by Glynis Astie
We have spent many a day since then creating priceless memories under this very special tree. (As well as IN the tree. While Kate became an expert climber, I’m thrilled not to have fallen out of it.) I couldn’t believe my good fortune in finding a house already equipped with such a treasure.
Zoe grinned. “So what’s happening with the house? Did you put in an offer?”
I grinned. “We did! Now we have to wait.”
Maya frowned. “I hate waiting.”
I put my arm around her. “No kidding?”
She swatted my arm away. “Patience isn’t necessarily a virtue, Syd. Where do you think the expression, ‘You snooze, you lose’ comes from?”
I giggled. “Since when have you become so big on proverbs?”
Maya shot me a withering look, got up quickly and stalked away.
Zoe was the first to speak. “Something tells me the bride may have a few issues.”
My mom joined in. “Why don’t you go see what’s wrong, Syd?”
I sighed. “I would love to, Mom, but I’m not supposed to get up unless absolutely necessary. Dr. Bauer read me the riot act again yesterday. I was this close to being admitted to the hospital again.” I held my index finger and thumb as close together as possible without touching to emphasize my point.
My mom considered me, disappointment visible in her expression.
I leaned my head back against the couch. “OK, I’ll ask Kate to help me find her. Are you happy?” I raised my head back up to see her reaction.
She grinned. “Very. Don’t forget to call me tomorrow to tell me about the rest of the party!”
I quickly said my goodbyes, pulled out my phone and texted Kate. I knew texting Maya would bring forth no result, so I was going to send in my muscle to get the job done. And that meant Kate. Nobody could refuse her. Not even Maya. She simply didn’t have the nerve.
Five minutes later, Maya sat down next to me, arms folded and pouting. Good times!
I didn’t have the time or the inclination to pussyfoot around whatever her issue was, so I dove right in. “Out with it. What’s going on? Did something happen to your dress?”
Her brow furrowed. “What would make you think that?”
“Well, you were pretty late to the shower and I heard you talking with Kate in the kitchen. Something about a dress being stuck in customs?”
Was it my imagination or did Maya look a little pale following my comment?
Maya cleared her throat. “My designer filled out the paperwork incorrectly. It was no big deal.”
Something wasn’t right. “Your designer? Isn’t your dress vintage Chanel?”
She shrugged. “I had a travelling case designed specifically for the dress.”
I was speechless. I mean, what do you say to something like that?
Maya took my hand. “How are you feeling, Syd?”
I sighed wearily. “Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Maya chuckled darkly. “I guess we both have a lot going on in the next few weeks.”
We sat in silence for a few moments contemplating our major life changes while the party wound down around us.
I studied Maya briefly and said, “You’re getting married.” I paused. “You. Are. Getting. Married.”
She gave me a quizzical look. “You’re having a baby.” She tapped my nose affectionately. “You. Are. Having. A. Baby.”
“When will you ever admit that you’re as much of a dork as I am?”
“Never gonna happen, Syd. I may visit you in Dorkland, but you’re a permanent resident.”
A clever retort was on the tip of my tongue when Kate came running up to us. “Ladies! I almost forgot our last shower game! We can squeeze in a quick round of pin the tail on the whale!”
Maya and I turned to each other, fighting off laughter like our lives depended on it. Clearly my sister, also known as the aunt of my unborn child, was a permanent resident of Dorkland as well. Thank goodness Luc’s French father would be able to provide at least a modicum of sophistication for him, because the American side of his family was definitely a few sandwiches shy of a picnic.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A few days after my memorable baby shower, things started to get a little strange in the Durand household. My midsection had grown so large that any position I chose was uncomfortable, but I found our bed gave the best possible relief. As a result, Dr. Bauer no longer had to fight me to rest; the only fighting which took place was my battling my own body to move when I could no longer ignore nature’s call. Louis helped me bathe each night, but other than these two conditions, I felt no need to leave my pillow-filled cocoon.
