Forever Friends

by Sarah Mackenzie

  This is my family’s preferred Christmas treat. I think holiday indulgences are so important.

  That “too much of a good thing” saying does not apply to this peach galette, and I dare anyone to prove me wrong.

  Almost any nut can be substituted for the crust—and you’d have to be a nut not to love it!

  She wished Hester was sitting here in her kitchen, chatting and cooking. She’d never seemed intimidated by anything. Renee vividly remembered the afternoon she and Myles ran into Hester at the clothing shop that predated Stripe. It was called “Femme” or something insufferably pretentious, particularly for Cranberry Cove.

  “Lordy, have you seen the prices here?” Hester had held up a pretty sunhat, glaring at its tag. She dramatically whipped out her readers. “Thirty-five bucks for this. Why, I could make you one of these with the straw from my brother’s barn for an eighth of the cost.”

  Myles had whistled in approval, and Renee, a timid twenty-something suddenly felt not so different from this beloved town fixture.

  “That hat is imported from Bali,” the boutique’s owner had said with a sneer.

  “Could have fooled me.” Renee recalled the smile that tugged at Hester’s lips. “Looks like old Maine hay to this New England gal.”

  I realized something today—all I need in life is my family and my baking. I am a happy woman.

  By the time Renee pulled the final creation—pecan tassies—from the oven, she had half a dozen desserts crowding her kitchen counters, a slight stomachache, and a more positive mind-set.

  She’d gotten by just fine without a man all these years, she reminded herself. She certainly didn’t need one now.

  But what if she was sick of simple?

  What if it was time to put herself out there—finally—and brave a few complications?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sadie woke up to a nearly forgotten sensation: her husband’s big hand sliding up her inner thigh and his hot mouth nibbling her earlobe.

  She shivered as tiny goose bumps broke out down the backs of her arms. “Well, good morning to you, hot stuff.” She cracked her eyes open and smiled lazily. She’d passed out before Ethan had finally returned from Boston last night. She’d tried her hardest to stay up and share the distressing news about the pregnancy, but all that fear had knocked her out. “What time did you get home?”

  “Mmm…ten?” He began to gently trace her nipples with the tip of his tongue, always so deliciously sensitive during pregnancy.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head. Okay, now that felt good.

  Ethan hadn’t initiated early-morning sex in ages. Even though she woke up early by anyone’s standards, for the past few months, her first sight every morning was Ethan’s empty side of the bed. He logged on to his computer as early as five forty-five some mornings, and on other days, drove to Boston even earlier than that.

  “Happy anniversary.” Ethan working his way back up to pay a visit to the hollow of her neck. “Three years ago today, I finally worked up the courage to ask the hot designer out on a date.”

  Her grin widened at the memory of that spring afternoon when Ethan had awkwardly approached her desk, his usual swagger replaced with a nervous energy.

  “Something I can help you with?” she’d asked absentmindedly, the majority of her focus being given to a tricky seating arrangement.

  He cleared his throat. “Actually, yeah. I was wondering if you’re busy tonight?”

  Sadie had stared at him blankly, her mind struggling to make the leap between desk dimensions and dinner plans.

  “Would you like to go out with me?” he’d sputtered.

  “Like on a date?”

  “No, to hang at the laundromat and compare detergent. Yes, of course as a date.”

  She’d been attracted to the cute software engineer at her current assignment. She’d had a little crush since they’d bonded over Frank Lloyd Wright while waiting for the coffeemaker to brew. But she didn’t want to be appear too eager.

  “That depends.” Sadie chewed on the end of her pen. “What did you have in mind?”

  Ethan had wanted to take her to a trendy new bistro a few neighborhoods over, known for its wine selection and tapas. But when they’d arrived, they discovered the restaurant was closed for a private event.

  It had been Sadie who suggested they duck into the hole-in-the-wall bar next door, an establishment with sticky floors and an abundance of Red Sox paraphernalia. They’d split a pitcher of cheap beer and a platter of chicken wings as they chatted about their hometowns, their families, and their friends. Ethan had called an Uber at the end of the night, and when the sedan pulled up outside Sadie’s apartment, he’d insisted on walking her up the three flights to her front door. He’d given her a swoon-worthy kiss goodnight and left like a proper gentleman.

