Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

The four door sedan that pulled up in front of the Zappy-oca plant was not one that had been seen in these parts before. And judging from the way that the car skidded forwarded before finally coming to a complete stop in park, he wasn't a local either.

Sitting in the comfort of his heated vehicle, Peter Nicholls – Picky Pete to those who knew him – picked up the file he needed. Skimming over the details of Zappy-oca once again, he marvelled that the rate at which the locals were buying back the company was astounding. It was one of the fastest investments he'd ever seen paid back.

Checking the name of the CEO one last time – a Ms Lucy Hill – he shut the file and prepared to exit the rented car.

Pushing open his door, he was startled when it did not open with ease. Grunting, he applied more pressure and pushed the door outward. Standing in the snow, his umbrella hanging from his arm, all he saw was quiet, tranquil white around him before the wind suddenly hit him.

It was a last minute grab to stop his papers blowing away and he held his folder close to his chest as he pulled his jacket around and opened his umbrella. His suit and sports coat were woefully inadequate as he made his way briskly to the long building before him.

Entering, the door shut behind him with a resounding bang and he raised his hand in apology as the young woman seated at the desk looked startled at his sudden arrival. 'Apologies ma'am,' he said as he wrestled with his umbrella, placing it on the armrest of the nearby chair and moved forward. 'My name is Mr Nicholls. I'm here to see Ms Hill.'

The young woman – Kimberley, he noted from the elaborate nameplate on the edge of her desk – was composed once again as she gestured to the office just down the hall in an exaggerated manner. 'Is there anything that I can get you?' she called eagerly after him as he began to the walk in the direction she pointed. 'Tea? Whisky? A bikkie or two? Zappy-oca?'

'No thank you,' he said politely, turning only long enough to answer, the young woman dejectedly taking a seat once again at his answer.

As Picky Pete knocked on the open door, he was greeted with a sight that he had not expected. Seated before him was a woman with her legs crossed over the desk – lace up boots covering jeans to complete an all round very casual look indeed. There was also no hiding the fact that this woman was pregnant, the grey long-sleeved shirt she wore tight against the considerable bump protruding outward.

Surely this woman was in the wrong place? 'Ah, I'm looking for the boss?' he asked uncertainly, weight on his front foot as he stepped in.

The woman before him startled before sliding her legs off the edge of the desk. 'You got her.'

'Er right,' responded the surprised man. He'd been led to believe that Zappy-oca's CEO was an ambitious, power-hungry corporate woman. Not this housewife seated before him stacking files.

Taking a seat in front of Ms Hill and placing his file on the desk before him, Picky Pete swiftly realised that pregnancy had no impact on this woman's brain. She had data, numbers and product information ready to reel off as required.

Ending the meeting feeling considerably more enlightened – and confident that Zappy-oca would be able to progress and continue to be prosperous once their debt had been fully repaid – Picky Pete shook hands with the CEO and prepared to leave.

He didn't get very far as he found himself accosted by a very excited woman who thrust a bowl of what looked like porridge in front of him. He soon discovered that this woman encouraging him to eat up – even going so far as to getting ready to spoon feed him – was Blanche Gunderson, Zappy-oca creator.

Taking a spoonful to appease the masses, Picky Pete was surprised to find himself digging back in for more. 'I told you he'd like it,' scolded the older woman.

'Yes Mum!' said the young secretary rolling her eyes before she jumped on the ringing telephone and answered it with a smooth 'Good afternoon, Zappy-oca. Kimberley speaking.'

Finally stepping out into the car park an hour later – Blanche having insisted that he visit the production line himself and meet Stu Kopenhafer, their foreman, and who was he to deny this woman anything! – his hands shook as he searched for his keys.

Desired object acquired he made his way over to his car, noting that the number of vehicles in the car park had now doubled to two, he activated the central locking and quickly started the car, intent on getting the heat running.

Dropping the file onto the passenger seat, he rubbed his hands together before realising that he had forgotten something. Blast that umbrella.

Having forgotten his useless umbrella, but knowing that the wife wouldn't be happy if he failed to bring it home, anniversary present and all, Picky Pete left the car running as he braved the cold once again and headed for the office block.

The young woman wasn't at the desk when he picked up his umbrella. Hearing voices at the other end of the short hall, he made his way toward them. Preparing to step into the CEO's office without knocking, he lifted his umbrella to explain why he hadn't quite left yet, but words left his mouth as he blushed and realised that he had walked in on a private moment.

The CEO was standing, her arms wrapped around a man that must be a local – wool jacket and all. His large hands were resting on the pregnant woman's hips, cradling the bump as he kissed the side of her neck, Lucy Hill laughing.

Realising that he was still looking, Picky Pete backed out of the office quickly, swearing inwardly when he got caught up in the blasted umbrella and tripped over a chair outside. Quickly righting it, he left for the second – and hopefully last – time.

Meanwhile inside the office, Lucy pulled back from her husband's kisses. 'What was that?' she asked, looking Ted in the eye.

'I think we scared the investor!' laughed Ted Mitchell as he reclaimed her lips, pulling his wife impossibly closer.

