by JA Armstrong
“Why? I thought you loved to live vicariously through me.”
“Yeah, in the bedroom. Somehow, I don’t think this story started there.”
Devon’s mind flashed with a memory of the night before Carrie conceived. She smiled.
“Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you used a turkey baster!”
Devon laughed. “Stop watching the L Word.”
“Why? Did they do that?”
“I don’t know. I never watched it. I just know you watch it.”
Bruce followed Devon out of the office. “Does it work?”
“What?”
“You know! A turkey baster!”
Devon pictured Carrie’s face if she ever approached her fiancée with a turkey baster—for any reason. “Not a prop I’ve ever used,” she deadpanned. She walked behind the bar and retrieved a bottle of wine.
“But you have? Used props?”
Devon rolled her eyes. Something tells me this is a two-bottle kind of afternoon.
***
“Carrie?”
Carrie looked over the top of her glasses at Heather. “First, tell me if I want to know.”
“Leigh Matthews is outside.”
Of course, she is. Carrie nodded.
“I can tell her that you’re busy.”
That wouldn’t be a lie. “You could.” Carrie sighed. “Might as well get it over with,” she said.
“I got a bottle of wine in the Secret Santa exchange. Want me to open it?”
Carrie laughed. I wish. “Don’t tempt me. Give me a minute and send her in.”
“I can tell her you were abducted by aliens.”
The way my stomach feels, I’m beginning to wonder. “It’s okay. Give me a few beats.”
“You’re the boss.”
Carrie closed her laptop, stretched her back and took a deep breath. She’d been battling queasiness on and off all day. If anyone could make her stomach turn it was Leigh Matthews. Just what I need. She snickered. “I can think of worse people to toss my cookies at.” She took another deep breath when Heather’s knock fell on her office door and stood to greet her client.
“Carrie,” Leigh said as she strolled into the office. “How are you?”
“I can’t complain,” Carrie replied. She accepted Leigh’s hand and directed the woman to have a seat on the loveseat in the corner of her office. “What can I do for you?”
“Stop this sale.”
“You’ll be in capable hands,” Carrie assured Leigh.
“But I won’t be in your hands.”
Is she seriously flirting with me? Carrie wanted to scream. Leigh had been involved with Dar for months. Although Carrie was not certain the full context of that relationship; she did know that it was intimate. Relieving herself of any reason to meet with Leigh Matthews was a bonus to selling Maynard and Willis to Earl Hargrove.
Carrie forced herself to offer Leigh a smile. “You’ll have a stellar team behind you.”
“Can I be frank?”
Because you are ever restrained? “Please.”
“I signed on with Maynard and Willis because of you.”
Carrie took a breath before replying. “I’m certain that Dar told you I don’t involve myself in the design side of the business.”
“She told me you always have the final input. She also told me you have the best sense of what will work and how to make it work within a budget.”
Carrie was stunned.
“That surprises you?”
“A bit.”
“You were Darlene’s most convincing pitch,” Leigh said.
Carrie nodded.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Dar and I had different methods when dealing with clients.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
Carrie smiled.
“Look, I don’t need to guess that this has been difficult for you—Dar’s passing, I mean.”
“It has.”
“She was proud of this company.”
“Yes, I know,” Carrie commented.
“I don’t understand why you would want to sell now. You’re on the cusp of competing with the most respected firms in the country. Our account will lead you to numerous clients equally large and eager to work with you.”
“That may be true,” Carrie conceded. “That’s part of the reason Hargrove is better suited to manage the firm. Hargrove Industries has the resources…”
“If this is about cash flow, I am happy to make an investment…”
“It isn’t,” Carrie said. Her phone beeped. “Excuse me for a second.” She made her way back to her desk and picked up the receiver. “Heather? No, it’s okay. I’ll take it. Hello?”
“Ms. Maynard?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of the afternoon,” CJ’s preschool teacher, Mrs. Agnew apologized.
“You’re not bothering me. Is CJ all right?”
“She’s not herself. I haven’t been able to get her to sit still long enough to check, but I am fairly certain she has a slight fever.”
Carrie sighed.
“She’s been asking for her mom all day.”
“It’s not easy for her…”
“No,” Mrs. Agnew chuckled. “I mean she’s been asking me to call you.”
Carrie let the words sink in. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes,” she said.
“I can call Mr. Willis, but she’s been adamant about calling you.”
“No, it’s okay. He’s in Boston for the day anyway. I’ll be there shortly.”
“Take your time. In the meantime, would it be okay if I gave her a dose of Tylenol?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“No rush. I know how busy you must be.”
Carrie glanced over at Leigh Matthews. “Tell her I’m on my way.” She set down the receiver and headed back toward Leigh. “Sorry about that.”
“Problem?”
“No,” Carrie said. “Listen, I appreciate the confidence that you’ve placed in me and in this firm. I do. The team working on your account is the best we have. I promise you; it will be a seamless transition.”
“Your mind is made up.”
“It is.”
