Mimi Plus Two (The Mimi Chronicles Book 2)

by Whitney Dineen

  My table looks like doll house furniture in this dining room. The ceilings are twelve feet high and the huge picture window overlooking the rose garden makes the already palatial dimensions seem twice as big, thusly, causing everything in it to look twice as small. Elliot has suggested I go furniture shopping to fill the house out a bit. He doesn’t think he has the time to join me, so I’m waiting for Abbie to move in. This will be her first order of business as my nanny/decorator.

  Chapter 29

  Our first few days in the new house make me feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone. I expect Rod Serling to peak around corners and offer, “You are about to enter another dimension; a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop, the Twilight Zone.”

  On day two, my mom and sisters show up unexpectedly. I answer the door wearing one of Elliot’s old button down shirts and a pair of pregnancy yoga pants. My hair is in a ponytail and my feet are bare. Ginger greets, “You look adorable!” Then pushes me out of the way, “Let us in.”

  Their arms are loaded with flowers and bags of groceries. My mom announces, “We know you haven’t made it to the store yet so we thought we’d bring in a few staples.” Their idea of staples includes extra-sharp cheddar cheese, Triscuits, pancake mix, Nutella and the whole cookie aisle. They know me well.

  Once seated in the living room, Muffy says, “You need some furniture, Meems.”

  Ginger adds, “You need more than some. You need a lot.”

  Renée contributes, “You actually need more than furniture. You need a decorator.”

  I’m about to poo-poo such a ridiculous notion, when Elliot strolls in and replies, “We do need a decorator. Can you recommend someone, Renée?”

  She beams, “You know I can. I’ve already called my friend Andrew, and he can get started this week.”

  I groan, “Renée, I was planning on going furniture shopping. I’m sure we don’t need a professional.”

  My sister responds, “Really? You were going to do the drapes, window treatments, carpets and walls too? Mimi, decorating is more than just furniture. It’s creating a mood.” She continues, “Andrew decorated for the previous owners of this very house.”

  Startled, I ask, “How do you know that?”

  “The pictures were in his portfolio.”

  Well crap, I love how this house looked before the last occupants moved all their stuff out. Andrew turned an obscene amount of space into a very warm and welcoming home. I’m not sure I can do the same with a trip to Pottery Barn, so I agree. “Fine, give me his number and I’ll set it up.”

  Renée hands me his card and replies, “He’ll be here tomorrow morning at ten.”

  “You already made the appointment?”

  She smiles, “I didn’t think you’d go for it.”

  I huff, “That’s pretty sneaky. What if I wasn’t here?”

  My oldest sister answers, “I would have been here and gotten started without you. In fact,” she adds, “I’m planning on coming anyway. Hope you’re good with that.”

  What can I say? Clearly, I have no say in the matter. Of all my family members, Renée makes the most sense as a helper. She lives in a house nearly as big as this one so she understands what it takes to make it homey.

  Muffy says that she and Kevin love living on Mercer St. and I’m delighted to hear it. I miss my house so much that last night I wanted to drive over and crawl into bed with them. I’m pretty sure that would have gone over like a lead balloon so I made myself stay put. Maybe I’ll have Andrew start with the master bedroom so I can at least be comfortable in there.

  Ginger slips her shoes off and props her feet up on the coffee table. To say her ankles are huge would be an understatement of epic proportion. Her ankles appear to be the size of her thighs. Our mother notices at the same moment I do and gasps, “Ginger, your ankles!”

  Gingers sighs, “They’re pretty big, huh?”

  Renée answers, “Not big, no. More like dangerously huge. What’s going on?”

  Triplet mama answers, “They started swelling a few days ago. I’ve been told that’s pretty normal though so I’m not worried.”

  Renée responds, “Ankle swelling is normal, but there’s nothing normal about this. You need to see the doctor.”

  Ginger doesn’t believe her until we help her up and show her the reality of her cankles in a full length mirror. “Holy, heck, I think you’re right! Who wants to drive me?”

