Once Marge left, Chris ate and debated with himself as he stared at the icon on the desktop that would open Ally’s picture if he clicked on it again.
What the hell. He probably should have called her already, just to be sure that her brother was okay. It would have been the right thing to do, after all.
He closed his office door, then dialed.
“AMI Accounting Services. This is Molly.”
A business? Did he even have the right number? “I’m looking for Ally Smith.”
“She’s, um, away from her desk at the moment. Can I take a message?”
This was actually good. He’d salve his conscience and avoid further meddling from Marge by putting the ball in Ally’s court. He’d called. Done his part. “Sure. This is Chris—”
“The contractor?” Molly interrupted, but didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Great. Ally said you’d be calling. Actually, I can give you the information since she’s busy.”
“I’ll just—” he started again, only to be interrupted with another torrent of words.
“We just need an estimate right now, but we don’t need to start work right away. We’ve got until March to get it ready, after all.” Molly laughed, but then hurried on before he could say anything. “We need to finish out the storeroom into an office for Ally—did she mention the lighting? She’ll need to be able to darken the back half of the room where the crib will go. She doesn’t think it will be a problem, but I think we should go ahead and have the electrics for that done while y’all are finishing out the walls. Don’t you agree?”
One word out of the flood stopped him cold. “Excuse me, did you say crib?”
“Oh, it won’t be a huge crib—I don’t want you to think the space is that big.” There was that laugh again, but he was still stuck on crib. “It’s really just a cubbyhole for Ally and the baby.”
Ally and the baby. And Molly said they had until March. A quick count backward meant that if Ally was pregnant, she’d conceived the baby in June. They were on Tortola in June. She’d told him she’d broken up with her ex months before, which meant she’d gotten pregnant on Tortola.
Adrenaline surged through his system.
“What time do you close today?”
“Oh, we’ll be here until at least five-thirty or so. Can you come this afternoon?”
Without a doubt. “And your address?”
“Four seventeen West Jefferson, suite C. We’ll—”
Chris hung up.
Ally was pregnant. There was a strong possibility the baby was his. Not only had she fled Tortola without saying goodbye, she hadn’t bothered to try to find him and let him know she was carrying his child? Maybe she’d tried to, but…no, he wasn’t that hard to find. Chris Wells might be a common enough name, but between knowing he was from Charleston and the sailing, she’d have found him quickly enough with one search on Google.
She had no intention of telling him. Unexpected anger coiled in his chest.
Keys. Phone. That was all he needed. He opened his office door to find Marge and his assistant in the outer office.
Without slowing his pace, he talked as he passed them. “Good. You’re both here. That saves me time. Marge, tell Pops I’ll talk to him about the Dagny tomorrow. Grace, I’m gone for the rest of the day.”
Marge recovered first. “Where are you going?” she called after him.
“Savannah, damn it.”
Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Morning sickness was for mornings. If she was going to start losing both her breakfast and her lunch every day, she and the baby were going to starve to death long before they made it out of this phase.
She brushed her teeth for the third time that day and went back to her desk where the rest of her lunch awaited her. One look at the guacamole on her taco salad caused her stomach to heave in protest.
“What now?” Molly asked around a mouthful of burrito.
“Can you get that off my desk? Just get it away from me, please. The guacamole is—ugh.”
Molly, bless her heart, moved quickly, closing the box and carrying it outside without question. Once the offensive condiment was out of sight, her stomach felt much better.
Molly brought her the peppermints once she returned. “That’s so sad. You love guacamole and it’s so good for you.”
“But the baby doesn’t love it, obviously, and I’m willing to give in on this.”
“Since you’re the color of guacamole right now, that’s probably a wise choice. Tortilla chip?”
That seemed safe enough. It was the craving for something salty and spicy that had led her to suggest they order Mexican for lunch in the first place. She would just omit the guacamole for the foreseeable future.
“By the way, one of the Kriss brothers called while you were indisposed.”
The peppermint actually tasted quite nice with the salsa. “Really? That was fast. Their office manager said they were out of town until tomorrow.”
Molly shrugged. “I think they’re going to come by this afternoon and give us the estimate.” Her brow wrinkled. “He was kinda rude on the phone, though. Are you sure this is the company you want to go with?”
“Michael Kriss did that work for my mom last year. She raves about him.”
“Your mom raves about a lot of things.”
“Yes, but when it comes to updating or decorating the Dingbat Cave, she is remarkably focused.”
“Then I’ll withhold judgment until we meet them and get the estimate.”
Ally nibbled on another chip. “Speaking of judgment, Erin kicked me out of the wedding last night.”
“She didn’t! Why?”
“Because I’ll be seven months pregnant and she doesn’t want my big belly drawing attention away from her on her ‘special day.’”
The picture of outrage, Molly nearly sputtered. “That’s insane. What did your mother say?”
“Oh, she’s on board, but it all kind of got lost in the melee after Steven made his big announcement.”
“Do I even want to know?”
It was a good thing Molly understood her family. “My brother is now a Scientologist.”
Molly spat her water across the desk. “Just like that? He woke up one morning and decided he was converting?”
“Pretty much. My grandmother swears she’s seconds from a heart attack at the news, Mom is convinced she’ll never make it into the Junior League now, and Erin claims Steven is just seeking attention since he’s recovered from the accident.” Leaning back in her chair, Ally propped her feet on her desk and crunched another chip.
“And your dad?”
“Dad went fishing, so he hasn’t weighed in yet.”
“Erin just wants all the attention on her and the wedding.”
“You got it.”
“I’m so glad you passed the edict they were no longer allowed to call here unless someone was bleeding.”
“Me, too. I finally took the phone off the hook last night and went to sleep around eight. I was just too exhausted to deal with any of them.”
“Good