And every day Paris was tempted to call Amy, to see how she was, but Alice had told her not to. Out of respect, if nothing else, Paris had to let go. So she did. And just enjoyed Hope as the gift she was. All of the paperwork was in order. Amy had signed everything without a murmur.
Andrew told Paris he was leaving for London, and both his daughters were going to celebrate Christmas with him there. And after that they were going skiing in Gstaad. It sounded very racy to Paris, and was. He said he would be back right after the New Year.
“I'd love to come up and see you when I get back. I'm sure Hope will be twice the size by then,” although his return was only two weeks away. But there was something about the way he said it that filled Paris with concern. She didn't know what to say.
“I'd like to see you, Andrew,” she said softly. But she wanted to see him as a friend, nothing more, and she wasn't sure that was what he had in mind. He clarified it for her.
“I know you have some very strong reservations about dating, and I can't say I blame you, or disagree with you. But if I promise to be extremely well behaved and not bring photographs of any phallic sculpture I may have made, and I don't arrive drunk, or order beans for dinner…do you suppose I could take you out for dinner sometime, and consider it a date?” He was being very careful with her, and she couldn't help but laugh.
“Am I as impossible as all that?” she asked as she laughed.
“Not impossible,” he said fairly, “just cautious, and with good reason. I'd say you've had a tougher time than most. I don't blame you for being gun-shy, and if I do anything to upset you, I want to know.”
“Like what? Spoil my daughter, send me flowers, drive me to and from the hospital when she's born? I'd say that's pretty offensive, wouldn't you?” They exchanged a long smile. “I just don't want to spoil our friendship. You're becoming too important to me. I don't want to blow that with something stupid that won't matter to us in two months.” But he was hoping it would, and in truth so was she. He had to leave to catch his plane then, and he wanted to make sure they were on the same page.
“Are we on for a date when I get back? Officially, I mean?”
She smiled at him. “Officially, I'd say yes.”
He didn't want to sneak up on her, or take advantage of her, or surprise her, or frighten her. He wanted to be her friend, but he also wanted to be more than that. He had enormous admiration for her, all she had survived, and all she'd done. “I'll call you from Europe,” he promised. “Take care of Hope!” he shouted to her as he hurried down the stairs, having just kissed her on the cheek. And she waved as he drove away, wondering what she had just done, and if she'd regret it. She hoped not. She had sworn to herself she would never date again, and now she was sticking her nose out again. But it had been eight months. Maybe that was long enough to clear the air. And there was something very different about Andrew Warren. More than anyone she had met since Peter, he was a man she could not only love, as a friend, but respect. The others had been fun, or good company, or sexy, or pathetic, but none had been worthy of respect. Andrew was.
He called her from the airport, from L.A., and from London when he got to Europe the next day. And by then her family had arrived.
Meg was excited to hold the baby. And Wim was grinning, as Paris hovered over them telling them to be careful of the baby, while Richard took pictures. And they all said she was the most beautiful baby they'd ever seen, which Paris knew anyway. Hope was almost smiling by then, and nearly four weeks old.
And as she set her gently down in the bassinet, Meg turned to her mother with a womanly smile that Paris had never seen before. “She'll be good practice for me,” Meg said, smiling at her mother, then at Richard, and then back at Paris again.
“How's that?” Paris asked, feeling a little dim, but she was very tired.
“We're having a baby, Mom,” Meg said as her mother threw her arms around her with tears in her eyes.
“How exciting! Congratulations, both of you! When?”
“It's due on the Fourth of July.”
“How patriotic!” Paris laughed and kissed her son-in-law and congratulated him again, as Wim groaned and threw himself on the couch, while Meg held Hope again.
“What is this? An epidemic?” Wim asked the room in general. “Everyone's having babies.”
“Well, you'd better not have one too,” Paris warned, and they all laughed. And that night, when Paris came back in the living room after dinner, Wim was holding the baby, and Meg was next to him sound asleep on the couch. All her children were together. It was the perfect Christmas. Particularly now that they had Hope.