  We all want to go so Mom offers, “There’s enough room for us all in my mini-van. I’ll drive.”

  You might be wondering why my mom has a mini-van and the answer is actually pretty sweet. When she found out she had four grandkids on the way, she traded in her Acura so she could drive all the babies at the same time. When asked where she thinks she’d be driving four babies at once, she replied, “None of you girls would sleep during the day unless you were in a moving car. I figure I’ll just pull up to your houses, pick up the kids and take them for a snooze cruise.” Now that, right there, is grandmother of the year. I’m sure Ginger will particularly appreciate the break.

  Speaking of Ginger, we all load into the mini-van and head straight over to see Dr. Fermin. Even though my sister doesn’t have an appointment, the nurse takes one look at her and ushers her right back to an exam room.

  Dr. Fermin rushes in and declares, “Let’s take your blood pressure and see what’s going on.” With the cuff firmly in place we all await the outcome. The doctor, announces, “Okay, then, we’re off to the hospital.”

  I unthinkingly do my Bugs Bunny impersonation and ask, “What’s up, doc?”

  She announces, “Preeclampsia.” She explains, “Which means high blood pressure. If Ginger were a couple weeks farther along in her pregnancy, we’d be taking those babies out today.”

  We’re all stunned. We’re speechless. I’m the first to find my voice and ask, “So how are you planning to proceed?”

  Dr. Fermin replies, “Hospitalization and bed rest.” To Ginger, she adds, “We’re going to start giving you some steroid injections to speed up the babies’ lung development as well. The nurse is calling the ambulance. I’ll meet you all at the hospital.” Then she hurries out of the room.

  It feels like time stops. None of us jump to action. We all just stand around and stare at each other consumed by fear. Ginger finally asks, “Will someone please call Jonathan?”

  Her request pops the bubble on our paralysis and we all start scurrying about. Moments later the paramedics come in and move my sister onto a gurney. As they push her out the door, my mom asks the EMT, “Can I drive to the hospital with her?”

  Before they can answer, Ginger pleads, “Please, let her.” There’s something about a crisis that makes you want your mother above all others. It doesn’t matter if you’re thirty-seven and about to become a mother yourself. There’s nothing as comforting as Mom.

  Muffy, Renée and I all pile into Mom’s mini-van and call our significant others to inform them what’s going on. They all want to come to the hospital but we order them to stay put and await further instruction. For the meantime, our father is the only one we allow.

  After an hour, Ginger’s blood pressure starts to come down a bit, but the doctor tells her she’s seen the last of the outside world until after the triplets are born. This news makes her cry. The thought of being in the hospital for so long is daunting but not as scary as the idea of the babies coming too early.

  Dr. Fermin assures us there is a high chance of long term complications if the triplets are born too soon; cerebral palsy, vision and breathing problems being the most worrisome. Although, Ginger’s health is the first and foremost important thing, she assures us they will take the babies that day if the situation becomes life threatening for my sister.

  We’re all a nervous wreck and want to stay by her side but the doc wants us gone. “Ginger will be able to relax more easily if you’re not all hovering around her.”

  Jonathan
assures, “I’ll call you the moment anything changes.”

  We only agree to leave once we’ve worked out a schedule between us. We’ll all come every day, just at different times. This arrangement allows Jonathan to keep working so he’ll be able to take more time off after the birth.

  Chapter 30

  Ginger has been in the hospital for four days. She’s holding her own but still won’t be sprung until after the birth. Meanwhile, we’re all thrilled that no one’s been born yet.

  Renée’s friend Andrew is one of the most eccentric gay men I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. He’s a dead ringer for Andrew McCarthy in his younger days, which makes him a treat to look at, even though he’s a total prima donna. He doesn’t seem to want any input from me other than the “feel” I want for the house.

  I reply that I want it to feel like it did when the last owners lived here. So he asks me, “What did that feel like to you?”

