The Baby Bump Page 12

  On the other hand, first things came first. The most immediate thing that needed securing was Gramps.

  He stared bleakly out the window, then turned back to her. “I couldn’t leave here, Loretta.”

  She swallowed. Once “Loretta” or any other name came into play, she knew his mind was fading to a different place. “Every memory you love, Gramps, is in your heart. It doesn’t matter where you are. You have all those memories. They’re yours forever.”

  “You’re talking foolishness, honey.”

  Foolishness, she thought, was for that afternoon. She couldn’t imagine anyone at the bank responding to her loan request with anything but downright laughter.

  By the time she took Gramps home, he was ready for a nap. She tried a light lunch, and then called the bank to set up a time when the bank manager might be free. The response was a sweet trill of laughter.

  “Why, bless your heart, but you don’t need an appointment around here, sugar. Just come on in. But before four-thirty, mind you.”

  That pretty much cut out any chance to procrastinate, so she headed upstairs and foraged for clothes. She had a work wardrobe from her Chicago job, but none of that was quite right. She needed lucky clothes. A feel-good blouse. A little jewelry, not pizzazz-y stuff, but maybe one of the gold pendants that had belonged to her mom. And makeup. Afternoon makeup, not going-to-a-party paint, but still. Serious lipstick. Tidy eyebrows. A wink of blue earrings, to go with the wrap-neck silk blouse, black slacks that were slimming and comfortable. She went so far as to force her feet into heels she hadn’t worn since Chicago.

  She’d barely walked through the front doors of the People’s Bank of Sweet Valley before realizing she wasn’t dressed fancily enough. The bank manager was a woman. Ginger could smell her perfume all the way from the manager’s office, past the tellers, past the lobbies, to just about the front door.

  It was a nice perfume. It was just sort of gobsmackingly strong. Lydia Trellace came out to greet her, wearing suede pumps and a two-tone suit. Her champagne coif had been shellacked so precisely that a tornado wouldn’t likely bring it down. Diamonds winked from her ears, her watch was a whole circle of them and on a delicate chain at her throat she had another rock that likely made her neck ache by the end of the day.

  Lydia’s office had also been decorated within an inch of its life. No sterility here. Two massive vases of fresh flowers flanked the desk. On the walls hung a variety of oils, likely painted by locals—or flowers done by someone who had a heavy hand with pink. A pair of chairs was upholstered in a pastel tapestry print, and the carpet was a thick wedge of ivories and pinks.

  “I knew when you said the name that you were Cashner’s granddaughter, honey. Sit down and I’ll pour you a little sweet tea. Tell me what I can do for you.”

  Ginger perched at the end of the chair. She’d rehearsed something to say at home. Obviously she couldn’t come right out and beg for a couple hundred thousand dollars, with no collateral of her own, and her grandfather too not himself to provide any of the management or knowledge the tea plantation needed.

  Still. Her stomach was steady. She’d been getting serious rest. She couldn’t stop the stress cooker she’d been stirring around, but she hadn’t had a dizzy spell since that first week in town.

  She was ready, she told herself, but somehow she ended up blurting out, “Lydia, I need a bank loan for two hundred thousand dollars.” The response from across the desk was a stunned silence.

  Ginger didn’t need a crystal ball to suspect the bank manager’s response of speechlessness was not an auspicious sign. But once her request was out there, she had to follow through and fill it all in. “Lydia...it’s not known in town or anywhere else, but I’m going to have a baby. I want to raise the child here, on the land that belonged to my mom, and her mom, and her mom. I wish I’d known my grandfather was having trouble coping, but I didn’t, not until a few weeks ago.” The room started spinning. She ignored it. “The farm needs work and money to make it viable, but there’s every reason to believe that can happen. The tea plants are strong and sturdy. Until my grandmother passed away, the farm made a great living. It’s a special place, not like anywhere else in the country. Once it’s gone, all that heritage would be destroyed with it. It’ll be at least a year before we can start talking any kind of return. But...”

  “Honey, take a breath.”

  At some point in Ginger’s long monologue, Lydia had reached for the desk phone. She called Ike. Who else? There was only one town doctor, and it wasn’t as if Ginger could have cut her off at the pass. She wasn’t finished talking. She just happened to finish her explanation from the carpet, which was plush enough to feel almost comfortable. The chair really had been spinning. The carpet was staying in place. As long as she didn’t close her eyes for too long.

  “Here’s the thing. From your side of the fence...why would the bank want the farm? In today’s economic times? What would you put there that could make you a solid investment? Houses? You know that’s not a good idea right now. And the tea...the tea plants can grow for hundreds more years. It only takes a couple people—and of course, all the machinery, but we already have that—but overall, it’s a low-cost setup. We can do this. It’s a good investment. I know, I know, you’re thinking I have no background in agriculture. That I’ve never spent time in the field at all. And you’re probably wondering about Amos because none of this would work without a farm manager, but I think—I’m almost positive—I can get Amos to come around. The thing is, first I have to be able to tell him that we’re a go. That the farm is a go. For that matter, I talked to Gramps’s attorney. Obviously I can’t do anything without having his power of attorney and all that—and I don’t yet. But that will happen because it has to. Gramps really can’t take care of himself right now or pay his own bills. Amos is the one who said a hundred thousand, max of two hundred thousand. That’s only because it’ll take hand labor at the start. I’m sure you’ll need a bucketful of paper and past records to give me a positive answer. I understand that. But I still had to initially talk to you, to find out if there was even any possibility of—”

  “Ginger,” Ike said calmly. “Stop talking. Open your eyes for a minute.”

