The Fertility Factor. Jennifer Mikels

one residence for a while.” Rose gave him a weak smile. “I’ll tell him when it’s almost time for me to leave.”

      Joey deserved better than what they were giving him.

      Derek couldn’t get that thought out of his head. He left the hospital and crossed the street. He had a three-o’clock appointment at Manhattan Multiples with a woman who’d recently received the news she was expecting three or maybe four babies.

      Inside the center, he rode the elevator to the third floor. Rose would explain to Joey what was happening. A simplistic solution. Nothing was that simple. If Joey was upset, he’d come to Derek for answers. And children were resilient. At an early age hadn’t he learned how to handle disappointment?

      “Dr. Cross, you have a call on line two,” the appointment clerk said as he strode by.

      With a nod, he hurried into his office and grabbed the telephone from his desk. “Derek, it’s your father.”

      Annoyance rose within him in a flash. What could his father possibly want?

      “I’ll be in town for a few days. I thought we could meet.”

      “Where are you now?”

      “I’m in Acapulco.”

      He’d thought his father was in Europe with wife number four. Alone? Derek wanted to ask, but why bother? He’d never really known his father’s last wife.

      “I’ll call you when I get in,” his father added before hanging up.

      Brief, to the point. All of their conversations were the same. Why the stopover in New York? It had been years since they’d seen each other.

      Even before his mother had died, he’d never known the love and affection from his parents that Lara felt from hers. Maybe that was why envy had fluttered inside him when she’d talked about her family. Dumb thinking, he decided. His family was Joey now. His son was all he needed.

      The moment Lara entered the center, Josie and Carrie cornered her. “We have a plan.”

      “For you,” Carrie said, pointing a finger at her.

      Lara stopped at the front desk to scan the next hour’s appointments. Oh, great. “What plan?”

      “For your problem. You know about—” Nearby footsteps silenced her.

      Derek nodded his head in their direction, then settled at a counter nearby and scribbled notations on a patient’s chart. Few could decipher his chicken scratch. Lara numbered among those few.

      Carrie whispered, “I’ve talked to several of the nurses who work at the center and the hospital and friends you have here. We’ve decided your problem is real.”

      Lara slanted a look at Derek. She’d swear the edge of his lips had twitched in a grin at that announcement.

      “So we’ll help.”

      “Help?” Lara decided she’d better concentrate on Carrie. “Help how?” If standing on a street corner and wearing one of those signs that would advertise for a husband was part of their plan, she was refusing.

      She was thankful Derek had chosen that moment to leave. He stood at the end of the hallway, talking to his ex-wife. Possibly he still had feelings for her. Perhaps that’s why he’d avoided involvement with other women.

      “We’re all—”

      “How many of you are there?” Lara asked Carrie.

      “Eight. We’re going to hunt among friends—male friends—and our relatives to help you find your Mr. Right.”

      “Wait—” What was she going to say? Don’t do this. Why? This was exactly what she needed if she was serious about having a baby. She’d depleted her own resources for an interesting man, someone she’d want to spend the rest of her life with. Because despite the urgency she felt about having children, she wouldn’t act impulsively. Mancinis married for keeps.

      On the stairwell, they joined Allison Baker. “Eloise announced she’s going to throw a small fund-raiser this month for Manhattan Multiples.”

      “I don’t understand how the mayor can even consider cutting funds to us,” Carrie said as they entered the staff lounge.

      Lara agreed. The center provided prenatal care, counseling service, fertility specialists, day care, yoga classes and meditation for mothers-to-be. While Lara liked the mayor, she wondered if Bill Harper’s motives for making Eloise’s life miserable weren’t personal. She’d heard gossip that they had had a past. Lara didn’t know if that was true.

      “I’d love to go to the fund-raiser,” Carrie said.

      Josie shook her head. “I doubt we’d provide the kind of donations Eloise is looking for.”

      “Too bad,” Carrie murmured. “It would be an excuse to buy a new black dress.”

      Josie shrugged. “I don’t own one.”

      “You look wonderful in what you do wear,” Lara said because Josie leaned toward denim everything.

      Josie beamed back.

      Inside the staff lounge, a crowd had gathered around a small television screen in a corner.

      The mayor was being interviewed by a local news station reporter. A tall, lanky man with salt-and-pepper hair, Bill Harper had the bluest eyes Lara had ever seen. He smiled slowly. “If Eloise Vale really believes I’m doing this to her center for personal reasons, we need to talk. If she has the courage to face me,” he said smiling.

      “Eloise won’t be pleased,” Allison said, suddenly, joining them. “That was as good as a dare.” Allison’s chin-length, auburn hair swung with the shake of her head. “I feel so badly for her.” People all over the city are poking fun at the feud between Eloise and the mayor.”

      Lara stared at the television. The mayor and Eloise put on their happy faces for the public, but Lara couldn’t help wondering if there wasn’t more behind the feud.

      After leaving them, Lara returned to the second floor and slipped a patient folder into the slot on the door outside an examining room, then strolled back to another room.

      The mother-to-be wasn’t showing yet. Still slender, she offered a weak smile, though she looked pasty. “I’m told the nausea will pass soon.”

      Lara touched her arm. “It will.”

      While the woman wandered down a corridor toward an exit, Lara went into the examining room. She hadn’t expected to see Derek still there. She prayed for no awkward moments between them.

      “She needs iron supplements,” he said without looking up from the sheet of paper before him. He yawned, then cast a grin her way.

      “You’re tired?” Her voice wasn’t quite steady even to her own ears.

      “Late delivery last night. I’m used to no sleep.”

      To avoid meeting his eyes or seeing that grin, she stared at his hands, strong yet gentle. She’d seen them touch with care, caress a baby’s head, bring new life into this world. She’d felt their strength and tenderness. “You’d have more time if you didn’t spend so much time at Manhattan Multiples,” she said to focus on something else.

      “So would you.”

      Leaning back in the chair, he looked so comfortable with the moment between them. She wasn’t. An undercurrent of awareness rippled through her whenever she looked into those eyes. “The center is so vital to the community.” She wondered if he felt an inkling of anything when he looked at her. “I hate the idea that they might cut funds to it.” She believed a woman in a high-risk pregnancy with twins or higher-order multiples needed the special attention the multifaceted center offered.

      “Too bad you and I can’t convince the powers that be.” He made another notation on the