“She’s got the stomach flu,” Nathan said. “Seems to be going around to all the patients here. Half the staff has already caught it.”
“Yuck. I saw the signs about the possibility of flu and to wash hands when coming and going”
“You’re telling me,” Nathan said. “I’m not thrilled to be here, to tell you the truth, but Dr. Sower wanted me to come and take a look at Mrs. Neumann anyway.”
“Why?”
“She’s having more bad days than good days,” Nathan said. “I’m sure you’ve noticed. Her congestive heart failure is getting worse, and there are a myriad of other problems I’m probably not supposed to go into with you.”
Brydie swallowed. “But she’s feeling okay right now?” She wasn’t sure what else to say.
“She feels okay today.”
“Did you say anything about your basement being flooded?” Brydie asked. “Mrs. Neumann’s basement flooded, too, and I don’t know if I should tell her.”
“I just got here,” Nathan said. “We haven’t talked about anything other than you coming to visit.”
“Do you think I should tell her?”
Nathan shrugged. “It’s up to you.”
“I know you said once you can’t tell me anything, but Nathan, I found something last night,” Brydie said.
“What did you find?”
Brydie shifted from one foot to the other. “You know that trunk I told you about?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I had to pull it upstairs to keep it out of the water,” she said. “And then I opened it.”
“You did what?”
“I had to,” she said. “I was afraid what was inside might have gotten wet.”
“Or maybe you just wanted to see what was inside,” Nathan replied.
“I did want to see what was inside,” Brydie admitted. “But now I wish I hadn’t.”
“Why?”
Brydie took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry in front of him like she’d done that night at the Peabody. “There were pictures,” she said. “There were pictures of Mrs. Neumann when she was pregnant. Must’ve been in the early sixties. But Nathan, her baby, died. There was a death certificate.”
Nathan cleared his throat, pulling at the stethoscope around his neck. “I know,” he said finally.
“Did you know what was in the trunk?”
“Of course not,” Nathan replied. He pulled her farther from the doorway. “But as one of her doctors, I have seen her complete medical history, and I don’t think it would be wise for you to say anything to her about it.”
“Are you sure?” Brydie asked. “I don’t want to upset her. But I also don’t want to lie to her.”
“I wouldn’t upset her if you can help it,” Nathan said. “Brydie, she’s very . . . delicate right now. I need you to understand that.”
“I do,” Brydie replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nathan took a step closer to her and brushed a piece of flyaway hair behind her ear. “Try not to dwell on it,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow night you’d let me take you out to dinner?”
Brydie bit at the bottom of her lip. “I have to work tomorrow night,” she said.
“How about breakfast Tuesday morning once you’re off work?”
“I’d like that,” Brydie replied.
“We’d better get back inside,” Nathan said. “Mrs. Neumann was pretty excited about that chicken.”
The two headed back into the room, and Brydie busied herself with taking the food out of the bags and warming it in the little microwave above the mini fridge. “Do you want your coleslaw and fried pickles, too?” Brydie asked.
“I do,” Pauline replied. “Just put it all on the same plate.”
“I’m glad you’re feeling up to a big meal this afternoon,” Nathan said, still standing in the doorway. “Some of the nurses have told me you haven’t been eating much.”
Brydie handed Pauline her plate and sat down beside her. “Is that true?”
“I swear, those nurses have nothing better to do than talk about us every chance they get,” Pauline replied. “I ate the food you brought me on Thanksgiving.”
“But not much since,” Nathan replied. “And Mrs. Neumann, you know it’s their job to talk about you.”
Pauline sighed and then pointed her fork at Brydie. “That pie was delicious. I could eat that every day.”
“I’ll bake you another,” Brydie replied. “Do you have a favorite?”
“Cherry icebox pie is my favorite,” Pauline said just before shoveling a forkful of chicken into her mouth. “My mother used to make it for me as a girl.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever made one,” Brydie replied. “But I can get a recipe and have it for you next Sunday.”
