Читать книгу Celebration's Baby - Nancy Thompson Robards - Страница 7

Chapter One

Being in charge had its perks. Today, Bia Anderson fully intended to cash in. After all, there was chocolate involved.

She lifted her chin a little higher as she walked up the petunia-lined path to the old bungalow located at the end of Main Street in downtown Celebration—the new home of Maya’s Chocolates.

Nicole Harrison, a staff writer for the Dallas Journal of Business and Development, where Bia was the editor in chief, hadn’t hidden her disappointment that morning. Bia had assigned her to the catch-a-greased-pig contest at the grand opening of the Piggly Wiggly over in Kenansville rather than the interview for the Maya’s Chocolates business profile.

It wasn’t the first time she and Nicole had butted heads, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But that came with the territory. In the two months since Bia had taken the reins as editor of the paper, making tough calls that sometimes disappointed the staff hadn’t gotten easier, but she just had to suck it up and do what she thought was best.

So what if they all thought she was hard as nails, lacking empathy and compassion?

What would they think when they found out she was going to be a mother? The wall immediately went up, and she told herself she didn’t care what they’d say or do or how they’d smirk when they learned she was pregnant by People’s reigning “Sexiest Man Alive,” Hugh Newman. The thought knocked the air out of her. And not in a good way; it was more like a sucker punch to the gut. Reflexively, her hand went to her belly.

She’d done the pregnancy test last night, finally pulling her head out of the sand after being two months late. She still hadn’t quite wrapped her mind around the reality of it—although the unexpected pregnancy did explain why she’d been craving chocolate to the point of insanity.

At first, she’d blamed the cravings on the stress of the Hugh Newman debacle: a five-day lapse of judgment that had ended abruptly when the paparazzi started inquiring into the identity of the woman with the auburn hair in the blue sundress, with whom Newman had been seen canoodling in Celebration, Texas.

Canoodling? Did anyone even use that word anymore?

He’d been in town doing location research—soaking up local color for his next movie. Also, he had accepted an invitation to emcee the annual Doctor’s Charity Ball, which benefited the new pediatric surgical wing at Celebration Memorial Hospital. Bia had gotten an up-close-and-personal tutorial of why Hugh had been named Mr. Sexy when she’d had lunch with him to interview him for the paper (and you can bet Nicole Harrison hadn’t been happy that Bia had claimed that assignment). Five minutes into the interview, Hugh Newman had charmed the pants off her. Okay, so maybe it had been more like an hour. God, she wasn’t that easy.

Bia stepped onto the porch and tried the door. It was locked. So she knocked and waited for Maya to let her in.

Truth be told, Bia wasn’t easy at all.

At twenty-eight years old, she’d only had two lovers. Her first had been Duane, as part of a six-year relationship that had ended in a broken engagement; the other was Hugh, an impetuous mistake she’d known wouldn’t last. And, of course, it hadn’t.

She just hadn’t expected to walk away with such a personal memento of their time together.

Dammit, she’d simply wanted one taste of sexy. One taste—and she had been prepared to walk away. But one night became five and then the media had gotten wind of the affair and suddenly the entire world was dying to know the identity of the woman with the auburn hair in the blue sundress. Overnight, Bia had gone from relative obscurity to the top of XYZ Celebrity News’s most-stalked list.

She did a hasty scan of the area looking for skulking media-types. It was a beautiful day. Shoppers were wandering in and out of places like On a Roll Bakery, Three Sisters dress shop, Dolce Vita Gourmet Grocery and Barbara’s Beauty Salon. But the area was all clear of lurking XYZ minions. Oh, they were gone now, thank God. The paparazzi had lost interest when Hugh’s camp had explained that the redhead in the blue sundress was simply his tour guide.

Nothing to see here, folks. Just a tour guide.

Liar, liar, sexy pants on fire.

At least they hadn’t called her an escort.