  She’d already opened her eyes, the instant she felt his warm hands on her wrist, felt...well, she’d felt his presence. She didn’t know when that happened. When she started just knowing when he was around. It was a primal thing. A sixth sense. A warming in her bones. A zooming in her blood. Even before she actually laid eyes on him.

  “I’m fine, Ike.” Except for last night showing up front and center on the big screen in her mind. All it took was looking at him. His being this close.

  “Believe me, I think you’re way, way, way more than fine.” His humor was as wicked as his smile...but the smile faded awfully quickly. “I do think you’re okay, Ginger. But we’re going to have to do something about the stress load you’re hauling around.”

  “I sure agree. Do you have a magic wand you could wave around, or something like that?”

  “Not on me. I’m going to cart you over to the office, though. Do some blood work.”

  “I’d rather do the wand thing.”

  He didn’t even blink. “We’ll get the blood work done, then see if I can cook up a wand from somewhere.”

  He was so damned adorable. All that gentleness in his eyes, all that easy-don’t-worry smile in his voice, all that sex appeal. Even when she was on the carpet. In a bank. With nothing remotely sexual on her mind. “Ike, I need to finish talking to Mrs. Trellace.”

  Lydia abruptly showed up in her vision. Apparently she’d been standing by the door since Ike arrived. “Honey, you just go with the doctor now. You gave me enough information about the loan you want. I can put some questions and paperwork together.”

  “But—”

  “There really wasn’t going to
be much more we could talk about today, sugar. I don’t care how big or small the loan might be. I’d need time to work with a financial plan. You just go on with the doc now, honey.”

  Ginger started to sit up—or tried to.

  It wasn’t as if she had a choice—but that didn’t mean she liked it.

  Ginger liked being forced into anything like she liked Brussels sprouts.

  Not.

  Chapter Nine

  When Ike walked in with Ginger under his arm, Ruby was sitting at the reception desk with a phone glued to her ear. She glanced up, took one look at him and then a fast, shrewd look at Ginger. That fast, she put a hand over the mouthpiece and started rattling off information. “I just put Mrs. Barker on hold. I can deal with her. Mr. Black went home, said he’d call you back in a day or so. Merline came up for her blood pressure check. One of those annoying drug people stopped by, wanting you to try their new antihistamine product, put those samples in lockup. George Moon’s mother called, she’s bringing him in, said he got into another fight and a kid hit him on the head with a rock, he’s bleeding.”

  “Just another day in paradise,” Ike said to Ginger.

  “You don’t have time for me. And I feel much stronger now,” she told him.

  Yeah. As if he was going to let her loose. He had her safely tucked against his shoulder, and that’s where she was going to stay until he had her upstairs. “We already did the ‘I’m okay’ conversation, so don’t start. Ruby, I’m taking Ginger upstairs, need to do the vampire thing, then put her in a recliner by a telephone. Tell me when George and his mother get here, okay?”

  “Will do. Nice to see you, Ginger, honey.”

  “You, too, Ruby. Although I’d appreciate you telling your boss that he’s behaving like a Neanderthal.”

  Ruby put on a smirk and kept it there. “I totally agree with you, sugar. But you don’t know doctors like I do—especially this one. There’s no point in arguing over the little things, because your whole day’d turn into a quarrel. With all men, you need to pick your fights, dear. Sitting in a recliner for a few minutes doesn’t seem all that bad, does it?”

  “Sitting in a recliner is one thing. But what on earth difference does it make if I’m sitting by a phone?” Ginger questioned.

  Ike responded to Ruby. “Ginger was just at the bank. In the course of a conversation with Lydia Trellace, she let out that she was pregnant.”

  Ruby sucked in a breath. “Oh, my.” She glanced at the wall clock. “The whole town will know before four-thirty.”

  “So Ginger’s likely going to want to call her grandfather pretty immediately. Get a correct story out there.”

  “I don’t have a story. For heaven’s sake. This isn’t the Middle Ages. I’m not a scandal just because I’m pregnant.”

  Ruby looked at her fondly. “You must have forgotten that you’re below the Mason-Dixon Line, honey. And Lydia, bless her heart, got an A-plus in plays well with gossips in the sandbox.”

  “But I don’t care what Lydia tells anyone.”

  Ike slipped in a word. “But you do care what your grandfather thinks. And you don’t want him hit with personal family news coming from outsiders.”

  That silenced her immediately.

  Ruby stood up. “I’ll bring up the blood tray. Anything else?”

  “Nope. And I’ll be back down as soon as George and his mom get here. That’s all for the afternoon?”

