by Lilian Darcy
They hadn’t celebrated, and here was Mary Jane, who could have felt jealous and left out, showing them how.
She was still sparkling. “So...there’s obviously so much to talk about. I’m going to be Aunt Mary Jane! Mac, it’s so great to meet you! Wow—sorry, another one. But I never thought my first meeting with my sister’s new man would come hand in hand with a pregnancy announcement. We should sit down and have lunch, and really celebrate. Shall I throw something together?”
“We don’t have to have a big lunch, Mary Jane,” Lee said.
“Well, I do, because I’m telling you, they did not believe in breakfast at that spa. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon and I’ve had nothing but fruit.”
“You look great, though. It can’t have been too spartan there.”
“No, it wasn’t. Gorgeous fruit, I should have said. And the massage was fabulous, and the facials, and the mud wrap, and the yoga and movement classes. And the silent retreat.”
“You fit all that into three days?”
“And I slept like a log. The pillows! Please let me make us lunch.”
“Go for it, if you want,” Lee said, laughing again.
“I’ll call you when it’s ready,” Mary Jane promised. “You look busy in here. Then we’ll talk more. I want to hear all the details.” She picked up her bags again, and headed up the stairs.
When she’d gone, Mac repeated wryly, “She wants to hear all the details.”
Lee’s response was cautious. “Well, we can give her a few of them.”
“I’m going to be the third wheel.” He stood up, with his jaw set square, and reached for the truck keys in his pocket. “You need to do this sister to sister.”
Lee looked at the keys, but couldn’t disagree. “I think you’re right.” She felt relieved, in fact. One of them would be the third wheel, but she wasn’t convinced it would be Mac. Mary Jane, maybe.
Or me...
Sandwiched in between one thrilled sister and one overprotective father-to-be, whom she hadn’t known nearly long enough. Whom she loved being close to, but—
But what?
She couldn’t do this all at once. Become a committed relationship partner, and a glowing future mom, and an indoor manager sitting at a desk and being super cautious with her body, when four months ago she’d been single and independent and out in the open air all day, with no one’s needs to consult but her own, nothing to work out about her reasons for doing the things she did. Mac seemed so totally focused on the baby, but there was a lot more going on than just that.
“Go tell her it’s two for lunch, not three,” he said. “I’m driving up to Whiteface this afternoon to take a look around, if that’s okay.” He came over and gave Lee a kiss, then held her lightly. The air seemed to heat and vibrate with their connection, the way it always did. Which was wonderful, but there was a part of her that found so much of this far too overwhelming, and was really glad he had somewhere to go right now.
“Of course it’s okay,” she told him, meaning it.
“I have a friend working there who thinks he can find some people for me to talk to about a job.”
“That was the phone call, just now?”
“Yes, did you hear?”
“Mary Jane arrived. I was distracted. Her car’s making a weird noise. Heard you ask if you could come up and take a look around. And you looked happy. You’re obviously hoping something will pan out up there.”
“Don’t like too much downtime.”
“Me, neither.”
“So it’s okay? We’re okay?” He touched the ball of his thumb to her lower lip, then bent to kiss her quickly.
“Mary Jane is going to want to get to know you. That’s clear. But if she and I can have some time together first, it’s probably for the best.”
* * *
“Mac’s not staying,” she told Mary Jane upstairs, a minute later.
“Oh. How come?” She was standing in the kitchen, slicing mushrooms and chopping bacon.
“He’s driving up to Whiteface to talk to a couple of people about a job.”
“Whiteface? He’d be two hours from here, if he was working there. That’s a big commute, especially in winter.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t commute. Maybe he’d live there.”
“Live there? This isn’t totally making sense to me, Lee.” Her sister slid the heaps of mushroom and bacon into a pan slicked with olive oil. “He’s moving east. Which means you’re moving east, too, doesn’t it?”
“Whatcha making?”
“Mushroom and bacon frittata, with salad on the side. Is that okay?”
“Sounds great.”
“You need to eat right,” Mary Jane announced. “Fiber and vitamins.”
“Duh, do I? I was planning a six-month junk food spree.”
“You didn’t answer my question about moving east, Lee, don’t think I didn’t notice. You’re looking for something at Whiteface, too? How are you going to manage all of this? Are you getting married? You haven’t even mentioned him till now. Has it been going on long?”
“Mary Jane, I’m about to pass out from a question overdose.”
“So start answering some of them.” She grabbed a box of eggs and a bag of lettuce from the refrigerator.
“Yes, I’ve moved back east. I didn’t tell you guys last week that I was making it permanent, because there was a pretty nice wedding happening here last weekend and I didn’t want to distract from it. Bad enough I was the ex-fiancée and a bridesmaid, both at the same time.”
“Tucker and Daisy didn’t give that a thought. To them it’s ancient history.”
