Some Kind of Wonderful Page 4

  Chapter Three

  At half past eleven, Caitlyn realized that Matt Winters's time was obviously different than Pacific Standard Time. In other words, he was late again. Pacing hadn't accomplished anything, so she'd finally packed Emily up, hopped into her car, and prayed she wouldn't get into an accident on the three-mile trip to the shop.

  It was amazing how complicated things had become since Matt had knocked on her door. To think she had actually been miffed that she hadn't caught a glimpse of her new neighbor in the six weeks since he'd moved across the hall. Not that she was seeing much of him now, just his baby, his darling, irresistible baby, who was reminding Caitlyn that the future she'd once planned wouldn't happen.

  Since she'd banished both her wedding dress and thoughts of happily ever after to the bedroom closet eighteen months ago, Caitlyn had managed to pretend that her life was fine, that she could live without the things she'd always wanted most: a husband, a child. Women did it all the time. They found joy and peace in their work, in their friendships. She could do the same. Only getting caught up in little Emily was putting that resolve into question. Instead of working on new sketches, she had spent the morning watching Emily try to grab her toes with her fingers. So much for staying focused.

  She didn't want to get involved with Emily or Matt. She didn't want to think about what her life would have been like if the bottom hadn't fallen out of it. She'd put off thinking about that just about every day of the last year and a half, no mean feat considering she worked in the wedding business and was constantly faced with beaming brides and anxious grooms, eager to begin their own happily ever after. But she'd managed -- until now.

  Caitlyn parked behind the store, glanced at Emily, sitting so happily in her car seat, and sighed.

  "You're going to be a big hit in the store. All those brides dreaming of babies. They'll go crazy." She shook her head. "But it's not that simple, you know. Sometimes life is complicated." She paused, considering the circumstances. "Maybe you do know. After all, you're here with me, probably wondering who the heck I am and where your mother is. I'm wondering the same thing myself, because I don't know how anyone could bear to let you go."

  Caitlyn blinked back the annoying moisture in her eyes. "But I will let you go, because you're not mine. You're someone else's baby, and I won't forget that. You and me -- we're not going to be friends. So don't get too comfortable, okay? In fact, you can call me Ms. Devereaux. Caitlyn is only for close family friends."

  Emily gurgled a half smile and Caitlyn couldn't help but smile back. "All right, you can call me Caitlyn, but that's as close as we're going to get. And no matter how good-looking or desperate your uncle is, I will not let him talk me into any more baby-sitting."

  Caitlyn got herself and Emily out of the car. The baby squinted in the morning sunlight, giving a coo of pleasure when the air hit her face. It was a nice day, Caitlyn thought as she walked up the quiet street to Devereaux's. San Francisco in the spring was usually cool and windy, but today the breeze was mild and the clear blue sky dotted with only an occasional puffy white cloud.

  Her store was located in Cow Hollow, a neighborhood that had once been rural. But today the streets resembled nothing close to a cow pasture. The blocks were lined with old Victorian houses transformed into shops and cafes along one of San Francisco's most popular shopping streets, Union Street.

  Caitlyn still couldn't quite believe she owned her own business. She'd dreamed about designing wedding dresses since she was a little girl. After getting a degree in fashion design, she had worked for several clothing manufacturers, but found herself doing more filing than designing. Finally, a seamstress position with the wedding designer known simply as Annabelle had opened up, and Caitlyn had spent the next three years learning everything she could.

  Although she'd enjoyed working for Annabelle, Caitlyn had longed for the opportunity to create her own line of dresses. That's when Jolie had come in. Her cousin, Jolie Palmer, had caught her millionaire husband in the back seat of their Mercedes with a floozy blonde and a pair of pink panties in his hand. Jolie had gone on to divorce her husband and divest him of a good deal of his income. Looking for a new start, Jolie had convinced Caitlyn that this was the perfect time to start their own business, and what better irony than to use her divorce money for a wedding business.

  Jolie was a big fan of irony and not at all romantic. She saw the wedding business as a financial gold mine and figured she might as well cash in on all those starry-eyed dreamers while they were still starry-eyed.

