The Baby Bonanza. Jacqueline Diamond

clean up afterward.

      “We could use the spare room as a nursery.” Lucky cast a meaningful gaze at Zora’s large belly. “If someone would inform her ex-husband that he’s about to be a father and owes child support, she could afford the extra space.”

      “Don’t start on her,” Karen warned, saving Zora the trouble. “Go set up the chairs in the living room.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” With a salute, Lucky strolled off. Zora tried to ignore the muscles rippling beneath his T-shirt and the tight fit of his jeans. The man was a self-righteous pain in the neck, no matter how good he looked.

      Surprisingly, he hadn’t brought home any dates since they’d moved into the house last February. Or none that she’d observed, Zora amended. Since Lucky occupied the downstairs suite, he could easily slip someone in late and out early without the others noticing. Men did things like that.

      “You can stop staring at his butt now,” Karen said dryly.

      “I wasn’t!”

      “You can lie to anyone else, including yourself, but spare me.” The older woman—forty-two to Zora’s twenty-nine—tightened the ponytail holder around her hair, which she’d dyed black this month. “Was that the kitchen timer?”

      “I didn’t hear anything.” Zora adjusted a gift-wrapped box with a slot for envelopes. The front read: Nanny Fund. They planned to share the services of a specialist nanny among the three new moms and their collective total of six infants. Well, they did work at a hospital noted for its fertility treatments, although only one of the pregnancies had high-tech origins.

      The timer buzzed. “There!” Karen said with satisfaction. “I knew it would sound any second.”

      “You must be psychic.” Zora waddled behind her past a table displaying shower-themed paper plates and napkins.

      “I have a well-developed sense of when food is done. Call it experience.” In the kitchen, Karen snatched pot holders from a hook and opened the oven, filling the air with the scents of orange and lemon, almonds and balsamic vinegar.

      Karen set the tins of Mediterranean muffins on the stove to cool. “I’d better start on the finger sandwiches. Only two hours before the guests are due, and I have to dress.” She tied an apron over her blouse and long, casual skirt.

      “I’ll finish the vegetables.” From the refrigerator, Zora removed the containers of celery, carrots and jicama that she’d cut up earlier, along with sour cream to mix for the dip and peanut butter to fill some of the celery sticks. “Would you get the olives and an onion soup packet from the pantry? I’m too big to squeeze in there.”

      “Gladly.” Karen angled her slender shape around the narrow bend that led to the storage area. “Just black olives, or green ones, too?”

      “Both.” Zora lowered herself onto a chair, grateful she could still reach the table around her abdomen. A railing underneath allowed her to prop up her swollen ankles, but nothing alleviated the strain on her lower back. It ached more each day.

      She hid her discomforts, determined to continue working as long as possible. Being an ultrasound tech meant standing on her feet all day and angling her midsection so she could scan the patients, but she was saving her paid maternity leave for after the twins’ birth. Two months left—if they didn’t arrive early.

      After retrieving the requested items, Karen spread out her sandwich fixings on the counter. Through the kitchen’s far door, Zora heard the scrape of folding chairs being opened and placed around the front room. She respected Lucky’s work ethic; he always pitched in with an upbeat attitude. If he could only master the art of minding his own business, he’d be...well, tolerable.

      Footsteps thudded on the carpet, announcing Lucky’s return. His short, military-style haircut emphasized the strong planes of his face, which reflected his Hispanic heritage. “Where are the chair covers hidden? Someone else stored them after Anya and Jack’s wedding.”

      “Upstairs in the linen closet,” Karen said.

      “Can I ride the stair lift or is that only for mommies?” Lucky teased. Both women narrowed their eyes at him, and he lifted his hands in a yielding gesture. “Just asking.”

      “Go play somewhere else,” Zora muttered.

      “Alone? That’s no fun.” With a rakish grin, he dodged out.

      “You two should swap rooms so you could be downstairs,” Karen observed from the counter. “Let him ride the stair lift if it gives him a thrill.”

      “I can’t afford the extra rent.” Lucky’s large room commanded a correspondingly larger price. While Zora didn’t care about having a personal patio exit, she did envy him the private bath. Karen had one, too, upstairs in the master suite, while Zora shared a bathroom with Rod and Melissa. Or, rather, with Rod and whoever moved into the room Melissa had vacated when she’d remarried her ex-husband.

      Some people have all the luck. A sigh escaped Zora. Too late, she tried to cover with a cough.

      “A pickle chip for your thoughts,” Karen said.

      “No, thanks.” Zora popped a black olive into her mouth.

      “You really are entitled to support,” Karen observed. “I wonder whether you’d have faced your ex by now if Lucky weren’t such a nag.”

      “He has nothing to do with it.”

      “You’re stubborn,” was the reply. “Seriously, Zora, how long can you keep this secret? I’m amazed Andrew’s mother hasn’t spilled the beans.”

      “Betsy doesn’t know.” Zora’s former mother-in-law was the nursing supervisor at the hospital. The kindhearted lady had suffered through the loss of two beloved daughters-in-law, thanks to her son’s faithlessness.

      Zora wondered whether Betsy was being more cautious about bonding with Andrew’s third wife, a Hong Kong native he’d met on a business trip while he was married to Zora. Unexpectedly, tears blurred her vision. How could he cheat on me? And then, just when I was ready to let him go, trick me into believing he still loved me?

      “Betsy sees you in the cafeteria every day,” Karen reminded her.

      “She’s aware that I’m pregnant,” Zora agreed. “But she has no idea who the father is.”

      Karen stuck a hank of black hair behind her ear. “She isn’t stupid.”

      “But I doubt she believes Andrew is capable of...of being such a grade-A jerk.” Damn those tears stinging her eyes again. “Aside from my closest friends, most people accept my explanation that I made a mistake after my divorce. I let them assume I picked up a guy in a bar.”

      “And that’s better than admitting you slept with Andrew?”

      “It’s better than admitting I’m a complete chump.”

      More footsteps, and Lucky reappeared. “They aren’t there. Let’s skip the seat covers.”

      “I refuse to have guests in my house sitting on ugly folding chairs,” Karen said.

      The man tilted his head skeptically. “What’s the big deal? People have been sitting on folding chairs without covers since the dawn of time.”

      “No, they haven’t.” Hastily, Zora shielded the relish tray from his attempt to grab a carrot. “Hands off!”

      “Evidence found in caves throughout northern Europe indicates that Neanderthals shunned folding chair covers as a sign of weakness,” Lucky said. “And why so stingy with the veggies?”

      “I’m still arranging these. Go eat a corn chip.” Zora indicated a bag set out to be transferred into a large bowl.

      “I’m a vegetarian.”

      “Corn is a vegetable.”

      “Corn