Chapter 32 Samantha ~ Spring
Samantha ~ Spring
Samantha and her aunt were on a mission.
The trip to find maternity clothes on Chicago’s Magnificent Mile sure perked Sam up.
In some ways she was going home. She hadn’t taken this trip since relocating to Charlevoix.
Her life in Oak Brook, on the west side of the city, had faded as had the pain of her divorce from Kurt Ramsey.
During the divorce proceedings, she’d taken back her family name of Quinn.
The name felt good, like a Get Out of Jail Free card on a Monopoly board.
It felt right. As they breezed over the Skyway and onto the Dan Ryan, she was startled by the traffic.
She hadn’t experienced this kind of traffic for over a year.
Aunt Cate drove, of course. Her aunt liked to be in control of the wheel, and Sam didn’t mind.
Her aunt knew her champagne colored Mercedes SUV better than Sam.
They’d left in early morning, the small town of Charlevoix still asleep.
Hours later they stopped on the Skyway. Steaming coffee in travel mugs were set in the console.
Aunt Cate’s radio was playing cool jazz, which suited Sam just fine.
The drive down from northern Michigan had been long but filled it with conversation.
By the time the Chicago skyline came into view, the afternoon sun was bouncing off the tall glass buildings.
Sam felt that familiar excitement travel always gave her.
It had been a while. But she sure wouldn’t want to do this every day.
They left the car with valet and made their way to the twelfth floor lobby that smelled faintly of lemon and polished wood.
A fire blazed in the massive hearth, and elegant people drifted in and out, stylish shopping bags in hand.
It had been a while since Sam stayed in a Ritz Carlton but her aunt had insisted.
“My treat. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it properly,” she’d said.
Sam hadn’t argued. It wasn’t every day you went on a shopping trip for maternity clothes for your younger sister.
They’d been very mysterious with Marlowe about this trip.
She would have protested. “Don’t fuss about me” had become her mantra.
But no way did either one of them want to see stylish Marlowe slopping around in a warmup suit any longer.
By the time they checked in and unpacked, the sun had come around and started its descent.
From their window they could see the busy city spread out below them.
Aunt Cate poured them each a small glass of wine from the minibar and ordered soup and salad from room service.
Neither of them had the energy to dress for dinner.
It felt deliciously indulgent to sit in the soft white hotel robes with the glittering lights of Chicago down below.
“We’ll hit Michigan Avenue early,” her aunt said, spooning up her clam chowder. “I mapped out a few places that have maternity lines—Neiman’s, Bloomingdale’s, Saks. Maybe Eileen Fisher. Marlowe will need things she actually feels good in, not just stretchy leggings and oversized sweaters.”
Her aunt thought of everything and Sam gave her an appreciative smile. “She’ll appreciate that. Her work clothes are getting tight.”
Aunt Cate chuckled. “We’ll fix that.”
The next morning dawned cold and bright.
They quickly had room service send up a continental breakfast of an English muffin for her aunt and yogurt for Sam.
The coffee smelled wonderful and perked Sam up.
Her aunt was ready first, her scarf looped perfectly, her lipstick bright and precise.
Sam pulled on her comfortable shoes and coat, ready to take on the city.
The air on Michigan Avenue was crisp enough to sting.
Flags snapped above them, and spring colors had begun to appear in the store windows.
Traffic was bumper to bumper along the Magnificent Mile, as Michigan Avenue was called.
Thank goodness they wouldn’t need their car until they left. The street gleamed with possibility.
“Now,” Aunt Cate said, scanning her phone as they walked, “Neiman’s first. Let’s begin there before the crowds hit.”
Neiman Marcus felt like walking into a luxurious dream.
The warm lighting softened everything, the floors gleamed, and racks of designer clothes hung in elegant displays.
They told the sales associate they were looking for stylish maternity clothes for a professional woman.
Within minutes, the woman appeared with an armful of garments: soft knit dresses, wrap blouses with just enough stretch, coordinating pants completed the look.
Not a frumpy or fluttery piece of clothing to be found.
Sam ran her hand along a rack of dresses, thinking how strange it was to be shopping maternity wear for her sister.
To think of Marlowe as the pregnant woman carrying Izzy’s child filled Sam with admiration.
The poor thing. Thank goodness Sam’s volunteer work had dispelled any bad feelings about the way things had turned out. She did not envy Marlowe one bit.