What had really burned was when Hugh’s people had offered to pay her to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want his money. But she did want her privacy back. That’s the only reason she’d agreed to play along with the tour guide charade. Still, she told them to pass along the message that Hugh could keep his money and the insult it implied.

Within hours of explaining Bia away, Hugh and his longtime on-again, off-again starlet girlfriend, Kristin Capistrano, announced that they were, indeed, on again. How lovely for them. Then the tabloids developed instant amnesia about the “tour guide” and were all ablaze with the news that they had a “liftoff” and that “Hugh-stin” certainly did not have a problem. The pair proclaimed they were deeply in love and—surprise surprise—that Kristin would be costarring with Hugh in the movie that was filming in Celebration, Texas. The one for which he’d been soaking up the local color when he’d met Bia.

Bia’s mouth went dry as she thought of the scandal it would cause if anyone found out the sexiest man alive was her baby daddy.

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. As far as she was concerned, Hugh Newman was dead to her. But the blue line on the pregnancy test had resurrected him.

Now she wasn’t sure what to do... Except that, ready or not, she was going to have a baby—and she was going to keep it.

There was no question about that. Bia was adopted, and she’d often wondered why her birth mother had chosen to give her up rather than trying to make it work. Her mother and father—the ones who had adopted her—had been good people. At least her father had been. She hadn’t really known her adoptive mother. She’d passed away when Bia was five, leaving her adoptive father to raise her.

The strong, silent type, he’d never been much of a talker. He’d bristled the handful of times she’d asked about her birth mother. So she hadn’t pressed it.

Her dad had passed away last year, and now more than ever she wished she knew more about her roots. Maybe it was time to start digging. She’d need to know...for her child’s sake. Health history and all that.

Bia rapped on the door again, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Across the street, a friend of her father’s called to her and waved. She waved back.

Thank God her father wasn’t alive to see what a mess she’d made of things. She sighed.

It had just happened. When she’d sat down to interview Hugh, she’d been the picture of professionalism. At first she’d been immune to his notorious charms. Then he’d started putting the moves on her. Heavy-duty flirting. With her.

Hugh Newman had been flirting with her.

That was all it had taken for her resolve to melt like pure cane sugar in hot-brewed tea.

They’d used protection. Every single time.

That’s the part she couldn’t quite comprehend. How this could have happened when she’d been so careful?

Thinking about it made her feel nauseated.

She gave herself a mental shake.

She’d made her choices. Now she’d have to live with the consequences. Still, if she could just have one do-over in life, she’d turn back the clock two months and stay the heck away from Mr. Sexy. She’d let Nicole be Hugh Newman’s tour guide.

She knocked on the door yet again, this time a little harder. Where the heck was Maya?

Above Bia’s head hung a weathered, hand-painted wooden sign that boasted, Maya’s Chocolates—Happily Ever After Starts Here. It swayed and squeaked on the lazy breeze of the warm May afternoon. The words, written in gray-blue calligraphy on a whitewashed background, were underlined by a fancy, scrolling arrow that pointed toward the door.

Happily Ever After. Right here, huh?

Nice thought.

She tried the door again, this time giving it a firmer tug and then a push, but it was locked tight as a tick. She shaded her eyes and peered in the glass front door. No one was in the showroom. All the fixtures seemed to be in place, but they looked empty.

Hmm, that was curious.

The store’s grand opening was scheduled for next week. Bia thought that a good bit of the merchandise would be in place by now.

Had Maya forgotten their appointment? If they didn’t let her in to start the interview soon, Bia couldn’t promise that anyone was going to have a happily ever after. Bia glanced at her cell phone to check the time. Okay, so she was a couple of minutes early, but it was warm outside. She was feeling a little dizzy and beads of perspiration were forming underneath her silk blouse and starting to run down the crevice of her back.

Certain foods and smells—like coffee and the noxious traffic fumes wafting up from Main Street—made her feel ill. That, along with the chocolate cravings and, of course, the missed periods, were what had finally sent her to Dallas to purchase the in-home test. She couldn’t purchase it in the local drugstore. Word would get around faster than if it had been aired on XYZ.