Unfortunately for my husband, this meant he had to spend an hour coaxing me out of bed for a very special outing the following Saturday morning. With one week until Maya’s wedding, I had originally planned to accompany her to her final dress fitting, but with the current state of affairs, I wondered if such exertion was absolutely necessary.
“Come on, Syd, do you remember how hard you worked to get Dr. Bauer to agree to this outing?”
I frowned. “That was weeks ago—before I felt like an elephant.”
He sat down next to me and rubbed my back. “You only received final approval yesterday, since your labs have improved.”
I crossed my arms. “Maya will understand if I don’t go.”
Louis burst out laughing. “That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard.”
My mouth fell open. “Bluey! Don’t swear in front of Luc.”
Louis rolled his eyes at me. “He can hear the sound of your voice, but the words are still indistinctive. One little slip while he is in utero will not guarantee his first word is ‘bullshit’.”
He had a point, but I felt like we had to start practicing now. As previously mentioned, my horrendous potty mouth would take years to eradicate—and Louis’ mouth wasn’t much better. His parents have the same penchant for profanity as my father. We never stood a chance!
“But…” I was momentarily distracted by a heavenly scent. “Is your mother making cream puffs?”
He nodded. “Nigel came over to have another lesson from her. He is determined to get her technique down before she goes back to France.”
My eyes widened. “Did Grace come with him?”
Louis winked. “Who do you think will make sure the kitchen does not burn down while we are gone?” Poor Nigel. He may be slightly clueless, but he was nowhere near as bad as Simone. He had somehow earned himself a bad rap.
I cocked my head to the side. “Do I get a cream puff before we leave?”
Louis extended his hand to me. “Mais oui, mon coeur.”
Pleased with his answer, I took his hand and he helped me to a standing position. “Let’s get this show on the road, Bluey.”
Was it so important that I go for this dress fitting, you ask? Much to my chagrin, it was of the utmost importance. Aside from holding Maya’s hand through her final dress fitting, I had to have a dress fitting of my own. Since my weight gain over the past few months had been a tad unpredictable, Maya insisted on a final check before the big day. While there was a certain degree of give to the fabric of my matron of honor dress, no one needed to see bulging seams (or God forbid, an errant tear) during the wedding ceremony. Even Maya’s flexible sense of propriety wouldn’t bear such a violation.
Following a quick shower, under my husband’s watchful eye, I felt a little better. I had put on a pair of black capris and a sparkly blue blouse (Empire waist? Check!), when I happened to notice my naked ring finger. I had stopped wearing my wedding rings weeks ago since my fingers had swollen to three times their normal size. (I may be exaggerating a wee bit, but my hands sure seemed huge to me.) I missed my gorgeous rings, but circulation had to trump vanity and, um, sentimentality and all that…
I had been marginally bothered by not wearing my rings before, but for some reason, the absence of these significant pieces of jewelry genuinely bothered me today. Hormones,
anyone?
It didn’t take Louis long to notice that something was wrong. “Syd? Are you ready to go?” He was using a tone of voice reserved for speaking with mental patients. And possibly serial killers.
I sniffled. “I have to go to this dress fitting and—oh God!—Maya’s wedding without my wedding rings.”
He took a moment to think before he spoke. Smart man. A woman who was barely two weeks away from her due date was temperamental to say the least. Suddenly, he froze and snapped his fingers.
“I have an idea!” He ran over to my jewelry box, opened the lid and plucked out a ring. What the? What ring do I have that would possibly fit the GIANT fingers I now possessed? Granted they were smaller than they were a few weeks ago (bed rest has done my body good), but they were still pretty damn swollen.
He tentatively held out the ring to me. “I think this will fit, mon coeur.”
I regarded his palm. Was that…? I stared at him in awe. “You’re a genius, Bluey.”
I held out my left hand and his face lit up. He slid the ring onto my finger and smiled with satisfaction. “You see? It’s a perfect fit.”
