And Babies Make Five / At Long Last, a Bride: And Babies Make Five. Judy Duarte

do so.

      A car engine started up, and Samantha backed her Jag out of the garage and into the street. Then she hit the remote to lower the door.

      As she spotted Hector, she waved, and he gave her a nod.

      No doubt she was a nice woman. And if a man got involved with her, he’d certainly have to settle down. After all, he’d soon have a little one underfoot.

      But taking on a ready-made family?

      Hector wasn’t up for the task, especially when it meant raising another man’s baby.

      Samantha had decided to get the visit to her mother out of the way early, since she’d be thinking about it all day if she didn’t.

      So after Hector came by and offered to take out her trash, she’d driven twenty-three miles to Hastings, where her mother had been born. Then she continued on to the little cemetery on the outskirts of town.

      She parked and purchased a bouquet of pink roses from a vendor who sold flowers and pinwheels for people to place on grave sites. Then she made the short walk to the grassy knoll where her mother had been buried. Once she reached the familiar marble stone, with its carved cherubs, she took a seat on the lawn, which was still damp from the morning dew. There weren’t many people out and about yet—just two women bearing a container of red carnations and a lone man in front of a double-size headstone, a baseball cap in his hands and his head bowed.

      Birds chattered in the treetops, and a family of ducks swam in the nearby pond, reminding Samantha that life went on.

      She sat in pensive solitude for a while, basking in the loving memories she had of her mother.

      She remembered the day they’d spent at the seashore when she was fourteen. The picnic lunch they’d eaten, their romp in the waves, the sandcastle they’d made. The chat they’d had about Samantha remaining a virgin until the right man came along, a man who would treat her with love and respect.

      Several years later, while in her first year of college, she’d found that man in Peter Keating, a graduate student. He’d fallen for her quickly—and hard. With time and patience, he’d eventually convinced her that they were meant to be together.

      Peter had adored her in a way most women only dreamed about, and at times she’d felt guilty for not quite loving him as much as he deserved. She’d talked about it to her mother once, about feeling as though there was something missing.

      But her mom insisted it would come with time. And she’d gone on to ask, “Do you know how many women would give their left arms to be loved by a man like Peter Keating?”

      Her mom had been right; it had come with time. Not the spark, but contentment and the realization that she’d done the right thing by marrying him.

      She thought about her wedding day, when Mama had sat in the front row at the church, wearing a blue designer dress Peter had purchased for her. She’d looked every bit as elegant as the Keatings and their wealthy, high-society friends.

      “This is the happiest day of my life,” her mom had said, her glimmering eyes the same shade as her dress. “You have no idea how relieved I am to know you’ll never want for anything.”

      And she hadn’t. Peter had made sure that her life was picture-book perfect. And thanks to her quick thinking at his bedside five years ago, he’d even provided her with a family.

      “Just think,” Samantha said softly, hoping her words would somehow reach her mom’s ears. “In less than five months I’m going to be a mother myself.”

      Or sooner than that, she realized, as she recalled what Dr. Demetrios had said about triplets coming early.

      A monarch butterfly fluttered by, as if carrying her mother’s happy response, and eventually landed on a dandelion nearby.

      “I wish you could be here to see the babies when they come,” Samantha said. “We would have had so much fun fixing up the nursery, shopping for baby clothes and waiting for their arrival.”

      She had Peter’s mother, though. But somehow she couldn’t imagine Marian Keating in a grandmother role, rocking the babies or changing their diapers. She’d be more apt to offer to pay for a nanny—one she interviewed herself and hired based upon credentials and references.

      However, Samantha was going to be a hands-on mother, like hers had been. Of course, she was going to need help with the triplets at first. To be honest, she was a little apprehensive about bringing home not just one but three newborns.

      “Don’t worry,” she whispered, her voice coming out a little louder than before, a little more confident. “I’ll read everything I can get my hands on about childcare and parenting. And I’ll hire help until I’m comfortable doing it all on my own.”

      For some reason, Hector came to mind. He’d been so helpful the past couple of days, and she’d been so lonely. He’d stepped in when she’d needed a friend the most, and she found herself thinking about him more often than not.

      “I met a man,” she whispered. “He’s been really sweet.”

      She thought about Hector’s intense brown eyes, his square-cut jaw, his broad shoulders …

      On more than one occasion, she’d imagined that she’d felt a spark—or at least the hint of one. The kind of spark she’d waited for with Peter, one that, if she was being totally honest, had never quite materialized.

      “Actually,” she added, trying to put everything into perspective in an imaginary chat with her mother, “Hector is my neighbor.”

      But the trouble was, Samantha could easily imagine him being more than a neighbor, more than a friend. But she didn’t dare voice that thought out loud.

      Not even if her mom had actually been sitting beside her.

      While perusing wallpaper samples in stacks of books at several different decorating stores, Samantha found quite a few that she liked. She narrowed it down to four, any of which would be darling. But one struck her as perfect. It was a farmyard print, with green and yellow tractors, red barns with silos, and the cutest little chickens and ducks she’d ever seen. She would have placed an order immediately, if she hadn’t promised to let Hector help her make the final choice.

      He’d been so nice to her the past couple of days, and he’d said that looking at wallpaper would be fun. So, after the kindnesses he’d shown her, how could she not include him in making the final selection?

      So she asked to take several samples, as well as a combination of paint chips, home with her so she could show them to him. Then she set an appointment to have someone from the store come and measure the bedroom walls next Tuesday. She was really looking forward to decorating the nursery.

      By the time she stopped for a late lunch at the 1950’s–style Coach House Diner and finished running the rest of her errands, it was nearly four-thirty. So she didn’t get home until a quarter after five.

      She parked her Jag in the garage, then carried her shopping bags into the house and put away her purchases. She couldn’t wait to spread out the wallpaper and paint samples on the kitchen table. She still preferred the farm pattern, but she’d wait to hear what Hector had to say.

      If she had his phone number, she would have given him a call to see if he was home yet. As it was, she walked next door and rang the bell.

      When he answered, her breath caught. But not because she’d been surprised to see him home. She just hadn’t expected to see him so laid back.

      He was barefoot and wearing a pair of cargo shorts but no shirt. And while she tried her best to focus on those whiskey-brown eyes, she couldn’t keep her eyes off his broad chest and well-defined abs.

      Had he forgotten they were going to look over wallpaper when he got home?

      “Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”

      Okay, so he had forgotten. Now what?

      As