When You Least Expect It

by Whitney Gaskell

“What are you going to do in L.A.? Are you going to work in a salon there?” I asked. Then, worried that I might be offending her by underestimating her ambition, I added, “Or are you planning on opening your own salon?”

  Lainey blinked and then shook off this suggestion. “No way. I’m not going there to work in another salon. I’m going to be on television. On a reality show.”

  “You mean those shows where people eat bugs?” Jeremy asked. “I saw one where they had to eat camel lips. I think that would be worse than the bugs. The lips were actually still hairy. Imagine what it would be like to eat that. I mean, you’re putting it in your mouth, you’re chewing … and you can feel the camel’s lip hair.”

  Lainey stood suddenly, clapped both hands to her mouth, and rushed from the room.

  “What just happened?” Jeremy asked.

  “I think you made our birth mother throw up,” I said.

  Jeremy looked sheepish. “Sorry. I didn’t realize it was going to have that effect on her,” he said.

  “Should I go check on her?” I asked.

  Mike shook his head. “I’m sure she just needs a few moments to compose herself,” he said. “Now, are you sure you’re ready to go forward? I know that Lainey’s living arrangement means we have to move somewhat quickly, but we can always put her up in a hotel for a few nights while you all think it over, and perhaps take the time to get to know one another.”

  As sensible as this advice sounded, I felt a wrench of panic. If Jeremy and I took the time to think it over, then Lainey would, too. What if she changed her mind about us? What if she looked through more adoptive-parent profiles and found a couple she liked better?

  “No, we’re sure. At least, I think we are,” I said, glancing at Jeremy. “Are we?”

  Jeremy nodded. “We might as well give it a try,” he said.

  “Try what?” Lainey asked. We all looked up to see her standing at the door of the conference room. She looked a little pale, but otherwise seemed okay. She was young, I realized. Only twenty years old. But her poise made her seem older. When I was her age, I was a sophomore in college and in the middle of a phase where I wore all-black clothing, blood-red lipstick, and listened to nihilistic music.

  “The living arrangements India and Jeremy suggested. If you’re still interested, of course,” Mike said.

  Lainey nodded, and shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

  As much as I wanted to bank on her agreement, I hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want to take some time to think about all of this?” I said. “I’ll tell you right now, we’d love to adopt your baby, but we understand if you need some time to make your decision. We don’t want you to feel pressured.”

  I knew I was giving her an out, but if she was going to change her mind—if she decided to terminate the pregnancy, or keep the baby rather than giving it up for adoption—I’d rather she did so now rather than six months from now when we were attached.

  But Lainey shook her head. “I don’t need any time,” she said firmly. And then, as if she’d read my thoughts, she added, “And I’m not going to change my mind.”

  My hands started to shake. It was surreal. After everything that we’d been through, after all the months of trying and the constant failure, it was finally happening. We were going to have a baby. This was happening. It was really, really happening.

  I was going to be a mother.

  Five

  LAINEY

  As soon as Lainey saw the Halloways’ house, she knew she’d been screwed over. She stood on the sidewalk, waiting as Jeremy unloaded the garbage bags that served as her luggage out of the trunk, and stared up at the house.

  It was a lot smaller than she had expected. A whole lot smaller. When India had told her they had a guesthouse, Lainey had assumed the Halloways lived in a mansion, maybe on the water, with a housekeeper and a big swimming pool in the back. Instead, they were parked in front of a pink stucco granny house that wasn’t much bigger than Candace’s cinderblock duplex. Admittedly, it was tidier than Candace’s house—the landscaping was lush and green, the lawn newly mown, the paint fresh—but still. Definitely not a mansion. Not even close.

  They’re not rich, Lainey realized.

  Anger began to pulse through her. She knew that she couldn’t sell the baby outright to India and Jeremy—the old lawyer guy had made that clear enough, he’d only told her about four zillion times—but still. She’d assumed that they’d funnel a good chunk of cash her way under the table. Did they really expect her to spend the next six months getting fat and stretched out for nothing?

