Sprouted

by Gina LaManna

  Meg tapped on my chest. Really hard. When I flinched under the pressure, she apologized and resumed rubbing my back.

  “All those fun, special things she did for you—the birthdays, the Christmas, the love she had for you. You have all of that inside of you. And your baby will know her, too, through you.”

  I rested my head against Meg’s shoulder, and she rubbed my back while I sniffled my way through the pack of Kleenex I’d taken to carrying in my purse. It wasn’t only a physical rollercoaster, this having a baby business, but an emotional one, too.

  “Is everything okay?” One of the dressing room attendants stopped by. “Can I help you? Something not fit?”

  “Oh, well, lots of things aren’t fitting her,” Meg said matter-of-factly. “She’s not really her normal size.”

  The woman clucked sympathetically. “I have four kids. One set of twins. Things...” She sighed. “I’d tell you things get better, but some body parts just never go back to the way they were.”

  “Thanks, lady,” Meg said. “You’re making her feel great.”

  “That shouldn’t make you sad!” The woman sounded surprised. “So what, you have to wear some higher waisted jeans? When you see that sweet little face on the day he’s born, none of it will matter anymore.”

  “I’m noticing a lot of the pronoun he,” Meg said, examining my stomach as if it held the answer to her questions. “Is it a boy and nobody told me? Is there a way y’all can tell from the outside?”

  The lady laughed, probably thinking she was trying to be funny, but I merely patted Meg’s head and reassured her that no, gender could not be seen from outside the womb no matter how closely she looked—unless she had an ultrasound machine tucked behind her eyelids.

  “Actually, I do have a question for you,” I said to the clerk. “We’re looking for someone who came in here a few days ago—maybe even a couple weeks ago? They would have bought these pants on sale.”

  “A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead,” Meg said. “I know, good joke, huh?”

  The woman frowned. “Why are you asking?”

  Meg reached into her bag and removed a badge. “I’m a PI,” she said, then coughed and discreetly muttered the in-training part of her credentials. “We are looking for a few people.”

  “Friends?”

  “We were hired to look for someone’s friends,” Meg clarified. “My client hasn’t seen these ladies in a few years, and it’s essential they get in touch.”

  The lady looked skeptical, but she thought back. “You said three ladies?”

  “They probably looked sort of like Charlie’s Angels,” Meg said. “All badass and super cool.”

  “Actually, there were three women in here just like that, and I remember because I told them they looked exactly like Charlie’s Angels.” The woman’s face brightened. “They were really nice ladies. You said they’re your friends?”

  “Not exactly. We were hired to find them and deliver a package,” I added, not bothering to note that my particular package was a very terrifying husband prepared to recover my wedding ring.

  “I’m sorry—I don’t have anything helpful for you. We didn’t chat much.” She frowned in thought. “I did get the vibe they worked together.”

  “Did they say where?” I asked hopefully. “Or hint at it?”

  “No, not really. I just remember they all wore the same sort of badges on their hips, and I heard them moaning about a man. I assumed he was their boss or something. You know the type of corporate America I’m talking about—accountants or marketing or whatnot. One of those nice, clean, boring sorts of jobs with nine to five hours. They came on their lunch break.”

  I looked to Meg. Three women working together...in corporate America? I hadn’t expected that theory. What might cause three otherwise normal ladies to hold up a series of banks, given that these were the correct women?

  “Thank you,” I said, and meant it. “That’s very helpful. You said you didn’t see the name of their company?”

  “No, I didn’t catch it. But I’m nearly certain they work locally because I don’t think they drove to the mall. They had hats and mittens and walking shoes, all of that. Plus, I’ve seen them before. I think some days they do laps around the mall on their lunch break when it’s too cold to go outside.”

  “So weird,” I told Meg, as we headed back out to the car after purchasing my baby items and an armful of Meg’s clothes. I was so focused on the information we’d learned that I’d forgotten all about the pretzel and Meg’s Victoria’s Secret mission. “Do those ladies really fit the profile? They sound just like normal working women to me. Walks and shopping on lunch breaks. What would make them rob a bank?”

