the way out the sliding glass doors to the patio table. When they were seated, she took a sip of her drink, put her glass down and looked Will straight in the eye. “I’ve decided to have a child.”
Will choked on his beer. “What?”
“I said, I’m going to have a child. On my own.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Ida waved a pretzel at him. “I didn’t mention it until now because I was afraid you’d try to talk me out of the idea before I’d even made up my mind. But I’ve thought long and hard and I’m very sure this is what I want. Now it’s just a question of finding someone to donate sperm.”
“But on your own! Don’t you want to get married someday?”
“Who’d marry me?”
“Come on, Ida,” Will chided. “You’re smart, successful, beautiful—”
“Stop it, Will. I might have been beautiful once,” she conceded, touching her forefinger to the fine ridges of scar tissue on her cheek. “Since this happened…forget it.”
Will fell silent, gnawed by guilt. Her scars, caused by burns from a deep-fat fryer in the fast-food joint where they’d both worked as university students, were his fault. She’d been standing over the fryer when he’d come along, on his way to the back room with his lunch. He’d stepped in a spot of grease, slipped, and his drink had flown into the fryer. He’d gone down, escaping the spray of boiling fat. Ida had caught it in the face. Thanks to her generous, forgiving nature, she’d never held the accident against him.
“Okay, so you’ll never make it in the movies, but you do all right, don’t you? I mean, your law practice is thriving, you own your house outright, you drive a brand-new BMW—” He broke off, wondering whether he was trying to convince himself or her.
“In terms of material success, yes, I’m doing fine. But it’s not enough anymore. What I want is a family.”
“I can understand that. I’d like a family, too. I’ve been thinking it’s time I settled down.”
“There you go. I’m thirty-seven, Will. It’s time to face facts. Maybe somewhere on this ever-shrinking Earth is a man who would love me for who I am, but I can’t wait forever to meet him.”
Will traced a path through the condensation on his glass. If only he could have fallen in love with her. But he’d known Ida since they were children, long before the fryer incident and the scarring. He loved her like a brother; the right chemistry just wasn’t there. “You’ll meet someone. Thirty-seven isn’t old.”
Ida snorted. “My biological clock has turned into a time bomb. If it weren’t physiologically unlikely, I’d swear I was getting hot flashes just thinking about my next birthday.”
“What about that guy from San Diego—Rick, wasn’t it? The one who was here setting up the Melbourne outlet for Borders bookstore. He seemed nice.”
“He’s gone back to the States,” Ida said with the dismissive gesture Will had come to associate with her covering up some hurt. “He wasn’t serious.”
“You always downplay any feelings a guy might have for you.” Will had thought the relationship was serious, at least on Ida’s part. He’d liked Rick, but if Rick had hurt her, Will wanted to shake him till his brain rattled. Ida hated anyone feeling sorry for her, though, even him, so he just nodded and sipped his beer.
A rustle in the bushes next to the brick wall caught his attention. Maeve emerged on the lawn. Despite the shimmering heat, she looked cool as a spring flower in her loose white shirt. Unaware of his scrutiny, she was making notes on her clipboard, head bent, wisps of shining dark hair falling over her high cheekbones. Then the warm breeze ruffled the page, and she glanced up. Seeing him watching her, she smiled.
Will froze, glass to his lips, as the oddest sensation stole over him, a kind of warmth in his midsection. A smile curved his lips as their gazes held, and the warmth expanded throughout his body, transporting him to a state of unexpected well-being.
“Who’s that?” Ida asked.
“Huh? Oh, that’s Maeve. She’s a landscape gardener, and the daughter of my foreman at the factory. She’s got some sensational ideas for the garden.”
“She’s lovely. If you’re looking to settle down, you don’t need to look farther than your own backyard.”
“I asked her out and she refused,” Will said with a frown. “No reason. Just refused.”
“Maybe she was having a bad day.”
“Maybe.”
Maeve disappeared behind the Monterey Bay fig, and Will turned back to Ida. “I understand your wanting a child, but do you really have to do it on your own?”
Ida’s chin lifted. “What’s wrong with that?”
Will shoved both hands through his hair. “For starters, a child needs a mother and a father. I realize it doesn’t always work out that way and I’d never judge anyone whose marriage breaks up, but, damn it, you have to try.”
Ida leaned forward, her hazel eyes shimmering. “I have tried, Will. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past fifteen years—playing hard to get?”
“But think of the child. It’s not fair to deliberately deprive a kid of having a father.” No one understood better than he what growing up without a father was like.
Ida’s mouth pulled tight. “Life isn’t fair. Is it fair for me to remain childless when I want so badly to have a baby?”
“No, but…”
She got up and strode across the deck to lean against the post, arms tightly crossed. “I was hoping for your moral support. If that’s not possible, at least spare me your condemnation.”
Will rose and put his arms around her, and felt her lean into him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t try to talk you out of this crazy idea.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her wet cheeks with the heel of her hand. “My emotions are all over the place lately. I know what I want is selfish, but I’m feeling desperate. I hate that. It’s so pathetic.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Will said soothingly, and stroked her back. “You’re not selfish or pathetic. It’s just that you deserve more. Your baby deserves more. I thought you were waiting for Mr. Right to come along.”
She managed a ragged laugh. “Mr. Right must have taken a wrong turn. Or maybe he saw me first. I’ve given up, Will. I’ve tried so hard for so long. Plastic surgery can only do so much. My appearance is as good as it’s ever going to get. The only dates I’ve had since my accident have been with friends or co-workers who feel sorry for me.”
“And Rick,” he reminded her. “But I don’t believe he or anyone else went out with you because they felt sorry for you.”
With an impatient sigh, she pushed away from Will and paced back to her seat. “I thought Rick was different, yet when his time
