by Moss, Brooke
“A little bit?” I looked at her pointedly. “Ma, you told Aunt Dory I had shamed the whole family.”
“I was upset, Alexandria,” she said loudly.
“Shamed the whole family? Really?” I stopped walking, and put my hands on my hips. “Ma, Darren has the words Epic Win tattooed across his chest. And I’m the disappointment?”
“Okay, okay. Fine.” She shook her head. “I went too far. But, Lexie, I just want more for you.”
“Families don’t happen according to some grand master plan. My family is happening this way, and I need you to accept that.”
“I do accept that.” She pinched her lips together. “Now.”
“I’m thirty years old. I’m completely independent. I own a successful business, and I donate to the Red Cross every year, just like you taught me.” I watched my mother fidget in her spot for a second. “You should be proud of me.”
“I am.” He mouth tugged down in the corners.
My hands went instinctively to my stomach. “You’ve been begging for grandchildren for years. Literally, for years. Now I’m giving you a grandchild, and you’re spending half my pregnancy being disappointed.”
She snorted. “Half? Please, dear. You’re barely showing.”
“You just said my pants were too tight.”
“Well, they are. A little. When I was pregnant with Corbin, my butt grew to three times its normal size.” My mother turned and wagged her fanny toward me. “Your father couldn’t keep his hands off it.”
I made a gagging sound. “Ugh, Ma, please.”
“Regardless, I want better for you. I want you to have a house and a husband.” She faced me again. “Being a single mom is the hardest thing you’ll ever do.”
“Besides burying you in the backyard,” I mumbled, rubbing my forehead. I had a headache coming on, and still didn’t know what drugs I could use without hurting my little nugget.
“Ha, ha, ha. Listen to me, young lady.” She cut me a scathing glance. “I just saw this happening to you differently. You know, the husband, the house, the dog, the babies. All in the right order. Now look at you. You’re thirty years old, divorced, living in a scuzzy apartment—”
“My apartment is not scuzzy,” I yelped. “It’s small. That’s different.”
My mom gave me a sideways glance. “Where are you going to put a baby in that place?”
“I don’t know yet.” I mumbled, looking up at the house longingly. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. Maybe I’ll buy this place once Corbin and Andrea are done with it.”
She snorted. “Come on.”
“Why do you have such a lack of confidence in me?” I asked.
Mom waved her hand, dismissing my question. “Listen, I’ve worked it all out.” My mother put down the picnic basket and took me by the shoulders.
I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder at Pastor Irm, who was purposefully ignoring us. “What have you worked out, Ma?”
“I’m gonna help you through this.” She smiled at me excitedly.
A wave of relief washed over me. Now we were talking. “You are? You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that.”
“Regardless of how it happened, this is going to be my first grandchild.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she pressed a hand to the kitties again. “I can’t wait to give him or her their first doll, and take it to Sunday school every week. I’m going to make a blanket, and help you with babysitting while you work.”
“You are?” My eyebrows rose high on my forehead. Daycare was one of those issues that was keeping me up at night. Sure, the baby could come with me to work during the week, but finding care during events was going to be tricky.
“Of course,” She said. “No sense in paying a sitter when you’ve got me. Especially with the hours you keep.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. In the catering business events were held on weekends and evenings. This meant lots of late nights up to my elbows in pate and champagne brie. “Wow. Thank you. That’s a huge help.”
“And I’ll also make the baby clothes.” She bent over to scoop up the basket and slowly ambled toward the house. “As soon as you know what it is, I’ll get to work. I’ll save you a fortune! I’ve been making doll clothes for years. How much harder could clothes for a real baby be?”
“Okay. But no miniature space suits, or presidential seals.” I let her loop her arm through mine as we walked.
“Fine. But I will make bonnets. Girl or boy, a baby needs a bonnet.” She pointed a finger at me.
“Oh, geez, I don’t know. What if it’s a boy? No boy is going to want to look back on his baby pictures and see himself in a bonnet.”
