A New Hope - Robyn Carr Page 0,23

in this week, unless you changed your mind...”

She looked at him with moist eyes. “They did this for us,” she said softly. “They cleaned, installed, unpacked, hung pictures. The window guy is putting in the shutters tomorrow. It’s ready, Troy. Our friends got it ready.”

He sat down in the chair next to her. “Because they don’t want us to say ‘I do’ minutes before I have to rush you to the hospital. You really want to move here right away? You don’t want to let your mother settle in first?”

“Once we have furniture in the game room it’ll be just like our own apartment. You can store your toys in the garage. After we let your parents use your apartment for their visit, we can bring your couch over for downstairs. Then you can give up the apartment and we can live here.”

“Listen, we’ve talked about this a little bit, but this is serious business. Even though that downstairs is like a private residence, we’ll be living with your mother, your old Russian coach—because we both know he’s never leaving—and there will hopefully be nursing help. I can’t have my pregnant wife making them all comfortable, directing traffic or waiting on an invalid day and night. We’re going to have to agree on how we’re going to handle this situation. Gracie, it’s not going to be easy. It usually takes a staff of five to manage her.”

“I know. I think we’ll be okay. School’s out soon. Maybe we can tell your family on the phone, move into this house, let your family use the apartment and the loft for a visit and just get married while they’re here. On the beach?”

He pulled her close. “I married you in my head weeks ago. We should give my son a proper name.”

“It’s a girl, Troy.”

“It’s a boy, Gracie. I know it.”

“It’s a girl. Bet?”

“When can we find out?”

“I don’t know. Twenty weeks? We have things to do, Troy. Next we have to make a baby room.”

“We’ve just done so much. Can we have a day off?”

“I’m going to call my mother tomorrow and tell her the house is ready. I think she can be up here by the end of the week.”

“I’ll call my mom and dad tomorrow, too,” he said. “Are you going to insist your name be Gracie Dillon Banks Headly?”

“I’m going with Headly,” she said. “The most adorable history teacher at Thunder Point High.”

“Not adorable, Grace. Hot. The girls think I’m hot.”

Five

“When I was a little girl I made very little houses,” Ginger told Matt. They sat at a small table in a dimly lit Mexican restaurant. She nursed a glass of wine and he had a beer and there were chips and salsa on the table. She had a plate of enchiladas and he had a mammoth burrito. “I made miniature houses and people out of everything—Q-tips, cotton balls, pipe cleaners, shoe boxes, paper cups and paper clips. I used twigs and flowers and leaves and gum wrappers. Eventually, when I had the supplies, I used cardboard, paper and glue. In winter when I was outside I used snow and made castles. When I was about seven my parents gave me a great big dollhouse for Christmas—the obvious gift, right? And I wanted nothing to do with it. It just sat in a corner of my bedroom because I liked the sloppy little houses I built.”

“All little girls play house,” he said. “My sisters played house. Peyton was always the mother. And she was a very strict mother.”

“What’s your earliest memory?” she asked him.

“Hmm. I’m not sure if it’s an early memory or some family story that’s been repeated so often I think I remember it. It might be when Mikie showed up. My parents had two cribs and a bassinet in their bedroom. We were all lined up to meet him. Ellie was two, Sal was one and Mikie was in the bassinet by the bed. My mother said, ‘This is your new brother, Michael, and from now on your father is sleeping in the barn.’ I didn’t know what that meant for a long time. Eight kids in a little over ten years.”

She laughed happily at that.

“You have little leprechauns in your eyes.”

“My mother’s side of the family, I guess. We’re the only green-eyed members of the family. And I’ve met most of the Lacoumettes—no leprechauns there, I think.”

“That’s for sure,” he said. He put down his fork. “What happened to your marriage?”

“The marriage?” she asked,