I laughed. Who knew the ring I had purchased when I decided to propose to Louis would come in handy at a time like this? Thank you, Nordstrom, for only stocking faux engagement rings in size eight and above on the day I made the rash decision to propose to a man I had known for exactly six weeks. (While it is true that Louis was the first to suggest we get married, I was the one to ask the question since he was too much of a chicken to do so!)
I put my hands on Louis’ face and gazed deeply into his eyes. “Thank you, my love. Thank you for not only understanding, but accepting and dealing with my pregnant brand of crazy.” I kissed him gently on the lips. “You’re my hero.”
He returned my kiss and raised me a few very suggestive caresses. “I would do anything for you, mon coeur; you know that.”
Once I had my heart rate under control, I gave him a quick swat in the back of the head. “Stop getting me all hot and bothered. Hanky panky is totally off limits. And besides,” I paused to chuckle. “You know I would crush you in my current state.”
After a quick cup of tea and a cream puff with our happy bakers, Louis took me to meet Maya at Salon Q, the most sought after boutique in San Francisco. Once we were safely parked in the garage, Louis brought out the wheelchair Dr. Bauer had insisted I ride in. I sighed, resigned to the idea that my travels to such a fancy store had to take place in this brown vinyl contraption. Oh well! It wouldn’t be the first time I had endured humiliation for Maya. Nor would it be the last.
While Louis extracted the wheelchair from the trunk, my cell phone rang. I peered at the screen to find my dad’s cell phone number. Odd indeed. I thought my parents had a pottery seminar today. Cell phone usage was a big no-no for the hippie freaks they usually take classes from. Wow! That was rude. These hormone surges get worse every day. At this rate I was going to be a complete bitch by the time Baby Luc was born. Only two weeks to go!
Before I was able to utter a salutation, I heard, “Duck! It’s time!”
I hesitated. “Time for what, Dad?”
“For the next Bennett to enter this world! Zoe is in labor!” The “duh” was absolutely implied.
“Holy shit!” I winced, realizing I had sworn in front of Luc. (Again!) After a silent apology to my little guy, I turned my attention back to my dad. “When did her labor start?”
“About two hours ago.”
“Oh my God! How is she? Have you spoken with her? Did Charlie give you any details? Have they gone to the hospital? How far apart are her contractions?” I was so excited about the arrival of my new niece or nephew, I couldn’t get my questions out fast enough.
“Whoa, Duck! Slow down. Let me put your mother on the phone.”
While I waited for my mom to pick up the phone, Louis opened the car door and held his hand out to me. I handed him the phone and said, “Zoe’s in labor!”
He regarded the phone quizzically. “Is now a good time to chat with her?”
I waved away his comment. “I was talking to my dad. He went to get Mom, since my questions were too much for him to handle.” Overly enthusiastic women just weren’t my dad’s thing. Their high-pitched squeals gave him the heebie-jeebies.
I had just settled myself in the wheelchair, when we heard my mother’s voice floating from my cell phone. I quickly grabbed the phone from Louis’ pocket, eager to hear more news about Zoe and Baby Bennett.
“Mom?” I asked breathlessly.
“There you are, Syd. I thought I’d lost you.”
I cleared my throat. “Sorry about that, Mom. We had a little trouble with the wheelchair.”
“What?” my mom shrieked. “Are you in labor too?”
Totally unprepared for the volume of her voice, I pulled the phone away from my ear for a moment to recover. I was used to my dad being exceedingly loud, but outbursts of this level were highly unusual for my mother.
“Mom! Calm down! I’m not in labor. Dr. Bauer would only allow me to go to Maya’s dress fitting if I agreed to use a wheelchair.”
She exhaled loudly. “Oh, I see.”
I giggled. “I thought your head was going to explode.”
“Well,” she spluttered, “having two of my girls in labor at the same time would have been a little much.”
“Don’t worry, Mom.” I put my hand on my belly. “Luc seems to content to stay put for the time being. He wouldn’t dare interfere with his Auntie Maya’s wedding. Even in utero, he knows better.”