“I’d love that, dear girl.”
Brydie felt herself warm from the inside out. “I’ll look up a recipe as soon as I get back to your house.”
“I’ve got one,” Pauline replied. “In that cookbook in the pantry. Better Homes and Gardens, I think.”
“Okay, I’ll find it. I think I saw that cookbook the other day when I was putting away groceries.”
“I’m going to leave you two,” Nathan said, tipping an imaginary hat to them. “I haven’t been home since midnight, and I desperately need a shower.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” Pauline replied, licking her fingers. “But you do need a shower, Doctor.”
Brydie burst out laughing, causing Teddy to divert his attention away from the chicken and Pauline. He tilted his head from one side to the other as Brydie laughed.
Nathan grinned good-naturedly over at the two of them and then said, “I’ll call you about breakfast, Brydie. See you on Tuesday.”
Brydie nodded, wiping an errant tear from her eye from her fit of giggles. “Okay,” she finally managed to gasp.
Pauline handed Brydie her empty plate. “I’m going to need another piece of chicken, and honey, I wouldn’t say this in mixed company, but it wouldn’t matter how many showers Dr. Reid missed, I’d meet him for breakfast any day of the week.”
CHAPTER 34
ON MONDAY MORNING, BRYDIE WAS AWOKEN BY HER CELL phone ringing and the doorbell ringing simultaneously. For a moment, she thought it was happening in her dream—one in which she and Pauline were sitting on the couch in the living room and gazing over the photos in the trunk.
“This one is the last one,” Dream Pauline said, running her thumb over Bill’s faded smile. “The last photo taken when we were happy.”
“I’m so sorry,” was all Brydie could think of to say, even though she knew it was inadequate. Even though she knew how much it angered her when people said it to her after her father died. Now she understood that sometimes, there was nothing else to say. “Is there anything I can do?”
Pauline looked over at her, her blue eyes glassy with nostalgia. “Don’t forget about her, my Elise, when I’m gone.”
Brydie sat up, shaking herself out of the dream. She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her phone. It was Elliott. “Hello?” Brydie croaked.
“I’ve been calling you for fifteen minutes!”
Brydie pulled her phone away from her ear and looked at the phone. “It’s seven fifteen in the morning.”
“And the guys are on their way to look at the basement. I’m on the front porch. Come let me in,” Elliott replied, her annoyance evident. “I texted you last night and told you what time I’d be here.”
“I guess I was asleep.”
“Just open the door.”
Brydie pulled herself out of bed, rolling over a sleeping Teddy in the process. He let out a yelp and army-crawled to the other side of the mattress. “Sorry, buddy,” she said. “The mean lady at the door made me do it.”
“It took you long enough,” Elliott huffed, stepping inside the house. “It’s cold out there.”
“Don’t you have a key?” Brydie asked.
“I left it at the office,” Elliott sa
id. “I figured you’d be up and waiting for me.”
Brydie closed the door behind her friend and followed her into the living room. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep so early, but I was exhausted. And I do have to work tonight, you know.”
“Which is why you probably shouldn’t have slept all night.”
“I know,” Brydie admitted. “It’s going to mess me up for days.”
Elliott didn’t answer. She was too busy staring at the trunk still sitting in the middle of the living room. “What is this?”
“I brought it up from the basement the night of the flood,” Brydie replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “I thought Mrs. Neumann might want it saved.”
“Did you tell her about the basement?”
“No,” Brydie said. “I was afraid it might upset her, and I didn’t want to do that.”
“The company is responsible for repairs, so she may not need to know,” Elliott said. “At least not now.”
“I agree.”
Brydie was about to respond when, much to her relief, there was another knock at the door.
“Those must be the guys I had sent over,” Elliott said, turning around and heading back to the door, stopping for a moment to hold her belly.
“Are you okay?” Brydie asked. “What’s wrong?”
“More Braxton Hicks contractions,” Elliott replied, waving her off.
