His Baby Dream. Jacqueline Diamond

or children without telling her. True, knowing where they came from and seeing Harper’s positive traits in them would relieve Peter’s concerns about using eggs from a stranger. And there might be advantages to having them meet their biological mother and half sister.

      But the situation would be fraught with danger. Emotions were unpredictable. If he and Harper were to get involved and then break up, the consequences for the kids could be devastating.

      Although she appeared the best match for him at Safe Harbor’s egg bank, the director had assured Peter that he could also access the registries of other banks in the region. And that, he concluded reluctantly, was what he had to do.

      Chapter Four

      Steam from the outdoor whirlpool transformed the enclosure, with its mesh safety fence, into a secluded hideaway, an impression enhanced by the border of rosebushes and hibiscuses. Peter leaned back and let the heated swirl of water soothe his muscles.

      “Worn-out from all that heavy-duty exercise?”

      He cracked one eyelid in response to his father’s sarcasm. Rod Gladstone was grinning, white teeth and silver hair a marked contrast to his tanned skin.

      “Some of us try to actually move around and hit the ball when we play Ping-Pong,” Peter retorted. “Which might explain why I beat you four-one.”

      “If I didn’t have a bum knee...”

      “I’d have beaten you four-one at tennis instead of Ping-Pong,” Peter finished. “However, I’d be willing to adjust the score in deference to your great age and infirmity.”

      “Sixty-eight is not a great age. I can still do this.” With the heel of his hand, Rod sent hot water spraying over Peter.

      Spluttering, he was about to respond in kind when his mother’s voice broke in. “Children, children.” Widening her eyes with mock horror, Kerry Gladstone set down her tablet computer on the small glass table near the spa.

      Peter refrained. “Grow up, Dad.”

      “Guess I’d better, considering I’m about to be a grandfather.”

      “Not that soon,” Peter grumbled. His parents had returned yesterday from their trip, and while he’d been glad for their impromptu invitation to a late-Sunday-afternoon barbecue, he was in no mood to be pressured.

      “Rod!” Kerry cast a longing eye at the computer, her favorite tool for her beloved genealogy research, but left it shut. “I thought we agreed our news could wait.”

      “What news?” Peter asked.

      “She’s right about waiting.” Rod rose, dripped heavily onto his son and stepped from the pool. “That chicken should be done by now. I marinated it with a new recipe we got from Betty.”

      Peter had to admit, the scent of chicken grilling with garlic and oranges made it hard to concentrate. Still, he felt as if he’d missed a clue, or several. “Since when does my sister cook?” An ambitious lawyer, Betty worked hundred-hour weeks for a firm in Washington, D.C., commuting from her home in nearby Maryland. “What’s up, guys?”

      “It’s hard to have a conversation on an empty stomach,” Rod returned, drying off with an oversize towel.

      A tendency to tease was not one of his father’s more endearing traits, Peter thought as he hauled himself to dry land and grabbed his own towel. “Mom?” Kerry Gladstone had always been an easier mark.

      As anticipated, she yielded. “Rod, it’s not fair to keep him in suspense.”

      His father shrugged.

      “Nothing’s wrong, is it?” They’d already answered his questions about their trip—they liked Betty’s fiancé, a fellow attorney named Greg Southern, and the couple were planning a small wedding next month. Peter’s invitation should be arriving shortly.

      “Your sister’s pregnant,” Kerry said.

      Peter caught his breath. Betty, having a baby? His single-minded sister had resisted the very idea of motherhood. “So, uh...” he managed to say.

      “It was an accident, but a happy one now that she’s had time to consider.” Rod dropped his joking tone.

      “She’s due in January,” Kerry added. “She plans to take three months’ leave and then work on a reduced schedule.”

      “Which means sixty-hour weeks, right?” Peter knew his workaholic sister too well.

      Kerry and Rod exchanged glances. There was more, he gathered. “And?” Peter pressed.

      “It’s a girl,” his father said. “They haven’t picked a name.”

      Peter pinned his gaze on his mother. “And?” he repeated.

      She tucked the tablet into its case. “I can’t bear for my granddaughter to grow up in day care. Besides, Betty will need our support.” She stopped.

      Rod blew out a long breath. “Moving to Maryland wasn’t part of our retirement plans, but there’s a lot of exciting stuff to do in the area. The National Archives alone could take years to explore.”

      They were doing what? A hundred thoughts collided in Peter’s brain, sending up a wall of white noise.

      Having dropped their bombshell, his parents went to finish preparing the meal. Although it was dinnertime, July sunlight bathed their backyard with its flagstone patio and outdoor kitchen. For years, they’d poured loving care into this comfortable home in the Orange County town of Yorba Linda, nesting for their retirement. Now they were leaving it?

      More than that, they were leaving Peter. And his future children.

      On automatic, he helped set the table and fetched potato salad and coleslaw from the refrigerator. As they ate, his parents filled him in on their plans to sell the house, with the goal of settling into a new home before the baby’s birth.

      I was counting on you. He didn’t speak the words aloud, though. While his parents had more or less promised to help with his future family, Betty had an equal claim to their support. And she was pregnant, whereas he had no guarantees of what might happen.

      The chicken might have been delicious, but Peter hardly noticed. He had to focus on saying the right things and hiding the fact that he felt blindsided.

      What was he going to do?

      Finally his parents fell silent. Glancing in front of him, Peter was surprised to see he’d eaten a slice of apple pie. All he had to show for it was the lingering taste of cinnamon.

      “Well?” Kerry said.

      “I don’t think he heard the question,” Rod murmured.

      “What question?” Peter asked.

      “We asked if you’d consider moving, too.” Worry lines creased his mother’s face. With her strawberry-blond hair and trim figure, she didn’t usually look her sixty-seven years. Now, though, Peter registered how old she was becoming.

      He expected to be there for his parents, just as they’d always been here for him. Wasn’t it a son’s duty to help his folks as they aged, assisting with medical and financial choices? But a pair of lawyers were better qualified to do that than he was.

      “I can’t.” That was Peter’s first reaction, and the more he thought about it, the less he could see any way around it. “It’s not as if I can just pick up and land another job.”

      “It’s not impossible,” his father said. “They have schools in Maryland.”

      “It isn’t that easy.” Each state had its own requirements for a teaching credential. That might require taking classes, delaying his job prospects. Moreover, the situation would set back his quest to have children by at least a year. “I’d have to start all over with finding a fertility program and interviewing surrogates. And the delay...well,