  I answer, “It felt warm and welcoming. It was homey and oddly cozy given the dimensions of the place.”

  The whole time I’m talking, Andrew is shaking his head like I’ve got it all wrong. “It felt like contemporary meets traditional for an espresso at an outdoor café by the Seine.”

  I look between him and Renée and demand, “What in the hell does that even mean?”

  Andrew clucks his tongue and retorts, “I need visions, emotions; I need colors! I can’t work with pedestrian sentiments like ‘warm’ and ‘cozy.’ Give me sensations and locations!”

  What I’d like to do is give him a black eye. But I really want to get this meeting over with so I try, “How about traditional meets casual for French fries in Central Park?”

  Andrew responds like I’ve just goosed him. He squeaks and jumps before going silent. He stares straight ahead as though he’s in some kind of hypnotic trance. Then he closes his eyes and rotates his head around his shoulders. I look at Renée to see if this is normal or if he needs a medical intervention. She just rolls her eyes as if to say, “Yeah, he’s dramatic, just go with it.”

  After about three minutes, the flamboyant designer pops his peepers open and declares, “I can work with that!” He pronounces, “I’ll have designs for you later in the week.”

  Before he leaves, I take him up to Sophie’s room and declare my vision for her space. I sum it up as feminine meets whimsical eating scones while punting on the Thames. If nothing else I’m looking forward to his interpretation of that. Of course I’m really just screwing with him.

  Abigail moves in today and I’m oddly excited to see her again. Now that we’ve hired Andrew to decorate, I won’t need her help in that arena so I’m hoping to start her on organizing the kitchen cabinets.

  Elliot’s been working on his new book nonstop since we’ve moved in and I’m starting to feel neglected. But I don’t want to come off all needy and pathetic by complaining or worse yet, sitting in his office and staring at him while he works. This is part of the reason I’m excited Abbie is moving in before Sophie’s born. It’ll be nice to have another adult to talk to.

  As soon as the doorbell rings, I move as fast as my cumbersome body will let me. I open it to find a wide-eyed nanny on the step. The first thing out of her mouth is, “This is where you live?”

  I nod my head in response, “We moved in last week.”

  Abbie shakes her head, opens her mouth, closes it, shakes her head again and manages, “I like the other house better.”

  “Really?” I ask. That surprises me. I thought I was the only one to find my new home overwhelming.

  “Really,” she answers. “This,” she gestures towards the façade, “is big enough to fit my whole town in Oregon!”

  I pull her inside. “I agree, it’s a bit much, but Elliot loves it. Actually, I love it too. It’s just taking me some time to get used to.”

  I offer Abbie some tea and cookies and then we sit down to chat in the breakfast nook. I confide, “Elliot grew up in houses like this. His father’s an earl.”

  Abigail looks appalled. “Oh my God, really? I mean, it’s just that …well… you know about the royal family, right?”

  I answer, “I know of them. I’m not sure what you mean, about them.” I prod, “What about them?”

  My new employee actually looks like she might be sick before answering, “Oh, nothing.”

  “What do you mean nothing? What is it that you know about them that I don’t?”

  The nanny shrugs her shoulders, “Nothing, really.” Then she changes the subject by asking, “So where’s my room?”

  I thought we’d put Abigail out in the pool house. That way she’d have her own space and we could all adjust to each other without constantly being in each other’s path. Elliot thought Abbie should have the connecting room to Sophie’s but I’m not so sure. I tell him we can always have her move into the main house if we need to but let’s start out my way. So I take her outside and show her her new digs.

  Abbie’s response is actually giddy excitement. The pool house isn’t big, probably under eight hundred square feet, but the nanny loves it. “Wow! My own little house, really?” She walks around taking it all in and exclaims, “I love it!”

  I’m glad to see her enthusiasm. What with her initial reaction to our house and horror that Elliot is from such an illustrious line, I thought we might lose her before she even moved in. After expending her excitement at her new space, Abbie nervously asks, “Is Elliot related to the royal family?”