  It had been Sadie’s last first date, and her most favorite.

  Now, three years later, she kissed her husband fully, passionately.

  “God, I missed you,” Ethan murmured, pulling her toward him. He ran his hands over her stomach and cupped her breasts. He inhaled in appreciation. “I forgot what pregnancy does to these babies.”

  A sudden coldness ran through Sadie’s veins. She felt herself constrict, tighten up. Her arms instinctively hugged her belly.

  The pregnancy. Their baby. Their child, whose fate was now completely up in the air.

  “Sade? You okay?” Ethan stopped the sensual caressing. He propped himself up on his elbow, looking at her with furrowed brows. “What’s the matter? You just completely shut down.”

  She stared at him, swallowing hard.

  “Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me,” he said softly. “I’m your husband. Your partner.”

  She nodded. Again more swallowing.

  “Remember how I had my first doctor’s appointment yesterday?” she said.

  “Oh my God. Sadie, I am so, so sorry. I completely forgot.” The color drained from Ethan’s face. “I feel so shitty right now. How did it go? How’s our baby?”

  She bit her lip, clenching the linen duvet in her hands. “Well—”

  “Mommy? I pee-pee! I pee-pee in my bed!”

  “Shit,” Sadie and Ethan said together, in a rare demonstration of synchronization.

  * * *

  Ethan had insisted on cleaning up the soggy mess, which included throwing all of Lincoln’s bedding into the wash before the toddler himself received a proper scrub. “You take a shower while I tackle all that,” he told her.

  Sadie simply nodded, unable to blurt out the news while Lincoln was standing there cold and wet.

  In the shower, she cranked the water as hot as her skin could stand and stood beneath the rain showerhead. She glared at the razor sitting inside one of the herringbone-tiled niches, knowing she should shave her legs on this rare occasion when she actually had the time. “Screw you,” she murmured in its direction.

  After her shower, she made an effort to use the blow-dryer for the first time in months. Amazing the difference it made. Had her hair always been capable of such volume and shine?

  Ethan gave a low whistle as she walked into the kitchen, wearing a white sundress, jean jacket, and red espadrilles. “New outfit?”

  “Just something I haven’t worn in a while,” she said.

  He seemed to have forgotten about the doctor’s visit news and she decided to tell him after their outing. No need to ruin a perfect family day.

  They loaded up and drove to Cranberry Cove’s annual May Day Festival, holding hands like the very picture of domestic bliss. Except for the fact she felt her insides scorching under the pressure of keeping the news to herself. After they parked and walked to Main Street, she kept sneaking glances at her husband in his worn Cincinnati Reds baseball cap. He gave her a wry smile and whispered, “When we get home? Let’s pick up where we left off this morning.”

  She nodded and murmured some sort of agreement, her stomach even more unsettled. Where you think we left off, and where I thi
nk we left off are two very different things.

  Lincoln perched on his broad shoulders and gestured excitedly at every spring-themed float that passed by. “Daisy flower!” he cheered. “Ooooh! Look! Butterfly!”

  The town’s annual May Day celebration started with a twelve o’clock parade. The high school and junior high marching bands performed, and every local business put together a creative float to welcome the new season. This year, Chickadee Studios had even created flower crowns to pass out to the crowd.

  “Pretty crown for a pretty gal?” Jill Kelly smiled at Sadie. “I had so much fun making these. Makes me want to add a floral component to Chickadee. Think people would like that?”

  “Uh-huh. Sure.” She graciously accepted the ranunculus, spray rose, and blue thistle crown and set it atop her head. She smiled and offered a weak thank-you, thinking how wrong it felt to wear such a cheerful crown when she felt so anxious, so scared.

  “You look like some sort of pagan fertility goddess.” Ethan winked.

  “Ha, right.” Sadie instinctively set her hands over her stomach.

  “You okay?” Ethan looked down at her, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders.

  She smiled up into his handsome face, the same one that always made her go a little weak in the knees—that is when she wasn’t wanting to bang him over the head with a whiffle ball bat. “I’m just glad to be with you,” she said truthfully.

