Chapter 31 Marlowe ~ Winter #2
“Coffee,” Marlowe admitted. “Half a cup. Couldn’t keep it down.”
Izzy made a tsk sound. “Is caffeine allowed when you’re pregnant?”
“I switched to decaf.” Some days, Marlowe felt like she had three mothers: Izzy, Sam and Aunt Cate.
Everybody had a voice in this pregnancy.
They were all together for Christmas and Skipper’s mother had cornered her before dinner and asked all kinds of questions.
She was surprised when her swollen breasts became part of everyday conversation.
“You can’t live on decaf,” Izzy said. “Let me make you some cinnamon toast or something.”
Marlowe shuddered. “Please, don’t.”
“Crackers, then. I read that soda crackers help with nausea.”
“They don’t,” Marlowe said dryly. “But go ahead and pretend.”
Izzy laughed and went to the kitchen. Moments later, she returned with a chocolate chip cookie in one hand and the newspaper in the other.
“I couldn’t find crackers,” she said, “but I found these.”
“Cookie!” Holly immediately perked up.
Izzy handed it to her. “Only if you share with Mimi.”
The toddler nodded solemnly, offering a crumb to the doll before popping the rest in her mouth. Marlowe couldn’t help but laugh.
“See?” she said to Sam, trying to sit up. “She’s already learned selective generosity. I should get ready for the open house.”
Izzy smiled and settled on the floor. For a few minutes, the room held domestic calm they’d always felt at Sunnycrest, even their childhood summers. Marlowe might be sitting up but she hadn’t moved from the sofa.
But Sam couldn’t stay quiet long. “You’re sure you can handle that open house today?”
Marlowe put a hand to her aching head. “I have to. The sellers are expecting me.”
“Petoskey’s a good forty minutes away,” Sam said. “You shouldn’t be driving if you feel this sick. Why don’t I handle it for you?”
“I’ll manage.” Would the roads be slippery from the snow last night? But Michigan snowplows had lots of experience. Just a whisper about snow and the plows were out, rumbling down the roads and spewing salt. Marlowe put a hand on her tummy.
Izzy would not stop staring at her. “You need to rest, Marlowe. Seriously. The roads might be slippery. You don’t want to spin out. That could be dangerous. Let Sam do it.”
“Right, I’ll go.” Sam was already on her feet.
“Sam?” Marlowe raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know the property.”
“How hard could this be?” Sam folded her arms. “You must have information on the listing.”
“Sure, it’s all in the portfolio on the dining room table, but there’s more to it than saying hello and smiling,” Marlowe protested. Sam had already dashed across the hall. “You have to know the layout, the features, the comps.”
Her oldest sister returned from the dining room with Marlowe’s folder. “Three bedrooms, modern kitchen, open concept.” Sam went on and on, flipping through the folder.
“Marlowe,” Izzy interrupted gently, “Sam runs an advertising agency. I think she can handle selling a house.”
Sam looked up with a Cheshire smile. “Thank you, Izzy.”
Marlowe hesitated, but the throbbing behind her eyes made the decision for her. “Fine. Everything you need is inside. Talking points, pricing sheets, pictures.”
“Excellent.” Leaving the folder on the coffee table, Sam hopped to her feet. “I’ll go change.”
As Sam headed upstairs, she called out over her shoulder. “Try not to throw up before I get back.”
Izzy shook her head, smiling. “Bossy as ever.”
What a relief. Marlowe couldn’t believe she was going to let Sam do this. She leaned back, her eyes closing briefly. “I hate to admit it, but she’s right. I don’t think I could do it today.”
“You’re doing enough,” Izzy said softly from where she sat on the floor. They shared a knowing look and Izzy reached up to squeeze Marlowe’s hand. During this process they’d become closer than ever. Sometimes Marlowe thought Izzy could read her mind.
When Sam returned fifteen minutes later, she looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine. Her burgundy pantsuit fit perfectly, paired with a sleek black turtleneck and polished boots. In her hands she carried Marlowe’s portfolio. The open house visitors would probably be impressed.
“See?” she said, spinning once. “Professional and punctual.”
Marlowe couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ll charm them all.”
“I intend to.” Sam checked her watch. “I have a few minutes.”
“We should be leaving too so you can get some shut eye. But I’ve been meaning to ask.” Izzy piped up from the floor. “How’s Brad holding up?”
Marlowe smiled at the mention of the man in her life. “He’s been incredible. Honestly. I thought maybe this would be too much for him, but he’s taken it all in stride.”
“That’s impressive,” Sam said. “Most guys would’ve run for the hills.”
That had been Marlowe’s main fear. “He keeps telling me I have a glow. Do you believe that? I look more like I’ve been run over by a snowplow.”
Sam grinned. “The man’s one in a million.”
