LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Epilogue

      One

      Daisy Cusak ignored the ribbon of pain snaking through her. “Just a twinge,” she whispered, then ran the palm of her hand across her swollen belly. “Come on, sweetie, don’t do this to Mommy, okay?”

      The pains had been intermittent all day, but she’d brushed them off. All of the books said there was nothing to worry about until the contractions were steady and just a few minutes apart. Well, heck. One every hour and a half or so wasn’t anything to worry about, right?

      Besides, on a busy Friday night, she could make a lot of tips serving dinner at Antonio’s Italian restaurant. And right now, that money would mean a lot.

      All around her, noises of the busy kitchen echoed—pans clashing, chefs cursing, expensive china plates clinking. It was music of a sort. And the waiters and waitresses were the dancers.

      She’d been doing this for four years and she was darn good at it. Though people wouldn’t exactly consider being a waitress a career, Daisy didn’t have a problem with it. She loved her job. She met new people every night, had a few regulars who would wait an extra half hour just to get seated in her station, and her bosses, the Contis, were just so darn nice to work for.

      Rather than fire her for being pregnant, members of the Conti family were continually urging her to sit down, get off her feet. Someone was always near to help her with the heavier trays, and she’d already been assured that her job would be waiting for her after she took some time off with the baby.

      “You’ll see,” she said, smiling down at her unborn child. “It’s going to be great. We’re going to be great.”

      “Everything all right, Daisy?”

      She turned abruptly and grinned at Joan, one of the other waitresses. “Sure. I’m good.”

      The other woman looked as though she didn’t believe her, and Daisy silently wished she was just a little bit better at lying.

      “Why don’t you take a break?” Joan said. “I’ll cover your tables for you.”

      “It’s okay,” Daisy answered firmly, willing not only Joan, but herself, to believe it. “I’m fine. Honest.”

      Her friend gave her a worried frown, then stacked two plates of veal parmigiana on her serving tray. “Okay, but I’ve got my eye on you.”

      Along with everyone else at Antonio’s, Daisy thought. She picked up a pot of coffee, pushed through the Out door and walked into the main dining room. Casual elegance flavored the room. Snowy-white linens draped the tables, candles flickered wildly within the crystal hurricane globes and soft strains of weeping violin music drifted from the overhead speakers.

      Above the music came the comfortable murmur of voices, punctuated every once in a while by someone’s laughter. Wineglasses clinked, forks and knives clattered against china, and men and women dressed in starched white shirts and creased black trousers moved through the crowd with choreographed precision.

      Daisy smiled at her customers as she offered more coffee and took orders. She bent to grin at a toddler who was strapped into his high chair and laughing over the spaghetti he’d rubbed into his hair. Most of the wait staff hated having kids in their sections. It usually meant lost time when the customers left, because the mess had to be cleaned before anyone else could be seated. And lost time meant lost money.

      But Daisy had always loved kids. Even the messy, cranky ones. Which, Joan had told her too many times to count, made Daisy nuts.

      A group of men in their thirties followed the hostess and began to thread their way through the maze of tables to the huge, dark maroon leather booth at the back of Daisy’s station. As they passed, she caught a look of apology from the hostess seating them. Four men would be big eaters and probably end up running Daisy’s legs off. On the bright side, though, they might turn out to be good tippers, too. And she was always trying to beef up the nest egg building ever so slowly in the bank.

      Another pain gripped her, this time sharply, briefly, in the middle of her back, and Daisy stiffened in reaction. Oh no, honey. Not now.

      As if her baby heard that silent plea, the pain drifted away into nothing more than a slow, nagging ache. That Daisy could handle.

      All she had to do was get through the next couple of hours

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