Read Online Baby Comes First by Beverly Farr - Free Book Online Page A

kind of woman she was, but of course, that was
none of her business. She cleared her throat. “Well, I appreciate
your coming to help me, and I look forward to what Mr. Jamison
called your excellent cooking.”
    Mrs. Parker beamed at the compliment. “Have
you had breakfast?”
    “I ate a banana.” Since she wasn’t supposed
to stand for more than five minutes an hour, there hadn’t been time
to make something substantial to eat.
    “That’s not enough,” the woman said briskly.
“Would you like an omelet and some toast?”
    Mrs. Parker sounded like a mother hen,
clucking at her to keep her in line. “That sounds wonderful, thank
you.”
    “Do you want coffee or tea?”
    “Neither. I prefer orange juice.”
    Mrs. Parker nodded. “I’ll go whip that up,
and while you’re waiting, you can make a list of household chores
you’d like me to do today.”
    Hannah relaxed. She had worried about how
she’d feel, having a stranger in her house, but now that she’d met
Mrs. Parker, she had no fears. Her new housekeeper was a happy,
cheerful woman, ready to work.
    She had a feeling she could get used to
living a life of leisure.
    Later that evening, the doorbell rang. “Are
you expecting anyone?” Mrs. Parker asked as she walked through the
house to answer the front door. She had been mopping the kitchen
floor.
    Hannah lay on a couch in the den, where she’d
taken a nap and watched a black and white Cary Grant movie. “No,”
she said, wondering who had come by. She propped herself up on one
elbow and turned, so she could hear whoever it was better.
    Mrs. Parker opened the door. “Mr. Jamison!”
she exclaimed happily.
    Luke? What is he doing here? Hannah
put her hand to her hair – it was too late to fix the ratty mop
now. And she wasn’t wearing make-up -- he’d see all her freckles.
And her clothes – comfortable gray sweats that made her look like a
blob. He’d see her at her absolute worst.
    She groaned and sank back against her
pillows. It shouldn’t matter what she looked like, but she felt as
if she’d been stripped of all her vanity. She had no pride
left.
    Maybe he won’t come in, she thought
hopefully, then heard his heavy steps coming through the living
room.
    Mrs. Parker said, “Look who’s here,” and then
walked on to the kitchen to give them privacy.
    Mr. Jamison stepped into the room. He wore a
dark suit and tie, as if he’d come directly from work. He held a
stack of DVD cases. “I thought you might be bored,” he said,
handing it to her. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I went through
my collection brought a variety.”
    She glanced at the titles. There was a spy
story, a drama, and a comedy she had wanted to see a few years
before. She placed the DVDs on a little table by the couch. “Thank
you.”
    He stood for a moment, as if not certain what
to say next. He shifted his weight from one foot to another and
looked around the den as if surprised by the pale yellow walls, the
chintz covered furniture and the large gold framed oil paintings.
Some people thought the room was too bright, but Hannah found
bright colors cheerful and liked to surround herself with beauty.
“You have a nice home,” he said, and glanced at a painting by the
archway into the kitchen. “That’s pretty.”
    Was Luke Jamison trying to make polite
conversation? She was amused. “Thank you. It’s one of my
Impressionist attempts.”
    His eyes grew wide with surprise. “You
paint?”
    No doubt he thought she spent her weekends
practicing her keyboarding. “Not as much as I’d like to.”
    Another silence.
    Where were her manners? Hannah thought
suddenly. She said, “Are you in a hurry, or would you like to sit
down?”
    “I’ll stay a few minutes.” He sat in a
leather arm chair, near the couch. He stared at her, his eyebrows
furrowed. “How are you feeling?”
    “I feel fine. I have a difficult time
remembering not to sit up or go do things the minute I think of
them, but other than that, I’m