The Baby's Blessing: A BWWM Pregnancy Romance Novel E-Book

Nina Ford

• Herausgeber: Nina Ford
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

Saviors come in many forms... Vanessa Mercer is an overworked accountant nearing in on the tail end of her glory years. Having relinquished most of her adult life to her career, Vanessa finds herself at a turning point when she takes on a pro bono client as a favor to her boyfriend... Hattie Woodrow is an elderly restaurant owner with a no-nonsense approach to life and love. Through Hattie, Vanessa reconnects with a handsome stranger from her youth...a man she fell in love with long before she ever understood the complexity of the word. An unfortunate string of events tore the teenage couple apart, but an unlikely force brings them together again almost fourteen years after the fact. The question is, are they built to last, or will the demons that drove them apart all those years ago have their way once again? You'll have to read to find out... Author's note: This is a standalone bwwm pregnancy romance with a guaranteed HEA. It is one consecutive story about two adults coming to grips with their pasts. Reader discretion is advised due to some scenes of an adult nature.

Leseprobe

The

Baby’s Blessing

A BWWM

Pregnancy Romance

For Adults

By Nina Ford

Copyright 2016 Nina Ford

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are strictly coincidental. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the expressed permission of the author. Exception is made in the case of brief quotations used in published reviews.

Table of Contents

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Epilogue

Mailing List

Contact

Chapter one

Cal double-checked the address on his phone before peering back up at the unassuming brick building in front of him. According to the directions, he was in the right place. His confusion stemmed from the fact that the picture on the restaurant’s Yelp was clearly taken in its heyday. It had to have been. The weathered monstrosity he was standing in front of now was void of any signs of life.

Letting out one of his signature sighs, Cal pushed open the door and approached the counter as a string of bells went off behind him.

“Welcome to Hattie’s,” A smiling woman called out as she surfaced from the kitchen. Using the faint lines on her face as a guide, Cal placed her somewhere in her mid to late sixties. He also observed that while she was definitely on the heavier side, her enthusiasm was just about the biggest thing about her.

“I’m here to find out about your catering service,” Cal responded. “You do still cater, correct?”

“Sure do,” the woman confirmed. “You won’t find a better selection or value than here at Hattie’s.”

“Are you her?”

“Pardon?”

“Hattie,” Cal elaborated. “I’m guessing you're her?”

“Oh, yes. That I am. What can I do ya for?”

Cal stared at the woman for a moment. It was like he was trying to make sense of her with one look. “I was wondering if I could open an account with you,” he stated. “I run a small business here in town that occasionally calls for catering. I heard you're one of the best.”

Hattie stared back at him blankly. “An account? What you mean an account?”

“You know, like an ongoing thing. If all goes well, I plan to order from you a lot. I figured opening an account would be easier than paying every time I come in…”

“Oooh!” Hattie’s laughter reverberated throughout the small restaurant. “Boy, you had me standing here wondering what the hell you was talking ‘bout. You shoulda just started with that. Talking ‘bout an account.” Hattie’s laughter subsided into a few breathy chuckles. “Well I guess I can do that. What kind of business you run, anyway?”

“A party planning one. I organize events. Sometimes I even host them.” Cal was trying to remain professional, he really was, but Hattie smelled so strongly of stale perfume that it was beginning to burn his eyes. He didn’t want to offend a potential business partner though, so he inconspicuously wiped away the moisture before she could notice it.

“Like weddings?”

“Yeah, and whatever else happens to come my way. Mostly weddings, though, yeah.” Cal wondered how she’d managed to narrow in on his main source of clientele without any background knowledge on the company.

“Well how much food you gonna be needing, exactly?”

“Probably about five to ten orders a month. Maybe a little more, maybe a little less. It all depends on my workload.”

Hattie did the math, looking Cal up and down as she decided whether or not he was worthy of doing business with. “Alright,” she decided. “Im’a need the money up front though. I don't work for free.”

Cal nodded. “How much?”

“Two hundred. And that’s cash. None of them fancy cashier checks.”

“Okay. That sounds doable.”

“Alright then. Here. Fill this out.” Hattie pulled an order form from underneath the counter that looked like it hadn’t seen the light of day since Clinton was in office, taking a moment to flatten it out.