“Tell that to the royal family,” She chided. “Those boys wore bonnets and dresses, and they’re plenty manly. That younger one’s a ginger, like you. You should have had your baby with him. That would’ve been a cute baby.”
I snickered. “I doubt Prince Harry is interested in procreating with me. Besides, my uterus is booked for the next few months.”
She nudged me gently. “Well, will the baby’s father have a fit if I put a bonnet on your baby?”
“I already told you—”
“Come on,” My mom said with a deep sigh. “He’s the father of my grandchild. Don’t I deserve to know him?”
I turned to face my mom. “There’s no one to know.”
“So should I tell Pastor Irm that there has been a second coming?”
Rolling my eyes, I took the picnic basket away, and peeked inside. “Oh, tuna salad. Looks good.” I said a quick prayer that I wouldn’t be revisited by lunch later.
“Alexandria. Cut the crap.” She snatched the basket back, and closed the lid. “Who got you into this situation?”
“I got myself into this situation. And good grief, Ma. Don’t call my kid a situation.”
“You know what I mean. I want to know who this man is, and why he is leaving you to deal with this all alone.”
I jutted my chin out at him. “I’m doing this alone by choice.”
She stared at me for a moment, then nodded firmly. “You and the baby will move back in with me.”
I nearly swallowed my tongue. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Of course it is,” she said.
“What’s not a good idea?” Corbin asked, coming out of the house with a tool belt hanging around his waist. He waved at the pastor. “Hey, Irm. How are you?”
“Fine, fine.” The kind pastor folded his hands behind his back and meandered towards us. “You and the missus picked a gem this time.”
Corbin kicked the brick steps proudly. “She will be when we’re done.”
“Corbin, dear, won’t you talk some sense into your sister, please?” My mother hoisted the picnic basket from one arm to the other.
Corbin looked at me. “Hi, Lex. How are you feeling?”
“I haven’t puked since Tuesday. That’s a good sign.” I jerked a thumb in our mother’s direction. “Mom’s been hanging around the dolls too much. She’s lost her mind.”
“I have not.” She pushed up her pink-tinted glasses indignantly. “I just suggested that she move home with me.”
Corbin stifled some laughter. “Gee, Mom, I don’t know if that’s such a—”
“Of course it’s a good idea!” One of my mother’s hands went to her soft hip. “Corbin, she’s going to need my help, and her apartment is twenty-five minutes from my house.”
For a reason, I thought.
“Well, Andrea and I are just ten minutes away from her. Lexie can call us anytime for help with the baby.” Corbin brushed some sawdust off of his jeans. “She’ll be fine. She can take care of a baby on her own, and we’ll all be here to help.”
I looked up at my big brother, and my heart swelled in my chest. For weeks now, I’d fought tears every time I pictured Corbin and Andrea’s deflated expressions. Their unsuccessful attempts at starting a family were a sore subject in our family, as Andrea’s pain was apparent every time she saw o
ne of Candace’s kids at a family get together.
“Really?” I squeaked. I sounded more like a kid sister than I had in a few decades.
Corbin offered me a one-shouldered shrug. “Of course. Andrea and I are psyched to have a niece or a nephew.”
The hammering inside of the house stopped. Andrea appeared in the doorway, her hair pulled back from her face with a dusty bandana. “I heard my name.”
Corbin put his arm around his wife and tucked her against his side. “I was just telling Lexie how excited we are to be an aunt and uncle. Oh, and get this, Lex. Darren said he’s going to babysit for you.”
“No, thank you.” I pictured our younger brother sitting in a strip club with a baby seat next to him.
“Stop it. You’re scaring her.” Andrea’s gaze turned to me, and she smiled sadly. “My reaction to your news wasn’t great, and I’m sorry. We’re very happy for you.”
“And we’ll be here for you every step of the way.” Corbin finished for her.
“And to live vicariously through you,” Andrea added with a sad chuckle.
Joyful tears filled my eyes. Stupid hormones. “Thanks, guys.”
Pastor Irm’s warm hands touched my shoulder and Corbin’s. “It seems your family has recommitted themselves to each other, Patsy,” He announced proudly. “There’s nothing better than a unified family. Praise God.”