“Well, sit down,” Brydie said, alarmed by the pained look on Elliott’s face. “I can let the workers in.”
“I’m fine,” Elliott protested, but sat down anyway.
“Are you sure it’s just Braxton Hicks contractions?” Brydie asked, once she’d shown the men the mess downstairs. They’d come back upstairs a few minutes later and told Brydie and Elliott that they were going to need a few different tools and left, one of the men muttering about the “damn Memphis rain,” and how he missed the snow up north.
Elliott nodded.
“That sounds awful.”
“It’s the joy of the third trimester,” Elliott replied, giving Brydie a weak smile. “I also have swollen feet and weird varicose veins on my legs and ankles. Oh, and let’s not forget the gas so bad that Leo has to sleep in the guest room at night.”
Brydie filled a glass with water and handed it to her. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here this morning.”
“It’s my job,” Elliott replied. “Besides, I’ll be on maternity leave in a few weeks. I’ve just got to make it through Christmas.”
“I can’t believe it’s almost December,” Brydie said, sitting down next to her.
“What are your plans for Christmas?” Elliott asked. “You know you’re always welcome to spend it with us.”
Brydie shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t even thought about it yet.”
“Have you talked to your mom?”
“No.”
Elliott sat back and put her hands on her belly. “Oh, the baby’s kicking!” she squealed. “Do you want to feel him?”
Brydie hesitated. She’d never felt a baby move before. Elliott had lived in Memphis when she was pregnant with Mia, and she’d hardly seen her then. “I guess,” she said finally.
“Here.” Elliott took Brydie’s hand and pressed it to the side of her stomach. “Can you feel it?”
Brydie wasn’t sure. She pushed down just a bit farther and concentrated. After a few moments, she felt a pulse against her fingertips, a soft thump, thump, thump. She looked up at Elliott. “I feel him!”
“Leo will be jealous,” Elliott said. “Little man is most active in the morning when I’m at work. He hardly ever moves at night when we’re at home.”
Brydie was amazed that she could feel the little life inside of Elliott, all the way on the outside of her body. She thought, not for the first time, about what it must be like to carry that life all the way from conception to birth—what it must be like to hold the child you felt inside of you for nine months and know that you’d nurtured it into existence. “I can’t wait to meet him,” she said, grinning at her best friend. “I can’t wait to meet our new baby.”
BRYDIE WAS ALREADY exhausted by the time she got to work that night. She’d tried to go back to bed after Elliott left, but the men working downstairs spent what felt like hours clomping up and down the steps, their voices echoing around the house so loudly that she couldn’t stay asleep. She’d thought that having an extra day off would be a glorious relief after the rush leading up to Thanksgiving at ShopCo, and it had been. However, in the meantime, she’d gotten off her sleeping schedule, and now she was feeling the effects.
“Well, you look like death warmed over,” Joe said when he saw her.
Brydie wrinkled her nose at him. “Gee, thanks.”
“You don’t look half as bad as the poor assholes that had to work on Black Friday,” Joe continued as Brydie tried unsuccessfully to straighten her name tag. “Belinda over in Toys got knocked down in the rush and broke both of her big toes.”
“That’s awful,” Brydie replied. “I’ve never really understood Black Friday shopping. It hardly seems like it would be worth the risk of injury just to get an Xbox for a few bucks cheaper.”
“I went to Target once for Rosa a few years ago when there was something that Lillian wanted. I think it might have been a Furby or something, I can’t remember. I stood outside in line for three fucking hours.”
“Language!” came the automatic response from somewhere deep in the back room.
Joe rolled his eyes.
Rosa came out carrying a tray of cookies, Christmas trees, and Santa Claus heads with large, rosy cheeks. “Do these Santas look off to you?”
Brydie and Joe peered down at the cookies. They looked fine to Brydie, except for one thing. “Santa’s eyes are all white.”
“Well good grief,” Rosa replied. “I can’t believe I missed that.” She turned around and hurried off, muttering to herself as she went.