She blinked away the thought and refocused on the mental list of interview questions she would ask Maya...if she ever answered the door.

Bia was just about to dial Maya’s phone number when, through the panes of glass on the front door, she saw the woman hurrying toward her in a flurry of long red spiral curls and flouncing green scarf and skirt. She was wiping her hands on a dish towel, which she flung over her shoulder as she opened the door with a breathless greeting.

“Bonjour! You’re here!” Maya’s lyrical accented voice rang out and mingled with the sounds of chirping birds and traffic. “I hope you have not been waiting long. I was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a surprise just for you. Come in! Come in, cher! Please, come in.”

A surprise? For me?

“I hope it’s chocolate,” Bia said.

“But of course it is.” Maya smiled as she held open the door for Bia and motioned her inside. A cool gust of air that smelled like rich dark chocolate greeted her and took the edge off her queasiness. Bia breathed in deeply.

“Well, then, in that case, you’re forgiven.” Bia grinned. “I have been dreaming of your chocolate since the Doctor’s Ball. It was the first time I’d tasted it. In fact, for the past several weeks, I’ve been craving chocolate like crazy, but the over-the-counter stuff just isn’t doing it for me. I think you’ve spoiled me for all other sweets. I just learned that Baldoon’s Pub offers your Irish cream truffles on their dessert menu.”

“Indeed they do,” Maya said over her shoulder as Bia followed her into the house. “I like to hear that I’ve spoiled you for other chocolate. You might say that’s the theme of my business plan.”

The front room was set up as a shop with a refrigerated glass case in the center of the space. Like the shelving fixtures, the case was empty, Bia noted with chagrin. But it was surrounded by lovely silver-veined marble counters that housed a cash register and supplies to wrap purchases. Even if there was a decided dearth of chocolate, the place looked fresh and clean and light with its white paint, whitewashed wooden floors and yards of silver tulle draped elegantly across the ceiling. The look created an ethereal cloudlike effect.

Again, Bia breathed in the delicious aroma of chocolate, and her stomach growled. Since the cases and shelves were empty, she had to wonder if she was imagining the scent. Or had Maya piped it in for effect?

“Where’s the chocolate?” Bia finally asked. “Don’t you make all your goods on the premises? If so, how are you going to fill the cases and shelves before the grand opening?”

Maya glanced around the room. “I suppose it does look rather empty in here, doesn’t it?” She sighed and went behind the wrap stand. “Alas, the increased demand for chocolate has forced me to be less hands-on with the manufacturing process. I still make some special made-to-order candy—like this batch I made especially for you this morning.”

She presented a three-tiered glass-and-silver dessert plate brimming with confections in various shapes and colors. Bia’s mouth watered at the sight.

“I thought I smelled chocolate in the air. But then I worried that I’d simply imagined it.”

Maya laughed. “It is a lovely fragrance, isn’t it? Some say the mere smell of chocolate causes a woman’s body to release hormones that simulate the feeling of falling in love.”

“Ha! All of the feelings and none of the heartache,” Bia said. “Sounds like the perfect relationship. I just wish chocolate didn’t love me back so much. It tends to stay with me. You know, right here.” She patted her left hip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you are reed-thin. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Gosh, makes chocolates, gives compliments...I think you and I could be good friends.”

Maya’s eyes shone. “I certainly hope so.”

“You will have chocolate for the grand opening, won’t you?” Bia asked.

Maya nodded. “Of course. I was fortunate enough to find a stateside manufacturer who was able to duplicate my family recipe in bulk, the one my grandmother used to start the business three generations ago. The candy for the shelves and case will be delivered the day before we open. That way it will be as fresh as can be. We’ll have to work extra hard to get everything in place, but it will be worth it.”

Maya gestured toward the plate. “But please, don’t let me detain you. Help yourself.”

