Read Online The Key Ingredient by Susan Wiggs - Free Book Online Page B

a family. A family. It was the most important thing in the world to her. It always had been.
    She thought about the fight this morning and then remembered the flower delivery. This moment was going to change everything for them, in the best possible way. The stupid quarrels that blazed like steam vents from a geyser suddenly evaporated. Had they really argued about a water buffalo? A scissors lift? The missing cap on the toothpaste tube?
    Her phone vibrated, signaling a text message from Tiger, her assistant. M AJOR MECHANICAL TROUBLE WITH THE SCAFFOLD. N EED U NOW.
    Sorry, Tiger , Annie thought. Later.
    After she told Martin about the baby. A baby . It eclipsed any work emergency at the studio. Everything else—­the water buffalo, the scissors lift—­seemed petty in comparison. Everything else could wait.
    She turned onto the Century City studio lot. The gate guard waved her through with a laconic gesture. She made her way around the blinding pale gray concrete labyrinth dotted with the occasional green oasis of palm-­tree-­studded gardens. Turning down a ser­vice alley, she parked in her designated spot next to Martin’s BMW. She’d never cared for the sports car. It was totally impractical, given the kind of gear they often toted around for the show. Now that he was about to become a father, he might get rid of the two-­seater.
    Heading for Martin’s trailer on foot, she passed a group of tourists on Segways, trolling for a glimpse of their favorite star. One eager woman paused her scooter and took Annie’s picture.
    â€œHey there,” the woman said, “aren’t you Jasmine Lockwood?”
    â€œNo,” said Annie with an almost apologetic smile.
    â€œOh, sorry. You look like her. I bet you get that a lot.”
    Annie offered another slight smile and veered around the tour group. This wasn’t the first time someone pointed out her resemblance to the cooking diva. It was confusing to Annie. She didn’t look like anyone but herself.
    Martin, the golden boy, liked to say she was his exotic lover, which always made Annie laugh. “I’m an all-­American mutt from Vermont,” she’d say. “We can’t all have a pedigree.”
    Would the baby look like her? Brown eyes and riotous black curls? Or like Martin, blond and regal?
    Oh my God , she thought with a fresh surge of joy. A baby.
    Power cords snaked across the alleyway leading to the studio. The trailers were lined up, workers with headsets and clipboards scurrying around. She could see the scissors lift looming above the work site. Fully extended, its orange steel folding supports formed a crisscross pattern, topped by the platform high overhead. Workmen in hard hats and electricians draped in coiled wire swarmed around it. Some guy was banging on the manual release valve with a black iron wrench.
    She spotted Tiger, who hurried over to greet her. “It’s stuck in the up position.” Tiger looked like an anime character, with rainbow hair and a candy-­colored romper. She also had a rare gift for doing several things simultaneously and well. Martin thought she was manic, but Annie appreciated her laser focus.
    â€œTell them to unstick it.” Annie kept walking. She could sense Tiger’s surprise; it wasn’t like Annie to breeze past a problem without attempting to solve it.
    Martin’s cast trailer was the biggest on the lot. It was also the most tricked out, with a makeup station, dressing area, full bath and kitchen, and a work and lounge area. When they first fell in love, they’d often worked late together there, and ended up making love on the curved lounge and falling asleep in each other’s arms. The trailer was closed now, the blinds drawn against the burning heat. The AC unit chugged away.
    Annie was eager to get inside where it was cool. She paused, straightening her skirt, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. There was a fleeting thought of