Not bothering to read over the fine print, Cal scribbled in all the necessary information and handed it back to her. “I’ll bring you the money as soon as possible,” he promised.

“Before you take the first order,” Hattie said, gesturing towards the menu above her head. Cal worried that the food would be just as lackluster as the décor, but he was put at ease when he caught a whiff of a delicious scent wafting from the kitchen.

“You want the whole spread?” Hattie asked him.

“Uh, sure,” Cal said, realizing that he’d yet to actually consider it. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn't given any of this much thought past his initial Google search. His assistant usually handed the catering end of the business, but being that she was away on maternity leave, the duty ended up falling temporarily on him. “One thing though. You wouldn't happen to have any kosher options, would you?”

“Kosher? What, you Jewish or something?”

“No, but I do get a lot of Bar Mitzvah requests in the warmer months,” Cal clarified. “They won't touch anything that hasn't been blessed by a Rabbi. That's how I assume it works, anyway.”

Hattie turned to look at the menu and tapped her chin in thought. “Hm, alright. I can probably do that. Not for everything, but I'll make sure you got ‘least a few options so they don't go hungry. When you say you need this all by again?”

“Friday. If that's too soon, I’m fine with just—”

“It’ll be done.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

Cal was impressed by Hattie’s no-nonsense approach to doing business.

On the wall behind her hung a bronze plaque that stated she’d been in business for over twenty years, a feat he assumed she must have achieved through her enthusiasm alone. Whether or not her cooking factored in was still yet to be determined.

“Well in that case, is there anything else you need from me?” he asked her. “Maybe an address for the delivery?”

Hattie shook her head. “Nuh-uh, sorry, but no. You’ll havta pick it all up here. I don't do delivery no more. My back ain't what it used to be.”

Cal wondered what her back had to do with anything, but he didn't dare ask. It was obvious that she was a one woman operation. “That's fine,” he said instead, taking hold of the business card she extended to him.

“I’d ‘preciate you spreading the word ‘bout my restaurant to your clients. If they like the food, maybe they'll start dropping in on they own. Lord knows I could use the business.”

Cal took in the empty restaurant as if for the very first time and promised that he would, sliding the card inside his wallet for safekeeping. “Can I come back later tonight with the money? Say…six o’clock?”

“No, not today. I got my bookkeeper comin’ by. You ever work with one of them before?”

“Nah. Never had to. I run a pretty tight ship. I’m usually fine with just handling all that stuff on my own.”

“See, that's what I thought too, then my knucklehead son went and messed up my tax return. Got me in hot water with the IRS. Now, I gots me a bookkeeper. She’s good, too. Larissa something or another. I don’t know, I’m not too good with names. But I got her card somewhere if you wanna give her a call.”

Cal smiled. “Maybe when I'm as successful as you are,” he said, gesturing towards the plaque.

Hattie followed his gaze and beamed. “Boy, this ain’t nothin’. Before I moved up here, I had a huge place down in Little Rock. You ever been?”

“Nope, can't say I have. How’d you end up in Cleveland, if you don't mind me asking?”

“That's a story for another day,” Hattie said, waving a hand in the air. “I gotta get my stuff together before this girl get here. Can you come back with my money tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.” Cal backed away from the counter and headed for the door, thanking her once more before seeing himself out.

Back inside, Hattie inspected the order sheet Cal had filled out. As she did, it dawned on her that he hadn’t properly introduced himself. That was one of the things she missed most about Little Rock. Folks were so much more hospitable down there. This ‘Cal L. Hawthorne’ fella seemed nice enough, but Hattie was still sure she’d never see him again.

Pushing aside the encounter, Hattie left her perch at the counter and headed down the hall to her office. Once inside, she sat down at her desk and got to work organizing her financial records for her bookkeeper. In no time at all, she heard the bell above the front door jingle to signal someone's arrival.

Hattie emerged from her office to find a smartly dressed woman lingering near the counter. She looked upon the smattering of baked good offerings on display beneath the glass with casual interest, obviously taken by just how mouthwatering it all looked.

Hattie took in her off-white pantsuit and balked. Someone this fancy looked odd in her outdated little restaurant. The woman also had on a pair of expensive looking pumps, and she had her wavy black hair pulled back in a tight bun that Hattie was convinced would one day have a devastating effect on her edges.