  “Well, that’s the...” Meg frowned. “How much money do you think they stole? The sixty-four thousand dollar and one wedding ring question?”

  “I don’t know, but I think I need to add to my statement again,” I said. “Come on—back to the station. I’m sure Detective Rankle will want to take a peek at the security tapes.”

  Meg frowned. “I don’t think he liked me much.”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t think so either. Which is why you can wait outside.”

  Chapter 8

  WE MADE IT BACK TO the police station after a quick stop for lunch. I’d ordered an extra water specifically for Venus and was feeling like a pretty proud plant parent by the time we returned to the interview room with Detective Rankle. Meg had decided she didn’t want to wait outside, and I had decided I didn’t have the energy to argue. So, we were both back.

  “Turned out Veenie-baby didn’t need caffeine,” Meg chuckled as she placed the plant on the interview table once again. “He was sitting in the wrong dirt the whole time. Hilarious, right?!”

  Detective Rankle didn’t seem to find her story the least bit hilarious, so he turned to me, clearly hoping for some straight answers.

  “What can I help you with, ladies?” he asked. “Again.”

  “Well, we were doing some shopping,” I said, rubbing a hand over my stomach. “Baby supplies and whatnot. And we got to talking with the dressing room attendant.”

  “Her name was Henrietta,” Meg offered.

  “She didn’t tell us her name,” I said, turning to face her. “How’d you find out?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t. But just like Venus looks like a Venus, she looked like a Henrietta. There’s a chance I’m correct.”

  I swiveled back to face the detective. “Anyway, we got to talking to the sales clerk—”

  “Henrietta?” he asked, puzzled.

  “No. Er—yes,” I corrected. “Maybe. We don’t know her name, but she works at Macy’s. I’m sure you can look up her name. In fact, you might want to look up some footage of the dressing rooms—or near them. I think the three ladies who robbed the bank bought their pants at that very store.”

  “Right,” he said, and I could see his brain ticking away. “And you know this...how?”

  “Well, the pants went on sale exactly two weeks ago,” Meg said. “There have been heists every four days since then.”

  “So, you think the bank heists are about pants?” The detective frowned. “I’m not following.”

  “It’s not about the pants,” Meg said. “Men. You say one thing, and that’s all they focus on.”

  “Okay, it’s not about the pants.” Detective Rankle opened his arms in apology. “What is it about?”

  “I have an idea,” I began. “The woman who works in the dressing room met and saw these three ladies. From what it sounds like, they match the description of the robbers. The timeline checks out.” I hesitated, watching the detective’s impassive face. “Maybe if you stopped by the store to check things out, you could pull the security footage and identify the ladies. If they shopped there, they might have used credit cards, which would allow us to pin down their identities via their spending history.”

  “And apparently this is an episode of NCIS.” Detective Rankle leaned close enough to be in
timidating. It wasn’t that he looked dismayed, just slightly annoyed. “I know how to do my job, and there is no we to it—not with me and the pair of you, at least.”

  “We’re just trying to help,” Meg said. “You know, from the female perspective.”

  “Ladies.” The detective straightened and folded his hands before his body. “I appreciate the tips and information, but I’ll handle it from here.”

  “You’re going to check it out?” I asked. “I think—”

  “I think that my team can handle it. I just can’t have civilians...” He hesitated, glancing at my stomach before his gaze returned to my face. “Interfering on a case. Too much of a liability.”

  “We weren’t interfering,” Meg said. “We were helping.”

  “It’s a fine line, Miss Meg.”

  “True, but—”

  “You’re telling me,” the detective said, cutting her off, “that you just happened to be in the same department store as the possible suspects, you just happened to find the right fitting room attendant, you just happened to pick the same pair of pants as the robbers, and you just happened to ask all the right questions?”

  Meg scratched her chin. “When you put it like that, it feels a little more like meddling.”

  Detective Rankle smiled, relaxed. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, I promise you both. Miss Luzzi, we’ll recover your possessions and Miss Meg—why are you here again?”

