She’d wanted... God...she’d wanted him to show her just a bit of kindness.

Pathetic. Anyone who spends their lives relying on the kindness of others is looking to get kicked in the teeth. Again and again and again. She was smarter than that. She didn’t need kindness. Couldn’t count on it.

She counted on herself. Period.

She didn’t need Clinton Bartasavich Jr. in her life and neither did her child. They’d be just fine on their own.

“I didn’t think you were coming in today.”

Ivy glanced over her shoulder as Fay, her boss at the bed-and-breakfast, walked in from the dining room. “I changed my mind.”

There had been no reason to stick around Houston as she’d originally planned. So she’d canceled her hotel room and booked an earlier flight, getting into Pittsburgh at 3:00 a.m. That she still had to pay for the hotel room and had incurred over one hundred dollars in airline fees sucked. No doubt about it. Doing the right thing cost a person. In more ways than one.

But in the end, every penny had been worth it.

After her encounter with Clinton, she’d just wanted to come home. Had wanted to curl up in her bed, pull the sheet over her head and pretend the past...oh...four months had never happened.

That had worked for about two hours, after which she’d kicked off the covers and spent a good portion of her morning pacing her cramped apartment, cursing out her cat—who insisted on winding his way between her legs with every step—and muttering to herself about what an idiot she’d been to actually think any good could come of her trip to Texas.

So she’d showered, forced down a few bites of dry toast and decided keeping busy was the way to go. A way to keep her mind from replaying the things Clinton had said to her. How he’d treated her.

A way to stop from thinking about that check, now hidden in a sandwich bag in the back of her freezer.

Fay crossed to the sink to fill a cheery red teapot. “How was your day off?”

Ivy pressed her lips together until they went numb. “Fine,” she managed, dumping the flour into a large bowl.

She kept her gaze averted as Fay set the pot on the stove and lit a fire under it. Didn’t want to take a chance on her boss seeing the truth in her eyes. Fay wasn’t much for prodding, but she would worry if she thought something was wrong. If she thought someone was upset, she’d question—gently and with great trepidation—what had happened. Wonder what she could do to help. She was one of those fragile souls with an incessant need to please others, to make sure everyone around her was happy.

When what she needed to worry about was fixing her own life.

Talk about a mess. It almost made Ivy’s situation seem like no big deal. Yes, being a divorcee with two kids and a history of depression—a history that included a suicide attempt a few years ago—sure put Ivy’s own problems into perspective.

“You really didn’t have to come in,” Fay said, nibbling on her pinkie nail. “Gracie came in early and helped out with breakfast service.”

“It’s no big deal. My plans fell through.” She’d thought it would take at least a few hours, if not an entire evening, for her and Clinton to discuss what they were going to do about her pregnancy. “And I wanted to get some prep work done for tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

Ivy tossed aside the measuring cup, and it slid several inches across the Italian marble. “I said it’s no big deal.”

But her waspish tone made it sound like it was a big deal. Damn.

“It’s just...you look tired,” Fay blurted.

Ivy glared so hard, the other woman took a step back. “Why do people say that? Why don’t they just say, you look like hell? It’d be honest.”

“You could never look bad.” Fay’s quick assurance did little to make Ivy feel any better. She really was tired. And cranky with it.

She sighed. She’d have to try to steal a few hours of sleep before her shift at King’s Crossing tonight.

And she needed to tell both her bosses that she was pregnant. At least she had a few days before she worked again at the River View, a restaurant across town where she often picked up a handful of shifts a week. She wasn’t looking forward to letting Mr. and Mrs. Mongillo, the owners, know she was having a baby.

It wasn’t as if she could keep it a secret much longer. And why should she? She wasn’t ashamed of her condition or that she’d spent the night with a man she’d found attractive and interesting.

She just didn’t want anyone to judge her. No, that wasn’t true. She didn’t care what people thought.

But maybe a small part worried about losing Fay’s good opinion of her. They weren’t ready for matching BFF bracelets and sleepovers, but they got along well enough. Having another woman to talk to, to gossip with and laugh with was...nice. Weird, but nice.

Too often, other women viewed her as competition. The enemy, always ready to steal their boyfriends or husbands.

Fay, who should have viewed her only as an employee, often treated her more as a friend. Ivy didn’t want to lose that.

She would, of course. No relationship lasted forever. She just hoped this fledgling one with Fay made it a few more months.

“I have to tell you something,” she said, knowing she couldn’t put this off forever.

Fay just waited. See? No prodding. No pushing. She simply stood by and let things happen.

Ivy preferred to make things happen.

“Look, what I’m about to say... I just want you to know this doesn’t change anything. I’ll still come in to work every day. It’s not going to get in the way of my doing my job here.”

A job she’d desperately needed before to help pay off the loan she’d taken out for her mother’s funeral. To help pad the nest egg she was trying to build to pay for culinary school. A job that was of the utmost importance now that she’d soon have a baby to take care of.

Fay, sweeter than any woman should be, took hold of Ivy’s hands. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

Ivy nodded. Tugged free to wipe her palms down the sides of her dress. “I—”

“We’re back,” Gracie said as she walked into the kitchen, Fay’s son Mitchell on her hip. “Camden’s mom said she’ll drop off Elijah before five...” Gracie frowned. Glanced between Fay and Ivy. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Ivy muttered. She hadn’t considered telling Gracie. What if the teenager thought having unprotected sex was a good thing? She already looked up to Ivy. What if she thought getting pregnant was a great idea? That she should try it, too?

Ugh. She wasn’t even a mother yet, and already she had a supersize case of guilt.

“Actually,” Fay said, “something very important is going on. I believe Ivy was just about to tell me she’s pregnant.”

Ivy’s jaw dropped. She shut it with a snap. “What?”

“It’s about time,” Gracie said, setting Mitchell in a chair at the long farmhouse table and handing him a coloring book and box of crayons. “I mean, it’s not as if you can wear loose dresses and tops forever and not expect people to notice.”

Ivy shook her head, then looked at Fay. “You knew?”

Fay looked embarrassed. Or guilty. “I suspected. You had a few bouts of morning sickness, especially whenever you cooked meat. That, plus the way you’ve been dressing...”

She trailed off as if there was nothing more to say, which, Ivy supposed, there wasn’t.

“So, you suspected I was pregnant and instead of asking me, you told Gracie?” And if these two knew, did that mean others did, as well?

Of course it did. This was Shady Grove. News spread. Fast.

“Please give me some credit,” Gracie said, sitting down next to Mitchell. He automatically climbed onto her lap. “Molly has been pregnant five times in the past nine years. I know the signs.”

“Are you all right?” Fay asked. “No problems with the baby?”

“I’m fine. The baby is fine. I went to the doctor last week.”