Reverently, Bia approached the manna. She paused to give the illusion of self-control, so that it didn’t look as if she was about to bury her face in all that deliciousness. But then she found herself genuinely appreciating the sheer artistry of Maya’s offering.

Yes, this definitely could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Maya placed a silver cocktail napkin on the counter next to Bia. She also produced a small crystal pitcher of water, a matching glass and a plate containing bread, crackers and apple slices.

“What is this?” Bia asked.

“These are the palate cleansers for the chocolate tasting,” Maya said. “To fully discern the differences between the chocolates, you must cleanse your palate between each tasting.”

Oh. Bia suddenly felt a little out of her element. “You treat chocolate like some people treat wine?”

“Pourquoi pas?” Maya asked.

“You’re right. Why not?”

“May I recommend that you start with the chocolates on the first tier? It has a lower percentage of cocoa and a milder taste. The chocolate on the upper tier will overpower those on the bottom. I suggest you let the chocolate melt on your tongue rather than chewing it, and in between different bites, enjoy a bit of apple or bread washed down by the water. That way you will taste all the nuances of each piece.”

Maya gestured to the plate and gave Bia a few more tips on how to proceed: to observe the chocolate, to smell it and to break it, feeling the way the pieces of solid chocolate snapped, before finally tasting it. Those were all indicators of good quality.

Finally, she said, “That is enough instruction. Please enjoy.”

Bia started to choose a chocolate from the bottom, but she paused. “Will there be a quiz when I’m finished?”

Maya laughed her perfect, crystal laugh. Bia breathed in deeply, savoring the mélange of scents from the plate. For the first time in a long time, a sense of peace and well-being washed over her.

“Only questions about which are your favorites,” Maya answered.

“It’s all gorgeous. I’m sure they will all be delicious.”

First, she selected what looked like a classic chocolate truffle dusted with cocoa powder. She bit into it, and flavor exploded on her tongue. She closed her eyes and had to make a conscious effort not to let a moan escape.

Oh, Maya was wrong. This chocolate didn’t simulate love; it was better. Way better. Better than kissing. Better than sex.

Oh, my God, I’m in public and I’m making virtual love to a French truffle. And I don’t care.

She opened her eyes, and her gaze automatically found the dessert plate. She was tempted to pluck up another piece—a handful—even before she had finished the first. Somehow she managed to restrain herself.

She popped the rest of the first truffle into her mouth. She had the same urge to moan over the chocolate. It was too good. So she quit fighting and gave in to the unadulterated pleasure.

Finally, after blissfully indulging in several pieces from each level, Bia forced herself to take a step back. She had to put some space between herself and her vice. If she didn’t, she was going to eat too much. Although, with the lingering flavors of chocolate, orange, cinnamon and cloves teasing her taste buds, that seemed unlikely. With one last wistful glance at the candy, she said, “That was delicious, Maya. I wish I could say I’d eaten myself sick, but I think I may want more later.”

“And you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

The two laughed like old friends.

“Your decor looks exquisite. Who did your decorating?”

Maya beamed. “Thank you. I did it myself. I tried to give the front of the house a similar feel to my shop in St. Michel. Similar, but maybe a touch more modern. More American. I wanted it to feel like home, since I will be spending a great deal of time here.”

“Let’s see,” Bia said, flipping through her reporter’s notebook, searching for the brief bio she’d gathered on Maya. “You’re from St. Michel in Europe. Are you moving to Celebration?”

Maya stopped, considering the question. “I will be here for the time being. Because my heart is telling me Celebration is where I belong right now, especially while I am getting the new location off the ground. I must make sure it does well.”

Bia jotted down more notes and anecdotes for use in her story. “Who is looking after your St. Michel shop while you’re away?”

“I have promoted my assistant, Grace, to the managerial position. If anyone knows the shop as well as I do, Grace does. I trust that the place is in good hands.”

Maya paused again, as if weighing her words. “As you can imagine, the Celebration location will need much tender loving care while I get the business off the ground.”