  He planted a soft, perfect kiss on her forehead.

  Castaway Yarn’s float made its way down the street. Every year, the shop’s float featured a giant ball of yarn surrounded by volunteers holding various rescue cats and kittens. By the end of the celebration, most of the precious pets were already adopted.

  “Kitties!” Lincoln pointed at a small tabby. He was orange with green eyes. “Dat one. Dat one mine?”

  “Sorry, bud. Daddy’s allergic,” Ethan replied smoothly.

  “Lergic?”

  “It means cats make Daddy sick,” he explained. “I sneeze and cough! We don’t want that to happen, do we?”

  Lincoln stared before shaking his head solemnly. “Daddy no sick.”

  She watched the bank’s float go by. They’d crafted a “money tree” surrounded by springtime blooms—a joke, of course, but slightly cringe-inducing. Next year, when she and Renee had opened Hester’s, they would create a wonderful float, something imaginative, thoughtful, and clever. Maybe they could bake up tiny hand pies to give out to the crowd as they sashayed down the main drag.

  “Sade, you getting hungry yet?” Ethan asked.

  Her stomach growled, a reminder she was eating for two. God. At least she prayed she still was. “Maybe a little bit.”

  Lincoln clapped. “Me too! Me hungry.”

  “Lobster rolls?” she suggested.

  “You read my mind,” he said with the confidence of a man whose wife knew him so completely that of course she could guess his appetite’s desires. “Let’s head over to the Lobster Shack before it gets too crowded.”

  As they stood in line, Lincoln gleefully climbed up Ethan’s strong, well-muscled legs, his father’s hands gripped around his tiny wrists and holding him steady. Sadie stood beside them, overwhelmingly sad and exhausted. Lincoln might not be a big brother after all. Ethan might not get to be a dad again. She might not get to be a mom for a second time.

  “Sadie?”

  She whirled around. It was her gynecologist, Dr. Jennings, also known as the absolute last person she’d hoped to run into today.

  “Hi, Dr. Jennings,” she said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ears. She noticed a little girl standing behind Dr. Jennings’s legs and waved. “Hello. I’m Sadie.”

  “This is my daughter, Ava.” She scooted the shy girl forward. “She’s waiting very impatiently for the Maypole dance.”

  “I used to love that part of the day. What color ribbon are you hoping to get?” Sadie asked.

  “Orange!” Ava beamed. “I want my mama to braid the ribbon into my hair!”

  “Excellent choice. I always went for purple myself.” Sadie squeezed Ethan’s hand. Her handsome husband turned, Lincoln now hooked around his middle. “Honey? This is Dr. Jennings. She’s my OB while Dr. Monroe is on maternity leave.”

  Ethan flashed her one of his charmer grins and shook her hand. “Great to meet you, Dr. Jennings. Thank you for taking care of my beautiful wife. We’re so excited to be parents again. Can’t wait for Lincoln to be a big brother.”

  Sadie only had a moment to blanch before Lincoln began to shout, “Potty! Potty now! Now, now! Can’t hold it!”

  “Why don’t you take him and I’ll grab our lunches. We’ll all meet up by the picnic tables,” Ethan suggested

  “Right! On it,” she said, regretfully leaving Ethan in the company of her doctor.

  “Hurry, Mommy,” Lincoln urged. Sadie knew he wasn’t kidding. Just a few weeks ago, they’d been at Shopper’s Corner when Lincoln suddenly proclaimed he had to pee. Unfortunately, another patron was occupying the grocery’s single restroom, and by the time Sadie got Lincoln next door to Castaway Yarns, he’d let loose…all over the front of her sweatshirt.

  At this point, Sadie could write a book called The Poorly Timed and Horribly Misaimed Pee-Pee Chronicles.

  “Yay! We did it!” Lincoln exclaimed the moment his mother sat his little butt on the toilet seat. “Yippee! M&M now?”

  Wiping the sweat from her brow, she smiled weakly. “We did! Just in time. Great job, buddy. And how about a very special ice cream cone instead?” She held him over the porcelain sink afterward and washed their hands together beneath a stream of warm, soapy water.

