LARA had turned the nanny’s quarters, next to the nursery, into a sewing area. On the cutting table lay the squares of fabric she’d chosen for the patchwork quilt, all pretty prints in a variety of colours. A desperate need to block Ric Donato out of her mind had spurred her to spend most of yesterday arranging and rearranging the squares, trying to assess which combination would give her the most pleasing result. The quilt was to be only cot-size and Lara wanted it just right for her baby.
The ultra-scan had confirmed that her pregnancy was perfectly on the track. Amazing, seeing her baby on screen, being able to check that he or she was properly formed. Lara hadn’t wanted to know whether it was a boy or girl. If something did go wrong—like last time—she was sure that knowing it was a son or daughter made the loss so much worse. Better to wait. Let it be a surprise.