“Do you think she’ll like this?” Aunt Cate held up a navy knit dress with a flattering empire waist.
“She’d love it,” Sam said. “It looks like something she’d wear to a showing and then to dinner. Very Marlowe.”
Dinner. Brad had really stepped up to the plate as the pregnancy progressed. He took Marlowe out for dinner regularly, unless she was not feeling up to it. Sam thought he hovered over her and Marlowe seemed to enjoy that. That man was one in a million and the whole family recognized that.
A rack of spring colors caught her eye, especially a cream colored dress sprinkled with blue forget-me-knots. She held it up for her aunt to see. “What do you think? This might not be Marlowe.”
Aunt Cate pulled out the skirt for a better look. “Maybe this isn’t corporate Marlowe, but it might be Marlowe this spring. The fabric is light as could be. Your sister will no doubt be ready for warmer weather soon. And it’s so pretty. Are those forget-me-nots?”
“I think so. Yes, this might be great to carry her into summer.” Sam handed the dress to the clerk.
Shopping the aisles, they gathered more pieces—comfortable leggings that didn’t look sloppy, cashmere sweaters, a navy coat that was both warm and chic.
Aunt Cate was in her element, tending to all the details and making sure they had the right sizes and colors.
After the purchases were boxed and sent to the hotel, they moved on down the street, ducking in and out of Bloomingdale’s and Aritzia, laughing when they tried on matching hats “just because.”
By midday, their arms were full again. They had wonderful things for Marlowe, of course, but also a soft pink sweater for Holly and a beautiful wool scarf her aunt insisted Izzy would adore.
“She’s been through a lot,” Aunt Cate said, folding the scarf neatly into a bag.
“Something beautiful will do her good, and it’s still cold up in northern Michigan. ”
Samantha picked out a sweater striped in peach and citrus green for herself. The sweater screamed spring and Sam was ready to leave the winter snow behind. “Aren’t you going to buy something for yourself?”
“If you insist.” And her aunt marched right over to a T-stand holding an orange and saffron silk jacket that could be worn over anything.
By the time they stopped for a late lunch, the stores had begun to fill with shoppers escaping the cold.
Her aunt had made reservations at The Evie, a bright, elegant restaurant just off Michigan Avenue.
The hostess led them to a table by the window where they could watch the swirl of pedestrians outside.
Aunt Cate ordered the grouper, while Sam chose the whitefish.
The smell of roasted garlic and lemon butter filled the air.
Sam was glad Marlowe wasn’t there. The smells might set her off, although she seemed to be safely out of that nauseated phase.
When their drinks of sparkling water arrived, they relaxed in their chairs, content with the pleasant fatigue that a successful morning of shopping could bring.
It had been so long since she’d pampered herself like this.
“So,” her aunt said after a few bites, “how are you, Sam?”
Sam looked up, caught off guard by the question. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You’ve been divorced over a year now. How are you feeling? Really feeling.”
The question lingered between them, like a hand laid gently on her shoulder.
Sam sighed and traced the rim of her glass. “Some days I still wake up and wonder how it all happened so fast. Other days I’m just grateful it’s over. Kurt’s got a new life. Baby and everything.”
“Is he posting photos online?”
“His wife takes care of that. They look happy.” Sam had reached the stage where she could smile without bitterness. “I thought it would hurt more than it does.”
Aunt Cate tilted her head. “Maybe that’s a good sign.”
“It is.” Sam paused, then added quietly, “Also, I’ve met someone interesting. A therapist. Dr. Lowe.”
“The name sounds familiar.”
“He’s the psychologist who handled Marlowe’s evaluation for the surrogacy process.”
Her aunt’s eyebrows lifted. “Ah. Right.”
“I decided I could use some help in dealing with the divorce. Everything moved so fast. I figured if Marlowe felt comfortable with him, maybe I would too.” Sam set down her fork, gathering her thoughts.
“Dr. Lowe’s helped me sort things out. He doesn’t let me hide behind excuses.
We’ve talked a lot about responsibility—how I kept waiting for someone else to make me happy.
My marriage, my work, even Josh McCall.”
Her aunt gave her a knowing smile. “Josh is a nice guy and he seemed fond of you.”
Sam nodded. “When we moved back to Charlevoix, I thought maybe it was fate, you know? Running into Josh again after all these years. But we’re not teenagers anymore. I don’t need to fit into someone else’s life right now. I need to figure out my own.”