Her three racks were placed in such a way they almost looked like a shop, next to an expansive mirror left over from the previous owner, who’d used this room as a yoga studio. Then there was the adjoining bathroom, which meant she wouldn’t need to run up the stairs every time she needed to pee. Thanks to her pregnancy bladder, that felt like a major win.
James had been here for the first two days of moving in. In fact, he’d done half the work while she’d supervised the photoshoot she’d arranged with Ember’s friend. The pictures had come out wonderfully – both mother and daughter had looked perfect in the clothes Harper had created – and she’d already had a slew of orders and interest from boutiques in the local area.
She had a feeling she was going to need every inch of this space.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her lunchtime had come and gone. She rubbed her stomach – her bump perfectly rounded, as though somebody had stuffed a ball inside it.
Today she was wearing a pair of bleached rolled-up maternity jeans, along with a pretty laced tunic she’d made with some fabric remnants. Her hair was twisted and clipped up to keep it out of her face as she leaned over the sewing machine.
As she walked, barefoot, up to James’s high-spec, gleaming kitchen, her stomach growled again, louder this time. She quickly grabbed the lunch bag she’d brought with her and pulled out an apple, biting down into it as she felt the juices spray her lips.
Mmm. That was good. With the apple in one hand, she grabbed the container of pasta and sauce with the other and put it into James’s microwave, heating it on high for two minutes. As the turntable went around, she pulled out his drawers, searching for some cutlery.
The first one was full of knives. The second had chopping boards and baking trays. She chewed another chunk of her apple as she pulled the third one out, revealing only old papers and takeout menus.
What wouldn’t she give for a hot chicken chow mein right now.
There was a key ring in the drawer. One of those photo ones you could get made at a drugstore. Curious, Harper pulled it out and lifted it into the light. A pretty brunette was grinning back at her, her long dark hair curled over one shoulder. She had a baby balanced on her hip – he looked to be about six months old. Harper recognized where the photo was taken – on the beach near the Déjà Brew coffee shop.
It had to be Sara and Jacob. Seeing them made tears sting at her eyes.
They were so happy, so carefree, and yet only a few months after this photograph was taken they were both in that terrible accident. Her heart ached as she traced her finger over the plastic holding the image.
James must have taken the photo. She could almost picture it. From the way Sara and Jacob were laughing, she imagined he was making faces at them, his eyes soft with love as he looked at his family.
How did somebody survive a loss like that?
And now here she was, bringing him a pile of trouble he hadn’t asked for, and he wasn’t complaining one bit. He’d done everything he could to make her life easier. From finding an obstetrician to letting her use his basement for no cost, James was making her feel things she hadn’t felt for a long time.
Maybe ever.
The microwave pinged at the exact moment somebody rapped on the back door. Harper jumped, and her heart started to race in her chest.
Another rap. Blowing out a mouthful of air she walked around the corner to the glass doors. Standing on the deck was a woman of around sixty, her grey hair neatly styled into a bob that ended at her jaw.
“Hello?” Harper said as she made her way toward the door.
“Um, hi. Is James in?” the woman asked.
“No, he’s at work. Can I help you?”
Harper stopped at the door. There was only a sheet of glass separating her from the woman. Figuring she looked nothing like a serial killer, Harper reached to unlatch the door, then pulled it open.
“Are you the new cleaner?” the woman asked. “I didn’t know Maggie had left.”
“No.” Harper shook her head. “I’m not a cleaner. I’m a… friend. I’ve been borrowing James’s basement.”
The woman laughed. “How rude of me. I’m sorry.” She reached out a hand. “I’m Louise Tanner, James’s mom.”
Oh boy. This wasn’t how she imagined meeting his parents. In her mind they’d be primed, knowing exactly who she was and that she was pregnant with his baby. Not standing in the middle of the kitchen as this elegant older woman stared at her with interest.
The microwave pinged again to remind her it had finished. Harper flashed Louise a smile. “I was just warming my lunch,” she told her. “Would you like to come in for coffee?”
“A glass of water would be lovely,” Louise said, following Harper into the kitchen. “And you go ahead and eat. Don’t let me interrupt you…” she trailed off. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Harper.” She reached out a hand and Louise shook it.
“I didn’t realize James was working today,” Louise told Harper as she took her pasta out of the microwave. “I only popped by because he mentioned the hem on one of his curtains had come loose. He may be an amazing surgeon, but give him a needle and a thread and he’s all thumbs and no fingers.” She laughed. The way her eyes crinkled and her head tipped back reminded Harper of James.