  “What do you think?” India asked nervously.

  Lainey turned to look at her. India had seemed nice enough at the attorney’s office. A bit tense and twitchy, but okay. But Lainey could feel her resentment growing, quickly sharpening into hatred. These people had known she was desperate with nowhere to live, and they’d taken advantage of her.

  “There’s a playground just down the street, and the beach isn’t too far away,” India said. “And there are all sorts of neighborhood activities. We have a big block party every year on the Fourth of July, and there’s trick-or-treating at Halloween, and at Christmas people go all out with their decorations. The light displays are gorgeous.”

  Lainey stared at India, wondering why she was telling her all of this. Did India expect her to get dressed up in a costume and go trick-or-treating? Or hang out with their neighbors? What sort of weirdos were they anyway?

  “It’s the perfect place to raise a family,” India continued.

  Lainey suddenly realized India was talking about the baby’s future, not hers. Another surge of anger washed over her. The Halloways were getting what they wanted. They were getting the baby. But what was she getting out of this?

  As India blathered on about the benefits of raising a child in this neighborhood, Lainey glanced around, wondering what exactly was supposed to be so great about it. All of the houses were small and old, and it didn’t seem even remotely glamorous. Maybe she should have moved to Los Angeles and had the baby there, where it could have been adopted by movie stars. She noticed the car in front of the house across the street from the Halloways’ house. Lainey squinted: It was a Cadillac Escalade. That wasn’t a cheap car. Weird. Why would someone who could afford that car live in such a small house?

  “Flamingo Park is a historic neighborhood,” India continued. “Most of the houses here were built in the 1920s. It’s actually hard to find a house to buy here—when one goes on the market it frequently sells the same day it’s listed.”

  “So, what, the houses here are worth a lot of money?” Lainey asked.

  “Well,” India hesitated. “The houses are usually valued at a higher price per square foot than most in the county. They’re on the small side, but you should see some of the interiors. There are homes here that have been photographed for magazines.”

  “So you are rich,” Lainey said, relieved.

  “What?” India looked startled.

  “Ready for the grand tour?” Jeremy asked, shutting the trunk.

  “Sure,” Lainey said, shrugging.

  The house might be small, but Lainey had to admit that it was pretty nice inside. The living room had matching sofas with white slipcovers, glossy black tables, a large sisal rug, and pots of orchids. On the walls were black-and-white photos of beaches. The television was shitty, though—it was the old kind, small and boxy. Trav had a big flat-screen, so large it dominated one whole wall of the living room in their apartment.

  “India took those,” Jeremy said, when he noticed Lainey eyeing the photographs.

  “That’s the beach where Jeremy and I met,” India said.

  Lainey nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “You’re not afraid of dogs, are you?” India asked.

  Lainey shook her head, although truthfully, she wasn’t a fan. Dogs had always grossed her out, with their constant drooling and musty stink.

  India left the room, and Lainey heard her talking to som
eone, and a moment later, the sound of nails scrabbling on tile. A shaggy black and white dog lumbered into the room, heading straight for Lainey. She backed up a few steps, but the dog kept coming. He raced right up to her and began snuffling at her knees and feet.

  “This is Otis,” India said, reappearing.

  “Does he bite?” Lainey asked, holding her hands up.

  “Just don’t make any sudden moves,” Jeremy warned. “And avoid direct eye contact.”

  Lainey looked at him in alarm.

  “Kidding! I was just kidding,” he said quickly. He smiled sheepishly and balled his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants. “Otis is a lover, not a fighter.”

  Otis sat down heavily, panting. His long, shaggy tail thumped on the ground. Lainey tentatively patted his head, which he seemed to like.

  Lainey noticed that India kept staring at her intently, while Jeremy seemed to be looking anywhere but at her. Normally, it was the other way around—men stared, while the women tried to ignore her. Was everything upside down here? Rich people living in small houses with crappy TVs, men who didn’t pay attention to her? The whole thing was weird.

