Chapter Eleven
Monica opened the door to her office at the library and was met with a wall of cupids, heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, and roses.
She and Fiona had strung heart-shaped garlands all over the library.
The third-grade class at the elementary school had colored pictures of Cupid, and those were displayed on the end aisles.
All the reminders of Valentine’s Day made her sad. If only one of those roses could be from him, she would be in seventh heaven.
She sat down at the desk and opened the computer, clicked on the Facebook page, and found what seemed like a million posts from everyone wishing their husbands, wives, or partners a wonderful Valentine’s Day.
She laid a hand on her stomach. She was pregnant and would probably never see her baby’s father. How was that fair? She scrolled down and found Jorja Kay, her college roommate, with her three cats. That girl had always been kind of strange, but she was Monica’s friend.
She stared at the screen without seeing anything, then she looked down at her desk.
Her business cards caught her eye. They simply said, M.
Smith, Librarian. She’d done that because the guy in charge of the library before her only used his first initial and she thought it was cool, or maybe the word was fire these days.
If she had only given Spencer her social media name, Monica Garcia, maybe he would have found her—if he was even looking.
In her dream world, they would have shared the pregnancy together and even picked out names as well as put a nursery together.
“Who crapped in your Captain Crunch this morning?” Fiona asked as she came through the door without even knocking.
“That’s a nasty visual,” Monica snapped.
Fiona threw up both palms and eased down into a chair. “Hey, don’t put me in front of a firing squad. You’re the one who looks like someone ran over your favorite teddy bear and left him in pieces in a mud puddle.”
“I was woolgathering. When my friends and I were allowed to have social media pages, we were allowed to only use our first and middle names. Daddy said that would keep stalkers from being able to find us.”
Fiona eased down into a chair. “What has that got to do with your morning cereal?”
“What if Spencer figured out my last name is Smith, but he couldn’t find me? All of my personal stuff is under Monica Garcia.”
“What about your professional? Daddy told me the same thing, so my personal sites are under Fiona Martine. But my professional is F. Smith.”
“Same here. My library tag is M. Smith.”
“Well, if he does try to find you, he’s going to have his work cut out for him.” She paused and took a breath. “Looks like Daddy was right.”
“Are you sure that the ultrasound only showed one baby?” Monica asked, changing the subject. “You’ve got a couple of weeks to go, and you are huge.”
“Old wives’ tales say that girls make a person spread out all over. I was sure it was a boy, but I guess I was wrong. Mama will be elated if she gets two girls to dress up in ribbons and bows, but she swears you are having a boy. Are you ever going to look like you swallowed a pumpkin?”
Monica laid her hand on her baby bump. “I feel like I have now, and I still have three months to go. We’ll see what Mama’s second grandbaby will be in a couple of weeks when they do my ultrasound. Daddy will be happy with either a boy or girl, but to have a grandson would be really good.”
“What were you thinking about when I came in?” Fiona asked.
“Spencer,” Monica replied. “I would love for him to know about the baby. He might not want to be a part of his or her life, but he should know.”
“Cupid doesn’t bring that kind of thing, but if you want me to hire an investigator to find your Spencer, I will do it,” Fiona offered.
Monica shook her head. “Fate brought us together. If we are meant to see each other again, it will happen.”
“Call it fate, the universe, or God, but something brought me and you together.” Fiona smiled and patted Monica on the shoulder. “And I’m glad that it did.”
“It wasn’t any of the above. It was a miracle.” Monica hugged her tightly. “I really didn’t like you very much, but I’m glad we are having babies together, and have finally gotten closer.”
Fiona dabbed at a tear. “I thought you were a naive country girl. It’s five o’clock. Let’s lock it up and go home. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. Racks of books are organized and ready.”
Monica shut down her computer and stood. “I’m going to push them out here right now. We might have a crowd waiting for us to open the doors in the morning.”
“I’ll help,” Fiona offered.
“Nope, you will not!” Monica declared. “You are going to go out to my SUV and turn on the heat.”
Fiona followed her sister to the back room where the racks were stored and waiting. “Hey, now! They are on rollers.”
“Save your pushing power for the labor room,” Monica teased.
Fiona grabbed the end of a rack and pushed it toward the space reserved for it. “I’m practicing, but I believe the labor room will be tougher.”
Monica followed her with the second rack.
“You have organized this so well. I heard that the librarian and her assistant in Hatch are both retiring at the end of this year. Think we should put our applications in for the jobs? You would even get paid, but it’s only three days a week for the assistant. ”
“That would sure make Mama and Daddy happy, and they’d probably babysit for us,” Fiona answered. “But should we even ask them to do that?”
Monica picked up her purse on the way to the front of the room, slung it over her shoulder, and parked her rack of books beside Fiona’s. “The library is small, so we might be able to take them with us.”
“Let’s think about it. We’ve still got time, right? Are there dozens of people wanting to move to Hatch?”
“Probably not,” Monica replied.
I’d be willing to move anywhere in this world if Spencer, this baby, and I could be a family, she thought on the way outside.
The lobby of the SG Corporation looked like the Energizer bunny had shared his batteries with Cupid.
Spencer didn’t waste any time getting to the elevator and using his key card to get to the third floor.
His office was devoid of anything that had to do with Valentine’s Day, which was coming up over the weekend.
He might have loved the holiday if he could send roses and candy to Monica, but so far all the leads that Walt had found were dead ends.
He removed his suit jacket and hung it on the back of a chair.
He had a multimillion-dollar corporation.
He could buy and remodel old properties into upscale condos and apartments, then sell them, and start all over.
And neither he nor Walt could find Monica.
That just went to show that technology wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
His cell phone rang, and he dug it out of the pocket of his jacket. “Hello.”
“Walt Givens here. Is this Spencer?”
“Yes, sir, it is.” He had grabbed hope and hung on to it before, and it produced nothing. So that Friday morning, he didn’t even reach out for the illusive thing.
“We have what I think might be a lead. I’m sending you a text with a picture. Is this your Monica Smith?”
Spencer held his breath until the picture popped up on the screen. “That’s not Monica,” he said. “This woman is a tall blond. I’ve seen her pictures in magazines.” He studied the picture a second time. “That could be her sister, Fiona Smith.”
“This is Fiona Martine. She lives in California and in an interview she said that she was raised in New Mexico, and has a sister, Monica. If we track Fiona down, we might be able to get an address for her sister.”
Hope sprung up in Spencer’s heart. “That is a real lead.”
“It’s progress. We’ll keep working on that angle. Don’t give up. We are getting closer. If you ever do find her, make her get at least one credit card, or at least find out her social security number. On a more serious note, I’m sorry this is taking so long,” Walt said.
“If I ever locate her, I won’t let her out of my sight again,” Spencer vowed. “Thank you for this, and keep me posted.”
“You got it,” Walt agreed, and ended the call.
Spencer brought up a Facebook page under Fiona Smith.
So that was the uppity sister that Monica mentioned a couple of times.
Sure, she was beautiful, but she lacked the sparkle that her sister brought to the table.
He scrolled through ten thousand friends and found three with the name Monica.
One was listed as Monica Garcia, and he didn’t even stop there, but kept going.
He vowed that when the next Valentine’s Day rolled around, he would be giving Monica candy and flowers and expensive jewelry. No, that was not right. He would take her back to Panama City Beach, where they would have a picnic on a blanket.