“Pardon me for asking, but what about Dr. Hutchinson?”
Simone froze inside. “What about him?”
The doctor clearly tried to choose her words with care. “If there is something between you—if he is willing to help—I think it would be in your best interests to let him.”
“And that doesn’t strike you as a poor bargain for Hutch?”
“Troy Hutchinson is a grown man. I’m sure he can make those decisions for himself.”
* * *
Simone left the hospital in a daze. She was thrilled her pregnancy was not in danger. Even so, the confirmation that she would be giving birth to three babies was shockingly real.
She returned home just as Naomi and Cecelia pulled into her circular driveway. Hugging them both, she blinked away stupid tears. “Thanks for coming. I really want to finish all the details for the masquerade ball. The nausea is better for the moment, but it might come back again. I want all my ducks in a row before that happens.”
“If it happens,” Naomi insisted as she gathered up a stack of file folders and followed the other two up the steps.
Cecelia nodded. “Think positive.”
Simone didn’t shoot back with a sarcastic retort. Naomi was entitled to her optimism. After all, she was the only one not slated to be a parent in the near future. Cecelia, on the other hand, should know better. Even though she seemed to be sailing through her own pregnancy, surely she didn’t think the rigors of childbirth and motherhood could be withstood using perky catchphrases.
Suddenly, the truth dawned on Simone. Cecelia wouldn’t be any help at all with the triplets. She and Deacon would have their own bundle of joy. How had Simone ignored that glaring reality? Maybe because Cecelia seemed so normal. Not to mention the fact that the three friends had barely seen each other in the past few weeks.
As the other two women spread all their work on the dining room table, Simone grabbed a handful of plain crackers. “You want anything?” she asked.
Naomi shook her head. “I’m good.”
Cecelia declined, as well. “
Let’s get started,” she said. “We have a lot to do.”
Planning an event of this magnitude was fun but challenging. Cecelia had struggled at length with color-coded spreadsheets to work out the placement of tables in the large room. The final information would be transferred onto diagrams so the volunteers and hotel staff would have something to work from during decorating and setting the tables.
Naomi, a gifted amateur artist, had sketched out three different themes and color palettes for the event as a whole. “I like the silver and navy,” she said. “But do we need an accent color?”
Simone and Cecelia studied the other two contenders. Cecelia pointed at the brightest of the lot. “These colors are great, but they remind me more of a beachy summer event.”
“I agree,” Simone said. “And I think the burgundy and gray is too dark.”
Naomi nodded. “So we’re going with the silver and navy?”
Cecelia nodded. “I do like it the best. We could always add some pops of crimson.”
“Perfect,” Naomi said.
Simone jotted notes in her phone. Pregnancy brain must be a real condition, because she was already having trouble remembering things. She hoped one of the dresses she had ordered would fit. With the color scheme they had selected, the red would work nicely.
After an hour, most of the urgent decisions had been made. Naomi yawned, still in the midst of jet lag. Cecelia excused herself to call Deacon about something. Simone nibbled the end of her fingernail.
“Naomi,” she said quietly.
“Hmm...” Her friend blinked and sat up straight. “Sorry. I should have flown home yesterday. Early-morning flights are a killer.”
“Do you still think me getting pregnant is a terrible idea?”
Naomi lifted an eyebrow. “Does it matter? That horse is out of the barn, if you’ll pardon the expression.”
“Well, duh. But yes, it does matter.”