Currant Creek Valley(48)
“Thanks for dropping everything to come over.”
“You know I’m here whenever you need somebody to eat your delicious concoctions. It’s a sacrifice, but you know me. I’m all about my family.”
“You’re a giver, Maur.”
Her sister laughed as she bundled Henry into a cute little denim jacket and hefted him into her arms, where he promptly laid his head on her shoulder, perfectly content in the arms of his mother.
Again, that old pain tugged at Alex’s heart but she ignored it with the ease of long practice.
She returned to the kitchen, where Claire sat alone, leafing through a culinary arts magazine she had left on the table.
“Where’s Mom?” she asked.
Claire gestured to the French doors. “She walked out to your patio to take a phone call. I was assuming it was Harry, since they were all lovey-dovey.”
“Eww.”
“I think it’s wonderful,” Claire said. “Your mom’s been alone a long time. She deserves to find someone who treats her so well, after all these years.”
“I guess.”
Claire had plenty of experience dealing with Riley’s reaction, who also felt squeamish about his mother’s relationship with Harry, and she was wise enough to deftly change the subject. “This was so fun today. Thanks for the invite. I hate that we never have time to hang out lately.”
Some of that was Alex’s fault, she knew, because of her hectic schedule and the late hours she had to work in the restaurant business.
Some was simply the inevitable fact that Claire was busy with two—soon to be three—children, the bead store she owned and her husband.
“Once the restaurant opens and things settle a little, I’m sure we’ll be able to find a little more time.”
“But then I’ll have a new baby,” Claire pointed out. “You certainly remember how crazy that was.”
“Not really. I wasn’t here, remember?”
“Right. You were off having your grand adventure in Europe.”
She forced a smile as she transferred the leftovers to the many containers that filled her cupboards for that very purpose. Grand adventure. Right. After a dozen years, she still didn’t have any intention of telling her loved ones otherwise.
“I’m actually glad we have a minute alone,” Claire said, her voice a little hesitant. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
“Sure,” she said absently as she separated the dozen or so brownies and packaged them individually in cling film. Caroline Bybee loved them. She could freeze them individually and stick a few in her freezer next time she stopped by for a special treat.
“Riley and I would like you to be the baby’s godmother.”
The words seeped through her consciousness and she set down the spatula. Godmother. Good heavens.
“I... Really?” She stared. “Come on. Be serious. You honestly think I’m the best one to be a guide and example to your baby?”
“Who better?”
She could think of a couple dozen others. “What about Angie? Or Maura, for that matter? They’ve done a fine job with your other kids, haven’t they?”
“You’re my best friend, Alex. You weren’t around when I had either of my other kids. You’re finally home now and it would mean so much to both Ri and me if you would consider it.”
Another obligation that threatened to overwhelm her. All these babies. Sometimes her arms ached with it.
But, just like Maura had joked, she was all about her family. “Of course,” she answered after a moment’s hesitation. “It can’t be much harder than being the favorite aunt and I’ve had plenty of practice there.”
Claire laughed and hugged her. “Yes. Yes, you have. Thank you, my dear. You’ve taken a big weight off my mind.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied, just as the doorbell chimed through her house.
“Maura must have forgotten something.” Claire looked around. “One of Henry’s toys or a bottle or something.”
“She knows she doesn’t need to ring the doorbell, for heaven’s sake,” Alex exclaimed, hurrying to answer.
When she opened it, she found not her sister but a very cute, curly-haired boy with big blue eyes and his father’s long lashes.
“Hi, Alex. How are you this afternoon?”
She smiled at his formal, polite greeting. “Hello, Ethan! I’m fine. And how are you?”
“Great. Hi,” he greeted Claire. “My name is Ethan Delgado. I just turned seven years old. My dad and I live down the street.”
Claire shook the small hand he held out, swallowing her own smile. “Hi, Ethan. Nice to meet you. I’m Claire McKnight.”