Hannah interviews with a half dozen other firms, all of which have their headquarters in California. While Sandman remains at the top of her list, three others are definitely in the running.
The last weeks of Hannah’s spring semester pass quickly. When she’s not prepping for interviews or presenting projects, she’s tutoring and working overtime at the coffee shop. She stays busy so as not to dwell on the changes taking place around her. Spring fever has struck the other students. They skip classes and rock the campus well into the night. The senior class appears equally divided between those frantically searching for jobs and those who seem unconcerned about what comes next for them. Her roommates fall in the latter category.
Hannah has become a persona non grata within her friend group. Behind her back but loud enough for Hannah to hear, her roommates make fun of her weight gain and say derogatory things about Chris. Hannah tells herself their opinion doesn’t matter, but their comments cut deep nonetheless.
Hannah is careful to hide her baby bump, and to the unsuspecting eye, she’s merely put on a few extra pounds. Despite the time they spend together, Chris doesn’t notice her bump until a Friday afternoon in mid-April. They are down by the James River on Belle Isle experimenting with photographing water movement. They’ve mounted their cameras on tripods, and she’s bent over hers, making adjustments in pursuit of the perfect shot. The April sun, warm on her back, causes sweat to dampen her armpits, and she strips off her down vest and tosses it on the ground without thinking.
“Whoa!” Chris says. “Hannah, are you pregnant?”
She looks up from her camera. His eyes are on her belly, her T-shirt stretched tight across her bump. She straightens, her hands dropping from the camera to her sides. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Is it Ryan’s baby?”
“Yes,” she says, her words barely audible over the sound of water rushing over rocks.
A concerned expression falls over his face. “Does he know?”
She shakes her head. “And I’m not telling him.”
Their cameras forgotten, they move to the shade of a tree and sit down side-by-side on the ground.
“Ryan is your baby’s father, Hannah. You have an obligation to tell him about his child.”
Hannah hugs her knees to her chest. “Ryan doesn’t care about me. And he won’t care about our baby. Besides, he’s going to law school, and I don’t want to wreck his life. I decided to have this baby for me, not for him.”
“What about when your baby gets old enough to question who its father is?”
She rests her chin on her knees. “I’ll make up something. I’m not worried about that now.”
“Is this why you can’t start work until September?” When she doesn’t answer, he adds, “You’re not going to Europe this summer, are you?”
She shakes her head. “The baby is due in early August.”
“Surely you’re not planning to stay in Richmond. You can’t have a baby alone.”
“I’m waiting to find out about jobs. I may head out to California early. I’ve always wanted to drive across country. Now may be my only chance.”
Chris shakes his head, as though he misheard her. “You can’t drive across country alone.”
“Sure, I can,” she says with more conviction than she feels. “But I’ll probably just go home to South Carolina for the summer. If my mom will let me. She’s not thrilled about the baby.”
“I’m sure.” Chris pulls his phone out of his pocket and accesses Ryan’s VCU profile. “Wait. Ryan’s middle name is Augustus? Who would do that to their child?”
Hannah shrugs. “I kinda like it.”
Chris thumbs his phone screen. “And he’s from South Carolina. How’s that gonna work? Your mom lives in a vacation hotspot. Before long, you won’t be able to hide your pregnancy.”
Hannah has spent sleepless nights worrying about this logistical detail. “I never met any of Ryan’s friends from Columbia. And his family goes to Pawley’s Island every summer, which is hours away from Palmetto Island. I’ll hide out in my house if I have to. I realize it’s a risk, and I don’t have all the answers. I’m taking it one day at a time.” She rubs her baby mound. “All I know for sure is that I love this baby, and I’m not giving him or her up.”
Chris’s phone rings, and he glances down at his screen. “It’s a California number.”
She shoulder-bumps him. “Answer it.”
Scrambling to his feet, he steps away from her to accept the call.
She shifts on her bottom to see him, feeling a stab of envy when his face lights up. He got the Sandman job, and she’s genuinely happy for him. Chris is a good guy, and he’s worked hard. But she’s disappointed. She’d viewed Sandman as her best chance. What if she doesn’t get any offers? She’ll be forced to look at firms in other cities. Places closer to Ryan.
When Chris rejoins her, his smile is broad. “Sandman offered me the job. I’m sorry, Hannah. I know how much you wanted it.”
She flashes him a smile. “The best man won. Congratulations. I’m happy for you, Chris. You earned it.”
When Hannah hears her cell phone ringing, she crawls across the ground to where she dropped her vest. Removing her phone from the pocket, she sees the call is also from a California number. When she answers, a familiar voice greets her. “Hannah, Jeff Brandon here. I’d like to offer you a job at Sandman.”
“But . . . I’m here with Chris Ying and . . .”
Jeff chuckles. “You both made outstanding impressions on us. Since we’re in expansion mode, we decided to offer jobs to both of you.”
“That’s incredible. I’m thrilled, Jeff. I accept.” She punches the air, and Chris stands to face her, his expression eager.
“I’m thrilled to hear it. I’ll email you the formal offer by the end of the day. Congratulations and welcome to the team.”