“Ha, ha, Syd. Just be careful, OK?”
“I will, Mom. I promise! Now, please—tell me what’s going on with Zoe.”
It took my mom three minutes to give me the rundown. Zoe had gone into labor right after her morning yoga session (most of which was now done from a chair due to her size) and her contractions were currently seven minutes apart. Zoe’s doctor has advised her to head to the hospital when they are five minutes apart.
I hung up with my mother following her promise to call me when Zoe went to the hospital. I peered up at my husband, who had been patiently waiting in the elevator bank until I completed my phone call. Having heard my end of the conversation, he was now caught up and ready to transport me to Bridezilla with no further preamble.
Five minutes later, we were face-to-face with an annoyed Maya. As a preemptive strike against her wrath, I blurted out, “Zoe’s in labor!”
Maya hesitated, then grinned like an idiot. “That’s awesome!”
I returned her grin. “I know! She’s still at home, but she’s getting close. My mom’s going to call us when they head over, but I promise not to be distracted!”
Maya eyed me closely. “So this is why you were late, not some trouble with the…lovely contraption you’re sitting in?”
I rolled my eyes at her. “There was no need to fork over the money to rent a luxury wheelchair. If it offends you, Louis will help me over to the chaise lounge in the corner.”
“Sounds like a plan. I have something to show you.” She winked at me before racing out of the room.
Louis let out a low whistle. “This place is very, what is the word you use, ‘swanky’?”
I laughed. “Yes. It is indeed rather swanky. Though could we honestly expect anything less of Maya?” This is actually the first dress fitting I have been allowed to attend, so the setting was completely new to me. My prior morning sickness was a little too severe for Maya’s taste. She had no desire to have vomit anywhere near her ten thousand dollar wedding gown. I couldn’t say that I blamed her.
While I thanked my lucky stars for the passage of the seemingly interminable vomit stage of my pregnancy, Louis walked over to examine a dress hanging on a nearby wall. “Is this your dress, Syd?” He held it up, turning it from side to side for my examination.
I furrowed my brow. “I think so. I’ve only ever seen it in pictures.” Maya has been keeping the dress under lock and key, diligently measuring my bust, w
aist (ha!) and hips once a week to ensure I would still fit in it. Definitely not the most fun I have ever had.
Louis examined the label more closely. “Did you know this dress was made by Gerard Marant?”
I regarded him quizzically. “Who?”
He shook his head at me. “He is an up-and-coming French designer. I had no idea it was possible to obtain his designs in the US.”
I bit my lip. “Well, Maya’s dress was shipped over from France; perhaps my dress came from the same boutique?”
Louis studied the fabric intently. “I did not know he made maternity garments.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Since when do you know about French designers? Or who makes ‘maternity garments’?” I made air quotes with my hands.
He smiled sheepishly. “Monique will not stop talking about this guy. She really likes his clothes.”
I giggled. His cousin’s love of fashion was pretty intense. She knew about the latest trends YEARS before I had any sort of a clue. (But I guess that isn’t saying much, since I’m a fashion novice.)
The woman who just walked into the room, however, was not. My mouth fell open the moment Maya’s form met my eyes. I know I have often described Maya as breathtaking, but on this occasion her beauty was truly astounding.
Her wedding dress was a strapless ball gown made of delicate ivory lace. The fitted bodice was outlined with ivory ribbon with a hint of shimmer and the waist was beaded with the perfect combination of seed pearls and clear jewels. With her hair up in a chignon, a subtle tiara glistening from her locks and an intricate ivory veil cascading down her back, she had proven her statement that you could never go wrong with vintage Chanel.
Maya tapped her foot impatiently. “Well?”
Surprise, surprise, tears formed in my eyes in addition to the lump in my throat. “You are…the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” OK, so the hormones may have driven the over-the-top nature of the comment, but it was honestly how I felt at the time.