nothing to do with Laird or any other roommate.
Lucky had worked hard to earn a master’s degree in nursing administration, which he’d completed earlier this year. Now he sought a suitable post for his management skills, but there were no openings at Safe Harbor Medical. Which meant he’d have to move away from the people he cared about.
They included Zora, who over the past few months had needed his protection as she struggled to deal with an unplanned pregnancy and a broken heart. They hadn’t intended to grow closer; he wasn’t even sure either would openly acknowledge it. Which was just as well. Because having once failed in a big way to be there for the people he loved, Lucky had vowed never, ever to take on such responsibility. Because he’d only fail again.
Still, he couldn’t imagine moving away. His best hope for staying in the area would be the expansion of the men’s fertility program in which he worked. Any minute now, its director, Cole Rattigan, would arrive. Most of the staff thought Cole had just been in New York to deliver a speech, but Lucky was more interested in hearing about his boss’s private meeting with the designer of a new device.
It offered a slim possibility of helping one particular patient, a volatile billionaire named Vince Adams who was considering a major endowment to expand the hospital’s urology program. If that happened, it might create a nursing-administration position for Lucky. Also, it would realize his doctor’s dream of building a world-class program.
If not for Cole, Lucky might not be working for Safe Harbor Med at all, he reflected as he carried empty plates and cups to the kitchen. Two and a half years ago, when the newly arrived urologist had interviewed for office nurses, Lucky hadn’t believed he had a chance of being hired. After his previous doctor retired, Lucky’s tattoos had repeatedly knocked him out of the running for jobs. He’d been considering expensive and painful treatment to remove the evidence of his youthful foolishness.
But the tats hadn’t bothered Cole. He’d asked a few questions, appeared pleased with the responses and offered the job on the spot. After that, Lucky would have battled demons if they’d threatened his doctor.
In the den, he poured himself a glass of fruit juice and noted that the sandwiches, chips and veggies were holding their own despite modest depletions. No one had cut the sheet cake yet, leaving intact the six cartoon babies, five with pink hair ribbons and one with blue.
“Aren’t they adorable?” The soft voice at his elbow drew his attention to Betsy.
Lucky shifted uneasily. Despite his conviction that Zora ought to be honest with her children’s grandmother, he had no intention of snitching. Still, he had invited the woman. “We ordered it from the Cake Castle.”
She indicated the Nanny Fund box bordered by a few wrapped packages. “I didn’t realize most people would be contributing money as their gift. I hope it’s all right that I crocheted baby blankets.”
“All right?” Lucky repeated in surprise. “The kids will treasure those keepsakes forever.”
Betsy’s squarish face, softened by caramel-brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses, brightened at the compliment. Why didn’t Zora level with the woman? A doting grandma could provide the support a young single mother needed. Considering that Zora’s own mother lived in Oregon, she’d be wise to take advantage of Betsy’s yearning for grandkids.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “Also, much as I approve of the nanny idea, I suspect new mothers could use furnishings and toys.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of that.” Lucky had been forced to park in the driveway for weeks due to the overflow in the garage. “Practically the entire staff has donated their baby gear. Anya and Jack got first pick, since she’s already delivered, but they only have a singleton. There’s plenty left.”
“They’re a lovely couple. So are Melissa and Edmond.” Betsy indicated the long-legged blonde woman ensconced on the sofa, flanked by her doting husband and seven-year-old niece, Dawn, who lived with them. This was a rare outing for Melissa, who in her sixth month with triplets looked almost as wide as she was tall. “I’m thrilled that they remarried. They obviously belong together.”
Was that a hint? Surely the woman didn’t believe her son might reconcile with Zora. Aside from the fact that he had a new wife, the guy was the world’s worst candidate for family man. “I’d bet in most divorces the odds of a happy reconciliation would be on par with winning the lottery.”
“If that was for my benefit, don’t bother,” Betsy told him.
“Sorry.” Lucky ducked his head. “I tend to be a mother hen to my friends. Or a father hen, if there is such a thing.”
“At least you aren’t a rooster like my son,” she replied sharply.
“No comment.”
“Wise man.”
On the far side of the room, Zora circled past the staircase and halted, her eyes widening at the sight of Lucky standing beside Betsy. Lucky nearly spread his hands in a do-you-honestly-think-I’d-tell-her? gesture, but decided against it, since Betsy didn’t miss much. She must be suspicious enough already about the twins’ paternity.
While he was seeking another topic of conversation, his landlady bounced into the den from the kitchen. “Who’s ready for a game?” Karen called. “We have prizes.” She indicated a side table where baskets displayed bath soaps and lotions, while a large stuffed panda held out a gift card to the Bear and Doll Boutique.
“What kind of game?” Dawn asked from the couch.
“I’m afraid the first one might be too hard for a child,” Karen said. “It’s a diaper-the-baby contest.”
“I can do that,” the little girl proclaimed.
“Yes, she can,” Melissa confirmed. “Dawn has more experience with diapering than Edmond or me.”
“I used to help our neighbor,” the child said.
“Then please join in!” Karen beamed as guests from the living room crowded into the den. “Ah, more players. Great!”
Among the group was their former roommate Anya, her arms around the daughter she’d delivered a few weeks earlier. “Nobody’s diapering Rachel for a game.”
“Certainly not,” Karen agreed.
“However, volunteers are welcome to stop by our apartment any night around two a.m.,” put in Anya’s husband, Dr. Jack Ryder.
Rachel gurgled. A sigh ran through the onlookers, accompanied by murmurs of “What an angel!” and “How darling!”
“I’d be happy to hold her for you,” Betsy said. “You can both relax and enjoy the food.”
“Thank you.” Anya cheerfully shifted her daughter into the arms of the nursing supervisor.
When Zora hugged herself protectively, Lucky felt a twinge of sympathy. She’d refused to consider adoption, declaring that this might be her only chance to have children, but the sight of little Rachel must underscore the reality of what she faced.
Children required all your resources and all your strength. How did this woman with slim shoulders and defiant ginger hair expect to