“Dar said you could be stubborn.”
Carrie laughed. “That’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black.”
“Um.”
“Dar sometimes sold herself short,” Carrie said. “She was as adept at business and design as anyone here—including me.”
“You balanced each other,” Leigh guessed.
“I suppose we did.”
“I understand that. What would it take to convince you to consult—privately, I mean?”
Dear God. More than you will ever have. “I’m planning on taking a hiatus from the business once we’ve made the transition,” Carrie said.
“Contemplating new horizons?”
“Something like that,” Carrie replied. “Listen, I hate to cut this short.”
“But you’re going to.”
“I’m not sure we have much left to discuss. If you have any concerns about the transition, I will be happy to address them. I’m certain Earl and his team look forward to meeting with you.”
“So, that’s it then? My power of persuasion has met its match.”
Carrie shrugged.
“If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.”
“I won’t, but thank you.”
“Well, good luck, Carrie. I look forward to seeing where you land.”
Carrie smiled. So, do I.
***
Devon was surprised to find Carrie in the kitchen when she walked through the door with Bruce on her heels. It was only three-thirty. “You’re home?”
“Looks like it,” Carrie said.
Devon moved quickly to Carrie’s side. “Are you okay? You’re pale.”
“A little queasy.”
“Still?” Carrie had been battling morning sickn
ess on and off for the last week. Her stomach had revolted at the smell of Devon’s coffee brewing that morning.
“It comes and goes,” Carrie said. “Mainly, it comes when there is food around.” She looked over Devon’s shoulder at Bruce. “Hey, there, Solo.”
Bruce waved. “Sorry, if we’re intruding.”
“The only thing you are intruding on is CJ’s cold.”
“CJ’s sick?” Devon asked.
“Yeah. Mrs. Agnew called me to pick her up.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“You were working,” Carrie said.
“Yeah, but…”
“But? She’s okay, just a little fever and a runny nose. Nothing some Tylenol, chicken soup and a little rest won’t fix.”
Devon looked in the pan on the stove. “Why don’t you let me take care of that?”
“I’ll survive. What are you two doing here at three-thirty?”
Bruce held up a bottle of wine.
“Ah, I see,” Carrie said.
“Where’s CJ?” Bruce wondered.
“Snuggled up on the sofa. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”
Bruce grinned. “Are you sure…”
“Go on,” Carrie said. She turned her attention back to Devon. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“First, tell me how you are feeling—honestly.”
“I’m okay, Dev. Stop worrying so much.”
“Seriously, babe, let me heat this up for CJ. Maybe you should have some too? Have you eaten?” Devon asked.
“Saltines. Lots of them.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Now, come on. Tell me what’s going on. Why does Bruce look like a deer caught in the head lights?”
“I told him,” Devon said. “About the baby.”
Carrie nodded.
“I had to…”
“It’s okay.”
“I know we agreed. He asked me if he did something to make me angry.”
“He misses you.”
“I’ve been a shitty friend.”
“No,” Carrie disagreed. “You’ve been preoccupied with life.”
“I know. I still feel like shit.”
“Well, maybe you should start making a point to spend some time with him outside of the restaurant. Make a weekly dinner date or something.”
“Yeah. I will.”
“Good.”
“How about you? How was your day?” Devon gently pushed Carrie aside and stirred the soup.
“Leigh Matthews came to see me.”
“Oh boy. How did that go?”
“Well, she offered me the chance to consult—privately.”
Devon stopped stirring. “She what?”
Carrie shrugged.
“Fucking,” Devin began to mutter.
Carrie laughed.
“What did you say?” Devon asked.
“I asked what she paid.”
“You did not!”
Carrie laughed harder.
“That was not right,” Devon said.
Carrie shrugged. “I’m comfortable with my decisions.”
“About the firm?”
“All of them,” Carrie said.
Devon moved the pan from the stove and spooned some soup into a bowl.
“I’m sorry, I let the news slip to Bruce.”
“Don’t be. How did he take it?”
“Oh, you know, he thought it was amusing that I was having a shotgun wedding.”
“I’ll bet.” Carrie giggled.
“I think he has some weird turkey baster fantasy though.”
“Too much information,” Carrie said.
“Hey, I’m all for props but…”
Carrie raised her brow.
“What? You’re a Jedi. You know how to handle a lightsaber.”
“Something you forgot to tell me?” Carrie asked. She kissed Devon on the cheek. “I prefer the levitating,” she whispered.
Devon swallowed hard. When you are feeling better, you are in a lot of trouble.
Carrie grabbed the bowl of the soup.
“I can take that to CJ,” Devon offered.
“I’ve got it. Why don’t you and Bruce go have a drink somewhere? Play some darts. You haven’t done that in a long time.”
“Now? I don’t think I should leave you when…”
“Devon, there are going to be lots of times when I’m not feeling a hundred percent and one of the kids is sick.”
Devon smiled.
“What?”
“I don’t know. Hearing you say that makes it feel real.”