  “Martin said he’d stop by after work. No appointment. He wants another refill, thinks he can talk you into it.” Ruby added something else, which Ike couldn’t hear. Pansy must have suddenly realized he was home, because she let out a bloodcurdling howl of welcome and galloped in from the back porch to greet them, and then tried to trip them going upstairs.

  He climbed behind Ginger, with his hands on her waist. He told himself he was worried about her losing her balance, but that was just a politician’s truth. He was worried about her. That was more true. He’d already run tests, knew her numbers were terrific...but one way or another, she wasn’t fainting again. Not on his watch.

  And that was the real truth. Ginger was on his watch. He knew perfectly well that didn’t mean as a doctor, but as a man.

  He’d fallen for her. Every termagant ounce of stubbornness. Every leap-to-conclusions impulsiveness. Every born-to-argue gene. At the moment her face looked washed out, with none of her normal sassy color. Didn’t matter. She was beautiful that way, too. That way. Any way.

  “Park,” he said, once he’d steered her into the living room and his old leather recliner in the corner. It wasn’t a big room, but it had a balcony and enough space for both his leather couch and chair. The flatscreen was on the north wall. Wood blinds closed out the heat or the light when he needed to.

  “Well, aren’t you the bossy one. Maybe I don’t want to sit down right now.”

  “You need a bathroom?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake. If I did, I could find it on my own.”

  She was extra crabby when she felt vulnerable. He’d thought that the first day he met her, but he knew it to the bone by now. She sank into the leather chair with a don’t-you-mess-with-me-buster expression...but she’d curled her legs under her and leaned her head back about a millisecond after she sat down.

  “Blood work first,” he said. “Then when Ruby’s gone, we talk.”

  She looked as if she was about to give him another argument, but Ruby knocked and showed up in the doorway with a blood work tray. After that, he started talking about how beautiful, how exotically unique, how breathtakingly exciting her veins were. Ruby started laughing at him, and that provoked Ginger into laughing, too. The blood draw didn’t take him more than a couple of minutes, including asking Ruby to send it off to Charleston with his lab order. He did general testing in his own lab downstairs—but not for the fancy stuff.

  Not for Ginger.

  Once Ruby left, she immediately started talking. “Ike, I want to know what you’re testing me for. Do you seriously think there’s something wrong with me?”

  He answered the question about the tests from the kitchen, where he poured a long glass of sweet tea for her and foraged for some crackers. He juggled the snack on a plate and set it on the table by the landline phone. Then he hunkered on the ottoman in front of her. “And no, I don’t think anything’s wrong with you. I also don’t like putting pregnant women through unnecessary tests, especially in the first few months. But we need to be sure you’re not fainting for a health reason. I’m certain the reason is stress, because that’s the obvious conclusion to come to. You’re carrying the weight of several elephants on your shoulders. Ginger...”

  She took a sip of tea, then snuggled deeper into the oversize chair. “I know. You think I should tell my grandfather about the pregnancy. But I don’t agree with you. You know the shape he’s in. The last thing I want to do is confuse him with any extra problems.”

  “I understand. And maybe you’re right. But I think there is another way of looking at this. Cashner is increasingly lost in his own little world. You might actually help him by giving him something else to think about, to worry about. Something besides himself.”

  She fell silent with a frown, obviously considering that idea. He gave her a minute, then slowly pushed into the sticky area he doubted she wanted to talk about.

  “Back to the stress subject. Sarah can help take cooking and kitchen chores off your hands. And we can get your outside work done, because Jed could make a jungle look like a manicured golf course. But I have the impression you’re trying to save the world here. At least your grandfather’s world.”

  She frowned again. “That’s not true—or fair. Decisions have to be made. My grandfather isn’t capable of coping. I have to make sure he’s taken care of. And that includes what happens to the tea. I can’t just leave Gramps with the m
ess he’s in, and there’s no one but me who can step in.”

  “I understand. But let’s break this down into more manageable parts. Do you want this baby, sugar? Yes or no.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Yes.”

  He said, lazylike, “You’re sure.”

  “I wasn’t sure before. But I am now. Yes.”

  “So you’re not trying to jeopardize the pregnancy by taking on all those elephants?”

  Her jaw dropped. “No, Ike. No. I didn’t ask for any of these elephants. I came here and found them all in the living room, so to speak. I don’t know what the right thing is about anything. But I’m trying to face the situation head-on, make whatever decisions have to be made. So if you’re criticizing me—”

  “I wasn’t criticizing you. I think you’re a trouper, doing great at figuring it all out. It’s just...a ton.”

  “I know.”

  Since they were already swimming in murky water, he figured he might as well push a little deeper. “So,” he said, “have you told the baby’s father?”

  She squinted at him. He was coming to think of that expression as her ornery look. He was trespassing where she hadn’t opened any gates. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because when I took the first pregnancy test, it seemed too soon to tell anyone. I needed time to think about what I needed and wanted to do before going public. Especially with him. Calling him was never going to be easy. So I wanted my ducks in a row.”

  “So...that was then. But this is now.”

  He got another of those looks, and figured he was risking being slapped upside the head. But then...she apparently decided to answer. “This is now,” she agreed. “And the man I thought I was honestly, deeply in love with...is probably on his honeymoon with the upper-crust lady he married.”