  Familiar with Caitlyn's lifelong dream, Jolie had suggested a retail wedding shop with racks of gowns from the top designers and a special collection by Caitlyn. Touched by Jolie's incredible belief in her talent, Caitlyn had jumped at the chance to do what she'd always wanted to do, and together they'd opened Devereaux's.

  Word of mouth, excellent service, and a booming trend in big weddings had helped them turn a profit the first year. Jolie's practical business savvy and Caitlyn's romantic artistry had made a perfect combination. They'd believed they were on their way -- until the accident.

  Caitlyn was beginning to realize that she could divide her life into two sections, before the accident and after the accident, before Brian and after Brian, before innocence and after regret.

  Before the accident, she'd designed an entire spring collection and had been ready to show it the following January. Then with the accident in December everything had been put on hold. Not only would she not show that collection, she would be unable to complete another design in all the weeks and months that followed. She'd told herself it would happen; she just needed to recover. But the days continued to pass, leaving her with the helpless overwhelming sense that her dream was vanishing.

  To her credit, Jolie tried not to nag. "There's always next season," she'd say. And Caitlyn always hoped that next season would be different. That somehow, some way, she would find her passion again, her creativity... her soul.

  But it probably wouldn't be today, she thought realistically as she switched the car seat from one hand to the other and looked down at Emily.

  "Today, we just deal with you," Caitlyn said out loud, knowing even as she said it that Emily was another excuse in a long line of excuses.

  Caitlyn could just imagine what Jolie would say when she saw Emily. It would go something like, "Caitlyn, have you lost your freakin' mind?" For Jolie, a thirty-year-old statuesque redhead with an hourglass figure that drove most men to incomprehensible babble, was as blunt as she was honest. She'd grown up with Caitlyn and was used to speaking her mind, even if her opinion wasn't asked for.

  Caitlyn opened the front door to Devereaux's and walked up the stairs to her second-floor shop. The bridal salon took up the entire top floor of the Victorian, with bridesmaid, mother of the bride, and flower girl dresses in the front, wedding dresses and three large dressing rooms in the back. In a small alcove on the side, Jolie had also set up an accessory business, with wedding favors, invitations, and a library featuring local wedding vendors.

  Caitlyn smiled at a few of the women browsing through the racks in front and headed directly to the large oak desk by the bay window that overlooked Union Street. Jolie sat behind the desk, adding up receipts on her calculator. She didn't even bother to look up, so Caitlyn set Emily's car seat down on one of the comfortable leather chairs.

  "Just a sec," Jolie said.

  Caitlyn was happy to wait just a second. Emily was not. She took that moment to open her tiny angel mouth and let out a scream worthy of any horror movie heroine.

  Jolie looked up in surprise, her eyes widening when she saw Caitlyn and the baby. "Who is this?"

  "This is Emily." Caitlyn reached into the bag for the bottle she'd prepared and put it into Emily's mouth, effectively ending her scream. She'd already learned one thing -- when Emily got hungry, she got mad.

  Jolie stared at Caitlyn in amazement. "Who does she belong to?"

  "My neighbor."

  "You live in
a no-children-allowed building."

  "It was until last night."

  "And you're baby-sitting?" Jolie ventured.

  "For the moment. Matt was supposed to be back by eleven, but I'm beginning to realize he's habitually late."

  Jolie shook her head in bewilderment. "Are you out of your freakin' mind?"

  Caitlyn smiled. "I knew you would say that. You are so predictable."

  "And you usually are, too. You should know better than to take care of a baby."

  "Why?"

  "You know what happens to women in their late twenties. The baby clock starts ticking off like a time bomb. Instead of concentrating on your wedding sketches, you'll be dreaming about pink baby booties, and you'll be impossible to live with."

  Caitlyn immediately shook her head. "It won't happen to me. I'm focused on the business. You know that."

