“No! I said no, of course.”
“Why? You just told me you love him.”
Delaney sat up. “Beck, can everyone in the salon hear you?”
“Only the bigger gossips. Why?”
“Wouldn’t want them to miss anything, that’s all. Tell them I can’t marry a man who doesn’t love me.”
“If he doesn’t at least like you, why’d he ask you to marry him?” Rebecca asked.
“Because it’s best for the baby. That’s what he said.”
“But he’s never brought up the M word before. Why the change of heart?”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s got a point, though, about it being good for the baby.”
“You’re not helping,” Delaney said.
“I’m sorry. I’ll have to give you a condensed version of my counseling—”
“I know, Mrs. Peters is waiting. Go take care of her.”
“I’ll call you back,” Rebecca promised.
“Don’t bother. Just meet me and Aunt Millie and Uncle Ralph at the diner tonight. I said I’d take them out for their anniversary.”
“And they want me there?”
“No, I want you there. The way I’m feeling, I need a buffer, and you’re good at drawing attention.”
“I think that’s a compliment.”
“See you at six.”
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?” Aunt Millie demanded, as soon as the waitress led her and Uncle Ralph to the table where Delaney and Rebecca were already waiting.
“Tell you what?” Delaney asked, as foreboding settled in the pit of her stomach. After what had happened with Conner in his office this morning, she didn’t need another confrontation. She hadn’t been able to forget the intensity of his kiss or the head-over-heels, free-falling sensation that said her heart was no longer her own.
Uncle Ralph shoved the table toward Delaney and Rebecca so Aunt Millie could fit inside the red vinyl booth. “About Clive Armstrong’s grandson being the father of your baby.”
Morning sickness hadn’t bothered Delaney for over two weeks, but she felt ill now. “How did you hear?” she asked in resignation.
“Bertha Young told Ralph at the grocery store. Can you imagine his embarrassment, having to hear that way?” Aunt Millie said.
Uncle Ralph nodded to confirm that the way he’d learned the truth had been treacherous indeed and Delaney shot Rebecca a furious look. “Thanks,” she muttered. “You just had to set everybody straight.”
“They were bound to find out sometime,” Rebecca said.
“I don’t understand why it was a secret to begin with,” Aunt Millie put in, clearly unhappy. “Especially from us. Conner Armstrong needs to own up to his responsibilities. It’s not right for a man to get a woman pregnant and just walk away. And we thought he was so nice.”
Delaney sighed. Now she had to tell them how she’d gotten pregnant. She couldn’t have them going around blaming Conner for something that was entirely her fault. Soon the whole town would be giving him dirty looks and muttering disparaging remarks behind his back. She opened her mouth to explain, but Rebecca silenced her with an elbow and started right in herself.
“These days, things are a little different than they used to be,” she said, treating them all to a sample of what she thought Delaney should say. But Delaney already knew it wasn’t going to help. Aunt Millie and Uncle Ralph saw things one way, and after seventy-five years, that was the only way they were going to see them.
“Women think for themselves now,” Rebecca went on, “make their own decisions—independent of their parents or a man, I might add—and women have babies on their own all the time. Especially women Delaney’s age.”
“That might be what you think, missy,” Aunt Millie snapped before Rebecca could really warm to her subject. “But we all know how loose your morals are.”
“The point is, you don’t have the right to meddle in Delaney’s life anymore.”
“Meddle! Did you hear that?” Millie cried to the table at large. “We’re family! We have every right to meddle, if that’s what you want to call it. We’re talking about our daughter and our grandbaby here. If we don’t take care of them, who will? Certainly not you. You’re probably the reason Delaney’s in this mess to begin with. I’ve always told her you’re a bad influence.” She shook her finger at Delaney. “Now you know why, Laney. Just listen to the way she speaks to me!”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed, which wasn’t a good sign, so Delaney tried to calm everyone before Rebecca turned into a heat-seeking missile and Aunt Millie started brandishing her cane. “What Rebecca’s trying to say is—”
“We weren’t born yesterday,” Uncle Ralph broke in. “We know what Rebecca’s trying to say. She thinks we’re too old-fashioned. But right is still right and wrong is still wrong. Conner has a responsibility to this baby, and I’m going to make sure he lives up to it.”
“No! You can’t get involved,” Delaney cried. “You need to let me handle the situation. I mean it. I don’t want anything from Conner. He isn’t to blame for this—”
Rebecca nudged her again and pointed toward the entrance, and Delaney’s words fell away. There was Conner Armstrong striding across the lobby, heading straight for their table.
“Oh, no. You’ve already called him, haven’t you.”
Aunt Millie nodded smugly. “You don’t have anything to worry about. He said he’d meet with us. And I didn’t even have to call his grandfather.”
Rebecca made a sound of disbelief, and Delaney dropped her head in her hands. “Only in Dundee,” she moaned. “Only in Dundee.”
“WHAT? NO SHOTGUN?” Conner said.
Pulling up a chair, he sat in the aisle, angling the lower half of his body so he could cross his legs as well as his arms while he waited to hear what the old couple had to say. Whatever it was, he still didn’t understand why they couldn’t have said it over the phone. Delaney looked as though she wanted to disappear, but that hardly made Conner feel better. He’d asked her to marry him. She’d turned him down. Then Millie had called, spouting off about his “responsibility to the baby.”
If only he’d said no to Delaney at the Bellemont…