Bia nodded. “I’m curious, though. Why in the world did you choose Celebration, Texas, as the location of your first U.S. retail store? I mean, no offense to this town. It’s a great place. It’s my home. But of all the places in the world...why Celebration?”

Maya’s eyes shone as she regarded Bia, and for the first time Bia noticed that the older woman’s eyes were a gorgeous shade of hazel infused with intriguing flecks of amber and green, accentuated by the color of her skirt. The same mossy color was also echoed in the silk scarf that she had artfully arranged around her neck. Leave it to the French, Bia mused. They could create something enchanted out of a yard of silk and a bolt of tulle.

Maya’s hair was magical, too. Bia’s hair, when left to its natural devices, was almost as curly as Maya’s. But Bia straightened hers since it never wanted to do the same thing twice. A few months ago, she’d opted for a keratin treatment so she wouldn’t have to fight with it during the humid days of summer. It was only May, but the oppressive damp-heat days were already bearing down on them, as if someone were misting the entire town with a gigantic vaporizer. At this rate, by the time August rolled around, humidity would hang in the air like a billowing stratus cloud. Thanks to the magic of keratin, at least Bia’s hair was armed and ready to take on the summer...and the pregnancy.

Oh...the pregnancy.

She swallowed hard and blinked away the thought.

“Why Celebration?” Bia urged.

She looked up from her notepad and caught Maya staring at her with an odd expression. In an instant the look was gone, replaced by Maya’s placid, Madonna-like smile.

“I have...friends here. Do you know Pepper Meriweather, A. J. Sherwood-Antonelli and Caroline Coopersmith?” Maya asked.

“I know Caroline. Her husband, Drew Montgomery, is my boss.”

Maya gave a quick flick of her wrist. “Of course he is. Well, I met Caroline, A.J. and Pepper through a mutual friend who went to school with them. This was a few years ago, before any of them were married. They’d come to St. Michel to help another friend. Margeaux Broussard? Do you know her?”

Bia shook her head and continued to furiously scribble notes as Maya talked.

“Anyhow,” Maya continued, “the girls had come to St. Michel with Margeaux to help her make amends with her father, from whom she’d been estranged for the better part of her life. Once they’d accomplished that mission, they returned to Celebration, luring my good friend Sydney James away from St. Michel with the promise of a job with Texas Star Energy right here in Celebration.”

Bia raised her head and looked at Maya. She knew Sydney pretty well, since the woman had just married Miles Mercer. Miles was good friends with Bia’s best friend, Aiden Woods. The four of them got together a lot. Bia would’ve called it double dating if she and Aiden had been a couple, but they weren’t. She’d known him since kindergarten and cared too much about him to ruin their relationship by dating him.

“Texas Star Energy, huh?” Bia said.

Maya nodded and quirked a brow that seemed to indicate she knew all about the scandalous demise of the corrupt energy empire. Bia had been the reporter who had broken the story that had started the conglomerate’s unraveling. In fact, her investigative reporting and subsequent awards had helped her clinch the editorship of the paper after Drew Montgomery had decided to give up editing to focus more on the publishing end of the paper. But Texas Star was in the past. It was a can of worms Bia didn’t want to reopen.

“So, you followed your friends to Celebration?”

“Oh, mais non. It’s a little more complicated.” Maya pursed her lips. “At first, I visited them. I attended each of their weddings. In fact, some might say that I even had a hand in bringing each of them together with their soul mates.”

“You introduced them?”

Maya gave a noncommittal one-shoulder shrug. How very French her gestures were. But wait...hadn’t Drew met Caroline at a wedding...? Yes. It had been Caroline’s sister’s wedding. It had been right around the time that everything was coming to a head at Texas Star.

“Technically, non. I didn’t physically introduce them. It’s another complicated story, really.”

“You’re full of complicated stories, aren’t you? If you’d care to expound, I’m here to listen.... That’s what I do.”

Maya studied her as if she was deciding whether she would take Bia up on the offer of a listening ear.