  "So you say," Jolie replied, sending her a suspicious look. "But I remember all those times you made me play house, so this dramatic turn into career woman has me a bit confused. I thought maybe you were just cooling off after Brian and your broken engagement, but..." She paused. "You have changed, Caity, and I'm not sure I like it."

  Caitlyn shrugged. "Everyone changes, even you. You're not the same girl you were before Mark cheated on you."

  "Is that what Brian did to you?"

  "I thought you'd decided to stop asking me that question."

  "I thought maybe you'd finally tell me. I've been very patient."

  Caitlyn adjusted the bottle in Emily's mouth as she started to whimper. "Do you think she's taking in air?"

  "How would I know that? Unlike you, I've never been a baby person."

  "I wish Matt would come back." Caitlyn checked her watch again. "We'll only get busier as the day goes on."

  "Who is Matt again?"

  "My neighbor. His sister dropped the baby on his doorstep late last night. It was all very mysterious. And Emily was in trouble, so I helped."

  "Emily is his sister?"

  "No, Emily is her," Caitlyn tipped her head toward the baby. "Sarah is his sister."

  "Sarah? I'm totally confused now."

  "Bottom line, Matt didn't know what to do with a baby. It was after midnight, and Emily needed someone to take care of her, so I decided to help. She is beautiful, isn't she? Sweet innocent perfection."

  "Speaking of perfection, your mother called this morning. You weren't here, so she gave me an earful."

  "Really? Why?" Caitlyn felt her whole body tighten at the mention of her mother.

  "She feels it's time you pull your head out of the sand and get on with your life."

  Caitlyn sighed. That sounded familiar. Her mother, Marilyn Devereaux, a brilliant professor of mathematics, had never been one to let the grass grow under her feet -- or under Caitlyn's feet, for that matter. When Marilyn saw something that needed to be fixed, she fixed it. It was probably one reason why she was an excellent mathematician: every equation in her life added up.

  While Marilyn's motives were always born out of love, Caitlyn bore the scars from most of those so-called repairs. Memories of the summer vacation her mother had sent her on, which had turned out to be a fat camp, reminded Caitlyn of just how far her mother's obsession with fixing could go.

  "You don't have to say anything more," Caitlyn said.

  "Brian," Jolie said anyway. "Have you checked the calendar lately? His fellowship ended last week. He's back, Caitlyn."

  "Are you sure? I thought he might stay in Boston." Actually, she'd been hoping he'd stay in Boston, because dealing with Brian, dealing with everything that went with Brian, made her very uncomfortable.

  "Nope. He called your mother last night looking for you. He was very surprised you had moved out of your parents' house. Your mother gave him your phone number, by the way. Is that all right with you?"

  "I don't know," Caitlyn said helplessly, not sure how she felt about Brian anymore, not sure how she should feel. He'd been a friend, a lover, a fiancé, and now he was... she didn't know what he was.

  "Well, you better figure it out fast, because I think she gave him your address, too. He wants to see you." Jolie cleared her throat. "Apparently he wants to get your relationship back on track."

  Caitlyn sank down on the empty chair in front of the desk and adjusted the bottle in Emily's mouth, grateful to have something to do so she wouldn't have to look into Jolie's inquisitive eyes. "He's been gone over a year. How can he possibly think that he can come back and we'll just take up where we left off?"

  "I have no idea what Brian thinks. For that matter, I have no idea what you think," Jolie said pointedly. "The only thing I do know is what your mother told me. Your parents are very excited to welcome him home, and they're interested in having him work with them at the university. He is the son they never had, and if you think they aren't hoping you'll get back together, you are sorely mistaken. They want you and Brian, love and marriage, and the baby carriage. You know how the song goes."

  "Well, I'm not singing that song."

  "Because?"

  "Because I'm not," Caitlyn said firmly.

  "You know you can shut me up with that, but your mother won't give up so easily."

  "Why can't she just let me live my own life?" Caitlyn complained.

  "Because she doesn't think you're doing a very good job." Jolie leaned forward, waiting until Caitlyn looked at her. "I'm surprised she gave you this much time. And we both know that while you may have moved out of your parents' house, you haven't completely moved on."