  “Moral support.”

  “Right.” He nodded. “Moral support. Anything else for me today?”

  Meg and I both hung our heads, and I was brought back to the few times I’d been sent to the principal’s office.

  “No, sir,” I said eventually. “Thanks for listening.”

  “Take it easy,” he said, extending a hand for a shake. “Does Anthony know you’re poking your nose into police business?”

  I froze. “How do you know my husband?”

  “We’ve met in, ah, very loose circles. I don’t know him well.”

  My shoulders stiffened. “I see.”

  “I do happen to know he’s...how should I say it? Possessive. He wouldn’t be happy with me if I didn’t instruct you to stay away from the case. For your own safety.” He gave me a tense smile, a small dose of fear on the side. “You’re a smart woman, Mrs. Luzzi. I imagine you’re catching my drift.”

  I knew the look. It was the look of someone who knew, respected, or feared my husband and our family’s far-reaching exploits. “Ah, I see. I’ll make sure he knows you instructed me to stay away and that you didn’t encourage my involvement.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  The detective led Meg and I from the room, and we exchanged one more round of handshakes and a promise to let him know of anything else we remembered.

  “Damn,” Meg said as we climbed into the car. “That’s cool.”

  “What’s cool?”

  “Anthony’s got detectives quaking in their boots. I think he’s my hero.” Meg gave a firm nod as she slid into the passenger’s seat of the car. “With Carlos as my BFF and Anthony as my mentor-slash-hero, I’m gonna make an unstoppable PI.”

  “Have you asked either of them for their help?”

  “Chickadee, it’s implied. I’m one of the family. Luzzis are all about the family.”

  I turned the car on and pulled away from the curb. My phone buzzed, saving me from a response. I tossed the device to Meg and asked her to read me the name on the caller ID.

  “Memo,” she said. “Who’s memo?”

  I stared at her. “It’s a memo. Read it.”

  “Oh, I see.” Meg flicked the phone open and read aloud. “Says you were supposed to meet Dr. Gambino twenty minutes ago.”

  “Oh, crap!” I turned the car toward home and accelerated. “This pregnancy brain business is real.”

  “Maybe,” Meg said. “But I think it’s just your real brain. It’s not like you remember anything even when you’re not pregnant.”

  “Fair,” I said, flicking on a blinker and jumping onto the highway. “But it’s a great excuse, and I plan to use it for the next eighteen years of this baby’s life.”

  Chapter 9

  ANTHONY HELD MY HAND, I held my breath, and Dr. Gambino held the door open as we entered a small sitting area after our appointment.

  “Well?” I asked. “How does everything look?”

  “Lacey, I told you. I don’t know plants. I just do humans.”

  With a sigh, I took back the proffered Venus flytrap from Dr. Gambino’s hands. The little guy had begun to look droopy all over again, and I’d hoped the good doctor would have advice. He didn’t.

  After relieving himself of the plant, Dr. Gambino took an extended moment to study Anthony. And fully appreciate him. It was just my luck that the highest paid and most renowned doctor in the state had a crush on my husband.

  Anthony cleared his throat. “The news?”

  Dr. Gambino, unbothered by Anthony’s discomfort, gave a low laugh as he sat in an armchair of the neat little office and flipped his file open. “Everything looks perfect for Baby Luzzi.”

  “Really?!” My breath rushed out in a waterfall of oxygen. “Everything? He’s not scared? Or she, of course. Do you know the gender? Don’t tell us—no spoilers.”

  Dr. Gambino laughed. “I do know, and I will not tell. For fear of losing my job,” he said, his eyes glancing quickly toward Anthony once more. “But I can assure you everything is on track. Not long to go, now.”

  “And then what?” Anthony asked. “Not long until what?”

  I reached over and patted his shoulder. Mr. Big & Strong still found himself quite speechless and all together clueless over most aspects of the pregnancy lifecycle.

  “Until Mrs. Luzzi gives birth to the baby, of course.”

  Anthony’s face paled. “A couple weeks?”