My mother practically levitated. “Thank you, Pastor.”
Corbin looked down at me. “Were we ever un-unified?”
I giggled, and my mother cut me a sharp look. “Praise God,” she echoed. “Why don’t we all go inside and start this tuna salad before it gets warm.”
Following the line of people into the ramshackle brick bungalow, I looked around with a rueful smile. Just when I was starting to think that my family was entirely unsupportive of me, they pulled through. Now all I needed was to find a bigger place where my baby and I could live. A place with plenty of space to play and collect all sorts of oversized and noisy toys. And I needed to find a delicate way to make my mother understand that I would not be moving back in with her in the House Of Dolls.
Chapter Seven
A few weeks later, I sniffed the cantaloupe and immediately placed it back on the pile.
Okay, cantaloupes are out.
My stomach keened, and I quickly pushed my cart away from the produce department of my favorite grocery store. That sucked. I hadn’t managed to eat anything fresh since the day I’d found out I was pregnant. Which basically meant that I was walking around with my jeans unbuttoned on a carbo-load months in the making. Gazing longingly at the ripe Hot House tomatoes, I headed towards the frozen foods section with heavy footsteps.
I had a lot on my mind. Ever since my lunch with my family at the brick house, I’d been trying to decide where I was going to live with my baby. As much as it pained me to say so, my mother had a point. I couldn’t raise a baby in my current apartment. It was too small, and in its current state, I would have to put the bassinet on top of the refrigerator.
But I didn’t have any money saved to put down on my own house. As much as I wanted to buy the brick bungalow that Corbin and Andrea were working on, there was no way I could manage paying for my half of Eats & Sweets and a fat mortgage. Oh, why couldn’t I have a trust fund from my estranged Floridian father, the way Marisol did? Her house was perfect for a kid. Large corner lot, eat-in kitchen with granite counter tops, even a tree house in the willow tree in the back yard—built by the last owners.
The only thing about that house that was not conducive with children was Marisol herself.
“I miss you, my friends,” I whispered to the tomatoes, as I lumbered past.
WHAM.
“Crap!” I yelped.
Sure enough, as if fate didn’t already have the upper hand on me—as I was shopping with my pants open and a holey Creedence Clearwater Revival T-shirt on—I’d just tried to take out Fletcher Haybee.
“Lexie.” He looked good enough to eat when he smiled at me.
Fletcher looked totally relaxed and informal. He wore a faded flannel shirt and jeans with stringy tears on the knees. If he’d not given me a pap smear just a few short weeks ago, I would have assumed Fletcher was a mechanic or a logger or something else incredibly manly.
“Doctor… er, Fletcher! Hi!” My voice came out entirely too shrill. As proof, an old lady glared at me from her motorized cart. Clearing my throat, I tried to lower my voice an octave or two. “What are you doing in my part of town?”
He held up a cream cheese Danish roughly the size of a bedroom slipper. “Word on the street is this place makes the best pastries.”
The little mom and pop grocery in my neighborhood didn’t exactly offer the most variety, but I was able to walk through a park to get there. Candace was always appalled that I was willing to pay more for their food rather than going to the local Super Foods to bargain shop, and Marisol never went with me because she said the place smelled like old people. This was false, unless all old people smell like hothouse tomatoes and homemade danishes.
“Word on the street is correct.” I held my breath as another wave of nausea bum-rushed me. “The couple who own this place used to own a bakery in Ellensburg before moving here.”
A line appeared between Fletcher’s eyebrows. “You’re still nauseous, aren’t you?”
I waved a hand. “It’s no big deal. Really, I…I’ve always wanted to go on an all carb diet, honestly.”
He tilted his head. “I can prescribe something for it. Why don’t you call my office tomorrow morning, and I’ll see what we can do. I’m here for you, you know.”
The light from the front store windows gleamed against his back, casting an angel-like glow around his body. If I heard correctly, a chorus of heavenly music sounded, too. Of course, that may have been my imagination.
