Sheila! If only she’d get out of rehab and come home, I could blow off steam to her. But Robbie had phoned to say that they’d had a “setback.” I needed to know more. Each time I tried to get him on his cell phone, the call rolled over to his mailbox.
Did they even know I’d had my baby? We’d sent photos via our cell phones. But Sheila was missing out! Ty was already growing and gaining weight. He ate like a champ. He slept like a tired athlete. He cried only when he needed food or changing.
Then why was I so out of sorts?
I had every reason to be happy. What was wrong with me?
CHAPTER 2
“You’re sure the alarm system was triggered?” I asked my husband as he helped me out of his car. “Margit is usually very good about making sure this place is locked up tight.”
We stood near the back door of my store. Detweiler had gone ahead, clearing the place so he knew it was safe for me to enter. The call had come at eight p.m. on a Saturday. Both the older kids were having an overnight at Laurel and Joe’s apartment. I’d been stretched out on the sofa. The stain from childbirth had been easily removed by a drycleaner. Getting up and out of my comfortable position was a chore, but it couldn’t be helped. Margit didn’t answer her phone. If we didn’t check on the alarm, I could be liable for any losses incurred.
Detweiler held my arm and guided me over the threshold. He’d used his flashlight to do his walk-through. “I think something tripped a circuit,” he said.
“The breaker box is in a panel up front.”
“I’ll lead you there.”
I picked my way through the place that had always been a second home to me.
“Surprise!” A loud chorus of voices almost sent me reeling. The overhead lights flicked on. A store full of faces smiled at me.
“What on earth?” I felt my jaw drop.
People started laughing and clapping. Friends crowded around me, waving miniature flags made out of baby blue paper and taped onto soda straws.
I turned and shook a finger at Detweiler. “You sneak!”
He laughed and pulled me close. Ever since I’d overheard him talking to Thelma, there’d been a strain between us. Sure, he’d taken my side, but I wished he’d been more forceful with his mother.
“Are you surprised, Mom?” Anya came over, joining Clancy, Laurel, Margit, and Rebekkah as they gathered me into a group hug.
“Yuppers,” I said, laughing at the flashes going off. My friends were largely my customers, too, and since we’re all scrapbookers, no one could resist the chance to take candid photos.
“You need to get off your feet,” said Clancy, as she escorted me to the big black leather office chair. Usually it’s behind my desk, but for tonight, they’d rolled it into the center of our sales floor. They’d also pushed back the display shelves of merchandise. Thanks to the casters on the bottom of the units, we could re-arrange the space and open up room in the center of the store.
“Here,” said Margit, propping up my legs with an ottoman.
“Where did that come from?” I asked, staring down at the cube covered in fake leopard fur. Not only was it the right height, but the fun fur totally upped its cuteness quotient. That’s a barometer that I rely on heavily. I constantly ask myself, “On a scale of ‘yuck’ to ‘awesome,’ how cute is this?” The answer guides a lot of my day-to-day decision making, especially when it comes to my store, Time in a Bottle, Missouri’s premier scrapbooking and crafting outlet.
“We made it just for you,” said Laurel. “Margit contributed a Styrofoam cooler that her mother’s insulin is shipped in, Clancy donated an old jacket made of that fake leopard-skin, and I used my trusty E-6000 to whip it all together. Isn’t it cute? Don’t you love the fake leather trim? You can even pop the top off—”
She broke the footstool into two pieces. Looking down inside, I could tell how she’d repurposed a small, but thick Styrofoam cooler. Inside there was a well, a secret compartment about six by six inches square. A cold Diet Dr Pepper waited there for me.
“You get two pieces, with storage,” Laurel continued. “How nifty is that?”
“I absolutely love it!” I giggled. “You three have been Skyping with Cara Mia Delgatto again, haven’t you?”
“Guilty as charged,” said Clancy. “Actually the footstool was Cara Mia’s idea. She’s introducing them at her shop because Styrofoam is so hazardous to the ecology of the beachfront.”
