Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Sims. You’ve got the best eye in the biz.”

Lori Sims backed up a few paces as she looked at the painting she’d just hung on the wall of one of her listings, smiling as she bumped into her boyfriend, Hudson Boone, as he came up behind her. Then she smiled a second time. It felt silly and exciting to think she had a boyfriend at her age. But she did. She and Hudson had been practically inseparable for the last six months or so, not only merging their personal lives, but spending more and more time working together, as well.

His hands settled on her waist as they looked at the picture, their experienced realtors’ eyes checking for the slightest hint of crookedness.

“You’re buttering me up for something, eh, Boone?” she retuned when she’d decided that the picture was perfect.

Hudson used his hands on her hips to turn her so that she faced him, a mock look of hurt on his face. “What, you think I have to have an ulterior motive for complimenting the beautiful, stunning, brilliant woman I love?”

She narrowed her eyes playfully even as she secretly preened under the praise. She and Hudson had spent years as rivals, bantering and squabbling. Now that they were together, they still bantered… but it was out of love, not annoyance.

“Uh huh,” she said doubtfully. “That’s one too many compliments for them to just be for fun.”

He winked, his sharp blue eyes twinkling, his lips curving against the silver of his beard.

“I might want to borrow some of that expertise of yours for the staging I’m doing over on Monroe Drive,” he admitted.

“Ha! I knew it!” She pushed up on her toes to press a kiss on his cheek. “But yes, of course I’ll help, you silly man.”

“You’re the best, Lor,” he said, smiling. “It’s a split-level house, so I wanted to get your thoughts about how to best make the space cohesive, since the floors feel more connected to one another.”

“Ugh.” Lori pulled a face. “I hate split level houses. They always feel like such an inefficient use of space to me.”

For a moment, the look in her boyfriend’s eye got far off and calculating. But the expression vanished in an instant and he was smiling at her again.

“Good to know,” he said offhandedly. “Tell me your other secret house do’s and don’t’s. What’s good about this place?”

This was an interesting question, and the kind of thing that two realtors could really dig into, as a subject of conversation. She pulled back from his embrace so she could glance around the space. Typically, she tried to see a house for what it was and what it could be, not what it lacked. But if asked about her opinions on houses in general …

“It’s hard for me to say,” she admitted, “because I’m not always a big fan of these midcentury houses.” The house she was selling was a ranch-style home, which had become popular in the nineteen-fifties when suburbs grew bigger, and people wanted economical options. They were fine houses, especially for people just starting out, but they had never been Lori’s favorite.

“I know they’re not really cramped,” she went on, “but they don’t have a good flow , if you know what I mean.”

Hudson was a real estate agent too. He knew exactly what she meant and nodded along accordingly.

“But,” she said, not wanting to be just negative, “this house has done a lot with what it has. Kitchens in ranch-styles can feel cramped, but this one is pretty airy.” She gestured to where an island separated the kitchen from the living room without making the space feel broken up. “Trying to work in a cramped kitchen is the worst .”

He looked over at the island, frowning thoughtfully. “I’ve always wished my kitchen was a bit bigger,” he admitted. “Stella and I bought the house when we were young, and then, after she passed, I wanted to keep raising Claire in the house her mother had lived in. And I do have some very fond memories of that house, of course. But I might have outgrown the kitchen just a little bit.”

Stella was Hudson’s late wife, who had passed away when his daughter, Claire, was young. Claire was grown up now though, as were Lori’s daughters, Marty and Darla.

She reached out and gave Hudson’s hand a squeeze. Lori was widowed too, having lost her husband Craig. Though she would have never wished such pain on Hudson, she felt grateful that she had a partner who understood what it was like to lose someone you loved… and love again anyway. Talking about Craig had become easier since she’d started dating Hudson too. The grief was still there, and she knew it always would be. But she felt more able to embrace the happy memories when she was speaking to someone who understood her so well and was pleased that she could offer the same support to her partner.

“Would you ever consider renovating?” she asked. “It’s a mess when you’re in the process, of course, but it’s amazing afterward. I redid mine…” She paused, thinking. “Well, I think Darla was off to college, but Marty was still in high school, so this was nearly fifteen years ago, now.”