  Jeremy disappeared while India showed her around the rest of the downstairs of the house. There was a dining room with a big table surrounded by black chairs, a kitchen with white cupboards and butcher-block countertops, a small bathroom papered with floral wallpaper. Lainey looked at everything, but said little, so India filled the silence by chattering nervously about all the work they’d done since they’d moved in—hardwood floors that were refinished, walls that were knocked down, bathroom fittings that had been replaced.

  “Jeremy and I did most of the work ourselves,” India said. “I never thought I’d be such a whiz with a table saw. So, would you like to see the guesthouse?”

  Lainey shrugged. “Sure.”

  “I have to warn you—Jeremy’s been using it as an office, so we’ll have to move things around a bit. He’s out there now, clearing out his stuff,” India said.

  India opened the kitchen door that led to a patio. Lainey was relieved to see the pool. It was just a small, kidney-shaped pool, not the waterfront Infinity one she’d expected, but it was better than nothing. Back behind the pool was the guesthouse. It was a miniature version of the main house, painted the same stupid shade of pink, and surrounded by bougainvillea bushes. Jeremy came out with a laptop under one arm and a box under the other.

  “Where should I dump this?” he asked India.

  “The dining room,” she replied.

  Jeremy nodded. “I brought your things inside,” he said to Lainey.

  “And here’s your new home,” India said, opening the door, and standing back so Lainey could enter the guesthouse ahead of her.

  Like the main house, it was smaller than she’d expected, but even so, Lainey had to admit—to herself, at least—that it was pretty nice. The interior was painted a soothing shade of sage green with crisp white trim. There was a small living room with a kitchenette along one side, and a door off the living room that opened onto a bedroom furnished with a queen-sized canopy bed draped in gauzy white curtains. The only furniture in the living room was a desk, a mostly empty bookshelf, and a leather armchair with a matching ottoman.

  “Like I said, we’ll have to move some things around,” India said. “Obviously, Jeremy’s desk will have to go, and probably the bookshelf, too. We have a love seat in our bedroom that will fit perfectly in here.” India pointed to the space the desk occupied. “And you’ll also need a coffee table, and a few lamps. We’ll make it nice and cozy for you.”

  “Where’s the TV?” Lainey asked.

  “There isn’t one in here, but you can watch our TV whenever you want,” India said.

  No TV? This was even worse than she’d first thought. Lainey suddenly felt exhausted, and she yawned without bothering to cover her mouth.

  “You’re tired,” India said instantly. “Why don’t you lie down and rest?”

  “Yeah, I think I will,” Lainey said. She was supposed to be at the salon, two hours into an eight-hour shift, but she’d blown it off. It would probably mean she’d be fired, but now that she had a free place to stay and—hopefully—a steady source of cash, who cared? Her body ached, and she could feel twinges of nausea prickling in her stomach and throat.

  “We’re so happy to have you here,” India said. She stepped forward and put her arms around Lainey in an awkward embrace. Lainey stood stiffly, not returning the hug.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” India said, stepping back. She smiled nervously at Lainey, and then finally left, shutting the door behind her.

  It took Lainey a long time to wake up. She felt like she was swimming slowly through murky, dream-filled water. When she finally was able to open her eyes, it took her a few beats to remember where she was and how she had gotten there. Then she remembered: the pregnancy. The adoption. The Halloways.

  Lainey sat up. Her new bed was incredibly comfortable, so much so that she’d fallen asleep as soon as she crawled under the fluffy white duvet. But now she felt hot—she kicked the duvet off her legs—and was overcome with a stomach-gnawing hunger. What time was it? She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. No wonder she was hungry. It was already six o’clock. She’d been asleep for hours.

  She got up, headed into the other room, and poked around the kitchenette. There wasn’t much in the way of food there. Only a single package of chocolate cookies. Lainey opened it and devoured several of them, licking the crumbs from her fingers. Then she left the cottage and headed over to the main house, skirting around the perimeter of the rinky-dink pool. A long pink raft floated dejectedly in the middle of the water.

