Chapter 41
“HEY!” SOMEONE SHOUTED as I stepped out of the office building and into the sunshine, still shaken from my run-in with Angela.
I turned to find Laura leaning against a Renault that clearly didn’t belong to her.
“Oh, hi,” I said, surprised she’d stuck around. “You didn’t have to wait.”
“I most definitely did,” she said with an almost giddy smile. “What happened in there?”
We began walking, slowly, in the direction of the Piazza Comando, and I repeated what Angela had said to me.
“She did not say that!”
I nodded. “She did.”
“What’d you say?”
“Nothing. I mean, I apologized. Told her I didn’t mean anything by it. That I’d just wanted to know what was going on.”
“Yeah, okay. What’d she say to that?”
“Just that she’d see me tomorrow.”
“Ugh.”
“It’s bad, right?”
We were passing the compound, and Laura waved to Hollingsworth, who was working the gate. Then she turned her attention back to me. “Yeah, that’s awful. I’m sorry.”
“What do I do?”
“I think you have to act like nothing happened. Go in there tomorrow and kill her with kindness.”
This, I would learn, was Laura’s MO. Perennially pleasant, a do-gooder, the type of girl who always did what was expected of her. Even when she was angry or upset, it was often hard to tell.
“Crap,” I said as I scraped the sole of my espadrille along the narrow sidewalk.
“Oh no,” said Laura when she saw the problem.
I had stepped in a pile of dog crap, which wasn’t all that surprising, considering that the island had its fair share of strays.
“My hotel’s right up here,” said Laura, pointing up the hill. “They’ve got a hose in the garden.”
The Villa Marina didn’t have the Excelsior’s curb appeal, but its gardens were extensive, and Laura was right about the hose. I turned on the spigot, removed my shoe, and set to work cleaning out all the tiny grooves with a twig.
“Do you think Maureen’s really pregnant?” asked Laura as she watched me work.
It was something that I hadn’t given any thought to whatsoever. “I have no idea.”
“Makes sense, though, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“When I was pregnant, I threw up all the time.”
I stood up straight because, although she hadn’t explicitly said so, I would have sworn Laura didn’t have kids. “I didn’t know you were—”
She scrunched up her face. “It didn’t work out.”
“Oh, you mean—”
“I had a miscarriage. At about ten weeks.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and stopped messing with the stupid shoe so I could give her my full attention. “When?”
She kicked at a clump of moss that had grown between two pavers. “A couple of months ago. Right before we got our orders.”
“What’d the doctor say?”
“Just to give it a month and try again.”
“So, did you?” I asked, eying her stomach. “Are you—”
“Oh, no,” she said. “Bobby wouldn’t even consider it until we got over here and got settled.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you read the welcome packet?” she asked. “If you’ve got anything going on healthwise that’s even moderately risky, they can cancel your orders. That goes for dependents, too.”
“I guess I didn’t think about it.”
“The navy doesn’t want the liability. We knew a family back in New London, and they really wanted La Madd, but their kid has diabetes, so it was a no-go.”
“Huh,” I said, and turned back to the task at hand.
“You and Paul want kids?” asked Laura.
I nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I think so.”
She laughed a little. “You sound enthusiastic.”
“I don’t know.”
“What is it?”
“I want to be a mom at some point, I guess. But when I close my eyes, I can’t quite picture it.”
I didn’t tell her about Lenny, and how there was a part of me that couldn’t see the point of having kids.
Not after watching my mom lose one. She had put everything she had into my brother and me, had loved us with her whole heart, and if—after all of that—Lenny could just go and die, why do any of it?
“What does Paul think?” asked Laura.
“We don’t talk about it much.”
“Is he the quiet type?”
I laughed. “Not particularly. I’m just not sure he cares. At least not right now, with everything going on.”
“Well,” said Laura, “if that’s the case, he and Bobby should get along perfectly.”