“I don’t mind.” Torre spoke up before I could respond. “But I’d like you to make it clear in that Frisco isn’t that person any longer. He’s a devoted partner and concentrating on his charity work.”
Embarrassed, I let Torre go. “It’s fine. I know who I am.”
“I do as well,” a deep voice interrupted. “And Torre is correct.”
I spun around, unable to keep the smile from my face. “Edward. You made it.” I hugged Edward Harvey, my former boss and the editor ofUltimate NYC. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long, son.” At his side stood a slim silver-haired man with a trim goatee. “This is Wyatt, my partner. Wyatt, the inimitable Frisco Martinelli.”
Laughing, I extended my hand to him. “There’s an introduction if I ever heard one. Welcome to Bello, and thank you both for your generous contribution.”
“It’s the least we can do for a wonderful cause. Edward filled me in on all your charity work, and it’s incredibly impressive. I’d like to talk with you about extending the scope of your employment opportunities. Maybe we could meet when you have time?”
I knew Wyatt Ramirez was one of the premier makeup artists in the industry, and it would be a boon to have him as a sponsor for my foundation.
“I’ll make time. Thank you for your interest. Between your interest, the restaurants, and Edward hiring editorial interns to learn the publishing business, we can help even more people.”
“Frisco,” Elliot interjected. “You might want to talk to André Webster. His sister and brother have taken over running the day-to-day operations of the hotels, but he’s still on the Board of Directors, and I know he’d been interested in helping. He could hire people for hotel management as well as food service.”
“Great idea, thanks.” Webster Properties would be huge, and getting a foot in the hospitality industry would open doors for so many jobs. “I’ll make sure to speak with him before the night is over.” I checked my watch. “I guess I should make my speech and pitch. I wouldn’t want people to get restless. I’ll see you all later.”
Torre’s hand in mine, we threaded our way through the crowd. As we stood at the far end of the restaurant, I heard a voice cry out in pain and someone yell out. “Call 9-1-1.”
Uh-oh. Not what you want to hear.
I saw a crowd surrounding Jonathan’s table and with Torre at my heels, ran to them. Writhing in pain, Jessica was holding on to Zach’s hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“Her water broke. I think she’s going to have the babies.”
“No. It’s too soon.” She cried out. “Oh, God, it hurts.”
The two police officers, Sam and Win, rushed the table. “What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
“She’s in labor,” Zach answered. “One minute we were laughing, and the next she said something wasn’t right, and then she looked down and her water broke.”
“Ow, ow. Help.” Jessica moaned. Zach held her hands, his eyes frantic.
“We’ve called an ambulance. Help is on the way.”
Win gave us all a tense nod. “It’ll be fine. Between Sam and myself, we’ve delivered a few babies in our careers.” But I could see from the worried lines on his and Sam’s faces that it wasn’t an option they wanted to explore.
The wail of an ambulance siren could be heard in the distance, and Zach forced a smile. “See? Here they are. They’ll take you to the hospital, and soon you’ll have your babies.”
“I’m so scared. I don’t wanna go alone. Can you come with me? Please?” She held his hands tightly, and I could see Zach was stunned.
“I-I don’t know. Are you sure? Maybe Jonathan should go with you, since you know him better?”
“Please…you’ve been so nice to me. I want you there.” A fresh contraction hit her, and I swore I could feel her pain across the table.
“Zach, if Jessica wants you, it’ll help her labor go easier.” Sam squeezed his shoulder. “You should go.”
“O-okay. Will you come with me too?”
“Of course.”
The poor guy looked overwhelmed, but I agreed with his husband. If Jessica was comfortable with him, it might help her labor. The paramedics burst inside the restaurant and relief rushed through me.