  "I'm trying."

  "Are you? Because there is that little matter of your blank sketch pad."

  "That has nothing to do with Brian. I'm an artist. I can't create on demand."

  "You can't create at all... and I'm not asking you to tell me why," she added quickly as Caitlyn tried to interrupt. "I'm just worried about you. I know the accident set you back, but it was months ago, and something is still wrong. I want to help. I wish you'd let me."

  Caitlyn wished she could, too. But some things were too private, too painful. She took the bottle out of Emily's mouth and pulled her out of the car seat so she could burp her. When she glanced back at her cousin, she saw Jolie shaking her head in disbelief. "What?" Caitlyn asked.

  "Career woman? Yeah, right. Look at you, you're in heaven."

  "I'm baby-sitting," she said defensively.

  "Sure you are." Jolie got to her feet. "I'm going to sell some dresses while you take care of someone else's baby. Now, do you see anything wrong with this picture, Miss Career Woman?"

  "It's just for today, a few hours."

  'Tick, tock, tick tock."

  "It's not like that."

  "Maybe it's a good thing Brian is back. Maybe it's time you looked at some of the choices you're making, because it's been months since I've seen you so content. Holding a baby is definitely a good look for you. As your business partner, I'm not encouraging it. But as your cousin and your friend, I have to admit that--”

  "Don't say it. Emily is just temporary. Tomorrow I'll be a career woman again, I promise."

  Caitlyn sighed as Jolie walked away. She couldn't believe Brian was back in town. She wasn't ready to see him, to look toward the future, to make decisions. She'd been comfortable in her safe, secure, bland life of the past year. Now, she felt suddenly overwhelmed, and as she looked down at Emily, she wondered if Sarah had felt the same way. Had Sarah been so burdened with motherhood that she'd simply run away from it? Because Caitlyn could understand that desperate need to flee. She felt it right now, so much so that her toes were tingling.

  She looked up as the door opened and Matt walked in. Wearing worn blue jeans, a brown aviator jacket, and a pair of dark sunglasses, he looked stunningly male. So much for bland. This man was anything but.

  "It's about time," she said, deciding her rapidly beating pulse had to be due to anger and not, not, God forbid, attraction, because she certainly wasn't in the market for any spine-tingling, palm-sweating moments. She had eno
ugh problems.

  Matt walked over to her. "I went to your apartment, but you'd already left."

  "Thirty minutes after you were supposed to come back," she reminded him.

  "I got hung up."

  "Did you find your sister?"

  "Not yet." He took off his glasses, and the worry in his eyes stopped her from giving him a harder time. It was obvious he was concerned about Sarah, and she could respect that.

  "Maybe she'll call or come by," Caitlyn said. "You should be home just in case. I'm sure she won't leave Emily with you for long."

  "I'd like to believe that. But I don't know Sarah anymore. She was a little girl when I saw her last."

  Caitlyn hesitated to press for more information, but she desperately wanted to understand. "May I ask what happened to your parents?"

  "My father died right after Sarah was born. Some years later there was a fire. My mother disappeared, and my sister and I were sent to foster care."

  "That sounds like the short version."

  He shrugged. "It's what happened."

  "I'm sorry." She couldn't imagine the horror of being abandoned. Not that she wouldn't mind a bit more distance from her own family, but not total abandonment. "Your mother just disappeared? Why?"

  "I don't think she wanted to be a mother," Matt said, surprising her with more information. "I guess she tried -- sometimes." He stared out the window, lost in thoughts that turned his face to stone. "Maybe Sarah turned out just like her," he murmured. "Maybe she isn't coming back for her baby either."

  "Don't say that. It's not like Sarah left Emily on a street corner. She left her with you." Caitlyn didn't know why she was trying to make Matt feel better, except that he seemed to need it. And making people feel better was ingrained in her. It was the way she compensated for her shortcomings, the way she drew positive attention to herself instead of negative. When people were happy, they were usually less critical, a truth she'd learned from living with the high expectations of her family.