Ending the call, she stares over at Chris. Her breath is shallow, her heart racing. “I can’t believe it. The best man and woman won.”
“Yay us!” Wrapping his arms around her, he lifts her slightly off the ground. He sets her down gently and drops his arms from around her waist. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I got carried away. I didn’t hurt the baby, did I?”
Hannah laughs. “You didn’t hurt the baby. I can’t believe we’re going to be working at the same firm.”
“We should think about getting an apartment together. I can help out with the baby.”
She imagines Chris trying to sleep after a long day at work and her colicky baby keeping him awake. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure your girlfriend would approve.”
Chris’s face reddens. “You’re probably right. But you won’t be alone. I’ll be there for you.”
Hannah gasps when she feels a flutter in her belly. “I just felt the baby move for the first time.” The pregnancy suddenly becomes real. Her baby is growing inside of her. She will never be alone again.
Moving into the spare bedroom in Max’s top-floor apartment at the Palmetto Hotel provides Birdie the change of scenery she desperately needs. The fifty-room boutique hotel has been in Max’s husband’s family for generations. Max complains about her obligation to maintain the hotel, but Birdie knows she loves every minute. The customers who return year after year are testament to what a gracious host she is. The location is ideal—on the waterfront in the center of town, overlooking the marina and surrounded by seafood restaurants and charming boutiques. The view of the marsh from her bedroom window provides Birdie a calming reassurance that life as she’s always known it isn’t over.
Max puts Birdie in charge of painting the lobby. The physical exertion takes her mind off her problems and enables her to sleep at night. She loves the paint color Max has chosen—a lavender gray that reminds Birdie of a foggy morning on the inlet. While she works, she monitors through the plate-glass windows the constant stream of customers coming and going from the bakery on the other side of the small park that separates them. Maybe there is a future
for her in baked goods after all.
A week passes, and then another and another. Birdie’s feet heal and the craving to drink lessens. Together, Max and Birdie complete the minor renovations, but Birdie can’t bring herself to return home, and Max offers for her to stay as long as she’d like. Birdie comes to realize her house is part of the problem. Max was right. The good memories are alive in her heart. But she sees the bad memories in the bed she once shared with her husband. In his hunting gear in the garage and his kayak on the rack down by the dock. In the bare spot on the wall in the family room where the photograph of Cary and Hannah hung before Birdie smashed the frame’s glass with a golf club.
Birdie meets with the realtor and puts the house on the market. She has no remorse when she sees the For Sale sign in the front yard.
Birdie makes a shopping trip to the local Harris Teeter for a long list of ingredients and settles into the hotel’s commercial kitchen for a bake-a-thon. She creates an assortment of tarts and pastries and scones, but she discovers she has a special knack for baking breads. She keeps detailed records of her recipes, tweaking the ingredients with each new batch.
As the days grow warmer, guests flock to the Palmetto Hotel on the weekends. In absence of a restaurant, a small lounge next to the lobby offers ample seating. Max readily turns over the responsibility of preparing the continental breakfast to Birdie.
On a Wednesday morning in mid-April, Birdie is covering the front desk for Max, when Amber from the bakery across the park enters the hotel.
“Where’s Max?” Amber asks, her eyes darting around the lobby.
“At the dentist. Is there something I can help you with?”
Amber lets out a huff, as though Birdie will have to do in Max’s absence. “I’m selling the bakery. My mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and I’m moving back home to take care of her.”
What little Birdie knows about pancreatic cancer doesn’t bode well for Amber’s mother. “I’m sorry to hear that. But why sell? Can you get someone to run the bakery in your absence?” Birdie asks, her eyes twinkling.
Amber shakes her head. “I moved here ten years ago after my fiancé dumped me at the altar. I never planned to stay for so long. It’s time for me to go home to Connecticut. I miss my family. Do you know anyone who might be interested in buying my business? I’ll give them a fire-sale price. I need to get out in a hurry. Mom doesn’t have much time.”
Birdie comes around from behind the desk. “I may know just the person.”
“The situation is ideal,” Birdie says to Max later in the day when they are strolling along the boardwalk. “The upstairs apartment is small but charming. The commercial kitchen is state-of-the-art, and the price includes all the equipment and fixtures, which is too good to be real. The whole thing is too good to be real, now that I think about it. There must be a catch.”
Max laughs. “There’s no catch. Amber doesn’t need money. Her family has plenty. She’s desperate to get home to her mama.”
Birdie presses her lips thin. “I see. That explains a lot.”
“So, what’s holding you back?”
Birdie shrugs. “I’d feel better if someone made an offer on my house.”
They stop walking, and Max turns to Birdie. “Why don’t you ask Amber if you can manage the bakery until you sell your house?”
“That’s actually a great idea. Do you think she’d go for it?”
“You never know until you ask. Go on. Call her.”
Birdie narrows her blue eyes. “You mean now?”
“Yes! Amber is waiting to hear from you. If you’re interested, you need to jump on this opportunity. The building, alone, is worth more than she’s asking. Someone will gobble it up.”
Birdie leans against the wooden railing with her back to the inlet. “I’m not sure I’m ready for such a big step.”
