Friendship Bread (22 page)

Livvy brightens. “When? Today?”

“What? No, Livvy, I told you. In nine days.” Edie gives her head an impatient shake.

Livvy picks at her pizza, wishing she hadn’t said anything. She’s going to blow it if she’s not careful, asking questions Edie’s already answered. “Oh, right. Nine days. Okay.”

This friendship is important to Livvy, not only because no one has really talked to her since Josh’s death, but because Edie is the friend that Livvy’s never had—smart, conscientious, worldly. She’s seen so much and done so much that Livvy could listen to her all day. Edie is so sincere in her desire to make the world a better place that Livvy wants to help, even if she doesn’t quite understand exactly what they’re doing.

The other thing Livvy likes about Edie is that she never says anything negative about Richard, never complains about him or says anything that’s less than complimentary of him, unlike Carol and Jo Kay who are constantly lamenting about their demanding children and hapless husbands. Next to Mark and Julia, Richard and Edie are the kind of couple Livvy hopes she and Tom might be someday.

She feels Edie’s eyes on her, but doesn’t look up, afraid she’ll give herself away or say something dumb again.

“Hey, I have an idea,” Edie says. She wipes her hands on a napkin and stands up. “Want to go do a pregnancy test?”

It’s humiliating, peeing on a stick. Edie’s done stranger things living in a third-world country, but Avalon is not a third-world country. Richard would crack up if he knew what she was doing.

Edie sighs as she shifts uncomfortably in the tiny stall. She’s only here because she could tell that somehow she’d let Livvy down, could sense her pulling back. Livvy has become a part of Edie’s day in an unexpected sort of way and Edie has gotten used to it, even looking forward to their coffee breaks and pizza runs. So when Livvy looked uncomfortable, she decided to propose the one thing she knew would cheer Livvy up.

“Is it doing anything?” comes Livvy’s voice from outside the stall. “A minus means you’re not pregnant. Plus means you are.”

“There’s nothing, Livvy. I just went to the bathroom.” But there’s a tinge of pink already starting to form. A faint minus, thank God. Not that she was worried, but …

“The instructions say it may take longer if it’s early in your pregnancy.”
Livvy had selected a brand that boasted the highest accuracy five days before your period was even due. It had cost almost eighteen dollars for the two-pack box with one “bonus” test. How accurate can it be, Edie had asked, if they have to give you three?

It was difficult handing over the cash, especially when she knew that the same amount easily could buy three mosquito nets in Africa, where a child died from malaria every thirty seconds.
Grrr
. But Edie forced herself to keep the big picture in mind. The sooner she could start freelancing for the larger papers, the higher her income, which would then let her do a lot more good.

“Anything?” Livvy’s voice is both excited and anxious.

Edie unlocks the door and shows the stick to Livvy. “Minus.” She tosses it in the trash then goes to wash her hands.

“What are you talking about, Edie? That was a plus.” Livvy goes to the trash can and uses a paper towel to fish it out. “See?”

Sure enough, in pink and white, there is a plus.

Edie grabs the instructions. Livvy must have read it wrong.

Livvy looks a little surprised, too, as if she really hadn’t expected Edie to be pregnant. But a second later she’s giddy and giving Edie a big hug. “Congratulations! You should wrap this up and take it to Richard. What do you think he’s going to say?”

Edie honestly has no idea. He’ll probably be overjoyed, having dropped the hint repeatedly about babies and marriage, not necessarily in that order. But he’s not the one who has to carry the baby or give birth.

“This can’t be right,” she says instead. She skims the directions once, then twice, then checks the stick again. “Look, it says there’s a chance of a false positive …” She shakes the remaining two sticks out of the box. They’re individually sealed. “I’m taking it again. You take the other one.”

“Me?” Livvy looks alarmed.

“I need a control group.” Edie storms back toward the stall.
This can’t be happening
.