Indulging in the very romantic pastime of kissing her husband in the middle of the office, she nonetheless pulled back soon after, pressing one last kiss against his warm lips before she spoke again. 'If we don't stop this now, we'll never get home.'

'Mm. So?' protested Ted as he claimed Lucy's lips once again.

'Go do your thing!' she admonished, pushing him away from her. She watched him from hooded eyes as he walked backwards out the door with a faux broken heart. She'd just taken a seat when his head popped back. 'One last kiss.'

'Good bye Ted!' she laughed, blowing him an air kiss. As her husband finally left and shut the door with an 'I'll be home soon' Lucy turned to the two little girls that were exploring the dark space underneath her desk. 'Daddy thinks he's funny doesn't he?' she said softly.

Watching her two daughters laugh at nothing that she could see was funny, she sat back in her chair, resting a hand on her swollen abdomen.

She knew that her three very quick pregnancies had made her the butt of several jokes around town, but Stu had thought it the funniest of all that Zappy-oca plant staff knew when she was pregnant before she even knew herself. Who cares about a doctor, just send Ms Hill down to the production line and see if she can hold onto her breakfast! Still not sure if she was knocked up? Offer her a tub of Zappy-oca itself. If she goes green, you had your two blue lines.

Whilst she knew of her work colleague's 'test' and had laughed good naturedly every time they offered her Zappy-oca when she wasn't pregnant, Lucy wasn't to know that her husband had found out about her recent pregnancy the same way.

Ted had been round at Zappy-oca for the routine annual union check when the grinning foreman had sidled up to Ted and knocked his arm playfully. 'Congratulations must be in order!'

'Mm?' Ted had responded absentmindedly, never lifting his head from the clipboard.

'Looks like you'll be expecting another Mitchell in a few months,' continued Stu, in a good mood because he could finally now afford to move into his own place. His declaration had Ted's head flying up. 'What?'

'Hey, it's your missus throwing up every 30 seconds,' said Stu cheerily, raising his arms in the air in defence.

'Again?' groaned Ted as he put his clipboard down and prepared to hunt down his wife.

She'd always wondered how he'd known where to find her that day, she mused.

For all her husband's moaning and groaning that they had another one on the way, both of them had quickly gotten used to the idea. She'd still made sure that he'd had a little visit to the doctor to prevent any other little 'surprises', though. Four was going to be more than enough.

The birth of Annaleigh Rose Mitchell had been met with much joy and celebration around New Ulm, especially from Blanche, overjoyed that Lucy was becoming a true woman in the most natural way possible. The older woman had gone into a scrapbooking craze, her camera constantly snapping pictures of the newborn to fill her new scrapbook.

The sheer volume of snaps slightly decreased when Julianne Esther arrived 18 months later, but she was still snapping away. Lucy's scrapbooking skills had never really taken off, but Blanche had more than made up for it.

Lying in bed later that evening, everyone else asleep in the house and Ted having been called out to assist with a car stuck in snow, Lucy knew without a doubt that when her next – and last! – child was born, there would be a few more scrapbooks to add to the bookshelf downstairs.

Shifting in her attempt to be comfortable, she lay on her side, looking out the window to the darkness beyond. The arrival of Peter Nicholls today had brought back memories of her father – a man who shared the same name as the investor.

It made her sad that her father couldn't be here today to see what she had achieved, and how she had honoured his memory. Peter Hill had been the best father she could ever ask for, and looking back, she wished that she had appreciated him more.

He had died nearly seven years earlier, her mother not long after. People had said that Anne Hill had died of a broken heart, unable to live if her beloved husband was not there by her side.

Peter and Anne Hill had been buried side by side in their small town cemetery and Lucy had continued to press onward and upward in her goal to be Vice President.

'What do you think of the name Peter BOM?' she said, rubbing her hand over her belly, smiling when she received a firm kick in response. 'Well, if you're a boy that is…' she mused, her thoughts trailing off as she fell into sleep.

When Lucy went into labour seven weeks later, the realisation that she had a new family of sorts hit her right between the eyes like never before. She'd felt the first pains when at an afternoon tea with the fellow ladies in the community. She'd gripped her stomach as she paused a moment and then raised her head. 'I think I'm in labour.'

She hadn't even gotten the sentence out before everyone had snapped into action. Someone had Ted on the phone, speaking loudly to be heard over the calls and shouts of Bobbie's out of town ice hockey game, another had taken custody of Leigh and Annie and Blanche had commandeered her car keys and was ready to drive like never before.

As everyone dashed around her, Lucy felt redundant standing up, but could feel the love and closeness. The absence of her own parents had never felt so painful as at childbirth, but in this loss, she realised that she had gained another family. The gang at New Ulm had become everything she wanted and didn't realise she needed.

Pieter Edward Mitchell – named for both of his grandfathers – was born 17 hours later, and sure enough Blanche was dashing past the doctor as soon as she could, ever present camera in hand.

Raising children in New Ulm was very different to raising children in the city. (She'd been asked by Ted not long after Annaleigh was born if she ever wanted to move back to the city and raise their family there, and she'd surprised even herself when she said 'No.') Kids roamed the halls and pubs – everyone keeping out an eye for everyone – as parents chattered happily nearby, a card game or two in the works.

