Glue, Baby, Gone

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  “Thanks,” said Bonnie. “Kiki, you spoil us.”

  “I try to. Now would everybody open their kits?”

  My students eagerly tore open the cellophane packages we'd bundled up for each individual. We'd asked participants to choose a color scheme ahead of time, so each person's pack had to be done separately. That made this class a total pain in the backside. That said, it was one of our more popular offerings. This class brought in more new customers than any other class we offered. New moms are eager to document each new experience, so scrapbooking is the perfect hobby for them. Marnie had opted for aqua. Amy wanted yellow. Deena pink. Aqua and yellow seemed safe bets if you didn’t know your baby’s sex.

  “Another boy for you, Bonnie?”

  “That’s right. Jeremy had his heart set on a girl, but we’ll take what we can get.”

  “Or what God gives you, to be more precise. Jana? You're having a boy?” I asked Jana, as I watched her open her package of carefully selected supplies for the baby album. Jana had requested all blue paper and embellishments.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Lee had opted for two kits, one yellow and one aqua. “To keep our options open. Jeff and I don’t care what sex the baby is. Or who has a baby first, Taylor and Ryan or Maggie and Bradley. Of course, we hope that Taylor might wait until after her wedding, but we’ll take life as it comes.”

  Marnie nodded. “That’s what my parents say, too.” Her skin was so translucent that she reminded me of a slice of onion. Her eyes were the palest blue, the color of bleached out jeans. She looked like she'd swallowed a small exercise ball, the way her tummy stuck out. Except for that, she was rail-thin. Her auburn hair stood out from her head like a halo, thanks to all the static electricity in the air.

  “I asked the tech to keep it a surprise because I was afraid I’d slip and tell our folks. Kiki, is your skin dry? I feel like mine is about to split open. It's like I'm wearing a corn husk,” she lifted a pant leg to show me the flakes on her shin. She’d rubbed a carpet burn on one spot, trying to get the itching to stop.

  “Use coconut oil. In fact, I've got some in the back on the bathroom counter. Feel free to help yourself.”

  She grinned at me, and suddenly I could see that she was actually a very pretty girl. “Thanks, I will. Since I know that I'll have to use the john ten minutes from now, that'll give me the perfect chance to try some.”

  “There are baggies in the kitchen. Grab a spoon and dig out a glob to take home with you.”

  “How much would I owe you?” she asked.

  “Not one red cent. Girlfriend, we preggies have to stick together.”

  Jana had been listening intently to every word. She had this look on her face, like when a child watches its parents. “My skin's dry too.”

  “Then you can help yourself, too,” I said. “Now let's get working on our interior pages.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Friday night

  The class ended at nine thirty, dragging on a half an hour longer than we'd planned. I tried to get my students to finish up and leave, but everyone seemed incredibly chatty. Too chatty, according to my aching lower back.

  “Don’t forget, everybody,” Clancy said. “We’ve also scheduled a crop where you can show off your baby’s pictures. It’s called ‘A Star Is Born.’ It’s the second Friday in February. If you sign up for it tonight and let us add you to our email list, we’ll give you a twenty-five percent discount off any purchases you make this evening.”

  Jana was trying to bond with Bonnie, sticking to her side like glue. But Bonnie and Lee were trying to get caught up. That left Jana making an awkward third wheel. Marnie tagged along behind them, acting more like an obedient puppy than a grown woman. It would have been amusing had it not been so socially inept. Here were Bonnie and Lee, trying to talk, and then Marnie and Jana would insert some inane comment, just to get attention.

  “I remember when we first met,” Lee said with a chuckle. “Someone brought up Green Acres and you sang the theme song. Do you remember that?”

  I laughed. “How could I forget?”

  “Kiki, when you think of everything we’ve been through,” Bonnie said, while pulling on her navy wool jacket, “it’s divine justice that we’d be pregnant at the same time. Not much longer for us to go. If you need me for anything, you’ve got my number. Lee has it, too.”

  “I don’t have your number.” Jana nearly rear-ended Bonnie. The young woman was that close to my friend. Some people have no sense of personal space.