“What can I do for ya?” Hattie questioned, emerging from her hiding spot in the hall.

“I’m Vanessa Mercer,” the woman introduced as her full lips curled into a practiced smile. “I have an appointment with a Hattie Woodrow at four o’clock. Would you by any chance happen to be her?”

“Right, that's me. Come on back to my office. I don't talk numbers up front.” Hattie started walking then, not bothering to look back to see if Vanessa was going to follow her. She just expected that she would.

Vanessa started walking, but she stopped short when she realized there was no one else in the restaurant to tend to the register while they worked. “Shouldn't you lock up?” she suggested. “I wouldn't want anything to happen…”

“Nah, it's fine,” Hattie said with little concern, continuing forward. “The bells let me know when someone comes in. Besides, there ain't nobody in this neighborhood stupid enough to steal from me.”

Vanessa pursed her lips and fought the urge to smirk. It wasn't that she doubted the older woman. She just found it amusing to picture her chasing some sagging pant youth down the block for stealing a couple bucks from her tip jar.

“In here,” Hattie called out to Vanessa, stepping aside to allow her entry into her cramped office space.

Vanessa took in the multitude of paperwork spread out across Hattie’s desk and sighed. She could already tell she was in for a difficult few weeks.

“This my set up,” Hattie said, taking notice of the disapproving look on Vanessa’s face. “I know it don't look like much, but it works.”

“It's fine,” Vanessa said, not wanting to make things anymore awkward than they already were. “Really. I’ve seen a lot worse.”

It wasn't even a lie. As messy and impractical as Hattie’s tiny office was, it was nothing compared to some of the shoddy establishments the recession had forced her to do business with.

“Okay well, now that we got that out of the way, how you wanna get started?” Hattie asked.

Vanessa turned and met eyes with her. “That depends. What are your exact needs? Just general bookkeeping? Or?...”

As if a flood gate had just been opened, Hattie got to talking about a mile a minute. Remaining quiet through the thick of it, Vanessa realized right away that this was going to be much more grueling than her boyfriend Patrick had let on. He’d convinced her to take on Hattie’s account as a favor to him, but Vanessa knew it was nothing more than another thinly veiled ploy to get Hattie to buy an overpriced internet marketing package from him.

Patrick’s reasoning was that if he offered Vanessa’s services to Hattie for free, he might earn the older woman’s trust enough to finally sell her on the idea.

Vanessa only agreed because she was told that it was a very small business, and that there was no conceivable way it could take up much of her time. Oh how very wrong he was though. In all actuality, Hattie’s books were so badly burnt they practically smelled of charcoal. Off of only one quick flip through, Vanessa estimated that it would take weeks to get everything in order, if not upwards to a month.

After a brief consultation, Vanessa and Hattie agreed on a mutually convenient time to meet each week. Unfortunately for Vanessa, it meant surrendering two of her weeknights to Hattie until everything was squared away. Whether or not that would happen before the turn of the century was a matter that was yet to be determined.

Hattie watched Vanessa leave from the front window. “Well I’ll be damned.” She let out a low whistle at the sight of the young woman's sports car. “That girl is too blessed to be that uptight.”

Hattie abandoned the window to once again go over the information Cal had provided her. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was, but suddenly her intuition was telling her that she might see him again after all.

Chapter two

Cal had been pounding the pavement all day trying to drum up business. A large event planning firm had just moved into the area, and he could already feel the effects on his bottom line. If he didn't continue putting in this extra effort, it would only be a matter of time before they stole all his clients.

It was a little after noon when Cal decided to stop inside a local sandwich shop for lunch. He took a seat at the counter and stared down the nearest waitress until she acknowledged him. He noticed that her name tag bore the name Holly, and that beneath it was the word ‘trainee’.

“New, huh?” Cal asked when she came over to take his order.

The tall brunette laughed nervously. “And here I was thinking it didn’t show.”

Cal smirked and pointed to her apron. “Only on your tag.”

“Oh.” Holly followed his gaze and blushed. “I forgot all about that. But yeah, I’ve been here almost a week now. It’s not much, but it pays the bills. Anyway. What can I get ya?”

