Nancy Thompson - Celebration's Baby

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. As far as she was concerned, Hugh Newman was dead to her. But the blue line on the pregnancy test had resurrected him.

Now she wasn’t sure what to do... Except that, ready or not, she was going to have a baby—and she was going to keep it.

There was no question about that. Bia was adopted, and she’d often wondered why her birth mother had chosen to give her up rather than trying to make it work. Her mother and father—the ones who had adopted her—had been good people. At least her father had been. She hadn’t really known her adoptive mother. She’d passed away when Bia was five, leaving her adoptive father to raise her.

The strong, silent type, he’d never been much of a talker. He’d bristled the handful of times she’d asked about her birth mother. So she hadn’t pressed it.

Her dad had passed away last year, and now more than ever she wished she knew more about her roots. Maybe it was time to start digging. She’d need to know...for her child’s sake. Health history and all that.

Bia rapped on the door again, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Across the street, a friend of her father’s called to her and waved. She waved back.

Thank God her father wasn’t alive to see what a mess she’d made of things. She sighed.

It had just happened. When she’d sat down to interview Hugh, she’d been the picture of professionalism. At first she’d been immune to his notorious charms. Then he’d started putting the moves on her. Heavy-duty flirting. With her.

Hugh Newman had been flirting with her.

That was all it had taken for her resolve to melt like pure cane sugar in hot-brewed tea.

They’d used protection. Every single time.

That’s the part she couldn’t quite comprehend. How this could have happened when she’d been so careful?

Thinking about it made her feel nauseated.

She gave herself a mental shake.

She’d made her choices. Now she’d have to live with the consequences. Still, if she could just have one do-over in life, she’d turn back the clock two months and stay the heck away from Mr. Sexy. She’d let Nicole be Hugh Newman’s tour guide.

She knocked on the door yet again, this time a little harder. Where the heck was Maya?

Above Bia’s head hung a weathered, hand-painted wooden sign that boasted, Maya’s Chocolates—Happily Ever After Starts Here. It swayed and squeaked on the lazy breeze of the warm May afternoon. The words, written in gray-blue calligraphy on a whitewashed background, were underlined by a fancy, scrolling arrow that pointed toward the door.

Happily Ever After. Right here, huh?

Nice thought.

She tried the door again, this time giving it a firmer tug and then a push, but it was locked tight as a tick. She shaded her eyes and peered in the glass front door. No one was in the showroom. All the fixtures seemed to be in place, but they looked empty.

Hmm, that was curious.

The store’s grand opening was scheduled for next week. Bia thought that a good bit of the merchandise would be in place by now.

Had Maya forgotten their appointment? If they didn’t let her in to start the interview soon, Bia couldn’t promise that anyone was going to have a happily ever after. Bia glanced at her cell phone to check the time. Okay, so she was a couple of minutes early, but it was warm outside. She was feeling a little dizzy and beads of perspiration were forming underneath her silk blouse and starting to run down the crevice of her back.

Certain foods and smells—like coffee and the noxious traffic fumes wafting up from Main Street—made her feel ill. That, along with the chocolate cravings and, of course, the missed periods, were what had finally sent her to Dallas to purchase the in-home test. She couldn’t purchase it in the local drugstore. Word would get around faster than if it had been aired on XYZ.

She blinked away the thought and refocused on the mental list of interview questions she would ask Maya...if she ever answered the door.

Bia was just about to dial Maya’s phone number when, through the panes of glass on the front door, she saw the woman hurrying toward her in a flurry of long red spiral curls and flouncing green scarf and skirt. She was wiping her hands on a dish towel, which she flung over her shoulder as she opened the door with a breathless greeting.

“Bonjour! You’re here!” Maya’s lyrical accented voice rang out and mingled with the sounds of chirping birds and traffic. “I hope you have not been waiting long. I was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a surprise just for you. Come in! Come in, cher! Please, come in.”

A surprise? For me?

“I hope it’s chocolate,” Bia said.

“But of course it is.” Maya smiled as she held open the door for Bia and motioned her inside. A cool gust of air that smelled like rich dark chocolate greeted her and took the edge off her queasiness. Bia breathed in deeply.

“Well, then, in that case, you’re forgiven.” Bia grinned. “I have been dreaming of your chocolate since the Doctor’s Ball. It was the first time I’d tasted it. In fact, for the past several weeks, I’ve been craving chocolate like crazy, but the over-the-counter stuff just isn’t doing it for me. I think you’ve spoiled me for all other sweets. I just learned that Baldoon’s Pub offers your Irish cream truffles on their dessert menu.”

“Indeed they do,” Maya said over her shoulder as Bia followed her into the house. “I like to hear that I’ve spoiled you for other chocolate. You might say that’s the theme of my business plan.”

The front room was set up as a shop with a refrigerated glass case in the center of the space. Like the shelving fixtures, the case was empty, Bia noted with chagrin. But it was surrounded by lovely silver-veined marble counters that housed a cash register and supplies to wrap purchases. Even if there was a decided dearth of chocolate, the place looked fresh and clean and light with its white paint, whitewashed wooden floors and yards of silver tulle draped elegantly across the ceiling. The look created an ethereal cloudlike effect.

Again, Bia breathed in the delicious aroma of chocolate, and her stomach growled. Since the cases and shelves were empty, she had to wonder if she was imagining the scent. Or had Maya piped it in for effect?

“Where’s the chocolate?” Bia finally asked. “Don’t you make all your goods on the premises? If so, how are you going to fill the cases and shelves before the grand opening?”

Maya glanced around the room. “I suppose it does look rather empty in here, doesn’t it?” She sighed and went behind the wrap stand. “Alas, the increased demand for chocolate has forced me to be less hands-on with the manufacturing process. I still make some special made-to-order candy—like this batch I made especially for you this morning.”

She presented a three-tiered glass-and-silver dessert plate brimming with confections in various shapes and colors. Bia’s mouth watered at the sight.

“I thought I smelled chocolate in the air. But then I worried that I’d simply imagined it.”

Maya laughed. “It is a lovely fragrance, isn’t it? Some say the mere smell of chocolate causes a woman’s body to release hormones that simulate the feeling of falling in love.”

“Ha! All of the feelings and none of the heartache,” Bia said. “Sounds like the perfect relationship. I just wish chocolate didn’t love me back so much. It tends to stay with me. You know, right here.” She patted her left hip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you are reed-thin. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Gosh, makes chocolates, gives compliments...I think you and I could be good friends.”