  Bonnie had a look on her face that could only be interpreted as, “I don’t want to share my phone number with this woman.” Bonnie was a busy mom, a supportive wife, and a powerful attorney. I had her number, but I guarded it carefully. Bonnie had so little time to herself that I tried not to call her unless it was absolutely necessary.

  “Your number?” Jana repeated her request.

  Rather than make a scene, I called over to Lee. “Lee? Have you signed up for the ‘A Star Is Born’ class yet? Would you show Jana where we keep the sign-up sheet?”

  Blocking Jana’s access to my friend, I reached out and hugged Bonnie, as best I could, despite our burgeoning bellies. Pitching my voice low, I said, “You and me. Whenever I’ve needed help, you’ve been there for me. I’ll do the same for you, Bonnie.”

  She knew immediately that I was referencing the time that my mother-in-law by my first marriage had me thrown in jail. “How is Sheila?”

  “Still out of commission,” I said, feeling a wave of emotion. Sheila Lowenstein Holmes, the mother of my late husband, George, was out in Palm Springs, California, at a rehab facility, where we hoped that she would dry out. Her drinking had gotten totally out of control. “She’ll be happy to come back and be a grandmother again. We’re blessed to bring babies into this world, aren’t we?”

  “And, occasionally, to keep them out of the wrong hands.” Bonnie winked, reminding me of Bernice Stottlemeyer, one of her clients who had wanted to adopt for all the wrong reasons. Bernice had been a whack-job of the first order, and she’d very nearly caused a rift between Bonnie and me. But our friendship proved strong enough to overcome the problems that Bernice had caused us.

  “Amen to that, sister. Ever hear from our old nemesis?” I asked my friend.

  “Bernice and Wesley are getting a divorce.”

  “Good,” I said. “He seemed like a nice man. Her, not so much.”

  Instead of responding to that, Bonnie smiled. She’s very circumspect about her clients, and from her silence, I assumed that she still considered the Stottlemeyers as such.

  “This baby might be a C-section. So far, it looks like he’s determined to be breech. I’m going to go nuts having to stay home and recover,” she said. “Promise you’ll come visit me.”

  “I will,” I promised. “I couldn’t sit still. I can’t imagine you doing it either.”

  “Getting scrapbookers rounded up and out the door is like forcing parakeets to march in a straight line,” Clancy said as she helped me put scraps of paper into plastic bags. “You look exhausted,” she said. We'd sort the scraps by color later. It’s amazing what you can do with a tiny bit of paper. Absolutely amazing.

  “I am tired. Really bushed.”

  “Sorry I was so rough on you.”

  “I'm sorry I didn't listen to you and Margit when you tried to talk me out of this…this…frantic schedule.”

  “Yes, well. We should have backed off as soon as we realized you were already taking heat from Thelma.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “How did you know about that?” I rubbed my lower back with both fists.

  Clancy shrugged. “We got it straight from the horse’s mouth. I use that cliché advisedly because she’s been acting like a horse’s rear end. Calling here. Demanding to know how many hours you’ve worked. Practically had poor Margit in tears.”

  What?” I couldn’t have heard her right. “Thelma? Calling here? At the store?”

  “I debated over w
hether to tell you, but you might as well know. She probably calls twice a day, asking if you are here and how long you’ve been working. I’ve gotten so I try to screen the calls so Margit doesn’t have to deal with her. You know how upset Margit can get over hassles like that.”

  Yes, I did. What on earth was Thelma up to?

  “Look, it’s almost over now. You’ll have your baby and everything will go back to normal. In the meantime,” Clancy took the baggies out of my hand, “why not go and sit down at your desk? Put your feet up. Is Brawny coming to get you?”

  “I sure hope so.” A tear leaked out and trickled down my face. “Is it so wrong for me to worry about the store? Thelma doesn’t seem to understand. And I wasn't nasty to the customers tonight was I? Tell me, please? Do I owe anyone an apology?”

