She looked down at the pink furry footwear and smiled. They always made her smile.
Making a mental promise to wash the clothes in her gym bag, she left the bag in the hallway and headed for the kitchen as she glanced through her mail. Bills, bills … She paused at the postcard that featured a Caribbean cruise and felt a longing for hot weather, sunshine, an icy margarita and the sound of steel-drum music.
Sighing, she dismissed the mini fantasy and used her remote to turn on the sound of Alicia Keys while she poured herself a glass of red wine. She picked up her phone and listened to her messages.
The first was from one of her best friends, inviting her to visit a trendy new bar. The second was her mother checking on her. Erika bit her lip in response to that. Her mother had called her at a weak moment and Erika had told her too much about the results of her doctor’s visit. The third message was from Doug. Doug the dud, she added. A nice enough guy. He was just so boring.
The call-waiting beeped as she listened to his message and she automatically picked up. “Hello?”
“Erika, I wondered when I would hear your live voice again. How are you, sweetheart?”
Her mother. Erika winced. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve been very busy at work and I took on a mentoring project with an inner-city teenager. How are you? How’s bridge?”
“Your father and I came in second last night. We host tomorrow night. What is this about mentoring an inner-city teenager? Darling, you don’t really think that will take the place of having your own child, do you?”
Erika’s chest twisted. “No, but it’s a good use of my energy right now.”
“Honey, if you would just make a little effort and be more open-minded, I know you could find a man in no time. Then you could have both the husband and the baby you want.”
Erika squeezed her forehead. “I’ll make a deal with you, Mom. I’ll go out with two men next week if you stop asking me about this for the next week.”
“I’m just thinking of your well-being. You’ve always wanted children.”
“I know.”
“You just kept putting it off,” her mother added.
“Mom,” she said, and Erika couldn’t keep the warning note from seeping into her voice.
Her mother sighed. “Okay. Two dates, two men next week. I’ll say a prayer and make a wish on a star.”
Erika felt her heart soften. Her mother did love her. She just felt the need to interfere sometimes. “I love you. Have fun tomorrow night.”
Clicking off the phone, she set it down and smiled, picturing her parents and the house in Indiana she’d left behind when she moved to attend college in the East.
The town of her childhood had often felt sleepy to her, the pace hadn’t been fast enough. She’d wanted more excitement, more action, more challenge.
She remembered the smell of the cholesterol-laden, but delicious home-cooked meals that had greeted her every time she returned home, and the scent of chocolate chip cookies every time she left again.
She remembered making crafts with her mother on rainy days and the countless times her mother had sat with Erika while she’d done her homework. Her father had taught her to play basketball and encouraged her to relish her height instead of being afraid of it.
She’d always known she had the best parents in the world. She’d also always known that she would need to leave in order to really fly.
And she’d certainly learned to fly. At least professionally. In the back of her mind, she’d had a mental plan. Graduate from college, get on a career track that would take her to the top and along the way she would squeeze in finding a husband and having a baby.
Before she’d even graduated from college, Erika had wanted a child, but she’d told herself not to get caught in the trap of getting married and having a baby before establishing her career. It was all about discipline, she’d said, but many times she felt a strong longing on rainy days to make crafts with a child of her own, to nurture and love a human being and experience the wonder of helping a little someone become the very best person they could be.
Her work was exciting and rewarding, but part of her remained untouched. Part of her longed for something that work couldn’t fulfill.
Sighing, she opened her eyes and pulled a sheet of paper from the wooden file she kept for mail. She glanced at the medical report again and sighed. Endometriosis. That was why she’d had such terrible cramps. That was why her fertility was headed into the toilet. That was why she would consider having a baby without a husband.
Two
At precisely five thirty-one in the afternoon, Erika heard a knock at her office door. Her stomach dipped, but she ignored the sensation. Today she hadn’t kicked off her shoes below her desk. Nope, today she wore high-heel boots that brashly flaunted her five-foot-nine-inch height and a black suit with a crisp white blouse. Today she was prepared.
She strode to her door and opened it, spotting Gannon lifting his hand for another knock. He was still too damn tall. She would need stilts to meet him eye to eye. Dressed in a black wool suit with a faint blue stripe, he would leave quivering females in his wake wherever he went—the elevator, his office, the street. Erika imagined women all over the office melting into the carpet.
His green gaze flicked over her, then he looked into her eyes for an assessing second. When he’d taken the time, he’d always been able to read her. Better not to let him see too much, she thought.
“Come in,” she said and returned to stand behind her desk. She liked having a large wooden object between her and Gannon. At that moment she wished her desk was a little bigger, perhaps boat-sized. “How are you?”
“Fine, and you?” he asked, moving the folder he held into his other hand.
“Good, thank you.” Pleasantries over. “I’ve thought about your offer. I loved working at Pulse. It was the most challenging and creative job I’ve ever had. I loved the fast pace. I loved working with such sharp minds.” She paused and took a quick breath and reminded herself she was doing this for her sanity. “But I’m very happy and productive where I am right now. I have an excellent rapport with everyone who works for me. It’s a warm atmosphere and it works for me.”
He remained silent.
Poo. He was going to force her to say the words. She would have much preferred doing this via e-mail or fax. “So thank you very much for your wonderful offer. While I’m tempted, I’m going to decline.”
He looked at her for a long moment and gave a slow nod. He moved closer to the desk and picked up her half-full mug. “The job you have at HomeStyle is like hot chocolate with marshmallows. It’s nice. It’s comfortable. A few challenges every now and then. You have to choose whether to feature needlepoint or knitting, find new crafts for Valentine’s Day, a decor for spring.”
Erika felt defensive. “You’re right. Making marsh-mallow bunnies isn’t going to rock the world. It’s just going to make it a little nicer, a little more comforting.”
“As
