Hannah couldn't remember a time when she'd had more fun. Jenny Blackwell, Floyd's wife, had baked a cake in the shape of a stork delivering the baby and had done an incredible job. It was almost too beautiful to eat. Riley, however, had no such qualms. He sliced off huge pieces and passed them around to his friends, then wolfed down two slices himself.
When it came time to open the gifts, everyone gathered around. Hannah was self-conscious about being the center of attention as she carefully pried away the paper. Each gift touched her heart. There were so many things, big and small, they needed yet for the baby, and it meant so much to her that Riley's friends would do this for them.
"Is this the gal?" Floyd Blackwell asked, claiming the empty chair beside Riley while the others chatted around them. He had a kind, round face, and a bald spot was beginning to form on the crown of his head.
"Yes," Riley replied stiffly, glancing anxiously toward Hannah.
"I thought it must be." He laughed and took a generous bite of the cake his wife had baked. "I'll tell you right now," he said to Hannah, "you certainly sent Riley on a merry goose chase. He spent the entire month of August looking for you." He turned to Riley, disregarding the deep scowl. "Did that private detective ever turn up anything?"
"Floyd," Riley prompted meaningfully between clenched teeth, "don't I hear Jenny calling you?"
"Jenny. Naw, she's across the room talking to Cheryl. Oh… Oh, right. Yes, well, it was nice meeting you, Hannah," he finished, rushing to his feet.
"What was Floyd talking about?" Hannah asked her husband a few minutes later.
"Nothing. He was just blowing some hot air."
Hannah didn't believe that for a moment, and was left to ponder Floyd's words. Had Riley tried to find her after that night? It certainly sounded like it. The knowledge did funny things to her heart. He had cared even then.
It was after eleven by the time they arrived back home. Riley unloaded the gifts from the car while Hannah carried in leftover cake. The night had been such fun, and Hannah had enjoyed every minute of it. Even Riley seemed to be in an extra-good mood.
To Hannah's way of thinking, the time to strike was while the iron was hot, an old client she'd often heard her father use.
While she was in changing for bed, Riley sat out in the living room, reading the newspaper.
He didn't look up when she entered the room, and she noticed that he'd brewed himself a cup of coffee as though he intended to stay up a while longer. His hand held a pen as if he planned on working through the crossword puzzle.
She was determined to see that that didn't happen.
"Riley, come to bed."
"I will in a few minutes," he replied, studying the paper, still not glancing toward her.
"Not tonight."
"I beg your pardon." He looked up, and Hannah could have kissed him for the reaction he gave. She'd combed her hair, spreading it across her shoulders like a giant fan. The peach silk gown clung to her, and she reached for its satin tie, releasing the front.
"It's time to come to bed. Now," she said, holding her hand out to him.