  “Let's put it this way. No one nominated you for Miss Congeniality, that's for sure.” Clancy took me by the arm, led me to the big black leather chair in the room we still called “Dodie's Office.” Until her untimely death from cancer, Dodie Goldfader had been my mentor, my boss, and my friend. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have never grown up. She guided me into adulthood after my first husband, George Lowenstein, was murdered. Sitting me down, she’d told me the hard facts of life: “If you don’t take care of yourself and your daughter, no one will. You’re the adult in the room. Get with the program.” That changed everything.

  “I miss Dodie. I wish she was here.”

  “We all do.” Clancy slipped her forearm under my calves and helped me lift my legs so that my feet were propped up on top of the desk. “I didn’t know her like you did, but there are days when I can feel her presence.”

  “Are you getting all wooo-wooo on me?”

  “No. Okay, maybe. Lately, I feel this sort of happy warmth in here. I figure it has to be Dodie. She’d be thrilled about your baby.”

  “Yeah, but she’d also be the first to wonder if I can handle it all. Can I keep the store going, be a wife, and raise three kids all at once?”

  “Probably. As long as you don’t run off the help or the customers.”

  “I’m not myself.” The tap had been turned on. Tears streamed down my face faster than I could mop them up with my sleeve.

  “Of course you aren’t. You’re nine months pregnant. Hello! It’s going to be okay. Try to take it easy.”

  “Yup,” I said, but it came out as a mumbled snivel.

  I rested my head back against the big leather office chair. Dodie insisted that this seat made her feel like a CEO. I felt like a dwarf. Sleepy. Yeah, that was his name. What were the names of the other six? Dopey? Grouchy? Sleezy? In a Disney-induced fog, I drifted off until Brawny tapped me on the shoulder.

  Clancy must have warned the nanny that I was a mess, because Brawny put one arm under my armpits and half-lifted me out of the chair. When I complained that I needed to use the restroom, she walked me inside before leaving me to my business.

  By the time I had finished, she was holding open my cape, the one she'd made for me. In a practiced move, she bundled me up, wrapped the scarf around my face and throat, and held open the mittens that Margit had knitted for me.

  “Clancy said your feet are too swollen to fit in your boots. I'll pull up the car. The floor mat will be your red carpet tonight, so get ready for your star turn.” Brawny wrapped an arm around my expansive waist and guided me to the exit. Clancy joined us there.

  “Get some rest,” Clancy said, giving me a stiff hug. “I'll take over your All About Me album class tomorrow.”

  “But you can't—” I started.

  “Yes, I can. In case you haven't noticed, I can follow directions. I'm not incompetent, nor am I a moron. Honestly, Kiki, you're the best teacher I've ever had. Don't you think we're prepared for your taking a leave of absence? It's not like you haven't been pregnant for nearly nine months.”

  She humbled me. I nodded, feeling even more miserable.

  “Look. We love this place as much as you do. And we love you, too, even though you're being a dope. Why don't you trust us?”

  I opened my mouth and started to complain, “It's not that I don't trust—”

  “That's what it feels like,” said Clancy. Even though it was ten at night, her makeup was still perfect. However, the big hashtag between her eyes marred how perfect she looked.

  “I'm scared,” I said, blubbering.

  “Of what? Having the baby?” She peered around me, opening the door a crack to see whether Brawny had pulled up yet. A burst of cold air stung my face.

  “No. Yes. Some—and scared about business, and how I'll cope, and how Erik will do with a new baby, and how Anya is going to—”

  Clancy closed the door between us and the frozen landscape, but the cold had already chilled us to the bones. Her nose was pink from the arctic blast. “Don't forget to worry about Ebola, ISIS, inertia of Congress, tax increases, rat poop in our food supply, global warming, and the chance that spring won't come this year.”

  “You're making fun of me!” I felt my lower lip quiver.

  “No, I am not making fun of you,” said Clancy. “I'm helping you get the job done right. If you're going to be a worrywart, no sense leaving any stone unturned. How's that for an ugly mixed metaphor? Come on, Suzy Sunshine. I'm sending you home with the Celtic Warrior Woman. I love you dearly, but I've had enough of you for one night.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Saturday

  That's how I came to be banned from my own store.