  They walked back toward the picnic table area slowly, Sadie feeling as though she could collapse beneath all the worry she was carrying.

  As soon as she saw him at the picnic table, she knew he knew.

  Lincoln scooted onto the bench and began to grab for the hot dog pieces Ethan had neatly cut up for him. “Slow down there, buddy,” Sadie warned. “Have some of your juice between bites.”

  She sat down in front of her own lobster roll and La Croix.

  “Thanks for grabbing our lunches, honey. Did you happen to talk to Dr. Jennings?”

  Ethan nodded. “Sweetheart. The baby. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her eyes immediately filling with tears. “I tried, this morning.”

  “I know. I know you tried.”

  Sadie suddenly felt sick. She pushed the lobster roll away.

  “I tried staying up last night,” she whispered. “I wanted to tell you when you got home from work. In person.”

  Ethan nodded patiently.

  “And then this morning, I tried again. But Lincoln…”

  “Wet the bed,” he finished for her, “and I didn’t really listen.” He suddenly pulled her close. “Oh, Sadie…God. I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry.”

  She hiccupped. “For what?”

  “For not being there yesterday. I should have been there with you during your appointment.” He ran his hand up and down her arm. Sadie felt a tear leak down her cheek. She didn’t care if they were in the middle of the park during the May Day festival. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.”

  An announcement boomed over a nearby megaphone: “Calling all children! It’s Maypole time! Please report to the gazebo where Ms. Park will assign you a ribbon color!”

  Sadie watched as dozens of kids made a dash for Essie Park, who was standing inside the gazebo with a clipboard in her well-manicured hands. Lincoln began to push and pull on them, as toddlers are wont to do. “Come on, guys! I get ribbon now! Come, come!”

  “Hey buddy, Mommy isn’t feeling so great right now.” Ethan knelt down in the grass, holding Lincoln out at arm’s length. “Let’s get her home, so she can be comfy and rest in her bed.”

  “Oh, Mama! You sick?” Lincoln held a tiny hand against her forehead.

  Sadie burst into tears.

  “I love you so much, Sadie,”
Ethan whispered in her ear. “Love you forever.”

  With her two favorite guys on either side, Sadie gratefully left the fair behind, feeling a bit lighter. No matter what happened, they’d get through it together.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ouch!” Renee yelped, dropping the eyelash curler into the bathroom sink. “Oh, damn it.”

  “Everything okay in there?” Myles knocked on the door. “Do I need to call the paramedics?”

  “Yep!” She tossed the beauty tool that felt more like a medieval torture device into a drawer and slammed it shut. She repeated the line she’d given poor Myles ten minutes ago. “I’ll be ready in five.”

  When Renee texted Myles in a panic over her lack of a Spring Fling date, he’d immediately come to her rescue. “As it turns out, Nathan is going to be in Chicago for a conference,” he’d texted. “I’d be honored to be your escort. Just don’t wear anything green. It’s unflattering for my skin tone.”

  “Lol!” Renee returned.

  And now poor Myles was stuck waiting as she fussed and fumbled with her appearance.

  Was her eye makeup too simple? Was her red lipstick too much?

  Renee propped open an Allure magazine and attempted to contour her cheekbones. My God, this was harder than it looked. She regretted every dismissive comment she’d ever made about the Kardashians. This felt like an Olympic sport. After a few aggressive swipes of bronzer and its immediate removal, she decided to dust on her normal blush and call it a day. She scrunched a little floral-scented gel in her hair and threw the magazine in the trash can.

  For as long as she could remember, Renee and Bree had gotten ready for the Spring Fling Gala together. Bree would pop a bottle of champagne, and they’d sip from Renee’s antique flutes and primp. They wore the same size and loved to swap outfits.

  “So! What time are ya coming over on Saturday?” Renee had asked her sister earlier this week. “I’ve already got a bottle of bubbles chilling in the fridge, and I’m going to bake a snack mix for us to nibble on.”

  “About Saturday,” Renee knew the first sound of a flaky excuse all too well. “I’m sorry, but I actually have to work late.”