“We need to get twenty dozen cookies packaged and ready to get out on the shelves,” Joe said. “The day shift left us half of their work, so we’ve got twice as much to do tonight.”
“Fantastic,” Brydie muttered, feeling her head begin to throb. Had she eaten that day? She couldn’t remember. Then she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Nathan was supposed to call about meeting in the morning for breakfast. “Care if I take this?” she asked Joe.
“You’re on the clock,” he replied. “Five minutes.”
Brydie nodded. “Hello?” she said, scuttling away from the bakery and from Joe.
“Finally,” said a voice that was decidedly not Nathan’s.
“Mom,” Brydie said. She wished she’d taken the time to look at her screen before she answered. “I’m at work.”
“Well, I’ll just hang up, call back, and leave a message,” her mother said. “At least your voicemail doesn’t interrupt me.”
Brydie sighed.
“Or sigh.”
“I’ve got about three minutes, Mom.”
“Roger and I were thinking of having Christmas together this year,” Ruth Benson said. “At my house.”
“That sounds nice, Mom,” Brydie said. “But I really need to get back to work.”
“I was hoping maybe you and that doctor might like to come down.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“Just think about it, okay?” Ruth said. “I’d really like for us to spend more time together.”
“I’d like that, too, Mom,” Brydie said. “I really would.”
“Then it’s settled. We’ll see you on Christmas Eve.”
“I’ll be there,” Brydie said. “But only if I can bring Teddy.”
There was a pause, and then her mother said, “Okay. But make sure you bring plenty of lint rollers.”
AS THE NIGHT transitioned into the wee hours of the morning, Brydie found herself struggling to stay awake in a way that she hadn’t since she first started working at ShopCo. She almost burned more than one batch of cookies; she for
got to turn on the oven, allowing a cake to sit inside for nearly half an hour before she remembered; and she accidentally dozed off while putting buttercream on a Santa beard.
Brydie was working to complete a batch of wreaths when Rosa plopped down in front of her a plastic container of Christmas tree cookies with red and gold ornaments. “Do you think these trees look lopsided?”
“Lopsided?” Brydie knit her eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”
“Look how there is more icing on one side than the other,” Rosa said, tracing a gloved finger around the outline of one of the trees.
“Maybe a little,” Brydie conceded. “Do you think I need to redo them?”
“And give Joe another reason to complain tonight?” Rosa raised an eyebrow. “Absolutely not. Just place them thickest side out.”
“Okay,” Brydie said, feeling relieved. “I’m already behind about four batches.”
“It won’t get any better,” Rosa said. “Joe and I have a meeting with the morning bakery manager in about ten minutes.”
“Why?”
Rosa rolled her eyes clear up to the ceiling. “Apparently one of the other staff heard him complaining in the break room about all the work his crew left us,” she said. “And she called Ronnie, and now he’s here, demanding to talk to Joe.”
Brydie set down her frosting gun. “And you’re going, because?”
“I’m the buffer,” Rosa said. “I’m always Joe’s buffer.”
Sometimes Brydie wished she had a buffer. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll get done what I can before you all get back.”
“Lillian is out front,” Rosa said. “Keep an eye on her for me. She doesn’t usually work without me, but I can’t imagine we’ll be gone long. Ronnie and Joe fight like an old married couple.”
Brydie resisted the urge to tell her that she and Joe also fought like an old married couple. She nodded instead. “I’ll go out front just as soon as I’m finished back here.”
“Thanks,” Rosa said. “Be back in a jiffy.”
Brydie went back to icing the cookies. She hadn’t looked at her phone since her conversation with her mother, and she couldn’t help but think about Roger and her mother in her childhood home together, decorating for Christmas the way her parents used to. She was glad her mother had Roger. Brydie knew her mother deserved to find someone she enjoyed spending time with, just like she enjoyed spending time with Nathan, but she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to spend Christmas at home with her mother and someone who wasn’t her father.
Pupcakes Page 24