“Thank you.” I scanned the aisle for a point of interest that would continue the conversation. Great, I’d run into him in the dog food and feminine hygiene aisle. Curse this tiny store and their disorganized shelves.
I smiled. “So… the dog food aisle.”
Fletcher looked around with a chuckle. “Yeah. I needed some kibble to go with my danish.”
I laughed too loudly, and the old lady glowered at me again. Get out of here, Grandma! I thought to myself, before focusing on Fletcher’s face again. “Well… do you have a big one?”
Fletcher’s face reddened, and he coughed. “Do I what?”
I fought the urge to grab a box of Kotex to hide behind. “Uh, a dog. Do you have a big dog?”
“Oh, okay.” His laugh was like butter melting over pancakes, making my carb-pit gut gurgle. “Yes. It’s a big one. I mean, Martha and I have a Komondor.”
“Isn’t that a naval officer?” I asked, watching him pluck a ten-pound bag of dog treats off of the shelf.
“No.” Again with that buttery laugh. I was finally starting to feel hungry. “That’s a commodore. Our dog is a Komondor.” Fletcher pronounced it slowly. Tucking the bag under one arm, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned it on. The screensaver was a picture of a lovely little girl with one arm thrown around the neck of the biggest dog I’d ever seen. The dog’s hair hung to the ground in thick, white ropes, covering one of its eyes. It looked like a mop.
“Wow, look at that thing.” I couldn’t help but grin. It was so ridiculous looking, it almost didn’t seem real. “What’s her name?”
“She’s a he,” He informed me with a wink, stuffing the phone back into his jeans pocket. “And his name is Libman.”
I snorted, then slapped a hand over my nose. Just at the end of the aisle, right beside the cranky old lady on the scooter, was a rack of Libman mops and brooms, their green and white labels gleaming in the sunlight. “That’s the coolest dog name I’ve ever heard.”
“Thanks,” he said with a heart-stopping grin. “We’ve had him since my ex wife left. He’s gotten us through some tough times.”
We started walkin
g towards the dairy department, my hands fidgeting on the cart handle like a restless kid. “Your daughter is beautiful. She’s got a great smile.”
“Thanks. She’s got her grandmother’s smile.” There was a hint of pride in his voice. “My mom was Miss Memphis about forty-five years ago.”
“No kidding?” I raised my eyebrows. “Impressive. So you have pageantry in the blood?”
He chuckled and grabbed a box of crackers off of a shelf as we rounded the corner. “Yeah. I guess. I have one heck of a parade wave.”
“So were you raised around here?” I pretended to examine the back of a can of spray cheese thoroughly.
“Nah. We lived in Tennessee until I was about fifteen. Then my dad transferred to Spokane.” He said. “We lived on the north side. I went to WSU, then transferred to the U of W for medical school. How about you? Did you grow up around here?”
I nodded, putting the spray cheese back onto the shelf. “Uh huh. My whole family lives here. Well, not my dad. He died when I was a teenager.”
I felt Fletcher’s blue eyes on the side of my face. “Oh, I’m sorry,” He said. “That must have been hard for you.”
“It was.” I picked up a box of saltine crackers, thought about it for a moment, then grabbed three more. “But I went on to college and now I own my own business, so I turned out all right. My youngest brother, though? Not so much.” Dumping the crackers into the cart, I started strolling again. “He was only eight when it happened, and he never really matured much. He’s still a giant kid.”
Fletcher touched my elbow, redirecting me around a cardboard display. My skin flared with a prickly heat. “I have an older brother like that. Unattached, flighty, you get the idea.”
“There’s one in every family, right?” I smiled up at him. “So are you and Martha close to your parents?”
“Martha spends every day after school with my mother. They’re currently making a quilt together.”
“Oh, how sweet. I hope my mother does things like that with this kid.” I imagined my mom quilting with my child. The image was quickly squashed by a vision of my mother dressing my baby up in doll clothes and propping him on a shelf. “Well, scratch that. She’s a little bit…intense.”
