can be every bit the emotional roller coaster of infertility treatments. You have to pace yourself.

  "I know it's hard," Ellen continued before Kate could respond. "The waiting is hell and the ups and downs are worse. Knowing that, the best you can do is strap in for the duration."

  "Pace myself." Kate laughed, a bit self-consciously. "You sound like Richard. Relax, he says. All things in their time."

  "He's a wise man."

  "I know, it's just that…that-" To her embarrassment, tears flooded her eyes and when she spoke, her words came out soft and broken. "We've waited so long, Ellen. I've…we've wanted a child for such a long time." Her voice cracked, and she cleared it. "I'm sorry. You must think me a complete dope."

  "Far from it," the other woman murmured. "I think anyone who wants a child as much as you do is going to be a very good mother."

  Kate regained a modicum of composure, grateful for the woman's understanding. "Thank you."

  "I'll tell you this, Kate, from speaking with this birth mother several times now, I believe she's committed to adoption. I sense no conflict in her over whether to parent or give up her baby. And," Ellen added, "she is interested in you and Richard. You have many qualities that are important to her. With that in mind, I was wondering when you could get your photo album to me."

  "I finished it last night and planned to run it over in the next few days."

  "The sooner the better."

  "I'm bringing it now. See you in forty-five minutes."

  11

  Julianna sat on her bed, back propped by pillows, legs stretched out in front of her, the Citywide profiles stacked on what was left of her lap. She gazed at the typewritten words of the profile on the top of the stack, her vision blurred with tears.

  I've loved Kate since the moment I laid eyes on her. She's my partner, my lover, my best friend. I can't imagine my life without her.

  Julianna drew in a ragged breath, rereading the words, an ache of longing, of hunger, in the pit of her gut. She wanted that. To be loved and needed so ferociously. To be someone's everything.

  She closed her eyes, her thoughts whirling. She had planned to pretend to have considered all the profiles and just randomly pick one of the couples. After all, she didn't want this baby, and Ellen had assured her that every couple had been carefully screened as to their worthiness for parenthood. Any one of them would have done.

  Then, for no particular reason, she had begun to leaf through the first of the profiles Ellen had given her. Something about that couple had jumped out at her. A tone underlying the words, a kind of sanctimony. As if they thought themselves a bit too good for this whole thing. Too good for Julianna. And her baby.

  Taking an immediate dislike to them, she had tossed the profile aside and selected another. The next couple had seemed nice enough. Sincere. Eager to be parents. She was a homemaker, he an accountant.

  They had bored her silly. Their life-style, what they'd had to say about parenting, their hopes for their child's future.

  She had tossed them aside as well.

  Then, on Saturday, she had found Richard and Kate. Everything about them had called to her-their life-style, beliefs, hopes and dreams and plans. Theirs was the life, the relationship, she had always fantasized as her own.

  Now, on Monday, after having read their profiles a hundred times, she realized she had found so much more than just a couple to adopt her baby. The man she had been waiting for all her life. The one she was meant to be with.

  Julianna drew in a ragged breath, struggling to get ahold of her runaway thoughts, denying them even as she was drawn back to his words, ones she knew now by heart.

  We met at the university. She was so alive, so bright and eager and smart. I looked at her and saw the future in her eyes. My future.

  What had John seen when he'd looked into her eyes? A child who needed protecting? An innocent who could be molded to his liking? Julianna swallowed hard. What had anybody ever seen in her eyes?

  At the answer, the tears welled and spilled over, trickling slowly down her cheeks. Her mother had treated her like one of her expensive accessories, no different than a Hermés scarf or Gucci handbag. John, too, had had a narrow space for her in his life. And although he had professed to love her and had treated her well, he had wanted her to conform to that space and fill no other.

  She wanted more now. She wanted what Kate had.

  Angry, Julianna swiped at her cheeks and lowered her gaze again to the profile on her lap. She read about Richard's childhood and family, his dreams and aspirations. He shared his hopes for the future; his views on love, marriage and parenting.

  She turned the last page, realizing only then that she was trembling. His words were her thoughts. Her hopes and dreams and prayers. This man, though they had never met, had reached into her head and heart, touching her in a way no one ever had.

  It was as if he knew her. As if they were connected somehow, one person separated by time and fate.

  Brought back together by the same.

  Richard. And Julianna.

  She tested his name on her tongue, saying it aloud, mating it with her own. Their names sounded…right together. They felt right together. As she said them, repeating them over and over, it was as if a bell went off in her head, a sort of chime, ringing out the beginning of her life. The real beginning, one that had nothing to do with her physical birth. Nothing to do with her past.

  She was new now. Reborn. All the pieces had fallen into place. It all made sense. This was why she had gotten pregnant. Why John had driven her away. This was what every event of her life had led her to.

  She believed in fate. In destiny. She had found hers.

  Richard. And Julianna.

  Julianna laid the profile aside and picked up its accompanying photo album. She ran her fingers over the embossed
leather cover, heart beating uncomfortably fast, almost afraid to open it, though she didn't know why.

  Perhaps because what she was feeling was so potent, so new and frightening. Perhaps because of the feeling in the pit of her gut-that she had just run headlong into her future.

  Her future. Theirs. Richard and Julianna's.

  With trembling fingers, Julianna opened the photo album. She went from one page to the next, turning them almost reverently, breathless at the enormity of what was transpiring, how her life was changing.

  He was as she had pictured him through his words. Tall and dark-haired, with broad shoulders and an enticing, boyish smile. He looked strong and confident. A man a woman could lean on. One who loved deeply, passionately.

  The man she had been waiting for.

  Richard and Julianna.

  And Kate. A problem.

  Julianna drew her eyebrows together. She bore the woman no ill will. How could she? After all, she was a part of this, too, one of the pieces that had drawn them all together. If not for Kate's desire for a child, how would Julianna have found Richard?

  Julianna skimmed her gaze from one photo in the album to the next, reading the accompanying inscription. Richard and Kate skiing in Aspen. Sailing on Lake Pontchartrain. Vacationing in the Tropics. Arms around each other. Smiling and gazing into one another's eyes.

  Julianna stared at the photos, a knot in her throat. Kate wasn't gorgeous. She wasn't even beautiful, not really. But she looked smart. She looked classy. Not like a little girl. Not dependent. Not an over-sexed glamazon.

  She touched one of the photographs, stroking her finger over Kate's glossy image. Kate was someone a man like Richard would fall in love with, she thought. Someone who would be this man's lover and partner.

  Someone who deserved all the good things that had come to her.

  Julianna frowned. At the tug of jealousy she felt. At the pang of insecurity.

  She shook the emotions off. Those wouldn't do. She was prettier than Kate, younger and sexier. Class could be acquired, education feigned.

  If she chose, she could be everything Kate was, have everything Kate had.