“You’re ready. Whether or not you know it. You’ve changed since you came to live with me. You’re no longer a broken woman.” Max’s fingers graze Birdie’s cheek. “The puffiness is gone from your face, and your skin has a healthy glow. But more than that, your inner light is once again shining through.”
“Because I feel hopeful about my future for the first time in years.”
As Birdie is staring at the phone in her hand, contemplating her conversation with Amber, her realtor’s number flashes across the screen. When she answers, Shannon blurts, “We have a full price offer on the house, with no contingencies. Can you be out by mid-May?”
Birdie’s hand shakes. So much has happened today. She could use a drink. The temptation creeps in at the most unexpected and inconvenient times. Will it ever go away completely?
“That’s less than a month away,” Birdie says. What will she do with all her furniture? Only a fraction of it will fit in the bakery apartment.
“That’s not the right answer, Birdie,” Shannon says in an irritated tone.
Birdie palms her forehead. “You’re right. What am I thinking? I’ll be out whenever you say. This is so exciting, Shannon. Thank you.”
Shannon lets out a little laugh. “That’s more like it.” They talk for a minute about logistics before ending the call.
“Well?” Max asks, her blue eyes wide with curiosity.
“Full price. No contingencies. We close mid-May.” Birdie inhales an unsteady breath. “I guess I’m buying a bakery.”
Her phone rings again. “This is Hannah,” Birdie says.
“Answer it. I need to get back to the hotel, anyway.”
Waving goodbye to Max, Birdie accepts the call. “Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”
“Great! I got a job offer from my top choice.”
“That’s excellent news. Congratulations. When do you start?” She wants to ask how Hannah plans to launch her career with a newborn, but she holds her tongue.
“Not until September. The baby is due in early August.”
Silence fills the line. Birdie can’t think of anything to say that won’t start a fight.
“So, Mom, the job’s in San Diego.”
“California?”
“Yes. California.”
“But that’s so far away,” Birdie says as tears prick her eyelids. Her daughter’s moving to California, all the way across the country.
“I was wondering . . . do you think I can come home for the summer? I’ll get a job and pay rent.”
Summer? Birdie thinks. As in, she’ll have the baby here in August. If she says no, she may never see her daughter again. If she says yes . . . well, that could get complicated.
When Birdie doesn’t respond, Hannah says, “I understand if you don’t want me there. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”
“You can always come home, Hannah.” Although her daughter won’t be coming home to their house on the creek where Hannah grew up. She’ll be returning to a two-bedroom apartment above a waterfront building. Birdie’s mind races. She should tell Hannah about selling the house and buying the bakery. But that might scare her away. “Do you want me to come up for graduation? I could get Max to drive up with me.” What is Birdie thinking? She hasn’t been back to Richmond since drop-off day Hannah’s freshman year. Why go now?
“I’m not walking at graduation. I’m exempt from exams. I’ll be home as soon as my last class is over. Which will be sometime in early May. I’ll text you when I find out the exact date.”
“All right, then. I’ll look forward to seeing you in May.” Ending the call, Birdie moves to a nearby park bench and stares out at the boats in the marina. She has mixed emotions about her daughter coming home for the summer. Birdie has three months to make things right with her daughter. Closing her eyes, she prays to God she doesn’t screw it up.
Seven
Hannah nearly drives her car up a tree when she sees the sign at the end of their driveway. How could her mother sell their home without telling her? She peels out in a fishtail of gravel as she speeds toward the house. She’s relieved when her key still fits the front doorknob. She
stomps down the hall to the family room, which is cluttered with stacks of books and china and miscellaneous odds and ends of furniture.
“What the heck, Mom?” she says to Birdie, who is placing price stickers on a set of Encyclopedia Britannica.
“Hannah!” Birdie gives her a stiff hug. “Welcome home.”
“Clearly, it’s no longer my home. I can’t believe you sold our house.”
“Your father left me no choice,” Birdie says, returning to her task.
“If you’re planning a yard sale, no one’s going to buy those.” She gestures at the encyclopedia collection.
Birdie lifts a shoulder in an unconcerned shrug. “You never know what people might buy at a yard sale.”
“Where are we supposed to live?”
“In an apartment above the Island Bakery. I bought the entire building, business and all.”
Hannah’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “You bought a bakery?” Her mother has gone off the deep end. The alcohol has pickled her brain. Although . . . on closer examination, Birdie doesn’t appear drunk. Is she wearing makeup? And what’s with the overalls? She looks younger. And happy.
“Amber, the woman who owned the bakery, had a family emergency and had to leave town suddenly. The deal was too good to pass up.”
“Hey!” Hannah snatches up a small painting of an egret. “You can’t sell this. I painted it in high school.”
Birdie looks up from her sheet of stickers. “It’s not for sale.” She gestures at the assortment of kitchenware, furniture, and decorative items in the corner. “Those are all things I thought you might like to take with you to California. There’s also a box of my old maternity clothes. I have no idea what’s in there, but it might be worth a peek.”
“No thanks on the maternity clothes. I’m managing fine with my yoga pants.”
“You still have months to go. We’ll take the box to the apartment, just in case.”
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