How to Bake a Perfect Life - Barbara O'Neal [108]
“No,” she says. “I decided I wanted to surprise you guys, so I went to that place down by the grocery store.”
So independent, I think, and I’m proud of her for it. “I love how you think for yourself.”
“Thanks.”
Nosh is a downtown eatery that serves small plates, and my mother loves it. We order a selection of plates to share, vegetables and meat dishes and even the duck, which my mother insists upon. I’m trying to keep my mind on the celebration instead of the doom hanging over me. In the back of my mind, I wonder what’s happening with Sofia, what the unease I feel might be.
As for the bakery, I keep playing with possibilities, but not one is realistic thus far. The one thing I know I will not let stand this time is Stephanie’s refusal to help me. This has to end, although I’m not sure how.
We toast Katie discreetly, celebrating what we call her special day without saying any more. She’s glowing with good health—amazing what a couple of months of good food and fresh air can do for a child.
Midway into the meal, Lily says, “Have you heard from Sofia?”
I have a mouthful of food, which gives me a chance to think about my response. “Yes,” I say, and drink a sip of water. “She texted me this afternoon.” I pause, glance at Katie. “She didn’t say a lot. Just that she had some false labor today and things were really overwhelming.”
“I hate her being there all alone.” My mother delicately nibbles a spear of endive. “When are Poppy and Nancy going to get there?”
“They aren’t. I thought I told you. Sofia didn’t want to deal with their eccentricities.”
“I don’t think they’re eccentric,” Katie said.
“Maybe a little,” I say.
Lily snorts. “I love my sister, but she’s been a hippie since the day she was born. That’s not what Sofia needs right now.”
“You sent me to live with her.”
“Sofia’s pregnant,” Lily says dismissively.
“So was I, as you may recall.”
Katie looks between our faces. “You lived with Nancy and Poppy?”
“Only Poppy. That was when they met, the summer I was pregnant with Sofia. Nancy was the midwife who came in to deliver her.”
“And that was when they fell in love? Cool.”
This is the thing I like best about this generation of children, all those Sofia’s age and younger—they don’t even think about mixed-race or same-sex relationships. Or any variation therein. Love is love. “It was. They’ve been really happy together.”
Maybe sensing the tension at the table, Katie asks, “When were you pregnant with her?”
“I was fifteen.”
“Why did you get pregnant? Didn’t you use a condom?”
I chuckle. “No. I should have. But they weren’t as easy to get then, and we didn’t talk about it so openly.”
She gives a shrug and stabs an asparagus spear. “That seems kinda dumb.”
For some reason, it makes me feel acutely emotional. Never full of regret, because how can I regret the single most perfect gift in my life? But I have a sense of time shifting, offering a glimpse of a different life. Another me.
And I think of Jonah kissing me. I think about Sofia sitting at the bakery counter, rubbing her hand over her belly just before the phone call came. I think of never meeting Katie. “Things happen for a reason.”
Katie looks at me, her eyes too old for her face. “Not everything.”
“No, I don’t believe that, either,” Lily says. “People make choices. That makes up a life. Choices. Decisions.”
“There’s some fate involved, Mom. You have to admit.”
She shakes her head firmly. “No.”
I let it go.
After a few minutes my mother says, “That child can’t be alone any longer. I’m going to go to Texas.”
“When?” Katie asks, looking stricken. “We have the flower show next week.”
“Hon, there will be another flower show. Your dad is really in bad shape, and Sofia is too pregnant to be handling that all alone.”
“But we’ve been planning it for a whole month. I put it on my calendar with a big star and everything.”
I reach across the table to put my hand on hers. She yanks it away violently, almost knocking over a glass of water.
“Get a hold of