She paused again, marveling at how quickly time passed. Those days sometimes felt like just yesterday, even though both her daughters were married, and Marty was about to have a baby, making Lori a grandmother at long last.

She shook her head to dispel the memories and return to the present.

“Anyway, it’s very worth it. You’ve seen my kitchen now. It’s gorgeous. Maybe that’s something you’d be open to doing yourself?”

Hudson was giving her that same thoughtful look he’d worn a few minutes prior. But again, the look vanished before Lori could ask about it.

“Maybe,” he said vaguely. “I’m not opposed to shifting things around, but I’m not sure a kitchen reno is what I’m looking for.” He glanced at his watch. “I think we’re just about done here for today, and it’s almost one o’clock. I’m starving. Want to go grab some lunch before we head back to our offices?”

Lori suppressed her frown. It was silly, she knew, but she hated that they had separate offices even though they worked together so frequently. But she didn’t know how to ask someone to ‘move in together’ in a professional sense… or if that was something people even did . It would be nice to get to see more of Hudson during the day though, and it would certainly make some aspects of their business easier…

She shook her head, realizing she’d left Hudson’s question unanswered. She beamed up at him, thinking that she was so grateful for the beautiful relationship they’d built together, even if they did have separate offices.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “That sounds amazing.”

“Ugh, look at these!” Monica Watson exclaimed as she and Marty browsed the baby supplies store in Blueberry Bay.

Marty turned to see where Monica had perched a tiny pair of booties on her baby bump. They were impossibly small and adorable, made to look like a pair of high-top sneakers, complete with artificial laces.

Marty immediately felt herself begin to tear up. “Put those away before I start to cry,” she told Monica. “I swear, recently everything has made me tear up.”

Monica grinned at her as she put the shoes back on the shelf behind her, her blonde ponytail swinging merrily behind her. “I have no sympathy for you,” she said. “I haven’t only started crying recently . I’ve been weeping at the drop of a hat the entire time. I’m making poor Braden so jumpy.”

Despite her assessment that she was always crying, Monica smiled happily at the mention of her husband, Braden. Marty’s own tears were, fortunately, as quick to disappear as they were to appear these days, and she felt a smile cross her face as well.

“I would like to have some serious words with whoever decided that pregnancy came along with all these other side effects,” Marty jokingly complained. “Isn’t it enough that I haven’t seen my own feet in weeks? On top of that I have to be hungry every five minutes? Seems unfair.”

“It’s a lot of hard work growing a person, apparently,” Monica said dryly. “And then the dads get to walk around not the size of houses. And they still get a baby at the end!”

“Ridiculous,” Marty pronounced.

“Absurd,” Monica agreed.

Then the pair’s faux seriousness broke and then dissolved into laughter.

“I wouldn’t trade it for anything though,” Marty admitted, even as she winced as baby delivered a good, strong kick to her ribs. “Even when I’m being pummeled.”

“Me neither,” Monica agreed. She put a hand to her hip… which was mostly concealed by the bump of her belly. She was due only a few weeks after Marty, which meant they’d been at similar stages throughout their pregnancies and had shared information and resources.

And they’d done the fun stuff together too. Like shopping for adorable baby stuff.

“Speaking of symptoms,” Monica went on, “I probably only have another half an hour before I am super hungry, which will make me the grouchiest person alive. So let’s tackle what’s left on our lists.”

Both women had already had their baby showers, which meant they’d already acquired many of the big-ticket items needed to prepare for the arrival of a new little one. Today’s trip was mostly for incidentals.

Marty pulled out her own list and compared it to the shopping cart she pushed in front of her. “I think all I have left is burp cloths,” she said.

Monica frowned slightly. “I thought your mom got you burp cloths. I remember that from the shower.”

“Oh, she did,” Marty recalled with a chuckle. “But inside was a note that said, ‘Don’t kid yourself… this is not enough. Buy more burp cloths.’”

Monica’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, noted,” she said. She pulled a pencil out of her purse. As a former librarian and current reading-themed B&B operator, Monica always carried something to write with and something to write on. “I’ll add more burp cloths to my list too.”

They moved over to that section of the store. Marty put a hand to her low back as she walked. She felt so awkward these days, and while she knew the end result would be more than worth it, she couldn’t help but hope that the end result would arrive sooner rather than later.