Oh, it’s real all right. Carrie kissed Devon on the cheek again. “Come on, you take care of Bruce, and I’ll take care of CJ.”
“Are you sure?”
“Dev, you only get one best friend.”
Devon nodded. Carrie missed Dar. Devon wished she had known the Darlene that she glimpsed in the letters Dar had left for Carrie and CJ. Carrie was right. “Thanks,” Devon said. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Buy me another box of Saltines on the way home and we’ll call it even.” Carrie strolled off with CJ’s soup.
Oh, I’ll think of something better than that.
***
December 18th
Dr. Chandler smiled at Carrie and Devon. “You’re waiting for me to say the magic words.”
Carrie nodded.
“Set up that next appointment with your OB, Carrie.”
Carrie’s sigh of relief filled the room.
“You both know that pregnancy always comes with risk. Everything looks and sounds the way I would expect and hope.”
“We were hoping to tell our family next week,” Devon said.
“Quite a Christmas present,” Dr. Chandler commented. “I see no reason that you shouldn’t, if that is what you are wondering.”
“We can’t thank you enough,” Carrie said.
“Seeing that baby in a few more months will be all the thanks I ever need. Remember to keep your stress as low as possible,” Dr. Chandler advised. “We all have stress. Don’t immerse yourself in worry. Okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” Carrie said.
“Good. I’ll see you when you bring that little one for a visit.” Dr. Chandler offered her hand to Carrie and then to Devon.
“Hey, Doc?” Devon asked.
“Yes?”
“What do you think the chances are it’s a girl?” Devon asked.
Carrie rolled her eyes. Devon was convinced that their baby was a girl.
Dr. Chandler looked at Carrie and received a playful raise of an eyebrow.
“Oh, I’d say they’re pretty good,” Dr. Chandler said.
“Yeah?” Devon brightened.
“As good as they are that it’ll be a boy,” the doctor deadpanned. “I look forward to meeting her or him,” she said and promptly left the room.
Devon frowned.
“Fifty-fifty,” Carrie said. “Good thing you’re a hash slinger and not a gambler, I guess.”
“It’s a girl.”
Carrie laughed.
“You don’t believe me. I know things.”
“Yes, you do,” Carrie said.
“Oh, I suppose you have some Jedi power that lets you see what gender our baby is.”
“Maybe I do,” Carrie replied.
“Yeah? Want to make a wager?”
“No.”
“Ah-ha! See?”
“You are obsessed,” Carrie chuckled.
“I’m not obsessed. I’m confident.”
“Out of curiosity, is there some reason you want a girl?” Carrie wondered.
“No. I told you; I don’t care. I just know it’s a girl.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, maybe I had a dream.”
Carrie lifted her brow. “Prophetic dreaming now?”
“Make fun of me all you want. You just wait. And, you are not naming her Leia.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I was thinking Harry.”
> “Harry? Who names a girl Harry? Ah! You think it’s a boy.”
“Nope. I have no idea.” Carrie finished buttoning her pants. “Ugh. These are tight.”
“Carrie? Come on, tell me the truth. You think it’s a boy; don’t you?”
Carrie smiled. “I have no idea. I don’t care.”
“What if it’s a Wookie?” Devon teased.
“As long as he or she is healthy; I don’t care.”
Devon ceased her teasing. “I know you don’t but we’re not naming our daughter Harry, no matter how much it will drive your dad nuts.”
Carrie laughed. “If it’s a boy?”
“You really love to press his buttons, don’t you?”
“My dad? Yeah. Turnabout is fair play,” Carrie offered as she opened the door.
“Yeah, but Carrie and Ford are much better names than Harry.”
“Really? Were you ever called Scary Carrie? ‘Want to go to the prom, Scary Carrie?’” Carrie walked toward the car.
Devon stopped walking.
“Ah-hah. And, Ford? Everyone thinks he’s named after the truck he was conceived in. See? Harry doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?”
“No, it’s still bad,” Devon said.
“Come on; I need to eat something. Before you say it—something not pizza.”
“How about we head to D&B’s and celebrate?” Devon suggested. “I’ll order you our finest ginger ale.”
“How can I pass that up?”
Devon opened Carrie’s door. “Maybe you’ll give me a private consultation later.”
Carrie laughed. “Feed me Seymour, and we’ll talk.”
“Seymour…”
Carrie shook her head. The next six months are going to be very long.
***
The Next Day
CJ sat at a table drawing a picture.
“CJ,” Mrs. Agnew called for her attention. CJ looked up. “This is James,” she explained. “This is his first day. I thought he could sit with you.”
CJ smiled. She loved school and she loved making friends. “Sit here,” she told the boy.
James took a seat next to CJ and looked at the paper she was coloring.
“Who’s that?” He asked.
“My family,” CJ said.
“You have too many grown-ups,” a little girl’s voice said from across the table.
CJ glared at the girl. “Do not.” She turned to James. “You want to make one?”
He nodded and accepted a piece of paper.