everywhere.”
“We heard,” Becca said. “Zach called us. Mom and your dad are going to the clinic to help as soon as the dinner rush is over.”
“You weren’t supposed to get here until tomorrow,” Brandon said. His blue-gray eyes were clouded with worry. “Everything was supposed to be cleaned up. You weren’t supposed to see the mess.”
“I wish I hadn’t,” Callie said frankly. Brandon seemed to be one of those kids who always felt as if everything that went wrong around them was their fault. Another reason she found it easier to relate to him. She remembered being the same way at his age. “It was an accident. We’ll get it all squared away.” She smiled again, although she wasn’t all that confident of her own words.
“Oh, dear, Callie? It is you.” The light, musical voice belonged to her stepmother. “Mac thought she saw you sneaking up the stairs. I sent the twins up to check, and when they didn’t return, I figured she was right.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” Callie said, defending herself. “Hello, Ginger.” She spread her hands. “I wasn’t too keen on being seen this way.”
“Goodness.” Ginger took Brandon by the shoulders and moved him out of her way. Becca flattened herself against the wall, pointedly avoiding any contact with her mother’s protruding belly as Ginger moved forward to get a closer view of Callie. “What happened?” Her eyes narrowed as understanding dawned. “You’ve been to the clinic.”
“The door was open. There were cars in the parking lot when I drove by. It seemed unusual for this late on a Saturday. I thought I should check it out.”
“It’s lucky Zach stopped in when he did. It could have been a lot worse.”
“He seemed to have things pretty well under control when I left.” The way he’d dismissed her offer of help still bothered her slightly, but she didn’t say anything more. It was obvious her stepmother held the man in high regard—as did her father, she reminded herself. Professional courtesy and self-preservation warned her to keep her less flattering opinion of the PA to herself.
“Nothing’s going the way I planned it,” Ginger lamented. “Nothing’s ready for you.” She furrowed her brow, as if trying to figure out what to do next. She was a small woman, several inches shorter than Callie, with strawberry blonde hair the same shade as Becca’s but cut short and feathery, and with Brandon’s rounded face and snub nose. There were tiny laugh lines at the corners of her generous mouth and blue-gray eyes, another trait she shared with her children. She was pretty and petite and she laughed a lot. Maybe that was why her dad had fallen head over heels in love with her, even if she did come with a ready-made family in tow.
“Should we tell Dad she’s here?” Brandon asked.
A tiny needle prick of jealousy shot through Callie, an unsettling sensation. It was the first she’d heard either of Ginger’s children refer to her father that way. She hoped her involuntary reaction hadn’t been evident on her face or in her eyes. She was a grown woman. She could share her father’s love and affection. It was just going to take a little getting used to, that was all. “No, Dad’s probably busy behind the bar. I’d rather he not see me this way. Really, all I want now is to shower off this fiberglass and get into some dry clothes. I didn’t know where else to go. I’ll call around and find a motel room.” Callie was mortified. “It was thoughtless of me not to call you about the change of plans.”
She belatedly remembered that the Physican’s Committee had arranged a place for her to live, but no one had given her the details. She’d been so busy packing away her things and finalizing the sublet on her tiny apartment in Ann Arbor that it had slipped her mind to inquire further. If pressed she’d admit she just assumed she’d be staying in her old room until she got settled in. A miscalculation in line with everything else that had happened today. She had nowhere else to go except to her mother’s, and she wasn’t up to dealing with Karen tonight.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll stay right here. No more arguing. Of course you’ll be wanting a shower.” Ginger laid her hand on her stomach, glancing across the hall at the bathroom door. She was wearing a pine-green top over slim white slacks. The top was fitted below her breasts and elasticized at the bottom so that it flared gently over her baby bump and fitted snugly on her hips. The shade of green that washed out her daughter’s pale skin tone flattered Ginger’s warmer complexion.
Her stepmother was getting quite big, Callie noticed, but she was already in her third trimester.
Callie wouldn’t be delivering any babies while she worked at the clinic—the hospital was too far away to make that practical, and to be truthful an ob-gyn practice had never been what she wanted—but she would be seeing prenatal patients and coordinating their care with the obstetrician in Petoskey. Ginger, however, was family, and medical ethics prohibited her from treating or prescribing medications for family members. If she was honest with herself, she was relieved not to be forced into such an intimate relationship with her stepmother, who was, when she got right down to it, a virtual stranger. And sleeping with her father to boot.
“Mom, our bathroom’s trashed, remember,” Becca said acidly. “We were going to clean tomorrow. You and J.R. made us work on the cottage today.” She shot Callie an accusing glare as though the messy bathroom was somehow her fault. So, her dad evidently hadn’t made as much progress with Becca as he had with Brandon.
“I’m not fussy,” Callie said. “A few dirty towels lying around won’t bother me.” She’d only stayed with her new extended family on the one previous occasion—the not-so- successful Christmas visit—and then only for two nights. The apartment had been spotless. Callie had been impressed and said so. Neither she nor her dad were particularly good housekeepers but evidently Ginger was.
“I wanted everything to be just right,” Ginger said under her breath. “I’m sorry. We changed Becca’s room because I wanted the one closest to us for the baby. Your dad hasn’t been sleeping well lately. I...I decided it would be better for the little one to be in a room of his or her own.”
J.R. and Ginger had decided against learning the sex of the new baby. That was fine with Callie, but she was disturbed to hear that her dad wasn’t sleeping well. Was it stress or, worse, some kind of health problem he was keeping from her? It seemed every few minutes something else served to remind her just how long she’d been away, how little she was aware of what went on in her dad’s life these days. It hurt.
But she could begin to do something about it now that she’d returned to White Pine Lake. Being close enough to spend time with her dad was one of the reasons she’d taken the job. She had to keep reminding herself of that.
“It’s fine. I don’t care what the bathroom looks like. I’m the one who should be apologizing for not telling you I was coming early,” she repeated, sincerely remorseful. “If there’s a clean towel and hot water, I’ll be fine.”
Ginger smiled and almost got it right. “Stop apologizing for wanting to come home a day early. Just pretend you’re the first person to take a shower after a hurricane blew through the bathroom, okay?”
“I promise not to notice a thing.”
“Have you eaten?” Ginger caressed her stomach absently as though soothing herself as well as the baby inside her.
“No, and I’m starved,” Callie said, grinning. “I hope you aren’t sold out of the bluegill tonight.”
“I’ll go down right