“Well, I do love to talk.” Maya laughed, an infectious sound that made Bia smile.

“Over the years, the girls—Pepper, A.J. and Caroline—have become very dear to me. So, I’ve always looked out for them, and that’s how I had a hand in bringing them together with their soul mates.”

Again, Bia paused and looked up at the woman. Soul mates. There was that word again. Bia filed soul mates in the same category as happily ever after. She wasn’t sure she believed there was such a thing, especially after being left at the altar by the man who should’ve been her soul mate if there was such a thing. Nope, in her book, love was an urban legend. People talked about it. Some even claimed to have experienced it, but real love—the kind that grafted your soul to another person’s for better or worse, the type that could withstand bleached-blonde strippers and the relentless paparazzi—had managed to elude Bia her entire life.

Actually, she’d read somewhere that soul mates weren’t always lovers. Sometimes they were parent and child, sometimes best friends. If that were true, the closest thing to a soul mate she’d ever had was Aiden. Their relationship had survived some pretty treacherous hurdles. It had actually transcended sex. That’s probably why it worked. They hadn’t ruined things by getting physical.

God knew there had been plenty of times Bia had been tempted to give in to his charm. The guy was gorgeous—in a more rugged and down-to-earth way than Hugh’s pretty-boy looks. Women found Aiden irresistible. Since college, he’d had a constant rotation of babes. None of them serious.

Then he’d gotten married. It had lasted two years before they’d called it quits and he’d reverted back to his freewheeling ways.

He wouldn’t talk about what had happened. All he would say was that he hadn’t cheated. “It just didn’t work out.”

His smorgasbord of women had been the main reason Bia had kept Aiden in the friend zone. Well, that and the fact that he’d thrown the bachelor party that ended with the stripper that had broken up her engagement.

Still, despite all Aiden’s faults, Duane and Hugh were long gone, and Aiden was still there.

She put her hand on her stomach. And he would be the first person she told about the baby.

“...and I came to Celebration to see each one of them say I do,” Maya continued. “Each time I visited, I was drawn to this town. As time went on and I visited more, I knew there was a reason I was supposed to be here.”

For a moment, Maya looked wistful. Bia studied her, taking a mental snapshot and hoping she could somehow convey Maya’s mood in the article.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

A warm smile reclaimed Maya’s delicate features. “At home, in St. Michel, I’m known as un marieur.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Bia.

“A matchmaker. I am a third-generation chocolatier by trade, but matchmaking, you might say, is my passion. Some people believe my chocolate is magical.”

Bia stopped writing and looked up. The cinnamon and clove from the last piece of chocolate still lingered on the back of her tongue.

“So, you’re telling me your chocolate is enchanted? What? Do you sprinkle in love potions or something?”

“I would claim nothing of the sort. My chocolate is all natural. Everything is on the label, except for a few proprietary blends.”

“The love potions?”

Maya raked her hands through her hair. “Oh, I should not have said that. Please don’t print that in the profile.”

“Why not? It will probably drive business through the roof. Everyone wants love.”

Well, almost everyone.

As if confirming Bia’s thoughts, Maya did her one-shoulder French shrug.

“What?” Bia asked. “You don’t believe that?”

“I do believe there is someone for everyone. You, for instance. You’ve had your share of setbacks, but there’s someone for you. In fact, you’ve already met him.”

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. If she was going to start asking about the Hugh Newman debacle, Bia would shut that down very quickly. Instead of waiting to get caught in the pickle, she turned the tables.

“Is there someone special in your life?”

Maya paused and drew in a slow, thoughtful breath.

Ha. It’s not so comfortable to be on the receiving end of the dating game rapid-fire, is it?

“Alas, even though my intuition is generally good when it comes to pairing up others, it doesn’t work so well for me personally.”

“So, does this intuitive gift of yours carry over into other areas? Would you go as far as saying you have the gift of second sight?”

Maya laughed. “If I had the second sight, I would’ve already won the lottery. I wouldn’t be agonizing over rollout budgets and marketing campaigns. But that’s strictly off the record, oui?”