“She calls it the gift that keeps on giving,” said Laurel with a twinkle in her eye. “Only she substitutes another word for ‘gift’ and it rhymes.”
I really laughed at that.
Now that I was comfortably seated with my feet propped up, I took the opportunity to look around at all the decorating my friends had done. Blue and white crepe paper hung from the ceiling. Three big white Chinese lanterns dangled over my worktable, which had been covered with a white vinyl tablecloth. Tiny blue storks were glued to small stakes stuck in jars filled with blue and white jelly beans for centerpieces. The whole scene was so uber-cute that I said to Detweiler, “I need my camera!”
That got everybody laughing. Lee Alderton said, “We’ve got you covered, girlfriend,” and she snapped a photo with her iPhone.
“Wait!” hollered Clancy. She dug into a big black plastic garbage bag and pulled up a red velvet robe. With a flourish, she unfurled the robe and positioned it over my shoulders.
“Your crown, ma’am,” said Rebekkah Goldfader, as she sank into a deep curtsey. As she bobbed down, I caught a fleeting image of her mother, Dodie, standing there and smiling at me. That’s been happening a lot lately. Although Dodie died several months ago, her spirit is still alive and well. She’s found all sorts of charming ways to let us know she’s still keeping an eye on her scrapbook store, and on us.
“Arise, princess,” I said, tapping Rebekkah on the shoulders with a yard stick that Laurel had painted gold. The hilt had been fashioned from foam core board and wrapped with gold glittered duct tape.
Rebekkah gently positioned the crown on my head. “We pay our fealty to thee and thy offspring,” she said in a formal, distant voice.
“I swannee,” I said with a giggle, “y’all have been watching way too much of that Outlander series on Starz.”
“Guilty!” came the response from several voices. My customers have convinced me to have an Outlander night once a month, replaying an episode of Diana Gabaldon’s popular series. That’s spawned a whole new income stream for me, as we’ve been happily producing Outlander-themed scrapbooks and paper craft items. A few of the women have even tried their hands at making food from that era. Of course, Brawny, my Scot nanny, is a big part of the draw. In her tartan skirt, brogues, and sporran, she’s the living embodiment of a different culture. Brawny’s been giving lectures about the strife between the Brits and the Scots, a conflict that still has overtones in today’s world.
“Did you think we’d forget the gifts?” Lee said. “You know how I love wrapping things and making them extra-pretty. It’s the presentation that counts, right? Let’s get this party started!”
Since I love presents, and I adore tearing the wrapping paper off boxes, I dug right in. Lee handed me an elaborately wrapped box. “This is from all of us,” she said.
Under the blue and white paper was a robin’s egg blue box. I knew immediately it was from Tiffany’s, but I didn’t squeal with joy. My friends are thrifty. The box could well be a leftover from another gift—and really, where it came from shouldn’t matter.
But it did.
I opened the lid on the blue box and parted the white tissue paper. Inside was a silver spoon.
“We chipped in to buy that for you,” said Bonnie. Her eyes were moist with tears. “You might not have been born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but any kid lucky enough to have you as a mother has found a real treasure, indeed. We wanted to make sure your son never forgets that he’s rich beyond all others, having a wonderful woman like you for a mother.”
At that, I dissolved into tears.
CHAPTER 3
~ Cara Mia Delgatto~
As we approached West Palm Beach International Airport, Poppy surprised me by taking the divide marked “Short Term Parking” instead of heading toward the DEPARTURES lane.
“No need to park. You can just let me off at the terminal. I’ll be fine.”
“Nope. I wanna see you on that there plane myself. You never can tell about flights. There’s cancellations, delays—”
“Poppy, they won’t let you past security because you don’t have a ticket.”
“Then I’ll walk you inside the terminal and up to where they got it cordoned off.”
I swallowed down a sigh. My stubbornness could be traced directly back to my grandfather. Once he made up his mind that was all she wrote. Instead of complaining, I stared out the window at the swaying palm trees. A short line of cars had pulled to the right rather than wait in the cell phone lot. I wondered how long they’d get to stay there before getting ticketed.