She put another pack of burp cloths in her cart and then, on impulse, grabbed a towel with a hood that would make the baby look like a shark.

“Oh my gosh,” she gushed. There had been a lot of gushing on this trip, and neither woman felt the least bit abashed by this. “Look at this cute little towel! Then the baby is a teeny tiny shark!”

“Ridiculously cute,” Monica agreed, snagging one for her own cart. Then she peered in at Marty’s collection of stuff, which was mostly in yellows and greens. “I thought you and Wyatt decided you were going to find out the gender of the baby,” she said.

Marty grinned mischievously. “We did,” she said. “But we’re making everybody else wait to be surprised. So that’s why I’m not giving you any hints today.”

Monica gave a theatrical gasp. “Devious!”

Marty fluffed her hair playfully. “Oh, you know me. Tricky tricky.” They both laughed. Then Marty looked at the similar color palette in Monica’s cart. “And unless you’re just as tricky as I am… I’m guessing you and Braden decided you’re still going to wait and let the gender be a surprise?”

“We did,” Monica confirmed. “Although I reach to call the doctor to tell me anyway basically every single day. I know the surprise will be exciting, but I also want to know so badly! I keep making Braden talk me out of calling, but he’s no help, because he says he’ll support me whatever I decide.”

“Oh, yes, that’s awful of him,” Marty joked.

Monica stuck out her tongue. “We do have names for both genders picked out… but we’re like you on that part, we’re being sneaky and keeping them to ourselves until the big reveal.”

“We have a name too… but don’t try to get it out of me.” Marty mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key.

“Deal,” Monica agreed. Then her stomach grumbled. “Oh, sheesh,” she said, blushing slightly, her thick-framed glasses moving as she scrunched her nose. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Nah,” Marty said, waving off her friend’s concern. “Trust me, I’m going through all the same things as you right now. And you did warn me! Let’s buy these things and then get ourselves some lunch, yeah?”

They quickly paid and stopped at a nearby café for lunch. Marty perused the menu, her hunger growing as she read each new delicious offering. She didn’t know the eateries in Blueberry Bay very well, since she frequented the Whale Harbor haunts, but as Monica’s B&B was on the edge of the Whale Harbor-Blueberry Bay divide, Marty decided to ask for help narrowing down her options.

“Have you eaten here before, Mon?”

“Oh, yeah! They did some catering for an event we held at Literary Stays a few months ago.” This was the name of Monica’s B&B. “Try the caprese sandwich. It’s so good.”

“Done,” Marty said happily, closing the menu.

Their waiter came by a short while later, and both women put in their orders. Marty went with the recommended sandwich, while Monica opted for a butternut squash soup that came with a few slices of grilled focaccia bread. When the food came and they each took a bite, it was all Marty could do to stop from groaning in delight.

“This is amazing, you were right.”

“Honestly, everything is good here,” Monica said, dunking her bread into her soup and nibbling. “You couldn’t have gone wrong with any of it.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, quietly enjoying their meals. Then Monica asked, “How’s Darla, by the way? I feel like I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, and I didn’t want to bug her, just in case she’s trying to limit her exposure to…”

She waved a hand in the direction of her belly, which was impossible to ignore.

“Oh, sweetie, no,” Marty hastened to reassure her. “You should feel free to reach out. I don’t think she’s been avoiding you at all.”

“Okay,” Monica said with a sigh of relief. “I wondered if I was being silly, but I also didn’t want to cause her any distress.”

“I completely understand,” Marty said sympathetically. “She’s been amazing, completely supportive at every turn. But I feel bad too, sometimes, celebrating these pregnancy milestones when she’s had such a tough time getting pregnant.”

Monica nodded somberly. “It’s really unfair, isn’t it? That it’s so hard for some people?”

“It really is,” Marty agreed. “And I hate that it’s happening to Darla. She wants a baby so much and she’ll be such a good mom.”

“The best,” Monica confirmed. Then she sighed. “Well, I’ll be crossing my fingers for her, wishing on stars and birthday candles… the works.”

Marty smiled. “Me too. Nobody deserves it more than her… so I really, really hope it happens soon.”