Kara Lennox - Fortune's Twins

He was, indeed, the only customer. He chose one of the four booths that faced the front windows and perused a laminated menu that had been stuck behind the salt-and-pepper shakers.

As the waitress emerged from behind the counter, Eli could see that she was pregnant. Jeez, was it something in the Jester water supply? She set a glass of water, a napkin and some silverware on the table.

“Know what you want?”

“A hamburger, please, lettuce and tomato only. And a cup of decaf.” Normally he liked his caffeine, but he was already wired.

The waitress scribbled on her pad. “Be right up.”

He’d just taken his first sip of the coffee, which was surprisingly good, when the bell over the door rang. Eli looked up, curious to see who might be joining him, when he almost choked on his coffee.

It was Gwen! If this wasn’t fate stepping in, he didn’t know what was.

“Hi, Shelly,” she said with what could only be described as a weary smile. “I could sure use a lemonade and a slice of lemon meringue pie.” She sat at a table a short distance from him, but she didn’t seem to notice him there, which gave him the opportunity to study her more thoroughly.

She was still pregnant—even bigger than she’d been in the newspaper photo. But rather than detracting from her beauty, her swollen belly made her even prettier. She looked earthier, more womanly, less fragile than he remembered. Though it was a cliché, he couldn’t help thinking that she glowed.

She wore a simple, peach-colored maternity dress and leather sandals, and her magnificent hair was pulled back in a bun. Nothing about her screamed “millionaire.”

No jewelry—not even a wedding ring, he noted with interest. But he knew that sometimes women’s hands swelled when they were pregnant, so the absence of a ring didn’t mean anything.

He should go over to her table, talk to her. But suddenly he was scared. He didn’t want to find out she was married, or involved with some other man. But then, was the alternative any more palatable? Was he ready to discover the child she carried was his?

The waitress, whom Gwen had called Shelly, reappeared with a cold drink and a slice of pie for Gwen. “I wish I could eat like you do,” Shelley said wistfully. “I just found out I’m borderline diabetic, so no sugar.”

Gwen looked concerned. “Shelly, are you okay?”

“It’s not a big deal. Lots of women become diabetic during pregnancy. It just means I have to be careful. But one thing I was looking forward to was eating for two—with no penalty.”

“No penalty? I’m as big as a horse.”

“You’ll lose it all once you have the baby.”

Gwen glanced nervously in Eli’s direction. He quickly hid behind the menu, wanting to eavesdrop some more. He’d never thought women discussing their pregnancies was particularly interesting—until now.

Peeking over the menu, Eli watched as Gwen motioned for Shelly to sit down. The two women had a whispered conversation. Shelly gasped at whatever Gwen told her, then grinned with delight.

“That is so cool! Wait ’til everyone hears!”

“Don’t tell anyone yet, huh, Shelly? You know it’ll get to the media, and I’m so sick of reporters. Frankly, I can’t imagine why the press is still interested in the Main Street Millionaires.”

“At least they’re not staying at your boardinghouse anymore.”

“Thank goodness. That Harvey Brinkman from the Plain Talker was a real pig.”

“I sure wish I knew who it is that’s leaking private information to the press,” Shelly said. “I’d wring their neck.”

Eli decided he’d skulked behind his menu long enough. He still didn’t know what he would say to Gwen. He supposed he would just wing it.

“Order up!” a gruff voice called from the kitchen. Shelly hopped up to get it. At the same time, Eli stood and walked determinedly across the diner to Gwen’s table. “Mind if I sit here?” he asked, using the same exact line she’d used on him at The Wild Mustang.

Gwen looked up and promptly choked on her lemonade. “Garrett!”

“Eli,” he corrected her. “Eli Garrett. Are you okay?”

She gave one final cough. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Can I sit down?”

Gwen cast a worried glance toward Shelly, who was fast approaching with Eli’s burger, a questioning look on her face.

“Yes, sit.” Her face looked alarmingly pale. “Shelly, this is a…an old friend of mine, Eli Garrett. Eli, this is Shelly O’Rourke. She owns The Brimming Cup.”

Eli murmured a pleasantry, as did Shelly, who set his hamburger on Gwen’s table. “Shall I bring over your coffee?” she asked Eli.

Gwen looked uncomfortable with the situation, but Eli wasn’t about to back off. He had to talk to her. “Yes,” he answered Shelly. “Please.”

As soon as Shelly had brought his coffee mug and left them alone, Gwen wasted no time starting the conversation. “You pick a fine time to show up. Seven months and not a word.”

“I’m sorry about that. I tried to find you.”

“How hard could it have been? I left my phone number.”

“I spilled coffee on it. The ink ran everywhere, and when I was done cleaning up the mess, there was no sign of your number. I asked everybody in Roan if they knew you. You’d said something about a boardinghouse, so I looked up every boardinghouse in North Dakota trying to find you.”

“So is this just a happy coincidence?”

“Sort of. I saw your picture in a newspaper.”

“Ah. I see.” If her spring-green eyes had looked wary before, now they appeared downright hostile. Apparently she didn’t believe him.

“I wanted to see you again,” he said. “Honestly. You’ll never know how much. We had the start of something good and—” He took a sip of coffee and forged ahead. “Look, before I go on and make a jerk of myself, I just have to ask you one thing. Are you married?”

“No.” She avoided his gaze.

“Then…is it mine?”

Gwen looked around worriedly and lowered her voice to a whisper. “We do need to talk, but not here. Can you meet me at the Tanner Boardinghouse in a few minutes? We can have some privacy there.”

He took that as an affirmative answer to his question. His stomach swooped. He was going to be a father. He felt strangely elated at the news.

Ironic, given his origins.

“The boardinghouse is on the corner of Main and Ashland—or, rather, Main and Lottery Lane. Mayor Larson has changed some of our street names.”

“I’ll see you there, then.”

She started to get up, but he stopped her. “Gwen?”

“Yes?”

“You look really fantastic. That dress is a very nice color on you.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Again, she wouldn’t meet his eyes. This time she made good her escape, not even paying for her pie and lemonade.

Eli took a bite of his hamburger, but found he had no more appetite for it. He took his check to the register, where Shelly rang him up. “I’ll pay for Gwen’s bill, too,” he said. “She seems to have forgotten.”

Shelly’s expression was distinctly unfriendly. “Don’t worry about it. Gwen can eat here on the house any time she wants. Folks in Jester look after each other.”

Her message was clear. He’d better not do anything to hurt Gwen. But maybe it was too late for that. He’d gotten her pregnant, then abandoned her. How much more hurtful could it get?

Though it was only a couple of blocks between The Brimming Cup and the boardinghouse, Gwen drove her car. She didn’t walk anywhere these days, except for the mandatory thirty minutes she walked every morning when it was still cool, ordered by her doctor. Now it was pushing ninety degrees, and Gwen felt limp as the faded Montana flag that hung in front of the Jester town hall.