  “Less than that, most likely,” Dr. Gambino said. “As you know, I’ve taken to wearing a pager round the clock. Don’t hesitate to beep me with any emergencies, questions, or concerns. I’m here for you.”

  I ran my hands over my stomach. “Anything else we should be doing to prepare?”

  “Medically speaking, just keep taking care of yourself. Get lots of rest. Keep doing what you’re doing, unless it’s dangerous. Then stop at once.” He spoke with a grim smile; the Luzzis had hired him for a reason. The reason being he wasn’t an idiot nor was he naive about the family business. “You two will make wonderful parents.”

  I smiled at Anthony, squeezed his hand tighter. He barely moved.

  “I would pack a small suitcase,” Dr. Gambino said. “Just in case. Change of clothes, things to make you comfortable for a night away from home, etc.”

  “A suitcase?” I repeated, dumbfounded. When Dr. Gambino looked at me with surprise, I attempted to save face. After all, this was probably information I could’ve found on all the baby blogs I’d bookmarked to read at a later date. “Right, right. A suitcase.”

  Dr. Gambino stood. “I think that’s all for today. I’ll see you again soon, Lacey. By the way, did you choose a theme for the nursery?”

  “Nursery?” I asked, still behind the times. “Right, right. We’re on it. No theme yet.”

  Dr. Gambino shifted his weight from one foot to the next. “Mr. and Mrs. Luzzi,” he said, speaking in his most practiced calm, soothing bedside manner. “If you don’t mind, may I say something?”

  “Pretty sure you’re the doctor,” I said. “You can say whatever you want.”

  “I believe Nora and Carlos hired me for a reason, and that reason is because I’m blunt,” he said, sounding apologetic in advance for whatever came next. “And this is one of those times where I need to exercise my strengths.”

  “Be blunt,” I said, waving a hand. “We can handle it. We welcome it.”

  “Perfect.” He took a deep breath, probably sizing up his chance of staying alive after this announcement. He must have determined the risk to be worth it because he continued. “Thi
s baby is coming. Whether you like it or not, it’s happening. Whether you’re ready or not.”

  “We’re excited!” I squeaked. “It’s just very fast.”

  “I don’t know that you realize just how fast I’m talking.” Dr. Gambino looked me directly in the eyes. “I’m telling you this because I recognize the nerves and the fear you’re feeling at the moment.”

  “Fear?” I squeezed Anthony’s hand so tightly he yelped. “We don’t have fear. We’re excited for our baby to arrive. Right, Anthony?”

  Anthony twisted away from my hand, his eyes cringing. “No fear,” he muttered. “But a broken knuckle, maybe.”

  Dr. Gambino kept a straight face. “All parents go through this. At the moment, you’re probably thinking to yourself: What did I get myself into? I’m not fit to be a parent. I’m barely fit to be an adult myself. This little human being is going to depend on me...for everything.”

  My jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

  “This isn’t my first rodeo,” he said, reassuring. “It’s common. The fear, the excitement, the emotions. It’s all common. But it is also happening, Lacey. Pack a suitcase. Put an infant carrier in the car. Set up a crib in the spare bedroom. And the Lamaze class Nora scheduled? Don’t miss it.”

  “But—”

  “This child is very lucky to have two parents as loving and attentive as I’m sure you will be. There’s nothing I can say to make you less nervous, but I can try and make this more real.”

  I bowed my head, looked toward my feet, and realized again that I was no longer able to see them.

  Dr. Gambino followed my gaze, then reached a hand out and waited for permission to rest it on my stomach. I nodded, and he put his palm there.

  “Go home, be together, and enjoy this time with just the two of you,” he said, looking to both of us. “Soon enough, your little family will be three. I don’t have kids myself, but I hear it’s wonderful and chaotic and life-changing.” He winked. “You can let me know soon enough.”

  Anthony and I found ourselves in a sort of haze as we walked back home after the visit to Dr. Gambino’s office in Carlos’s main estate. I carried Veenie-baby under one arm and held Anthony’s hand with the other. He carried my purse without complaint, which told me just how dazzled and confused he’d become from our visit.