“I could tell.” Lee had a sudden mental slide show of all those moments when the bridal couple couldn’t look at anyone but each other. “It was great. And ancient history for me, too. No, I’m not looking for something at Whiteface. I’m wondering about living here, helping run the resort. We need to have a proper Cherry sisters meeting about that, because I don’t know if there’s a place for me here. What was the next question?”
“Can’t remember. Are you getting married, maybe?”
“No, we’re not getting married. We’ve only known each other for three months.”
“You got pregnant a minute after you met?”
“The way doctors count it—which, if you didn’t know, is from first day of your last period, not the date of actual conception—I got pregnant before we met.”
“That strikes me as a little rash.”
“It was apparently a technical issue involving latex. Don’t ask.”
“Yeah, way too much information.”
“I’m not sure yet how I’m going to manage. Maybe I’ve come rushing home here for no good reason.” Because Mac had come rushing, too, and it was complicating things in ways she didn’t fully understand. “The baby wasn’t planned. Obviously.”
“Obviously. But you’re happy about it.” Suddenly, Mary Jane got serious. “I really, really need to know that you’re happy about it, Lee.” She turned away from the stove and faced her, with a frown on her face and a question in her eyes.
Lee engulfed her sister in a huge hug, and felt the tension in her body. “I’m very happy about it. Scared, but happy. I’m really happy that you’re happy, Mary Jane. I loved how excited you got. I loved all the wows, really. Loved them. Oh, shoot, I’m crying.”
“So am I.” Mary Jane reached behind her and shut off the burner on the stove.
Lee pulled back, wiped tears on a sleeve and looked at her. “Why did you really, really need to know that I’m happy?”
Her sister sighed, took a breath, sighed again and finally got going. “Because if you weren’t, then it would be too unfair. I’ve always wanted marriage and babies, and you’ve kind of shrugged about it and said, ‘Someda
y...’ And now it’s happening to you and not me, and if you were still going, ‘Huh, I’m not sure I want this,’ about it, I might have to hate you.”
“Ooh, no, don’t do that.”
“It’s the hardest, hardest thing, watching someone else disdain something that you want desperately yourself.” She blinked back more tears. “And we were close as kids, and I don’t want to hate you, because now you’re back and we can be close again, all three of us, and I’m really excited about that.”
Lee laughed, and kept crying at the same time. Possibly a hormone thing. “I’m excited about it, too.”
“Have some tissues.” Mary Jane passed the box from the top of the refrigerator.
“Thanks.” They both blinked and sniffed. “Is there a place for me here, Mary Jane? Working the reservations system, or manning the office? Helping Daisy in the restaurant?”
“Of course there’s a place for you! Probably six places, over the summer. I was going to have to hire someone for the office, because I can’t be everywhere at once and our summer reservations are already well up on last year.”
“That’s what I hoped—that I could do, instead of new staff.”
“You won’t ‘do.’ You’ll be fabulous. Didn’t we have fun here when we were kids? Don’t you remember how much everyone had fun here?”
“I do!”
“And the remodel has been brilliant, don’t you think? I can’t wait for summer.”
“Me, too.”
They laughed and sighed and felt better.
Mary Jane picked up on the practicalities again, a few moments later. “So you’ll live here. And Mac might be two hours away. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Nope.”
“Does it bother you that it doesn’t bother you?”
“Not that, either.”
Mary Jane’s shrug was highly expressive as she turned back to the stove and clicked the gas burner back on. Lee had never realized how much an older sister’s shoulders could say.
“Why do you think it should bother me?” She watched Mary Jane stirring the mushrooms and bacon. Her stirring attained a pretty impressive level of communication, also.
“Did I say that?” She put down the spoon and began cracking eggs into a bowl. “Want to wash the lettuce?”
“Sure.” Lee went to the sink, and Mary Jane pulled a salad spinner out of a cupboard and handed it to her. Lee ran water over the lettuce, then put the lid on the spinner and started it whirring around, telling her sister above the humming sound, “You didn’t have to say it, Mary Jane. Just asking the question made it obvious. Two hours isn’t that far. We’ll still see each other. As much as we want.”
“Or as little.”
“That, too.”
“That, too,” Mary Jane echoed, the tone so wooden you could have made furniture out of it.
“It’s good that we can be flexible about it. We’re not painting ourselves into any kind of corner. Things can evolve.”
“Evolve.” More furniture. A whole bedroom set.
“Yes.” She turned the spinner handle faster, and the noise of it and the sizzling bacon made it hard to keep talking.
Which was good, because Lee thought they were done.
Chapter Eleven
Mac drove back from Whiteface in the dark. It wasn’t an easy trip, half of it on minor mountain roads until the merge onto I-87 South.
And even the interstate could get pretty bad in a storm, this far north, with snow slowing the drive or blocking the roads.
Hell of a commute from Lake George.
