Diagnosis: Expecting Boss's Baby

Besides, the encounter with Chief Sorrell had stirred Natalie’s insecurities. She hoped Amy, with her counseling expertise, could help her figure out what to do.

“YOU CAN’T TELL anybody I’m pregnant,” said Natalie, who’d burst out with her story the moment she arrived and found Amy by the pool. Fortunately the other condominium dwellers must have preferred the beach today, leaving the two women with the place to themselves.

“Of course not! I’d never betray a confidence.” Her friend began to dry herself with rough thoroughness. She’d completed a brisk swim just as Natalie joined her, and had been so fascinated by the story that she’d stood there dripping while she listened. “Who’s the father? Anybody I know?”

Although she’d intended to spill everything, Natalie found that she couldn’t. For one thing, telling Amy might put her in a difficult position, since Patrick was indirectly her boss, too. For another, it was simply too private a matter to share. “I’d rather not say. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Amy sat on a chaise longue and began toweling her hair. Long-legged and dark-haired, she moved with a coltish lack of vanity. When her hair was semidry, she perched on the chair cross-legged, her elbows resting on her knees.

“You must think I’m a mess,” Natalie said, “sleeping with a guy I can’t talk about and ending up pregnant.”

“I don’t think that at all,” Amy answered. “In a way, I’m envious.”

“Why on earth?”

Her friend shrugged. “It’s just that I’m such a tomboy, I’ve never…I mean, I’m thirty-three years old and I still haven’t…”

“Had a baby?” Natalie finished for her. “That’s not unusual. You’ve got lots of time.”

“I hope so,” her friend said. “Anyway, please go on.”

“It’s going to be really awkward telling this guy. I’m sure having kids with me is the furthest thing from his mind. Plus, I kind of misled him about my past,” Natalie said.

“You’re much too sensitive about your family,” Amy said. “Nobody else blames you for their weirdness.”

“Chief Sorrell does.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’re not pregnant by him!” They both laughed.

“As I was saying, I don’t know what’s going to happen when I tell the father.” Natalie tilted back her recliner another notch to get comfortable. “We view the world so differently, it’s like we grew up on two different planets.”

Her friend reflected briefly. Then, “Before you tackle the guy, have Heather confirm your pregnancy. Those home kits aren’t perfect.”

Heather Rourke was an obstetrician on the Doctors Circle staff who sometimes ate lunch with Natalie and Amy. The three of them had similar tastes in movies and books, and twice had gone together to see ice-skating shows.

“She’s awfully busy,” Natalie said dubiously. “I mean, now that she’s taken on more infertility patients, she has a full schedule. Not too busy to see a friend, though, I guess.”

“She’ll work you in,” Amy said. “You know, I hear Patrick’s hiring some big shot to head the new infertility office. I hope Heather gets along with him or her.”

“Heather gets along with everybody,” Natalie said. “Okay, I’ll give her a call.”

Amy finger-combed her long hair, which fell in a tangle around her shoulders. She had a natural beauty of which she seemed unaware. “If she confirms that you’re pregnant, you’ve got to face this boyfriend of yours. Just be prepared. Guys don’t always see things the way we do.”

“Such as what, for instance?” Natalie said. “I mean, how many ways are there to view a pregnancy?”

“He might bring up adoption,” Amy said. “To a guy, that can sound like an attractive way out.”

“Adoption?” At this stage of her life, Natalie couldn’t imagine going through a pregnancy and then relinquishing the baby. “No way!”

“Don’t overreact if he suggests it,” Amy said. “Men can be clueless. But keep a good thought. Maybe he loves you.”

Natalie sighed. “It’s not that simple. This man comes from society. You know what my upbringing was like. I’m in over my head.”

“Natalie, you’ve got class. Everybody knows it.”

“Everybody except Dr. Sorrell and his brother,” she said. “And maybe I don’t have as much class as you think.”

“In my book, you do,” her friend said loyally.

Speaking of Chief Sorrell reminded Natalie about the crafts bazaar. She dug into her shopping bag. “By the way, I brought you something.”

“Nat!” Amy leaned forward. “You’re too generous.”

“It’s fun to do nice things for my pals.” Natalie handed her the ceramic wishing well. “Drop in a coin and your wish will come true.”

“I wouldn’t dare wish for what I want,” Amy said.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared of getting in over my head, too,” she said. “No, don’t ask questions. I’m not going to say another word about it.”

Natalie didn’t pry. Over the years she’d discovered that, like her, Amy and Heather preferred to keep parts of their lives private. This sort of reserve was one of the things the three women had in common.

AS IT TURNED OUT, Heather’s first available appointment wasn’t until Wednesday, so Natalie vowed to follow Amy’s advice and do nothing until then. Keeping such a volatile secret proved more uncomfortable than she had imagined, though.

Working in a facility full of doctors and nurses, she felt as if everyone could read her condition on her face. Surely they noticed the telltale early signs of pregnancy like flushed cheeks and frequent trips to the bathroom.

Natalie saw Doctors Circle differently now. The bubbling fountain in the courtyard, despite its cherubic sculpture, made her feel queasy. On the other hand, the two front wings and the Birthing Center with its white stucco walls gave her a sense of being surrounded by warmth.

When her duties took her into the Birthing Center, Natalie dawdled as she passed the labor-and-delivery area with its busy triage center. Eight months from now, she might be a patient here. The possibility seemed unreal and miraculous and scary.

“Natalie?” Patrick asked. They were standing by the antepartum area where pregnant women came for ultrasounds, amniocentesis and monitoring. “Let’s eat at the hospital cafeteria, if you don’t mind.” He made a point of checking out the food quality from time to time, to make sure it maintained high standards.

“You bet.” Since she had one more day to wait before her appointment with Heather, Natalie’s nerves had nearly vanquished her appetite. But not entirely.

She tucked the color-scheme portfolio under her arm. During the next few months the whole complex was to receive a facelift to coordinate with the remodeled infertility center. She’d been trailing Patrick through the buildings as they visualized how the designer’s plans might look.

Gorgeous, that was how. Natalie loved the choices of turquoise, mint-green and sunny yellow, played out in a variety of window treatments and wall coverings.

The cafeteria would benefit from a touchup, that was for sure, she reflected as the two of them got in line. The large room had a lovely vista of a plant-shaded patio, with an outdoor, as well as indoor, eating area, but the nondescript paint had become discolored and the linoleum was worn.

Patrick chose a table in the middle of the crowded room, one of the least-attractive places to sit. Typically, he was too busy assessing the quality of the food to pay attention to his surroundings.

“We need to update the salads,” he said. “I’m hardly a food critic, but I find this boring. What do you think?”

Natalie glanced at her bowl of iceberg lettuce, shredded cabbage and a single cherry tomato. “How about some sun-dried tomatoes and feta cheese?”

And a declaration of undying love on your part, she added mentally. Or at least a hint that you’d like to get me alone on your yacht again, so that before I risk telling you everything, I know that our interlude meant something to you.