Page 12 of Christmas Chaos
Zoe frowned. ‘Be nice to Brad. He’s just excited, that’s all. He doesn’t mean any harm.’
His response was a harrumph. He wasn’t going to make any promises he couldn’t keep.
Rory pulledinto a layby where they could always find reception. He was perfectly happy insulated from the rest of the world with Zoe at the cabin, but if something happened to her or the baby, the lack of phone signal wasn’t practical. He rubbed his stubble and sighed. Things were going to change whether he wanted them to or not.
He took a deep breath and rang his mother’s number in LA.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she demanded the moment the call connected.
‘That’s what you’re leading with?’
‘Is that Rory?’ he heard Brad in the background. ‘Can I speak to him, I need to—’
‘Bradley!’ his mother barked.
‘Yes, Countess,’ he replied instantly. The sound was muffled as if Barbara was holding the phone to her chest, but Brad’s obedient tone reminded Rory of his army days.
‘Go to the room.’
Huh?
‘Yes, Countess.’
What the actual…?
Rory heard his mother’s heels clicking across the floor, then the sound of a door closing.
She sighed. ‘Rory, I want to apologise on behalf of my husband. I was out and Bradley rang Arnold to chat about fishing. Arnold thought we knew, and Bradley became overly excited about becoming a…’ – she cleared her throat – ‘about your pregnancy and wanted to share that excitement with the world.’
Rory paused and looked out of the truck window. Apologies were so rare from his mother he half expected to see a sounder of pigs soaring across the glen.
‘I wish you’d told me first,’ she continued, ‘so I could have handled him appropriately.’
‘Mum. We only found out this afternoon.’
‘Well, we’re very happy for you, dear, and looking forward to helping you run this pregnancy properly.’
‘What?’ Growing up, he remembered his mother being about as maternal as a cuckoo. Was she about to morph into Mary Poppins? ‘What is there to run?’ he asked. ‘Zoe’s growing a baby.’
His mother laughed. ‘My dear boy. Any fool can have a baby. Your wife is gestating the future Earl of Kinloch.’
Rory pinched the bridge of his nose. Once again, he wished he was just a simple carpenter.
‘Mother. There’s a fifty per cent chance it will be a girl.’
Barbara sniffed. ‘And, of course, that scenario would be delightful. Every child is a blessing.’
He rolled his eyes.
‘So,’ she continued, ‘we’ll have a press release drafted for you in the next few hours and I’ll start compiling lists of the best doctors and researching the correct name. Tell Zoe not to worry about a thing. She needs to rest. I can take care of it all.’
‘Mum—’
‘You must give Zoe my fondest regards. I know I may not sound it, Rory, but I’m extremely excited. Not in the same way as Bradley of course – I’m not American – but I’m thrilled for you all the same and looking forward to being a grandmother—’
‘Mum—’
‘Good grief! That makes me sound old. Thank goodness Honey Boo-Boo is arriving in an hour for my personal training session. She may have an absolutely ridiculous name, but she nearly beat Bradley at arm wrestling. An extraordinary woman.’
‘Mum! You need to back off and give Zoe some space. One in four pregnancies doesn’t even make it past three months.’
There was a pause.
‘That’s true, although he’s half MacGinley, so stronger than the common herd.’
‘Jesus Christ! Zoe’s stronger than I am and you know it.’
Barbara sighed. ‘Well, she’d better be. Birthing you was a challenge and now look at the size of you. Unless you elect for a caesarean section, your wife will be attempting to deliver an ox.’