  I have to think for a moment before answering, “If so, it’s very distantly. He’s only eighteenth in line for the throne, so it can’t be too close of a relationship.”

  All color fades from her face and Abbie answers with a question of her own, “He’s in line for the throne?”

  “Very distantly.” I try to assure her.

  Again I get the feeling like she wants to bolt. “Abbie, what’s going on? Why do you hate the royals so much?”

  Her smile is as unconvincing as her answer, “Oh, gee, I don’t hate them, really. I don’t even know them.” There’s a story here that I plan on getting to the bottom of but I’m going to have to use some stealth tactics to creep under her radar. In the meantime I lead her back to the kitchen to start operation cabinet organization.

  Chapter 31

  I’m very excited when I wake up to an unexpected phone call from Pip. She’s coming to town early and plans to stay until after Sophie’s born. She arrives next week which means she’ll be here for several weeks.

  Elliot is thrilled and suggests I have Andrew hurry and finish a room for her. Abigail is not so excited. In fact she looks about as close to the opposite of excited as you can get. She’s also been treating Elliot a little strangely, like he’s not quite human or something.

  Elliot says he doesn’t notice but I’m not really sure he cares. He’s so focused on finishing his book, we could probably walk around here dressed like nuns and he wouldn’t be any the wiser.

  After breakfast, Abbie asks, “So, what’s Elliot’s sister like?”

  I want to tell her all about Pip but having been warned against sharing her talents with people outside the family, I don’t. Instead, I answer, “She’s kind of quiet and reserved. She’s lovely and unassuming.” And she talks to dead people, which of course I don’t say.

  Abbie has started to cook for us. Last night she made stir fried tofu and veggies in a peanut sauce served on a bed of whole wheat soba noodles. If I saw that particular description on a restaurant menu, there’s no way I’d have ordered it. But the truth is it’s delicious.

  This morning for breakfast she makes purple quinoa with roasted butternut squash and sautéed spinach topped with a fried egg. I would have actually run from this one but oh, my stars, yummy!

  I tell our nanny I don’t mind her cooking for us once and awhile, but as soon as Sophie arrives, she’s off the hook. She just smiles and replies, “We’ll see.”

  When Abbie sees how big the garage is (four cars), she asks if she can use an empty
corner for her art space. I see no reason why not and tell her to have at it. She’s been collecting castoff items from Andrew’s decorating project to use on a piece she’s working on. So far she’s collected carpet samples, empty boxes, scrap wood from the crates that Elliot’s stuff is arriving in from England and fabric from upholstery samples. I have a horrific vision of what’s going on out there, but I don’t ask to see it so I’m not tempted to offer an opinion.

  It turns out there isn’t much for our nanny to do now that we have a decorator and a cleaning lady. So she’s started taking a shift at the hospital with Ginger. As the former director for the Museum of Modern Art, Ginger loves chatting it up with Abbie. In fact, the new piece she’s working on is at Ginger’s behest. My sister wants to see what the young artist can create with items she’s been instructed to use, instead of things she’s inspired to choose. The whole thing makes my brain hurt.

  Speaking of Andrew, I can’t believe I’m saying this but his initial design for the house is so incredibly beautiful and more “me” than the previous owner’s design, that I’m completely amazed. I give him four seemingly unrelated things; 1.) Elliot’s style: classic 2.) My style: casual 3.) My favorite food: French fries 4.) The location of Elliot’s and my first date: Central Park. He throws all that into the quirky little pot that is his head and whips out perfection! So what if he’s a bit over-the-top and a little pretentious, he’s made my Christmas card list for life.

  Ginger is holding her own, but her blood pressure is beginning to creep up again. Dr. Fermin told her to plan on delivering soon. She’s hit the thirty-two week mark so chances of long term complications for the babies are greatly reduced. They will have to spend some time in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, but we were expecting that anyway.