Pregnancy Countdown. Linda Wisdom Randall

have easily graced an antique cameo. Tan leather strappy sandals graced narrow arched feet with toes tinted the same red as the embroidery in her skirt and blouse. An equally narrow waist was cinched with a soft leather belt.

      “Thank you, Paige,” Nora said, grateful for the interruption.

      “She is so different from Renee,” Ginna commented, mentioning the receptionist who had worked at the front desk until just before Ginna’s wedding.

      Nora nodded. “Paige is twenty-three and a graduate of Vassar who’s trying to decide what to do with her life. Her father is a producer at Warner Bros. and her mother designs jewelry that starts at five figures and she’s a close friend of the spa’s owner, CeCe. Paige’s ancestry goes back five generations in this state. Her great-great-grandfather was a senator and an aunt a couple generations back was in the Ziegfeld Follies. The woman later married a railroad magnate,” Nora replied. “CeCe said Paige needed to find her true self and she would be able to do it here. She’s a real sweetheart, to boot.”

      “Good thing I snagged Zach before he got a look at Miss Way-Too-Good-To-Be-True,” Ginna said dryly. “Otherwise, I would have had to kill him to make sure he didn’t talk to her.”

      “I doubt that would have happened. He was hooked from the first second he saw you. He even admitted it.”

      Ginna grinned. “Yeah, I did look really good that day.” She waved her hands at Nora. “All right, escape to your client. I’ll corner you later and find out what’s happened while I was gone.” She heaved a theatrical sigh. “It’s not fair. I go away for a few weeks and I miss out on all the fun.”

      “Somehow I doubt you thought about any of us while you were gone,” Nora teased as she fled.

      For the next hour, Nora was relieved only to have to listen to her beloved client’s stories about past alien abduction.

      “I know you think I’m cuckoo, dear, but I don’t mind.” Mrs. Crockett patted Nora’s hand after Nora finished styling her snowy-white hair. “My friends certainly think that, although they’re nice enough not to say so out loud. I appreciate you being so sweet and listening to me prattle on.”

      “You don’t prattle. You use such vivid imagery when you tell me about your adventures, I think you should write about them,” Nora urged her. “There are magazines out there that would publish your stories.”

      Mrs. Crockett’s eyes twinkled merrily. “Actually, I have written a few tales,” she admitted in her whispery-soft voice. “In fact, I would love it if you would read one of my little stories.” She dug into her briefcase-size black purse and pulled out several sheets of paper.

      Nora took them from her. “I’m flattered you’re asking me,” she said honestly.

      “You don’t have to be kind with your critique, dear.” The elderly woman patted her arm. “But I would be interested in your response.”

      “I’ll read it before I see you next week,” Nora promised.

      She watched the elderly woman walk toward the front of the salon where an equally elderly man sat on one of the soft-cushioned couches. His wrinkled face lit up in a smile as she approached him. The two walked out together, arm in arm.

      “I thought Mrs. Crockett was a widow,” Ginna commented, following the direction of Nora’s gaze.

      “She is. That’s Harold, her boyfriend,” she explained. “She told me she likes to call him her boyfriend because he makes her feel seventeen again. It seems they were high-school sweethearts, had a fight back then and they broke up. They didn’t run into each other again until a few years ago. Both spouses are gone and they decided to give it one more try.”

      “How adorable! Did she ever say what the fight was about?”

      Nora chuckled. “He wanted them to be intimate, she told him no. Sixty years later, they’re living together. She said she hasn’t told her mother she’s living in sin. The woman would be horrified.”

      “You mean her mother’s still alive?”

      “She’s ninety-eight and going strong. She lives in Leisure World in Laguna Niguel.”

      “And now Mrs. Crockett is writing stories about her alien visitors?” Ginna eyed the papers with curiosity.

      Nora nodded as she held up the papers. “For the past sixty years they’ve met for brunch at one of the hotels in Newport Beach. She’s never said which one.”

      “Since your next appointment is here and I have a free hour, may I read the story?” Ginna’s glance focused on the papers.

      Nora handed them to her. “Don’t tell me the ending.”

      As she worked that afternoon, Nora found herself looking toward the front every now and then. Did she expect Mark to walk through the door and declare that she was the only one for him? Was that why she’d spent the past few nights picking up her phone every now and then to make sure it was working? Or looking out the window every time Brumby gave one of his rumbling barks? She was furious with herself for these feelings of expectation.

      After all, she was the one who’d told him that what they had was nothing more than sex. She didn’t want any ties between them. She didn’t want to expect more and have him fail her somewhere down the road. She had pretty much told him she would prefer he didn’t come back.

      “I am such a hypocrite,” she muttered to herself as she stood in the supply room selecting hair color.

      “Nora!” Ginna ran into the room. The papers Nora had given her were in her hand.

      Nora turned and noticed her friend’s high color. “What’s wrong?”

      Ginna carefully folded the papers in half then half again. “I suggest you stand in a cold shower when you read this.”

      “What?”

      Ginna laughed. “Trust me, Nora. This stuff is so hot it’s downright sizzling. Mrs. Crockett didn’t just write about her alien visitors, she wrote about their sexual practices. This makes the Kama Sutra sound like a grade-school textbook.”

      “Their what?”

      Ginna nodded. Her blue eyes danced with laughter. “We aren’t talking about little green men here either. We’re talking about guys with huge orange—” She gulped. “I can’t go on. The thing is, she writes an incredibly believable story. It doesn’t read like a joke.” She lowered her voice. “It reads like the truth.”

      Nora took the papers from her and tucked them into her skirt pocket. “No offense, Gin, but I think you honeymooned a little too hard.”

      “After I read her story I wanted to call up Zach and tell him to be ready, because I was going to jump his bones big-time when I get home,” Ginna admitted as she walked back to the door. “If she gives you any more stories, I want to read them!”

      Nora shook her head in disbelief. “Oh yes, the woman had way too much honeymoon,” she muttered under her breath.

      “HEADS UP, little brother.”

      Mark looked up at Jeff, who held out a can of beer. He accepted the icy can. “I just finished three straight games of dodgeball with twenty million kids. I’m discovering I’m getting too old for those games.” They were at their parents’ house for the family weekend barbecue.

      “You volunteered to be their first target,” Jeff reminded him. He dropped into the patio chair next to him. “So who are you looking for?”

      “Your hot-stuff wife. Who else?” Not for anything was he going to admit who he was really looking for.

      Mark knew Nora had a standing invitation to attend the weekend barbecues and any other party thrown by the Walkers. She’d still shown up once in a while even after they had broken up.

      It wasn’t until today that Mark realized Nora hadn’t been