Lucy had lived in Miami for ten years, and yet she'd been inside more homes in any given week in New Ulm than she had her entire decade in the sunny state. As she tucked her scarf into her jacket one night shortly after her son's birth, she marvelled if the people of Miami could see her now!

There was an abundance of snow and sludge as the Mitchell family make their way up the slippery path for Blanche and Harve's wedding anniversary party. There were no high heels or cocktail dresses as everyone pulled their jackets close and minded their step. Ted had two warmly wrapped kids on each hip – Leigh on his left and Annie on his right – as Lucy walked behind him with her own small bundle tightly wrapped up, Piet sleeping soundly.

Bobbie was in the lead, huffing and puffing about the heaviness of the present that she had to carry. Her father just laughed at her and she sent him a dirty smirk as she reached the doorstep. It was wiped off the instant that Blanche opened the door and welcomed them in with a loud shout. 'The Mitchells are here!'

Ted struggled to get the coats off quick enough as his two young daughters wanted to be away. Finally free, he bundled up their coats, pulled off his own and passed them to Blanche and Harve's son with a thankful look before he reached for the latest addition to their family, sliding Piet into his arms so Lucy could take off her own jacket off.

The baby wasn't in his arms long though as Blanche took charge and showed the newborn off, Piet passed around to pretty much every single person there. And then some.

As the night grew impossibly darker and colder, there was much merriment, drinking and enjoyment to be had in the warm house. Food was plentiful, beer flowed freely and the noise never stopped. It couldn't be anymore different to the Miami nightlife.

When the hand on the clock ticked past midnight, the party was still going strong, although the late hour had taken their toll on some of the partygoers. Bobbie was showing off her cards out the back with some fellow teenagers whilst Lucy was seated near the fire preparing to breastfeed the youngest Mitchell. When Leigh came up to her mother doing the toilet dance, and with the baby finally feeding, Lucy told the toddler to ask her Daddy for help.

Ted was in a comfortable chair chatting with a few of the plant workers, 18 month old Annie burrowed into his chest as she slept. Ted was laughing at some joke, beer in one hand, his kid held close in the other, when yet another of his children came running up to him. 'Daddy! Gotta pee!' said Leigh urgently, the toilet dance now in full swing.

Ted was up in an instant, the toilet-desperate's sibling automatically curling up in his hear in the chair as he left it, grasping the three year old's hand. They didn't need a repeat of two nights ago.

Toilet duty done, Ted returned to his seat, slipped Annie onto his chest and joined the conversation once again. When Lucy brought the semi-awake Piet over not long after, he shifted his daughter over to the left and took his son in his right hand, cradling him in his arm as Lucy headed for the kitchen to find Leigh.

By the time they finished their goodbyes and left an hour later, it was with one kid each – Ted the whining youngest, Bobbie the sleeping middle one and Lucy the eye-rubbing-I'm-not-tired girl.

The Mitchell family was home soon enough and as Lucy breastfed the baby in the hope that he would sleep the rest of the short night through, Bobbie declared good night to all and disappeared into her bedroom as Ted prepped is other two kids for bed.

Annie was already out like a light, and so it was an easy matter of stripping and dressing her for bed, tucking her in and kissing her good night. Leigh was another matter though, overtired and trying her best to push away her father's attempts at dressing her.

All four Mitchell children were finally settled when Lucy joined Ted downstairs half an hour later. She guided his body to be horizontal and slid onto the top of his solid form as she released a breath. 'Silence!' she said with a happy groan.

Ted laughed as he kissed the top of his wife's head. 'I'm with you,' he responded, ending his declaration with a yawn, burrowing his fingers into Lucy's hair.

Both adults were too comfortable to move and it was only a matter of moments before both fell asleep, their arms wrapped around each other.

The following morning – though technically just mere hours later – wasn't as pleasant and comfortable as Lucy and Ted battled sore muscles and found themselves bombarded by little people on the couch, an evilly grinning Bobbie holding the baby and egging her siblings on.

Once upon a time, the prospect of such a situation would have horrified the bejesus out of her, but as Lucy threw the squealing Annie up into the air, she decided that she didn't want to change a thing.

Raising teenagers – let alone children – had not been on original her ten year plan, and yet marrying Ted had made her an instant mother to a teenager.

Ted had remarked that her presence had coincided with Bobbie coming out of her shell. Whilst that comment had been sarcastic in the context of Bobbie wanting to go out on a date with Cliff, she liked to think that perhaps she had had a little to do with assisting this vulnerable teenager – young woman really – in navigating life. He'd been glad to have her around when Bobbie had gotten her period for the first time, she recalled.

Looking over at that same man now where he was easing their only son into his large hands, she smiled as Leigh threw herself over his shoulder, only avoiding landing head first in her baby brother's stomach when Bobbie pulled her over in a somersault.

Returning little Annie's hug, she imprinted this picture into her mind forever before she turned heavenward.

'I hope you're proud of me Dad.'

Finito.