The Green Lace Corset, стр. 39

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Early June roses bloomed, and a blue jay fluttered in the birdbath as Anne pulled Tweety into Bay Breeze’s circular drive. What was Fay going to say when Anne told her she was pregnant too? Fay would probably at least try to convince her to find out who the father was. Maybe she should tell Fay only about the one-night stand. In that case, she might be more supportive if Anne decided to have an abortion. Fay wouldn’t want her to be connected to someone that gross for the rest of her days.

Anne opened the car door, hiked up the mansion’s steps, and paused to take in the sparkling bay view below. Lucky barked a greeting behind the door. George opened it, holding back the beagle-basset.

“Hi, George.” Anne leaned down and pulled a bacon bit from her pocket. The odor made her queasy. “Lucky, how you’ve grown. Sit,” she commanded the dog.

Lucky put down his behind. Anne opened her hand, and he gobbled the treat.

“Good boy.” She stroked him behind the ears and stood up.

George grinned. “You’ve sure got that covered. Come on in.”

She stepped inside. “Congratulations on the baby.”

He rubbed his bald head. “Geriatric parents.”

Anne laughed.

“You haven’t been over in ages.”

“I know; it’s great to be here.” She paused in the foyer. The crystal chandelier still sparkled overhead, and the marble floors still shone below her feet, but she sensed a change and held back tears. Even though it had been a few years since Sylvia’s passing, Anne missed the gardenia scent that had accompanied her friend’s every move in this house.

“Where is everyone?” she asked. Usually the whole gang met her at the door.

“Paul’s still asleep. We recently had to move him to the downstairs bedroom. The stairs were getting to be too much for him.”

“What about that knee surgery?” Anne asked.

“He still refuses to have it.”

At least he’d agreed to cataract surgery. She thought about Sylvia’s husband and how much he’d aged since her passing. They walked through the kitchen and peeked in at Paul, still asleep. How sad—it was nearly ten o’clock. He used to be such an early riser. One of his favorite sayings had been “The early bird catches the caterpillar.”

George closed the door and whispered, “Ever since Sylvia’s been gone, he’s lost his stamina. You can’t blame him. Losing a soul mate must be devastating.”

Anne sighed.

“May I get you a drink? Lemonade? Iced tea?” George kept his voice low.

“No, thanks. Where’s Fay?”

“Upstairs. Go on up.”

Anne hurried up the steps two at a time and found Fay sitting up in the canopy bed in the master bedroom with an open laptop.

Fay honked. “Hello, mate.”

Anne hugged her. “Why are you in bed? Is the baby okay?”

“Everything’s hunky-dory. I’m just having a bit of a lie-in is all.”

“You’ve moved into Sylvia’s room?” Anne’s eyes clouded over. She remembered the many times she’d been up here, helping Sylvia. The sunlit room hadn’t changed at all: same hydrangea wallpaper, same antique dresser and vanity, same brocade curtains.

“Paul insisted. He said with the baby on the way, we’d need the larger space.” Fay touched the pink velvet turban on her head. She had on a colorful silk blouse too.

“You’re awful fancy. Let me see.”

Fay closed her computer, put it on the nightstand, and stood up to model her outfit. “They’re by Jennafer Grace, a designer out of San Diego. Paglamas—glamorous pajamas.”

Anne smiled. “They sure are.”

“Won’t fit me much longer.” Fay pulled out the elastic waistband to show the inch she had left and climbed back into bed. “Fortunately Jennafer makes kimonos too. What’s up? Did you get the residency?”

“Not really.” Anne explained the situation. “At least by Monday, the horseshoes should be dry and I’ll be able to show those as samples.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it.

“Now, I have an important question to ask.” Fay reached out and took Anne’s hand. “Will you be the godmother?”

“You know I’m not religious.”

“Neither are we. It would be nice to know you’re someone special to our daughter and part of the family.”

That was so sweet. “How about if I’m her arts godmother?”

“Bloody good idea.” Fay continued, “We’re making that room next to us into a nursery.” She pulled paint chips from her purse and spread them on the table. “I’m thinking of going with this color for the walls.” She pointed to a bright square and handed it to Anne.

Anne studied the swatch and read the name: “Fiery Fuchsia. That’s not very calming for a nursery.”

She ran her finger down toward the pale hues and read, “Satin Ribbon, Fairy Wings, Piglet. I always pick one with a good name.”

“Fairy Wings it is.” Fay drew a smiley face by the square.

“Paint large patches on the wall to make sure before you decide.”

“I hope you’ll create a mural for us.”

This was all too much. Anne had better get it over with. She took a step back. “Fay, I’m pregnant.”

“Blimey.” Fay looked Anne up and down. “You’re kidding, right?”

Anne forced a smile. “No.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a new boyfriend?”

“I don’t.” Anne shrugged.

“You’re back with Sergio, then?”

Anne swallowed. “Not really.”

“Come on, spill it. Who’s the father? It’s not Sergio?”

Anne paused, embarrassed to share the sordid details of the situation. “I’m not sure.”

Fay raised her voice. “What do you mean?”

“I had a one-night fling.”

“With who?” Fay lifted her arms.

Anne couldn’t even look at Fay as words tumbled out. “I met him at Rhinestone Ruby’s. Howard knew him. I believed if I had sex with someone else, it would help me get over Sergio. The guy was a really good dancer, and I thought he was a hottie. I’d had a lot to drink.”

Mouth agape, Fay listened.

Anne sheepishly looked at her friend and shrugged. “I know that’s no excuse,