Livvy opens her mouth to protest, then shuts it. “Honestly, Edie,
I’ll just waste it. I’ve done these tests before and I’ve never seen a plus. I’m not even late. It’s pointless for me to take a test.”

Edie rips off the paper and slides a new test out of the wrapper. Her mouth is dry and she feels nauseous. It’s all in her head, she tells herself. “Livvy, this was your idea to begin with. Come on.” The stall door closes with a slam.

“Okay, fine.” She hears Livvy walk into the stall next to hers.

Edie stares at the stick, willing a single horizontal line. A minus. A minus, that’s what she wants. One line. She hears the toilet flush next to her as a pink plus forms in the window.

Shit
.

Edie is in a daze as she exits the stall and goes to wash her hands. Her only hope is that somehow they got a batch of irregular tests. She dries her hand with the coarse paper towel as she waits impatiently outside of Livvy’s stall. “Well? Tell me yours is a plus, too. Then we can throw this whole test into the trash.”

Livvy unlocks the door and steps out of her stall. “Here,” she says, and holds up the stick.

Plus.

Four boxes and nine tests later, Edie and Livvy have confirmed the unexpected.

They’re pregnant.

Edie had practically frog-marched Livvy back to the drugstore, then proceeded to buy four more tests from different brands, some with two tests, some with three. Then they went back in the bathroom, Edie gloomy, Livvy ecstatic, as each test came back positive.

They’re standing in the bathroom, unsure of what to do next, when Livvy’s cell phone rings. It’s Patrick, and he wants to know where she is. It’s an hour past their lunch break, and she missed the meeting with him and Tracy. What the hell?

“I’m sorry, Patrick,” Livvy starts to apologize, and then stops. She hasn’t missed a day of work since she started at the
Gazette
, nor has
she taken a single vacation day since she came on board three years ago. She thought her dazzling work ethic would impress him, but clearly the only thing she’s good for is another warm body around the conference table. “I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off,” she informs him.

“What?”

“Sick day,” she says. She hasn’t taken any sick days, either, not even when she had what she was sure was bronchitis. “Maybe two.” Maybe the rest of the week. And then to stop him from asking more questions, she adds, “It’s a female thing,” and shuts her phone.

Edie is starting at her pile of pregnancy tests. Livvy feels bad, can tell that this isn’t good news. Will Edie keep the baby? Take maternity leave? Livvy’s mind swirls with the possibilities. She knows Edie is focused on her career, but lots of women do both. And if Edie keeps the baby, Livvy can help. She’d love to help. She missed that part of Gracie’s life, those early months, those early years. She’d been just as excited if not more that Julia was having a little girl. Seeing Gracie grow up without really knowing Livvy is almost as painful as Livvy’s estrangement from Julia.

But this is a sign, a sign that everything will be okay.

She’s pregnant
.

“Edie, are you okay?” Livvy can’t wait to get home to tell Tom. She used to dream about this day so she knows exactly what she’s going to do. She’ll buy a card, make a nice dinner, a nice dessert. She’ll put the pregnancy test in a box with a note that says, “Your real present will be here in nine months!” and give it to him once they’ve finished eating.

Or maybe she’ll just show him as soon as he gets home.

“I need to see Richard,” Edie says abruptly and then turns to Livvy. “Are you okay?”

Livvy is touched that Edie is asking after her since she knows Edie’s been dealt a blow. She nods even though she’s shaking, and applies a fresh coat of lipstick to her lips.
At this moment, there is a baby growing inside of me
. While Livvy never said it out loud, there was always the fear that she wouldn’t get pregnant because of what
happened to Josh. After all, what kind of mother would she make? Mothers don’t make the kind of mistake that Livvy did, do they?

Olivia Scott is going to be a mother.

Madeline squints at the computer. She finds it both fascinating and a little disconcerting that so much personal information can be easily obtained on the Internet. Or is it the Web? She doesn’t even know what to call it.