  When Lainey got to the back door, she hesitated. What if the dog attacked her? Sure, they’d claimed he wasn’t vicious, but people always said that. When Lainey was a kid, a family who lived down the block had a pit bull they kept chained in their front yard. They insisted their dog was harmless, but every time Lainey passed by, walking to and from school, the dog would lunge against the fence, barking and snarling at her, foam spraying from his mouth. She’d once seen him catch a squirrel and eat it whole.

  Lainey knocked instead. No one answered, and the dog didn’t come rushing in, so Lainey opened the door and walked in. There were signs of dinner preparations in the kitchen. Three raw steaks sat on the counter, lettuce leaves were resting in a colander in the sink, a pot of peeled potatoes bubbled on the stovetop, a pan of brownies sat cooling on the counter. Interestingly, the sight of the raw meat didn’t make Lainey feel like retching, as the chicken breasts Flaca had Shake ’n Baked the night before had.

  It was all so homey, Lainey thought. Were they putting on a show for her benefit, or did they always eat like this? Was this what the kid had to look forward to, a life of steaks and home-baked brownies? Lainey felt another surge of resentment. Why didn’t she have this sort of life when she was growing up? Where would she be now if she had? Probably not knocked up by a steroid-addicted gym rat.

  Otis suddenly came scrabbling into the kitchen, his leash still attached, and headed straight for Lainey. The dog jumped up on her, leaving two muddy paw prints on her shirt. Lainey let out a shriek of surprise.

  “What’s wrong?” India asked as she rushed into the kitchen. “Otis! Get down! Oh, God, Lainey, are you okay?” She grabbed Otis’s leash and dragged him away. “Bad dog! Here, sit down, Lainey. Can I get you anything? A glass of water?”

  “What’s wrong?” Jeremy asked, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen.

  “The hellhound jumped up on Lainey.”

  “I’m fine,” Lainey said as India handed the leash to Jeremy.

  “He always gets excited at dinnertime,” Jeremy explained.

  “Otis, you should know better,” India scolded. “You could have hurt the baby.”

  The dog looked unrepentant. He sat down heavily and, licking his chops, stared fixedly at the steaks. India shook her head at him.

  “Otis
flunked out of obedience school. Seriously. The instructor asked us not to return. She said Otis was a bad influence on the other dogs,” Jeremy told Lainey.

  Lainey nodded unsmilingly. At the realization that India’s concern was for the baby and not for her, Lainey felt something harden inside of her. No matter how nice or sympathetic India acted, Lainey reminded herself that she couldn’t get sucked into thinking it was for her benefit. Everyone had an angle. India was no different.

  The doorbell rang, and Otis started barking and pulling on his leash.

  “Who could that be?” India wondered out loud.

  Everything—the house, the dog, the rich aroma of the baking brownies—suddenly made Lainey feel like she’d walked onto the set of a television sitcom. What now? A neighbor stopping by to deliver homemade cookies? Hearing voices at the door, Lainey trailed after India and Jeremy. In the front hall, they were greeting a couple. The woman was curvy and wore a mustard yellow sundress and very high red heels. A cloud of dark hair swirled down to her shoulders. The man was short—shorter than his wife in heels—and neat, with close-cropped thinning hair, a long, elegant nose, and expressive brown eyes. He was holding a bottle of wine.

  “What are you guys doing here?” India was asking.

  “Don’t tell me you forgot,” the dark-haired woman said, laughing.

  “Forgot what?” India asked.

  “Dinner tonight? You invited us over? Is any of this ringing a bell?”

  India gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

  “She forgot us,” the woman said, sighing and turning to her husband. “We managed to get a babysitter for once—no small miracle, considering the reputation our children have among the local babysitter circuit—and she forgets all about us.” The woman then saw Lainey and smiled at her. “Hi, I’m Mimi.”

  “Oh! I didn’t see you there, Lainey,” India said. She looked momentarily distracted. “Lainey, these are good friends of ours, Mimi and Leo Carrera. This is Lainey. She’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

  India tripped over the explanation, almost, Lainey thought, as though she were embarrassed by Lainey’s presence.