Cal ordered a corned beef sandwich, a large order of curly fries, and a craft beer made by a local brewing company to quench his thirst. Holly went to hand over the order to the chef, and Cal noticed that she smiled over her shoulder at him as she did. His food came out fast, and she must have offered to refill his glass at least four times before he finally paid and left.

Hattie’s restaurant was on Cal’s route home, so he decided to drop in and pay his deposit while he was still thinking about it. The bells above the front door jingled to signal his arrival, and Hattie appeared behind the counter within seconds.

“I was wondering if you was gonna come back,” she greeted, offering him a warm smile.

Cal nodded and patted down his pockets for his wallet. “I have a few more orders I need to set up,” he informed her, silently marveling over how that alone was something of a miracle. Early spring was usually Cal’s busiest season, but not this year. It was like the whole damn city had come to some sort of mutual agreement to stop hiring event planners.

It was a sentiment Hattie could relate to. Pleased to have finally landed some consistent business herself, she pulled a fresh order sheet from beneath the counter and prepared to jot down Cal’s details.

“You bring my deposit?” Hattie asked Cal once he relayed everything to her.

“Yup,” Cal said as he pulled out two large bills. “Two hundred, right?”

Hattie stared down at the money looking somewhat put-off by it. “You don't got nothing smaller? I don’t like keeping bills that big in the register.”

Cal shook his head.

“Alright then, you can write a check,” Hattie said, sliding the money back across the counter to him. “Jus’ this once though. I wouldn't want you to go making a habit out of it.”

Deciding to humor her, Cal palmed his jacket pocket for his check book. “I actually don’t have any on me…” he trailed off, dropping his arm back down to the side. “Would a money order work? I'm pretty sure there's a gas station up the road that does them.”

Hattie scoffed at that. “Boy, my bookkeeper would hang your ass up to dry for even suggesting that. She said I need to keep records on everything, and you can’t keep good records with money orders, now can you?”

“Sure you can,” Cal said. “I use them all the time.”

Hattie looked at him like he was crazy, but she backed off all the same.

Cal watched as she went to work setting up his account.

“I'll get this done tonight. It don’t take no time,” Hattie said. “I jus’ deep freeze everything’ once I got it cooked.”

Cal nodded. “In that case, would it be a problem if I came by on Thursday night to pick it up instead of Friday morning?”

“What time on Thursday? ‘Cause right now I got this girl fixing my books and I can tell she ain’t one to be bothered.”

“I’d say around five unless I have another obligation. I hardly ever do on Thursdays though.”

“Oh, alright then…” Hattie looked down at the paperwork. “Cal. That your God given name?”

Cal was unsure of how she’d come to the conclusion that it wasn’t. “Uh, no,” he admitted, scratching his jaw. “It’s Calvin.”

“Uh-huh. Thought so. You look like a Calvin. What’s the L stand for?”

Cal was almost amused by the number of questions she had. And why was it, exactly, that there were never any other patrons in the restaurant that required her attention?

“The L stands for Lamont. It’s a family name.”

“You don’t say! I got a grandson named Lamont. We all call him Monte though.”

Cal nodded along as if he actually cared, pointing down at the two large bills he was offering. “Okay…so…do you need me to go get that money order, or is this gonna be okay just this once?”

“Boy, gimme that,” Hattie admonished. “Don’t bring me no more of these though, ya hear? I can’t have folks thinking I’m made of money. That’s always how it starts.”

Cal stared at Hattie for a moment before handing her the money. “So…I’ll see you on Thursday, then?” he asked, pausing near the door.

“Yup,” Hattie agreed, moving on to another task. Poor boy. He was already giving her patience a run for its money.

In a spacious office building across town, Vanessa was in the process of shutting down her computer for the night. She’d agreed to meet Patrick for an early dinner at one of their favorite hibachi restaurants downtown, but that wasn't to say she didn't have a lot of work to do afterwards. Hattie’s account was already on the verge of dragging down her workload. Things would only get worse if she didn’t take her work home with her at the end of each day.

Patrick would just have to make due with seeing her less until she finished. She had, after all, accepted this account entirely on his behalf.

When Vanessa pulled into the restaurant’s back parking lot, she was peeved to discover that she didn’t see Patrick’s car anywhere. Not that it was particularly surprising. He’d be late, aga [...]