The website has been dramatically updated from when she saw it last, almost ten years ago. There’s music and a collage of images that parade across the screen, then disappear only to be replaced by new images. The shoes are basically the same, with some modern twists, and she’s pleased to see that they haven’t changed the classic buckle shoe, which is the style she always wears, even though the price has gone up. There are more color choices, too, with names like Buttercup and Raspberry. She hadn’t planned on buying anything—that’s not why she went to the website, anyway—and the shoes come with a lifetime warranty so all Madeline really needs to do is mail hers back in to get resoled. But she wants to try a different color, like Orchid, and maybe a different sole, so she clicks on the appropriate buttons and orders a new pair of shoes.

After she’s given her credit card information and received a confirmation, her eyes skim over the tabs on the top menu bar.
ABOUT US
. She remembers what it used to say, and that one time even her picture was on it (they loved having family members model the shoes, and had hired a professional photographer who made everybody look good). She wonders what it will say now. She clicks on it, and holds her breath.

The Caitlyn Shoe Company. Madeline still loves the name. Named after Steven’s great-great-grandmother, Caitlyn Dunn, who sold handmade custom moccasins to her neighbors. The company grew slowly, taking its time when introducing new lines: buckle shoes, women’s pumps, gorgeous leather boots. Each pair handmade in a workshop in Devon, England.

The information contained on the page is generic, talking about the history of the company, their commitment to quality. The pictures of people have been replaced by pictures of storefronts and close-ups of these lovely, well-crafted bespoke shoes. In other words, there’s no information that’s of any real help to Madeline.

So while Steven was a shoe salesman, he was a shoe salesman with a capital
S
. A dollar sign
S
.

Madeline turns off her computer. She holds the printout of her shoe order in her lap and notices, as she has every day since she’s moved to Avalon, how quiet and still her house is when nobody else is in it.

In California, even though she lived alone (with one brief but disastrous attempt at a roommate), there was always somebody around, somebody stopping by, noise from the street, car alarms, an airplane flying overhead. She’d wake up twice a week to the sound of the garbagemen throwing—throwing!—the metal cans back onto the sidewalk. Chicago was the same way. But here in Avalon, there’s more silence and long stretches of quiet than Madeline is used to.

Which has been leaving her with lots of time to think.

Madeline feels her age, her exuberance from earlier in the day waning. Today it was a full house again from breakfast until afternoon tea time. She loves it, she does, but once everyone is gone, Madeline is exhausted. She needs help in the kitchen, or with the bookkeeping. Either or both, all of the above.

She looks at the printout of her order confirmation.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER, MADELINE DAVIS DUNN!
So cheerful, as if they know her or have some relationship with her, but Madeline knows that this response is automatically generated. She’s just another name, another customer, and nothing more.

“I’m leaving!” Julia calls outs.

Mark made a special point of being home early today, not wanting to screw up again. He’ll never forget what happened that night he was late because of Vivian. Avalon was being pounded by rain and he became anxious when Julia hadn’t returned home by nine. He finally moved a sleeping Gracie into the car and went out looking for his wife. They drove all the way out to the cemetery, which was closed, and then randomly through the streets of their small town.

They had returned home, Mark worried out of his mind. For a second he thought Julia had left them. Then a woman called him out of the blue. She introduced herself as Madeline Davis and told him that his wife was fine, but resting in her home. The old Belleweather B&B turned tea salon, just a few minutes away. A few minutes away! How could Julia be so close and Mark not know?

He wanted to go get her, but the woman was quick to suggest that they just let Julia sleep, if Mark was okay with Gracie at home. Of
course he was okay, but he was a little put out by this stranger who seemed to know something about him whereas he had no idea who she was. No idea at all.

Mark has come to the realization that Julia has secrets. Secrets she is not willing to share with Mark. He finally sees his wife emerging from her shell, but instead of returning to him, this Julia wants nothing to do with him.