“You check the weather?” Poppy craned his neck to find an empty space for his old Toyota truck that he’d painted a bright John Deere green.
“Every day. Sometimes twice a day. The wind chill is thirty below. Ice storm moving in.” I fingered the handle on my backpack. Tucked inside were beautiful gifts for Tyler George Lowenstein Detweiler. My friends and co-workers felt like they knew Kiki, because I’d talked so much about her. Upon hearing that Dodie Goldfader had nicknamed her “Sunshine,” EveLynn McAfee sewed a baby quilt in a starburst pattern of cheerful yellows. Her mother Honora hand-quilted the blocks.
Being an expert in all things vintage, MJ Austin searched for and found a stuffed baby alligator. One touch of the leathered and withered exterior confirmed it was real. “I know it’s weird, but boys like stuff that’s bizarre. He’ll appreciate this when he gets older. Besides, it’s a vanishing part of Old Florida culture.”
When I pointed out the alligator might make a grand chew toy for Kiki’s dog, MJ produced an alternative gift, a hand-painted child’s mug, bowl, and plate set. In the foreground, a brightly colored orange hung from a leafy branch, while the logo FLORIDA was done in a very mid-century modern font.
“Much better,” our pal Skye Blue said. She showed off her present, a small mirror framed by tiny seashells, set in a sunburst pattern. I knew collecting, sorting and mounting them had taken her weeks of work.
“Hope you don’t freeze your butt off,” Poppy grumbled. He didn’t like me leaving. Although he knew it was going to be a short visit, he had become very dependent on me lately. That proved miracles still happen. When I’d first contemplated a road trip from St. Louis to Miami, Florida, I’d had every intention of driving right past Stuart, Florida. My relationship with my grandfather had soured after he didn’t show up for my father’s funeral. But we’d since made amends and grown closer than ever to each other. Poppy wouldn’t come out and say he didn’t like me going away for a while, but he’d complained enough to make his opinion clear.
“I hope I don’t either.” I leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.
The walk from the car park to the terminal gave me the chance to tell him once more how to care for my pets. When the pneumatic sliding doors wooshed open, he dropped back. Airports were unfamiliar territory to him these days. I pointed to the American Airlines check-in desk. We were early, so there wasn’t anybody in line. Or so I thought.
Fifteen minutes later, we were walking back to the green truck. Poppy held his tongue rather than remind me that he’d pestered me to keep checking the weather. I could fly as far as Charlotte, North Carolina, but after that…no go. An ice storm was blanketing the mid-Atlantic.
Fighting tears I text-messaged Clancy: All flights from Charlotte canceled indefinitely. Won’t make it to the baby shower. Give Kiki my love -- CM
CHAPTER 4
~ Kiki~
Detweiler stayed long enough to watch me open a few of our gifts. Then he gave me a kiss and announced, “Ladies? I’ve got paperwork to catch up on.”
To me, he said, “Clancy has promised to drive you home. Don’t let this rowdy bunch tire you out too much. Clancy? She needs to get home before ten.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” said my friend.
The baby shower went on for nearly three hours. Detweiler had been right to worry about my stamina. If I hadn’t been seated so comfortably, I would have never made it through the entire event. The stream of presents seemed endless. I was shocked and humbled by the haul. (I was also daunted by the thought of the number of thank-you notes I’d be writing.)
It’s a well known fact that I hate—loathe—baby and wedding shower games. But in this instance, I was willing to play along because Laurel and Rebekkah had organized them. Tasting baby food and guessing what flavor it was about caused me to turn green. Watching ice cubes with plastic babies in them melt wasn’t so bad. (The person whose cube melted first screamed out, “My water broke!” and won a prize.) Watching my crafters write messages on plastic diapers was silly, but fun. (“When you’re changing these in the middle of the night, you’ll get a giggle,” suggested Lee.)
Clancy whispered in my ear, “You don’t know how lucky you are. Someone suggested a game where people have to eat artificial baby poop. You make the poop by melting candy bars.”
“You have to be kidding me.”