“Fair enough,” said Bia. “Back to the business of chocolate. I understand this is the first of two new Maya’s Chocolates that you’re opening stateside. Where will the other location be?”

“I want to get the one here in Celebration off the ground, and then I’ll look into opening another, possibly in New York. However, it’s important that I ensure the fiscal health of the current locations. Especially the one in St. Michel. That’s where my grandmother started the business. It has been a fixture in downtown St. Michel for three generations. All of the recipes have been passed down through the years from mother to daughter.”

“And will you continue the tradition?”

Maya nodded.

“Do you have children?”

For a fraction of a second, Bia thought she saw a shade of sadness color Maya’s eyes.

“Come with me,” Maya said. “I want to show you something.”

The woman led the way to the kitchen, which was hidden behind a double-layered curtain made of silver gossamer backed by heavy white satin. When Maya parted the drapes, allowing Bia her first glimpse behind the scenes, Bia half expected she would glimpse the great and powerful Oz or some other secret to which mere mortals weren’t privy. If they were, wouldn’t every chocoholic have her own in-home chocolatier?

But when Bia stepped over the threshold, she didn’t see anything that looked extraordinary. In fact, the kitchen, with its sterile stainless-steel countertops and run-of-the-mill industrial sink, refrigerator and gas range, looked quite...ordinary. Well, with the exception of the gleaming copper pots hanging on a rack over the sink, and the adorable pink-and-black box that was festively tied with a ribbon and waiting on the counter. Bia eyed the package.

It looked like a box of Maya’s famous chocolate.

For her to take home? She had to bite her tongue to keep from asking the question out loud.

As if Maya had read her mind, she picked up the package and handed it to Bia. “This is for you.”

“Ah, thank you,” Bia said.

She gestured around the kitchen with a motion of her hand. “So this is where the magic happens?”

Pride straightened Maya’s already admirable posture. “Oui. My mother and grandmother passed on those copper pots over there. That’s what I wanted to show you. The recipes are proprietary, guarded jealously and handed down through the generations with the copper pots and the family Bible, from mother to daughter to granddaughter.”

She walked over and took down one of the three gleaming vessels, running the pads of her manicured fingers lovingly over its shiny surface. “My grandmother gave them to my mother, and, in turn, my mother gave them to me. Everything in this shop is brand-new, but I brought these with me as a symbol of the past, to remind me of the importance of family. I use them to make special smaller batches. Personal chocolates. Like those you sampled earlier and the box you will take home.”

“Thank you,” Bia said.

But the burning question, the one that Maya had quite deftly skirted, was the one about children. While Bia hated to assume, she couldn’t bring herself to press Maya for an answer. Wasn’t it obvious? If Maya had an heir, she would’ve said so. Judging by the look on her face when Bia had originally asked the question, she knew she’d struck a nerve. No, it was definitely better not to go there.

“Your grandmother founded the business? She named it Maya’s Chocolates?”

“She did.”

“So, you were named after the family business?”

“No, I was named after my grandmother. Her name was also Maya.”

A bittersweet taste caught in the back of Bia’s throat, replacing the cinnamon and cloves. How lucky Maya was to be so connected to her past. It was a luxury that might not be afforded to Bia, unless she chose to go out searching for the woman who’d given her up all those years ago. Would it really be worth it? Walking into someone’s life, disrupting—or possibly upending—the world to which they’d become accustomed?

If an attempted reconnection ended in rejection, maybe it would be better to leave well enough alone. She’d had a happy childhood with a father who’d done his darnedest to give her the best life he was capable of giving. Maybe there was something wrong with wanting any more than that.

She put her hand on her stomach. If Bia could get blind health records from the adoption agency, maybe it would serve everyone best to look forward rather than backward.

“Do you have extended family who will carry on the Maya’s Chocolates tradition in the future?”

“That remains to be seen.”

