she had rarely thought about it, but last Christmas it consumed her thoughts. Started when she saw a line of giggling, happy children waiting to visit Santa, one being a little boy with wavy hair who reminded her of Roger...and she imagined his having a sister with curly red hair and a smidgen of freckles, and her biological clock was off and ticking...
She tried to broach the topic in a non-threatening way by telling Roger this wasn’t a “right now” proposition, more like “a few years,” but as soon as Roger heard the word baby , he imploded. A child would wreck our careers…the average cost to raise a child today is something like a quarter of a million dollars and that doesn’t include college…think of the debt we’d take on…
Her ticking clock stopped soon after that. Or maybe she learned to tune it out.
“You okay?” Gloria asked, looking concerned.
“Yes. No. Maybe. One of those, anyway.”
“Maybe it’s time for another cookie break.”
Earlier this morning, Kimmie had dropped off a plate of homemade Sea Salt Praline Jumbles, half of which were gone.
“Think I need to a break from cookie breaks. I’ve gained a few—” Her phone beeped twice, signaling an incoming text message. She retrieved it from her jean pocket, read the message and groaned. “Shannon’s coming over later.”
“Thought she was helping your mom get ready for a party event tonight.”
“Apparently Shannon left early after a brouhaha with my brother-in-law over her shopping.”
“ Madone . Not trying to be rude, Jo, but when she gets here, mind if I slip out the back way?”
The back way being the connecting hallway to Fossen-Chandler Investigations. Joanne kept her side of the door locked, but they didn’t. Kimmie had told Joanne that they would always leave it unlocked in case she ever needed to pop over for anything.
Joanne understood Gloria wanting to escape. Recently Shannon seemed to star in her very own housewife-reality show, most of which centered around some silly conflict with her husband. Joanne sensed her sister created drama because deep down she felt ineffectual in her life.
On that last issue, Joanne could relate.
“Sure, go out the back way. I’ve already clocked it—from my desk, down the hallway, and out the adjoining door is ten seconds, more or less.”
Actually, she hadn’t clocked it, but had been counting tasks she needed to do on her fingers, a technique she sometimes used to aid her attention to details when she was feeling stressed. Afterward she realized that it had taken ten counts to walk from her desk to the adjoining door.
As they continued polishing and unpacking, Kimmie and Hal finished stringing lights, which twinkled red and green around the trunk of the palm tree. Occasional snippets of Christmas tunes were heard from cars driving down Graces Avenue.
“Ta da! Desk is finished!” As Gloria did a victory swirl with the rag, a bare-chested guy jogged past the window. “ Nice .” She looked at Joanne. “Some of the girls at work wanted to get you that. Not a jogger, but a stripper-gram...thought it would cheer you up. I told them it wasn’t your thing, to send you an Amazon gift card instead.”
“Thank you.” Joanne picked up a box labeled Printer paper and set it on a small table she’d picked up at a garage sale. “About the last thing I want right now is to watch some guy with a shaved chest, wearing little more than a smile, swivel his how-ya-doin’s in my face.”
“ How ya doin’s ?” Gloria laughed. “Is that what they call boys’ parts in those cowboy movies?”
Joanne couldn’t hold back a smile. “No. Made it up.”
Knock knock knock.
“Shannon,” Joanne whispered.
Gloria picked up her studded leather shoulder bag, mouthed “Later” and speed-walked to the hallway.
Joanne headed to the door and took a fortifying breath before opening it.
But instead of her sister’s baby blues, Joanne looked into a pair of big, mocha-brown eyes
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