The afternoon had gone very well, though, better than he’d hoped. There was a job for him if he wanted it, and a lead on accommodation, as well. The job started in two and a half weeks, and the rental on the small house in the town of Jay was open from the beginning of May, just over a month away. He’d seen a couple photos of the place, and would have to drive up there again within the next couple days if he wanted to see it properly before committing to a lease. He’d lose it if he wasn’t fast.
If he took it, that would take care of the commuting problem. Jay was half an hour from Whiteface.
But it was an hour and twenty minutes from Lee.
He wondered how thoroughly she and Mary Jane had covered the pregnancy and the relationship, over lunch. What had they said after he left? He knew Lee hadn’t been happy about the way he’d announced it, but he wasn’t going to be sidelined, and he wasn’t going to deal with any pretense that it wasn’t happening.
He’d done that.
Been there.
Been through it.
All the crazy stuff about not needing to buy a crib or a stroller or even a diaper bag, because all that paraphernalia would just tie them down. And when Sloane had wanted to talk about it happening, about actually having a baby in their lives, there’d always been the blithe assumption that you made a child in your own image, that the baby would be exactly who and what you wanted it to be.
They’d had to name him for his funeral, and they’d called him Kelly after the surfing champion, but when he was just a tiny being of unknown gender inside her, Sloane had called him Peanut. She used to say that Peanut, female or male, was going to be an Olympic snowboarding gold medal winner. “The kid’ll practically have been born on a board. It’ll be a natural. What choice will it have?” she used to say, half joking, half not.
And in a horrible way it was true: little baby Kelly practically had been born on a board. Had died on a board. Under a board. Slammed against a board.
Hell!
It’s happening. Lee and I are having a baby.
Why does it have to happen like this?
There was a part of Mac that wanted to demand that he and Lee get married, so that he would have more control. He could stand back and look at that piece of himself, with all its fear and bullishness, and sometimes he had to fight so hard not to give in to it.
Marry me, Lee.
Marry me, damn it, so I can force the right choices on you and you can’t argue.
As if that was a good reason for a marriage.
As if marriage gave you that kind of control, anyhow.
It scared him that he wanted it—that he wanted to turn into some historical throwback who didn’t want his wife to vote or work or even speak, unless it was in complete agreement with himself.
He wasn’t that person, but he had to fight not to want to be.
It would be the worst, most disastrous thing in the world if he and Lee got married when he was feeling this way. She might be thinking about the M word, too, but he very much doubted she would have that kind of a marriage in mind.
Back at his little cottage, he called her, needing to get back to the relationship they really had, not the one half of him wanted. Back to the relationship where they laughed and made love, and understood so much about each other, and had fun together.
“Wanna come over and see my place?” he said to her on the phone, dropping his voice to the low, intimate pitch she could give back to him with extra spice. “It’s not quite an eleven million dollar Aspen mansion, but it’s close. One bathroom instead of seven and no Jacuzzi, but that’s a detail.”
“I love the way you’re selling it.” Yes, that pitch, with a laugh in it. “How’d it go at Whiteface?”
“Talk when you get here.” He was smiling like an idiot, into the phone.
“Didn’t say I was coming, did I?”
“Are you coming?”
“Car keys in my hand.”
“Wait, have you eaten?”
“No, that big lunch of Mary Jane’s filled me up. I’m only just getting hungry now. Thought I’d wait to see if you called.”
“And I did,” he said.
“You did,” she agreed. “Want me t
o pick up some takeout on my way? Pizza place might be open.”
“Pizza is good. You know what I like.”
“Happens I do, seeing as it’s the same as what I like.”
“Which is handy.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Thirty-four minutes later, he heard the slam of a car door above the sound of the TV, and there she was, balancing a pizza box on the flat of her hand. Her cheeks were pink in the cold and she’d twisted her dark-caramel hair into a round knot high on the back of her head, so that it left her square jaw clear.
She wore jeans and a close-fitting stretchy top almost the same color as her hair, with a white tank underneath that showed at the neckline, and for the first time he thought he could see the beginnings of a bump, right where the hem of the top slid over the waistband of the jeans. He could definitely see the other two bumps he loved, round and bouncy when she walked.
“Here’s your delivery,” she said. He loved the shape of her face when she smiled, loved the life in her eyes.
“If it was anything but pizza, I’d probably want to get you naked first.”
“The freshness of pizza is sacred, I do agree.” She came past him, still balancing the box, and let her free hand trail across his chest, making a promise for later.
The pizza smelled of mushroom and onion and olives and anchovies, and suddenly he was so hungry he thought she should probably have gotten two.
They sat on the couch with the open box on the coffee table in front of them, and demolished all eight slices between two commercial breaks in a crime show, while outside the wind picked up and sleet began to fall. It was so cozy in here, reminding him of those nights in her little janitor apartment in Aspen, back when everything was so simple between them.
How could they possibly get back to that?
Maybe if they pretended... Or if they only talked about... Or if they didn’t talk at all, but just...
They couldn’t. Nothing was simple now.
“You haven’t told me about Whiteface yet,” she said, when the pizza was gone.