“I know.” A couple of nights ago, Brad had come over and he’d lit a fire in the fireplace. Aunt Cate and Sam loved it. They played Parchesi for a while. But he was always careful to leave when she began to feel tired.
The clock on the mantel chimed noon, and Sam slipped on her heavy coat. “I’d better hit the road.”
“Again, thank you,” Marlowe said quietly.
“Don’t mention it. Just promise me you’ll rest.”
When the door closed behind her sister, Marlowe let out a long breath. Relief washed over her. She didn’t have to perform, didn’t have to fake a realtor smile or stand in heels for two hours. All she wanted now was to sink into her bed…if she could make it up the stairs.
Izzy glanced back toward the kitchen. “I want to find those crackers. Can you handle Holly for a few minutes?”
“Sure,” Marlowe said, though she doubted she could handle much of anything.
Just then, the front door opened again, letting in a gust of cold air and two familiar voices.
“Anybody home?” Aunt Cate swept in, rosy-cheeked and full of energy, snowflakes caught on her camel cape. Behind her was Seth—tall, broad-shouldered, and smiling in that easy way of his.
“There’s my favorite crew,” Cate announced, setting down her handbag on an end table. “Seth and I had brunch at the Weathervane.”
The two had been seeing each other a lot, especially through the holidays. The girls knew enough not to ask questions.
“Hi, Seth,” Izzy said, eyebrows lifting as she dashed back from the kitchen empty-handed. The sisters all wondered what was going on with their aunt and the handsome contractor. “Not a cracker to be found. Think I’ll run to the store.”
Aunt Cate took in the scene with a practiced glance. She had been watching her like a mama bird ever since the pregnancy began. “You look like you could use a nap, sweetheart.”
“Sick tummy,” Izzy explained. “We were just talking about getting her some crackers.”
“I can go,” Seth offered, already heading for the door. “Crackers, ginger ale—what else?”
“Maybe some Pepto Bismol tablets?” Marlowe said. “Something to settle my stomach.”
“Done,” he said, pulling on his winter gloves. “Anything else while I’m out?”
“We’re good, thank you,” Cate called after him. After the door shut, she turned to her nieces with a mischievous smile. “He’s such a dear man.”
Izzy grinned. “A dear friend, right?”
Cate’s cheeks colored. “Why, of course.”
Marlowe raised an eyebrow. “Just a friend who shows up with gingerbread coffee some mornings and drives you to choir practice?” That part was new. Their aunt and Seth had both joined a church choir that practiced every Tuesday evening. Their Christmas carol fest had been wonderful.
“Exactly that kind of friend.” Cate pretended to straighten her green and citron scarf.
“Mm-hmm,” Izzy said. “And pigs fly.”
Cate rolled her eyes but smiled. “Don’t you two start meddling. I’m quite capable of knowing what I’m doing.”
“Right. Of course you are,” Marlowe said sweetly. “We’re just looking out for you.”
Cate laughed and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “You rest, honey. You look spent.”
That was all the permission Marlowe needed. She pushed herself off the sofa, a little unsteady, and headed toward the stairs.
“I’ll call you the minute I feel something,” she called back to Izzy, who was busy helping Holly zip up her pink jacket.
“You’d better!” Izzy replied.
“Feel something?” Marlowe heard Aunt Cate ask. And then a long “Oooooh.”
Aunt Cate might want to feel too. It seemed that Marlowe’s stomach and the baby inside now belonged to everyone. She didn’t mind a bit.
Upstairs, Marlowe changed into soft leggings and one of Brad’s old sweatshirts.
She’d brought it home by accident after one of their fall competitions.
The worn fabric smelled like Brad, clean soap and his spicy shaving cologne.
He’d never mentioned wanting it back, so she’d kept it.
For a long moment, she sat on the edge of her bed, one hand on her still-flat stomach.
Her bedroom windows opened onto the roof of the side porch. But on the other side, she caught glimpses of Lake Michigan stretching beyond the bare trees, a flat expanse of white under the pale sky. Thick ice floes had formed along the shoreline. Snowflakes drifted lazily past the glass.
How strange it was that something so small as a baby could change everything—her body, her energy, even her sense of time. The days had become a blur of queasy mornings, early nights, and small victories. But beneath it all was a persistent joy.
This wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d thought maybe her days of big life events were behind her. And now she was carrying a baby who had lifted the entire family on a cloud of hope. Any difficult days were softened by her family and a man who seemed to be there any time she needed a boost.
Resting back against the pillows, she closed her eyes.
She’d left the door ajar for Sam’s cat and sure enough, Bogart leapt up and cuddled next to her.
Smoothing his soft fur soothed her. Somewhere below, she could hear laughter.
Someone came up and left a box of Pepto Bismol tablets on her side table.
Eventually, the front door opened and closed. Izzy must have left.
This was family and it was messy and complicated sometimes. Drifting into sleep, she felt surrounded by love strong enough to carry them all.