The whole party didn’t relocate, of course, but Abigail was flattered to see how many of Royal’s most prominent citizens had turned out to support the hospital and see her artwork. Her career had taken an exciting turn already with this commission and, with any luck, more gallery sales and special projects would follow. She’d told Vaughn that she’d been fortunate to do what she loved for work. But with a baby on the way, she might not always have that luxury. If she couldn’t support herself and her child with her creativity, she would end up doing temp jobs again.
When they reached the children’s ward lounge, Abigail could see temporary wall partitions had been rolled into place to protect the privacy of the ward and the patients from the unveiling ceremony. An arbor of flowers stood in front of the tree sculpture, which had been partially hidden with a gauzy black curtain. Of course, the statue was so huge the branches spilled out of the top, crawling along the high ceilings where Brandon had helped to secure them. Abigail had carved for hours to add the details she wanted on those high limbs, but she knew she would add more bark and hidden creatures to the hard-to-reach places throughout the coming year when she developed her idea for an interactive forest.
For now, however, the sculpture was impressive enough for the unveiling. Abigail peered behind her for a glimpse of Vaughn, certain he must have come downstairs with the rest of the attendees who’d chosen to see the statue. He’d been such a steadying presence during her questioning with Cole Sullivan.
She’d been anxious for that dance Vaughn had promised, but he’d been quick to melt into the crowd when they returned from the interview in his office. She knew that was part of his job tonight.
And yet...she wondered if he was also astutely distancing himself from her in front of his colleagues. By the people in the community he hoped would donate more funds to the hospital. Was her presence—an increasingly obvious pregnant presence—a detriment to his efforts? Some might view her pregnancy as being on the scandalous side. Especially Vaughn’s fellow members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, who were privy to details surrounding Rich Lowell’s misdeeds while impersonating Will. While Abigail wasn’t the only woman Rich had used and mistreated, she felt like she played a larger role in her own deception than any of the other women. She’d knowingly had a fling with a married man.
She’d been too lost in her grief to question Rich’s insistence that he and his wife, Megan Phillips-Sanders, were separated. Although she didn’t feel the need to share her personal journey of mourning with the world, she also understood why some people would judge her harshly.
Her thoughts swirling, she almost bumped into the hospital development officer as she paused in front of the flower archway in the children’s ward. The older woman wore a black strapless gown with a matching short-sleeve sequin jacket. The long column of simple lines suited her no-nonsense approach.
“Ms. Stewart, if you would stand right here—” she pointed to a spot beside the microphone “—I’ll introduce you before the unveiling.”
“Thank you.” Excited to share her work with the group, Abigail’s pleasure was dimmed only by the fact that she didn’t see Vaughn yet.
“Do you wish to say a few words?” Belinda asked, testing the sound equipment.
“No. Thank you.” She’d dedicated the project to Alannah in her mind. She didn’t need to share that story with the group. Besides, she liked for her work to be interpreted individually, without swaying viewers to share her highly personal vision.
“Very well.” Belinda took her place on a small platform. “I’m going to get started.”
Abigail discreetly lifted up on her toes, trying to see through the crowd for Vaughn. She really thought he’d wanted to see this. To share this with her.
She’d come to rely on him so quickly even though they hadn’t known each other long. Now that she would be spending less time at the hospital, would their relationship fade, too? She had an ultrasound appointment at the hospital on Monday—her last trip to Royal Memorial for a while and for a much different reason. She’d thought about asking him to join her.
But was that selfish of her when she knew he wasn’t ready for more?
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?” The hospital administrator took the microphone, quieting the assembled guests before briefly discussing the commitment of the hospital staff to excellence, right down to providing a nurturing environment for patients.
She introduced Abigail as the artist of the hospital’s latest attempt to create an uplifting retreat for patients and their families. As the crowd clapped politely, she heard a soft but unmistakable whistle of approval from the back of the room. A few chuckles followed, along with people turning to spot the source of the whistling.
Those turned heads allowed her to spot Vaughn. For a moment, their eyes met and her heart turned a somersault.
He was here.
He lifted a hand in a wave of acknowledgment.
No matter that she was worried about how people would react to them together, apparently he had no such reservations.
“Without further ado,” Belinda McDowell continued, “I present to you our very own Tree of Gifts.”
The black gauzy curtain fell to the ground at her verbal cue, revealing the sculpture in spotlight.
There were appreciative oohs and aahs that sounded genuine to Abigail’s hopeful ears. Even the applause that followed was deeper, louder and more prolonged than the earlier polite smattering. And if she’d had any doubt about the positive reception, Belinda McDowell’s wide smile told her she saw the unveiling as a success.
Then, just as the clapping began to die down, Belinda returned to the microphone. “Before you leave, ladies and gentlemen, make sure to spot a few of the gifts inside the tree.”
Behind her, the spotlight darted to one of the carved owls perched in an obvious nest on a low limb. Then to a
