Chapter 3
Hazel
“Please tell me you’re pressing charges.”
Even from six thousand miles away, my mother’s dismay drips through the phone with the faintest Romanian accent. “Embezzling from a charity—”
“It’s being handled, Mom.” I don’t bother telling her it’s not my place to take down the thief who stole from the foundation I’ve supported for more than a decade. “But while they restructure, I need to find a new non-profit for Spencer Development to assist.”
Let’s pause for a moment and unpack the irony.
My mom grew up poor in northern Romania.
My mom has more money than God, thanks to her rich second husband.
My mom is caring and charity-minded for causes devoted to children.
My mom left her own child when I was just twelve, headed for Greece on the heels of her ugly divorce from my dad.
She eventually moved to Croatia with her new husband. Putting it kindly, Alina Pappas enjoys a tepid relationship with her only child.
That’s me, by the way.
I’m sitting here now at age thirty-four, parked outside a clinic where I’m scheduled for a pre-natal ultrasound.
Have I shared that fact with my mother?
Has she inquired about my health or personal life?
Is she even aware that I’m pregnant?
No, no, and— “No, Mom.” I tune back in just in time to catch her request. “I don’t think I’ll have time for a trip to Croatia at Christmas.”
“But Hazel,” she argues. “Rovinj is lovely in December. The fresh ?karpina is simply delectable done in a traditional brudet.”
Here’s where I know I should tell her I’ll be heavily pregnant and therefore unable to fly, let alone eat scorpionfish with its sky-high levels of mercury.
“I have too much work,” I say instead.
My mother huffs. “You work too much. Just like your father, and what do you have to show for it? No husband, no children, no vacation home in Santorini.” Like that last one’s a benchmark for everyone. “You’re just getting old and wrinkly alone.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I suppose I should give her some grace for the language barrier. English isn’t her mother tongue. “Can we talk about something else?”
She happily accepts and spends the next five minutes detailing the new diamond necklace that Demetri—her husband—bought for their anniversary. I zone out again, glancing at my watch and wondering if Luke remembers our appointment.
Of course he does.
He texted eight times this week to discuss today’s plan.
Would I like a copy of his medical records?
Should he bring me snacks along with his half of my co-pay?
Should we drive together, or go separately since we both have business in Salem?
Would I please allow him to tune up my car to make sure it’s safe for the trip?
I’m not used to anyone being so attentive. Speaking of which—
“Mom,” I interrupt. “I should go. I have a doctor’s appointment.”
Some moms might inquire if I’m healthy.
“You’ll ship me those earrings I loaned you? I’d like to wear them with the necklace to the Costeas’ party next month.”
“Sure.” I don’t have a clue who the Costeas are.
“Oh, and Demetri had an idea for Spencer Holdings’ next charitable project. He thinks you should fund a children’s charity in Eastern Europe.”
“Sure.” I’m distracted again as I spot Luke’s battered green truck at the parking lot entrance. There’s a rush of relief through my limbs that I can’t quite explain. “I’ll get right on that. Founding a new organization on the other side of the world is exactly what I have time for right n—”
“Demetri and I will triple whatever Spencer Holdings can donate to the cause.”
Now she’s got my attention. “Really?”
“There’s an especially great need in Romania,” she says. “It would mean a lot to know the company I established with your father is giving back to my birth country.”
“Wow, okay.” This is unexpected. “Are you thinking food bank or kids’ cancer ward or something?”
“That would be lovely. Or maybe some sort of foster care center? With so many state-run orphanages shutting down in places like Moldova and Bulgaria and Romania, there’s a real need for more family-based solutions.”
That sounds like a lot of work. “I can look into it.”
“The tax advantages for Spencer Holdings—”
“You and Demetri would really contribute?” Wait, this is nuts. “I don’t know the first thing about founding an Eastern European charity.”
“There are people you can hire who do such things.” She makes it sound so easy. “Think about it, Hazel. Giving back to the children would be such a blessing.”
“You’re right, it would.” It might even make up for the fact that she hasn’t been much of a mother. She means well, but Alina Pappas is just not mom material.
Like you are?
I keep this unkind thought to myself while admiring the way Luke’s broad shoulders fill out his black T-shirt as he circles the lot.
He must feel me watching because those blue eyes swing to my car.
With a quick nod of greeting, he heads my direction.
“I really do have to go now. It’s been great talking with you. ”
“You too.”
There’s a pause, and I catch myself holding my breath. Maybe this is the moment she’ll be the first to say it. My mother will tell me she loves me without any prompting at all. “Think about what I said, Hazel.”