  Of course, I didn't know I'd been banned. Not at first. The next morning I got up, ate breakfast, got dressed, kissed the kids and Detweiler goodbye, and reached for my car keys. My keychain was gone.

  I called my husband. “Have you seen my keys?”

  “Of course I have. They're right here in my pocket.” Detweiler looked up from his iPad where he’d been reading the New York Times. My husband was a hunk. Long legged. Lean. Dark blond hair with gold highlights that came naturally. Beautiful slender and long fingers. And a body to die for. Instead of feeling lucky, that last thought made me wonder why he cared.

  Yes, he was a hunk and he was married to a whale. Or a tug boat. Or a baby elephant. I couldn’t think of a single metaphor that flattered my balloon-shaped self.

  “I need them.”

  “No, you do not. You aren't going anywhere.”

  “But the store! It's a Saturday!”

  “The store will do just fine without you. Margit called Laurel and Rebekkah, the two of them will cover your hours. I suggest you put a kettle of water on the stove and make yourself another cup of tea.”

  Laurel was a dear friend who looked like a Playboy centerfold and totally disarmed you with her sweet nature. Otherwise, she was so gorgeous that she’d have been insufferable. Customers loved Laurel because of her willingness to help. Rebekkah was the daughter of Dodie Goldfader. Although she was hirsute like her mother, Rebekkah’s friendship with Laurel had convinced the young woman to tame her hair and brows. The transformation had been visually amazing. Of course, Rebekkah had grown up in the store, so she was very knowledgeable about products.

  Both of my young friends were fully capable of running the store without me. But I wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.

  “What?” I was so loud, so indignant, that Gracie came over and rested a big paw on my knee.

  “You need to rest, Kiki. You aren’t sleeping at night. I feel you trying to get comfortable, and you can’t. Not with our baby fighting you for floor space. Why not enjoy the day? Lorraine is coming over to keep you company later this afternoon. She's working on an afghan. You've been saying you wanted to learn to crochet. Now's your chance.”

  I stomped my foot, which was jammed into my rubber boots so tightly I was sure I'd get blisters if I walked more than fifteen feet. My trusty mukluks were in my messenger bag, the one I'd made by sewing Beggin' Strips bags together. (If you'll excuse the pun, my bag is so doggone cute I could just sit and admire it all day long. Not that I want to sit around all day. Ju
st sayin'.)

  “I know how to crochet! I don't want to sit home and crochet! I have stuff to do at my store! I need to get to work! And I plan to go there the minute Brawny gets back with the Subaru.”

  He chuckled. “Good luck with that. You planning to arm wrestle her for the keys? Take it from me, you'll lose. She was beating me easily up until the time I got shot. I have a hunch that she'll have your arm pinned in nothing flat.”

  “You can't do this to me. You should have discussed it with me! It's not fair.”

  “Babe, what is it that you're always telling the kids? Life ain't fair? I love you. We all love you, and you're being totally unreasonable about staying home so we put our heads together and came up with a solution.”

  “Oh, we did, did we? We who? I wasn't consulted!”

  “You weren't consulted because you've been a little down lately. Brawny thinks it's the hormones getting to you. I even called Dr. Gretski, and he agreed with us. This is for your own good. Think of it as a snow day. You can play with the kids. That'll help them handle the big changes ahead.”

  He was right, but I was honked off. I felt betrayed by his willingness to go along with my friends in keeping me away from the store. That shop had been my lifeline when my marriage to George was failing. Thanks to Dodie Goldfader, Time in a Bottle had become my home away from home, my happy place.

  If I were to be perfectly honest with myself, I needed Time in a Bottle more than the store needed me. Truth to tell, Anya and Erik weren't the only ones facing big changes. Suddenly I felt overwhelmed by the thought of mothering three kids. As a new bride—we'd only been married twelve days—I also felt like I'd missed out on a honeymoon. Not that I needed a fancy trip, but with both marriages, there'd been no chance to run away with my groom. No time to be romantic and alone with my life partner. I'd gotten pregnant after one night with George, and with Detweiler there'd been what he called “equipment failure,” so in both cases I'd gone from dating to cohabitation in nothing flat.