How to Bake a Perfect Life - Barbara O'Neal [85]
“Yes.” I laugh, hugging Poppy and feeling all the tension flow out of me. “What’s all this?”
“Well, we thought we should welcome a new member of the family in a proper fashion. Where is she?”
“I’m not sure. She was getting dressed. Let me call her.”
But before I move to the door, her herald arrives with his tail in the air, happily snuffling the hands that reach for him. “Oh, who’s this?” Poppy cries, getting down to look him in the eye. He sits politely, as if he is well trained, and licks his lips but doesn’t lick her.
Nancy smiles fondly. “What a mutt!”
And there is Katie, leaning like a garden creature against the doorjamb, her wild hair springing around her head. She’s wearing a sundress my mother must have bought her. It’s made of some airy fabric the color of new leaves, a shade that brings out her eyes and flatters the warm tone of her skin and makes her look even more like a dragonfly. “He rescued me,” she says. “His name is Merlin.”
Nancy smiles and offers a hand. “You must be Katie. I’m Nancy.” She gestures toward the table. “We brought you a few things to welcome you.”
A split second before she speaks, I realize Katie is in haughty mode—that nose tipped up in the air. “I’m not an orphan, you know. My parents can buy me things.”
“Katie—” I begin, but Nancy gently waves her hand my way.
“Absolutely. I’ve met your dad and he’s fantastic—I can’t wait to see him again.” She gestures toward the bags and boxes. “This is the extravagance of women who never had daughters of our own to spoil. We do the same thing to Ramona and Sofia.”
“It’s true.” I nod my head. “No matter how I protested, they spoiled Sofia rotten.”
Katie looks to Lily, as if for permission, and my mother gives a slight nod. Katie eases forward. “What is all this?”
“Open it and see!” Poppy says, and brushes dog hair from her shirt. “If I’d known about the puppy, I’d have brought him something, too.”
Katie opens the parcels to reveal outdoorsy clothes and shoes and gardening gloves in two colors, plus a big book, used but in good condition, on dahlias. “Oh,” Katie breathes, “this is beautiful. Did Lily tell you about how much we’ve been planting? And we’re going to go to this flower show together in a couple of weeks.”
“What are some of your favorites?” Poppy says, drawing the girl to sit beside her. I glance at Nancy over their heads and smile. They’ve always been so good at nurturing.
We eat heartily—even Katie loves the tacos, much to my surprise. Afterward we take cups of herbal tea down to the backyard, and only then do I bring up my idea. “I’m worried about Sofia,” I say. “She’s due to deliver in a few weeks, and I think she needs somebody with her.”
The aunties and my mother all sit up straight. “What are you thinking?” Poppy asks.
“I’ll go,” Lily says, and only I catch the flicker of dismay that crosses Katie’s face before she hides it, bending over to pet Milo, who has followed us down, weaving through human and chair legs, brushing his tail along the backs of knees.
I give my mother a look, one she misses. “I think it would be better if it was Poppy and Nancy. They like to travel, and they can go hiking or whatever. And Nancy is a midwife.”
“Retired,” Nancy says.
“Officially,” Poppy laughs, taking her hand. “I’m in! How about you?”
“Of course. Whatever we can do to help.” Nancy inclines her head. “Is that all right, Lily?”
My mother’s mouth is pinched. “Well, I’m no midwife, but she is my granddaughter.”
“Mom,” I say, standing. Something brushes over my face and, thinking it’s a spiderweb, I swipe at it with a shudder. Instead, I feel something almost silky moving over my skin, like a scarf. For a moment I am reminded of my grandmother and even fancy I smell her perfume. Wishful thinking. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Not happy, she follows me, and I’m so mad at her by the time we make it to the kitchen that I could cheerfully slap her. In a low, fierce voice, I say, “Did you happen to notice that there’s another girl who might need you right now?”
“What are you talking about, Ramona? I’m only expressing