“Okay.” Ignoring the heavy sensation in my gut, I give Luke a wave as he guides his big truck into the parking spot next to me. “I love you.”
“Same to you, Hazel.”
Same to you.
That’s as close as she gets to expressions of motherly affection.
I click off the call, tucking my phone into my black Fendi bag and cinching the belt of my Burberry coat as I step from the car.
A brisk whip of wind smacks my cheek as the force of Luke’s smile hits me someplace I’d rather not ponder in a parking lot.
“Hello, Luke.”
His grin gets wider as he drags a hand through wind-tousled hair. “Hey, Hazel.”
“Thanks for coming.” I sound like I’m running a board meeting. “Glad you could be here.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He snaps out an umbrella, angling it to shield us. “Can’t have the mother of my children getting drenched.”
“Oh—um, thank you.” Our elbows brush as he squeezes in close so we both fit. “That’s really not necessary.”
“Protecting you?” He chuckles. “Maybe not, but I want to.”
“All right.” Why do I sound so damn awkward? “Look, maybe you could refrain from referring to me as the mother of your children.”
“Sure, no prob.” He’s quiet a moment as we stride toward the entrance. “You prefer babymama?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Bio-mom?”
“What? No. That sounds like hazardous waste.”
“Hmm.” He cuts me off quickly as I reach for the door, grabbing the handle before me. He holds it open and waits while I walk through, still looking thoughtful. “I’m assuming you’re not a fan of me calling you the glorious maiden swelling with the fruit of my loins?”
I try not to dignify that with a response, but an unladylike snort slips out.
Luke takes the cue to keep going. “Birthgiver sounds kinda alien to me, but I’m good with it if you are.”
“I’m not.”
“Preggy lady?”
“Definitely not.”
“Didn’t think so.” He folds the umbrella as we survey the waiting room, all decked out in soothing hues of soft cream and tan. “Samantha and Maxine discussed this at their wedding reception. They plan to use ‘carrying parent’ and ‘non-carrying parent.’ Guess it’s the thing for lesbian couples.”
“Do we look like a lesbian couple?” I must say it too loudly because two women look up from the parenting magazine they’re reading together.
“Nope.” The darker-haired woman turns to her partner. “I don’t think so. Do you?”
The blond shakes her head. “He’s way too cute.”
Luke grins and thanks them as I march to the desk and pull out my insurance card. “Hazel Spencer,” I tell her. “I have an appointment for an ultrasound.”
“Of course.” The receptionist hands me a clipboard of forms, then glances at Luke. “Will your parenting partner be joining you in the exam room?”
“Um, yes.”
“Parenting partner?” Luke lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t I at least get to be ‘babydaddy’?”
The receptionist giggles, charmed. “You can be anything you want, darlin’.”
“In that case, I prefer ‘Dead Sexy Daddy.’”
The receptionist laughs as I shoot Luke a look and fill out the forms. Since there aren’t any individual chairs left, we sit stiffly together on a plush leather loveseat the shade of fresh straw.
Well, I’m stiff. Luke’s legs splay to the sides, his big hands anchored on his knees as he surveys the space.
“Never been in here before,” he muses.
“I certainly hope not.” A thought occurs to me. “Wait. You don’t have a bunch of other pregnant flings floating around out there, do you?”
“Yeah, Hazel.” He snorts. “I’ve got sixteen illegitimate children in four towns. I was thinking we could invite them all to the next Spencer-King family dinner.”
“Great.” A weird pang of longing rolls through me. “Have you…uh…been to one of the family dinners?”
“Oh, sure.” He sounds like it’s not a big deal instead of the thing I missed most while estranged from my cousins. “Jake invited me once when I helped lay the foundation for his house. Damn, that guy makes a great cornbread.”
“He does.” My belly growls thinking about it.
“And then Lucy and Peter had me over for the last one, since I hired them to help find my dad.”
“I must have missed both of those.” Now that I’m close with my cousins again, I’m usually the first one to show up for family dinner. “Peter and Lucy are excellent private detectives. If anyone can locate your father—”
“They already struck out.” Some of the upbeat energy fades from his voice. “It’s fine, though. My old man clearly took pains to avoid being found.”
“I’m sorry.” I recall what he said about growing up without his dad. “Did you tell your mother about the pregnancy?”
“Oh yeah. She’s thrilled.” His deep-throated chuckle clears the dark cloud. “Thanks again for letting me share the news. I know you’re not ready to tell your family yet, but mine’s overjoyed.”
“No problem.”