“Cross my heart and hope to cry,” said Clancy.
“Thank you for sparing me.”
“You are welcome.” She patted my knee and got up to distribute yet another game, one she called “Baby Literature, or as it’s affectionately known, ‘Chick Lit.’”
I shook my head. “Nope. Chick lit is a genre known for protagonists who love shoes, make snappy retorts, and have endless problems with their weight and men. Bridget Jones’ Diary is an example.”
“Huh,” said Clancy. “A baby bird is a chick. ‘Lit’ is short for literature. Put them together and you get ‘chick lit.’”
This was an argument I couldn’t win, so I threw in the spit-up towel and guessed the titles of a lot of kid lit. Probably because I read a book to Erik every night. After accepting my prize (a Baby Ruth bar), I watched as my friends took turns decorating baby onesies with trim, iron on patches, and fabric ink.
“Has everybody signed the guest register?” Laurel waved a light blue autograph album over her head. “Everyone? Because I’m going to draw names from it. I have to have your name to give you a door prize.”
Listing the proper names of baby animals was cute and harmless. Clancy won that, hands down. I knew that a baby kangaroo was a joey, but who knew that a baby sharks are called pups? And what on earth was an echidna? Clancy even knew that its baby was called a puggle!
Guessing the number of M&M’s in a baby bottle was more my speed, since I’ve never met an M&M that I don’t like. The color does not matter one bit to me; however, Clancy had found a place that sold her blue and white candies, just for this event.
“No fair! “We all know that Kiki knows her candies!” shouted Lee Alderton from the back, when Clancy announced that I’d won the M&M’s guessing game.
That brought a lot of laughter and a hearty hug from Lee. Laurel announced, “Time to dig into the refreshments. Ladies? Help yourselves.”
My mouth had been watering for some time, as the wonderful smell of baby bacon and cheese quiches filled the air. Margit brought me a plate with two of those, two blueberry and chèvre cheese quesadillas, and two pigs in a blanket. “More to come,” she said. “I made strudel. One for you to take home. I know how the detective likes it.”
I think she has a secret crush on my husband. She’s always sending home food for him.
“He’ll love it,” I said. “Thanks so much.”
She gave me a big hug. “I am so happy. This baby, you will bring him to the store, ja? I want to hold him. I couldn’t come to the blessing ceremony because I was watching the store.”
“I meant to thank you for doing th
at,” I told her. “Of course, I’ll be bringing Ty to the store. As soon as the wind chill isn’t so brutal.”
“Ach,” she said. “I wish Dodie was here.”
“So do I.”
I hadn’t expected a hug because Margit isn’t physically demonstrative. But the embrace she gave me was surprisingly full of emotion.
“Uh-oh.” Over Margit’s shoulder, I saw Bonnie Gossage grab her belly with both hands.
“I think my water just broke,” the attorney said.
CHAPTER 5
Bonnie’s labor kicked our party into high gear. Literally. Rather than have a repeat of my home birth drama, Clancy loaded Bonnie into her new white, four-wheel drive Range Rover, the car she’d bought so she’d never have to fear our Midwest weather again. Back when I had Anya, fourteen years ago, I was only nineteen. Although it might have seemed rude to leave my own shindig, the other attendees shooed me out the door.
“Who knows when and if Bonnie’s husband will make it in time?” Laurel handed me my scarf and gloves. “He’s picking up his parents at the airport. She needs somebody, and you’re it. None of us knows her as well as you do. Besides, you have the most recent, first-hand experience.”
That was true enough. Things definitely had changed since I’d had Anya thirteen years ago. Besides all that, Bonnie had chosen to have her child at Southeast, the same hospital I’d visited after Ty was born. Given all those stellar reasons, I quit arguing and grabbed my purse.
Clancy proved her usual unflappable self, getting us to the ER in record time. I held Bonnie’s hand and helped her time her contractions.
“Hard to believe I’ve been through this twice before,” Bonnie said between grimaces. “Both times, Jeremy was by my side.”
Glue, Baby, Gone Page 7
