She laughed. “I must be getting close to my day, because I’m nesting like crazy. I made one for dinner and froze two more in addition to this one. We won’t talk about the bread I baked either, okay? Or the fact that I vacuumed the entire house from top to bottom again when I just did it yesterday.”
He was at a distinct disadvantage. He had no idea that women “nested,” whatever that was, before giving birth. But Mary seemed happy so it didn’t matter.
“Did Bryce send you over to check on me?” he asked.
“Not at all. I know you were spending a lot of time at Jess’s, and that things have hit a rocky patch. Thought you could use a good meal, that’s all.”
He raised an eyebrow. Mary was looking a little too innocent. She was a great woman and generous to a fault, but she had a twinkle in her eye that she couldn’t conceal.
“Okay, out with it. Why are you really here?”
He took the lasagna from her hands and put it on the kitchen counter as she moved farther inside and took off her coat. She hung it over a kitchen chair and then sat down, putting her hand on the table before lowering herself onto the seat. He sat down, too, and faced her.
“All right. I came here hoping to soften you up so that you’d say yes when I offered you a job.”
He hadn’t seen that coming. Not in the least. “A job?” What sort of work would Mary have for him?
“Rick, my baby’s coming anytime in the next few weeks. The nursery is still pink, and we’re having a boy. I want a mural and Bryce insists he can’t paint it.… I want to hire you to do it. The stuff you’ve done for Tom and Abby is gorgeous, and everyone knows you’re the one who’s been painting the holiday glass for Treasures.”
He looked up, shocked. “They do?”
She shrugged. “Hard to keep a secret in this town. And what people don’t hear they guess at. I think you could be starting something great, you know?”
He was still absorbing the fact that his painting had become common knowledge when she reached into her handbag and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “I saw these ideas online. What do you think? Can you do it?”
He had a look. They were gorgeous. One had farm animals and a bright red barn, all in vibrant colors. Another had a tree with multicolored leaves surrounded by zoo animals, including a monkey sitting on a branch, eating a banana. There were puffy clouds on a blue background that met the ocean and had sailboats bobbing cheerfully on the surface. But Rick’s favorite of them all was a tree that was painted in a corner, branches extending to each wall, and different leaves held different words like love, family, fun, Mom, Dad …
Right now the leaves on Rick’s tree would be bare, but this little baby about to be born would know family and love and devotion. He was just about the luckiest baby in the world.
“I like this one,” he answered, handing it back to Mary. “I know it’s simple, but it’s … personal.”
“It’s my favorite, too. Will you do it, Rick? I know it’s a rush job…?
??
“And I’ve got some Christmas things on the go right now.”
“Even if he’s born before it’s done, he’ll be sleeping in a bassinette in our room for a few weeks anyway.” She smiled at him. “Your work is so pretty. I know it’s not glass like you’re used to working on, but I’m sure you can do it.”
How could he refuse? Bryce and Mary had always been so good to him, even when he made it difficult. Which was pretty damned often. And it was a job. Maybe for a friend, but it was a start. If he’d learned anything these last months, it was that a man had to start somewhere. It was time to stop spinning his wheels and get moving.
“Give me to the end of the week to finish up some stuff here, and we’ll go sort out colors and what I need.” He smiled at her and she smiled back. Her lips twisted a bit and she shifted in her chair and then beamed up at him again.
“I swear to God he’s doing somersaults in there.”
Rick looked over and his jaw dropped as Mary’s tummy actually changed shape beneath her maternity top. “Wow. Does that hurt?”
She laughed. “Of course not, unless he sticks a toe in my ribs or kicks my bladder. Here.”
Before Rick had time to resist, she’d grabbed his right hand and put his palm on her belly. Only a few seconds elapsed before the baby moved again, the sensation rippling beneath his touch.
“That’s so cool.” He stared at the shape of her stomach, amazed. Here he was, over thirty years old and the closest he’d ever been to babies was this moment, with his friend’s wife. He felt a little awed and excited by it all. “How does it feel on the inside?”
She laughed. “Weird. When he was smaller, it was just flutters. But now? It’s like everything inside is shifting even though it doesn’t hurt. And in a way it’s how we communicate. When he’s moving and dancing around, I know he’s happy and healthy. Sometimes I think he responds to my voice.”
Rick swallowed thickly. There was such love in Mary’s voice. “You’re a good mom, Mary,” he said quietly.
“Thanks.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “And you’re a good man. Don’t you forget it, okay? You’re gonna get through this. A lot of people believe in you.”