Baby's First Christmas. Marie Ferrarella
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Nicole glanced at Marlene’s desk. The surface was an ode to compulsive organization, folders all neatly piled and placed parallel to the edge of the desk. No flurry of papers the way there would have been if she was working here instead.
But advertising campaigns weren’t her forte. Neither was neatness. They would have clashed inside of a day. It was better this way.
Nicole moved a folder with the tip of her index finger, her eyes on Marlene’s. “Well, I thought that since Mohammed wouldn’t come to the mountain, the mountain would come to Mohammed.”
Very carefully, Marlene returned the folder to its original position. It made her feel better to have things exactly where she wanted them. Where she could easily put her hands on them when she needed them. It was comforting. The reason the company ran so smoothly was due to creativity, but it also owed its success in no small part to organization. Her organization. That meant a great deal to her.
Marlene nodded at her sister’s widened waist. “More like the mountain coming to the mountain and forming a huge range.”
Holding on to the armrests, Nicole lowered herself into the chair before Marlene’s desk. Due roughly a couple of weeks after her sister, she was larger and appeared even more so because she was almost three inches shorter.
She let out a long sigh of relief as she sat back. “I’m on my lunch break, and since you haven’t taken one in five years unless it involved a client, the odds were that I’d find you in, so I decided to pop by.”
That still didn’t explain what Nicole was doing here. Marlene knew firsthand that these days it was difficult for Nicole to just “pop by” anywhere. There had to be a reason behind this so-called spontaneous visit.
Marlene rose from her desk and rounded it until she was beside her sister. Only concern about Nicole’s welfare ever managed to get her mind off her ever increasing mound of work. “Is anything wrong?”
Nicole shrugged casually, shifting the point of focus back to her sister. “I was going to ask you the same question.”
Marlene looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
It wasn’t actually the main reason she’d stopped by, but now that she’d thought of it, Nicole followed up. “You didn’t make any sense on the telephone when I talked to you yesterday. I thought maybe things might sound a little clearer if I watched your lips while you talked.”
Marlene laughed shortly. She supposed she had sounded a little distraught when she told Nicole about Travis’s appearance. She’d meant to keep the whole thing to herself, but Nicole’s call had caught her at a bad time and part of the story had tumbled out. Not wanting to upset Nicole, she had glossed over the rest of it.
“Believe me, it won’t sound any clearer now.” She thought of Travis and the annoying phone call last night. “All I know is that my unborn child’s uncle is an ass.”
“He just appeared out of the blue? For no reason?”
“Oh, there’s a reason, all right. I told you, he wants custody.” Just talking about it had her throat tightening. “The bastard is willing to make ‘compensations.’ As if I’d sell my baby.”
Nicole knew that look in Marlene’s eyes and could almost feel sorry for Sullivan Travis. She had no doubts that Marlene had put him in his place royally. “Do you think he’ll try to bother you again?”
“I don’t think, I know.” She sighed, exasperated. “I’ve been refusing his phone calls, but he got through last night at the house and wanted to meet with me again now that I’ve had ‘time to think it over.”’
“Did you tell him to go to hell?”
“I think he got the message.” Marlene rested her bottom against the top of the desk. She tried very hard not to let pregnancy slow her down, but there were times when it seemed to hit her right between the eyes. Or a little lower, she thought in momentary amusement.
“Do you think you should get in contact with Monty?” Nicole asked, referring to their family lawyer.
“Not yet, but I will if I have to. Right now, I’m not going to think about Travis. The holidays are coming. I’m pregnant, and I’ve got a social function to attend tonight.” Her mouth curved as she remembered. “One he wanted to ‘escort’ me to. That’s when I hung up on him.”
“That sounds like you.” Nicole looked at her sister’s face. “You look tired, Marlene. Why don’t you stay home tonight instead of going out?”
Marlene knew exactly what Nicole thought of the social get-togethers she attended. Her sister felt that they were full of pompous people who liked to hear themselves talk. Who liked to have other people hear them talk. She thought the assessment unfair. But whether it was true or not, business was business. She had to attend. Besides, she had promised Cynthia.
“It’s the best place to make connections, Nic,” she reminded her.
Nicole rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, those almighty connections. Where would we be without them?”
A wall materialized between them, the one that always rose when their diverse approaches to life came up. “Don’t use that tone with me, Nicole. You sound just the way you did when you talked to Father.”
Nicole’s eyes held her sister’s. James Bailey had been heartless; Marlene wasn’t. She couldn’t stand to see her sister waste her life away in some office. There were more important things than work. Marlene had to know that, or why else would she have gone to the trouble of getting pregnant?
She frowned. “Maybe that’s because sometimes you sound just like Father. Like now.”
Marlene retreated behind the desk. Splaying her hands across the chair’s high leather back, she drew herself up. “You’re pregnant and your hormones are running havoc on your judgment, so I’ll overlook that remark.”
“Don’t overlook it, take it to heart.” It was a frustrated plea.
And then she relented. Nicole rarely employed retreat, but she knew its value. Because Marlene was her sister and she hadn’t come by to antagonize her, she dropped the subject.
Nicole rose slowly from her chair. Another couple of minutes and she wouldn’t be able to get up at all. Her leg felt as though it had fallen asleep. The baby, ever restless, had apparently shifted its elephantine weight over a nerve. “Maybe I’d better get going and let you do what you do best.”
Marlene frowned as the buzzer sounded on her desk. She depressed the speaker button. “Yes, Wanda?”
Her secretary’s crisp British accent filled the air. “You wanted me to remind you of your twelve-thirty meeting, Ms. Bailey.”
Marlene mechanically reached for the folder she’d been reviewing earlier. Where had the morning gone? She’d meant to finish up the idea she was working on before joining the others for a brainstorming session to revamp a car manufacturer’s stodgy image. She’d always liked being prepared, but it still