There was that look again. Bia glimpsed it before Maya turned away to hang up the copper pot.

She was just about to ask Maya to clarify the remains to be seen comment, when a patch of cold sweat erupted on the back of Bia’s neck. She tugged at the neckline of her dress. Good grief, it felt as if someone had turned up the heat in the kitchen at least twenty degrees. A dizzying wave of nausea passed over her, and she grabbed on to the edge of the counter to steady herself.

Maya reached out and touched Bia’s arm. “Are you all right? Let me get you some water and a chair so you can sit down.”

Maya pulled over a wrought-iron chair from a small glass-topped table for two that stood in the corner of the kitchen. Bia had been so busy ogling the box of chocolates she hadn’t noticed the dining set until now. Shaking, she lowered herself onto the seat. What the heck was wrong with her? She’d heard of morning sickness, but it was midafternoon. This was ridiculous. She’d just have to power through. She had so much to do she didn’t have time for the indulgence of a sick day. As she’d done since she’d first felt the symptoms, she made the choice to buck up and push through.

Mind over matter. She always managed to feel better when she decided not to think about how she felt, not to give in.

Maya returned with some ice water. Bia gratefully accepted it and took a sip. She pressed the cool glass to her forehead. It helped.

How embarrassing was this? She took a deep breath and reminded herself she just needed to tie up loose ends for the article and then she could leave. She might even work from home for the rest of the day as she wrote the story.

“Thank you, Maya. I’m sorry about the interruption. I’m just feeling a little light-headed.”

Maya walked over and put a cool hand on Bia’s cheek. The breach of personal space was a little startling, but at the same time, it was sort of touching.

“No fever,” Maya said. “Here, give me your hand.”

Bia hesitated for a moment, then complied. Maya held Bia’s hand. If the hand on the cheek had been a little weird, this made Bia want to squirm. But the thought of moving caused a new wave of nausea to crest.

“Any chance you could be pregnant?” Maya asked with the same casual tone she might use if she were asking if Bia had ever tasted chocolate-dipped bacon.

Bia jerked her hand away from Maya’s and tried to stand up, but the rush of blood to her head landed her right back on the chair—hard.

“That’s a very personal question,” Bia insisted as alarms sounded in her head: Maya and her intuition. But what audacity for the woman to even suggest something like that to someone she barely knew?

Bia stood, this time more carefully. “I need to go.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Maya said. “Please know everything is going to be okay. You have to believe that—”

“I’m just under the weather,” Bia said, a little too irritably. “It’s nothing to be alarmed about.”

Bia turned to leave but dropped her notebook as she tried to hitch her purse up on her shoulder.

Maya swooped down and retrieved the notebook before Bia could reach it. “Bia, I’m sorry.” Maya handed it to her. Bia took it with a quick jerk of the hand. “Really. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll have Nicole Harrison call you if we need anything else for the article.”

Maya nodded solemnly. “Please forgive me if I have overstepped my bounds. But I have to say this. Please know you and the baby are going to be okay. Hugh Newman may be the father of your child, but there is another man who will love you and your baby the way you deserve to be loved. And that’s not all.”

“Oh, yes it is,” Bia said, backing away.

“Your family cares about you deeply and will rally around you during your pregnancy. You have absolutely nothing to fear.”

Okay, this is the last straw. Who does this woman think she is bringing my family into this, as she spouts her woo-woo nonsense pretending like she knows what’s going on? She obviously has no idea what she’s talking about.

But if so, how did she know Bia was pregnant and that Hugh was the father? Conjecture? A lucky guess?

“This is none of your business,” Bia said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop with the advice.”

Maya’s face turned scarlet. As Bia passed through the curtains into the front of the shop, Maya said, “Bia, I’m sorry. I would never say or do anything to hurt you. Not on purpose.”

Bia stopped and whirled around, looking Maya in the eyes. “Hurt me? You don’t even know me. So please stop talking like you do. Stay out of my business, okay? Stay out of mine, and I will certainly stay out of yours.”