Saving Home

Andy smiled to herself. She’d missed this, missed the bantering, the pseudo-bravado where each of them tried to outdo the others. But underneath it all, they didn’t really mean anything that was said.

Still, anyone listening in might be hard pressed to believe how quickly they could all be galvanized into a united front if one of them happened to be threatened from the outside.

Like the time Cris’s former in-laws wanted to take legal custody of Ricky, their late son’s child. The entire family, including Wyatt, had banded together to keep that from happening. They’d won, too.

Cris cast an eye toward Andy, aware that she’d fallen silent. Silent, but not sullen, Cris noted, pleased. Alex’s flare-up was temporarily placed on the back burner.

“I see that you’re smiling again,” Cris noted triumphantly.

Alex looked over at Andy, then made a dismissive noise. “That’s not a smile, that’s a grimace,” she said, correcting Cris. “She must have found a chicken bone in that pie you’re always making.”

“There are no bones in my chicken potpies,” Cris replied calmly and authoritatively.

Alex gazed down at the pies her sisters were systematically consuming. “I guess I’d better eat one to make sure.” She looked around. “If I can find a stool in here that’s built to accommodate someone larger than a Smurf.”

“Make that ten Smurfs,” Stevi murmured, under her breath but deliberately loud enough to be overheard.

Alex glared at Stevi. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

“No, I’m saying that you’re a little bigger than ten Smurfs. You are, you know,” Stevi pointed out with a straight face. “Can’t argue that.”

“Whereas you would give arguing with the devil a shot,” Andy said.

“Quiet, pipsqueak. Eat your pie,” Stevi ordered, gesturing to her plate. She turned her attention back to Alex, who was about to savor the first forkful of her own pie. “What about the reception desk?”

Alex raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s not unattended.”

Cris glanced at the long worktable, although it wasn’t really necessary. All four of them were present and accounted for. That brought up a very logical question. “So who’s minding the reception desk?” The next second, the answer hit her. She glared at Alex. “You didn’t drag out poor Dad and tell him to do it, did you?”

“Of course not,” Alex said, taking offense. “Dorothy volunteered.” The inn’s head housekeeper had been with them for years. “Speaking of Dad,” Alex went on, “does anyone else think he’s looking rather pale lately?”

“Yes, but you know Dad. He always pushes himself too hard around this time of year,” Cris reminded them.

“I think keeping busy helps him cope with not having Mom around at Christmas,” Stevi’s face lit up as memories began to crowd her head. “Remember how special she always made the holidays? Even the little things. When she did them, they became almost magical,” she recalled fondly.

“I hope you’re right about Dad,” Alex murmured.

She worried about him a great deal. After their mother had died, there was a period of time when he’d fallen ill and they were all afraid that they would lose him, as well. He’d rallied, but the image of a frail man was never far from any of their minds.

“Still,” Alex continued, “I think we should all gang up on him and make Dad get a physical—just in case.”

“You know him,” Andy pointed out. “He’ll just tell us not to worry, that everything’s fine and that’ll be the end of it.”

“That used to be the end of it,” Alex said, then added with a touch of smugness, “but we’ve got muscle now.”

“What are you talking about?” Stevi asked, staring at Alex as if she had just gone off the deep end.

Alex gave her a look that all but said keep up.

“We could actually physically carry Dad to the doctor’s office.” Alex could tell she’d lost her sisters. “Don’t you see? We’ve got Wyatt, Shane and Mike. That’s three against one. They could certainly get Dad over to Dr. Donnelly’s office for a thorough check up.”

“You’re talking about kidnapping the man,” Cris said, shaking her head. “That’s a last resort,” she said, “using the guys to get Dad to the doctor’s office. You have to leave the man some dignity.”

“Dignity’s the last thing a person thinks about if they land in a hospital bed,” Alex insisted. “And I’m trying to prevent that.”

Stevi shook her head. “God, I hope the baby doesn’t get your optimism.”

Alex drew herself up a little taller. “I’m being realistic.”

“What you’re being,” Stevi countered, “is a dark cloud.”

Andy shook her head at that and laughed. “So what else is new?”

Instead of a defensive remark, or a put down from Alex the way she expected, Andy saw her oldest sister grow perfectly still, almost like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Alex?” Andy leaned in closer as she studied her sister’s tense face and rigid body. Alex was never this still for this long. “Talk to me. Is something wrong?”

“Is it the baby?” Stevi asked with a note of panic.

Jorge had abandoned the giant salad he was preparing to hurry over to the worktable. A father himself three times over, he watched Alex solicitously, ready to be of assistance.

“Say something,” Cris pleaded, taking her hand.

Alex squeezed back—hard—but only made a strange, unidentifiable noise. After another several seconds had passed, she let out a long, shaky breath. Her free hand was still possessively covering her belly.

She waited, but the pain didn’t return. Her relief was unimaginable.

“False alarm,” she told her sisters and Jorge, offering them a rather weak, tired smile to accompany the words. And then she added in a smaller, equally hopeful voice, “I think.”

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_de5962f5-a10a-5362-9c7a-c4ed4a07fb2b)

THERE WAS A thin line of perspiration running along Alex’s hairline. “Maybe you should see your doctor,” Andy suggested, as they all remained huddled around the worktable in the kitchen, partially finished potpies forgotten in the scare of Alex’s possible labor pains.

Back to her old self, Alex shook her head. “I’m not due until the end of the month, and right now I don’t have the time,” she said, brushing the incident off.

“Make the time,” Cris told her pointedly.

“What I’m going to make is tracks before you all gang up on me,” Alex replied. Using the worktable for support, she began to push herself up to her feet.

“You’re as bad as Dad,” Cris continued. “How can you even think of forcing him to go to the doctor when you won’t consider going yourself?”

Stevi placed her hand gently but firmly on Alex’s shoulder. “Sit,” she ordered. “Finish eating.”

“I have to get back to the reception desk,” Alex argued.

“No, you don’t,” Andy said. She had finished both her impromptu lunch and feeling sorry for herself. It was time to make herself useful. “I’ll go.” She stood. “Take as long as you like. Great potpie, Cris—as always.”

Cris merely smiled as she reached for the empty pie plate.